The Road Ahead ................. (Florida Ride 2013)

Doing Time With Cousin Ralph (Part 2)

May 4, 2013
Today Ralph chauffeured us to Tarpon Springs, a Greek enclave famous for its sponge diving of times past. The commercial sponge business died out years ago and the waterfront now taps into a new industry .... tourism. Entrepreneurs offer dolphin-viewing boat rides, Greek clothing, various trinkets and tiny wedges of baklava at $2.25 each. We passed on the baklava and the dolphin tour that a young Greek man was trying his best to convince us we needed to take. I picked up a couple of souvenirs for Sherry back home and we motored on.

We continued south along the shore, passing by the famous Clearwater Beach, a mecca for "Spring Breakers", and on to St Petersburg. Increasing clouds and wind accompanied us and got absolutely fierce at Fort Desoto, an interesting bit of history on the outer edge of the bay. From there we could see the Skyway Bridge, an awesome structure built high enough for big ships to pass under.

We returned to Tampa where Ralph drove alongside the "World's Longest Sidewalk," a favorite for locals to walk, jog and ride their bicycles. We watched a tour ship leaving port, waved at the passengers and took another pass through Ybor City before returning home. It was a long day with lots of miles traveled.

The last couple of days at Ralph's were spent locally, preparing for my departure. I did my laundry, worked on the blog and washed road grime and bugs off the Harley, which had accumulated since Phoenix.

Ralph's kind hospitality was much appreciated and won't be forgotten. We parted company Wednesday, May 8, and I continued south to Everglades City.

Tarpon Springs

Fort Desoto

View From Vinoy Park In St Petersburg

9-Minute Video of Today's Excursion

Parked In Ralph's Car Port

Ralph's Place In Thonotosassa, Florida

Ralph's Lowry Organ

Ralph On The Keyboard

Doing Time With Cousin Ralph (Part 1)

May 3, 2013
Today Ralph drove us to downtown Tampa. We walked the streets of the Cuban District known as Ybor City, named for Vicente Martinez-Ybor, pioneer of the cigar industry in Florida according to the plaque on his statue in Ybor Center where we hopped the trolley and rode the rails to the Port of Tampa. There we walked the picturesque "Riverwalk" on the Hillsborough River where Tampa's wealthy folks dock their yachts, some of which have clever names like "Knot Again" and "Mental Pause".

We ended up back at Ybor City where Ralph treated me to dinner in the famous Columbia Restaurant, a Cuban landmark operating since 1905. It's interesting history can be read by clicking here:
Columbia Restaurant

This short video is set to Cuban music from the Internet. I don't speak Spanish so have no idea what the lyrics are or if they fit with the pictures. It might be a tragic combination.

Update: Cousin Jim said .... The music you chose is great. The first song is about la negra linda - the pretty black girl. About the time you were passing the restaurant, the lyrics said something about la cocina - the kitchen - and that you like the food she prepares for you. Another of the songs referred to riding your horse - motorcycle? - into the country. I think in another life I must have been a Cuban drummer. I really enjoy the music.

Storm Clouds Came And Went
During Our Visit To The Port Of Tampa

Merchant Mariner "American Victory"
Provides Bay Cruises At $99 Per Person (No Thanks)

The Riverwalk Along The Hillsborough River On Tampa Bay

So Far, This Is The Only Alligator I've Seen In Florida

Boat Parking

Tampa Convention Center

Cross Creek

May 2, 2013
I never rode back to the Marjorie K Rawlings historic exhibit the next morning from the Holiday Motel in Ocala. Instead, I took Cousin Ralph up on his offer to drive me there from his house, which is only 88 miles away. If I got there before noon I could avoid the rain.

I was dressed for rain; Even had the rain cover on the pack. Let 'er rip, I thought. But I knew from experience this preparation was the best way to avoid rain. Many is the time I went through the cumbersome ritual and it never rained a drop. I was therefore surprised when it began to drizzle off and on during the two hour ride south on crowded Interstate 75 where about 15 miles shy of my exit I saw northbound traffic at a standstill. The presence of two or three state troopers, lights flashing, indicated a wreck but I saw no wreck. Maybe one of those sink holes I've been hearing about claimed a few cars?

Cousin Ralph, whom I'd never met but have corresponded with via email for several years, had invited me to stay as long as I liked at his home in Thonotosassa, a suburb of Tampa. (It took me several years to be able to spell the name of his town, much less speak it.) Ralph, a native of Kansas, came to Florida around 1960 and obviously knows the area quite well. He has plans to show it to me over the next few days from the comfort of four wheels, starting tomorrow.

Ocala To Thonotosassa (88 Miles)

May 2, 2003
First on our list was to return north and finally put to rest the elusive mission I was on to visit Cross Creek.

Ralph admitted, though he is familiar with the backroads around Tampa, and the one we were traveling back to Ocala, he'd never been to Cross Creek. I expounded on the virtures of my Garmin GPS, but he was skeptical about trusting the device, which I plugged into his cigarette lighter outlet and consulted as we made our way north through small towns and farmland.

Cross Creek, not being a town exactly, wasn't available so I had to choose something nearby for a destination to enter into the Garmin. I remembered a town called Micanopy, near Cross Creek, that I rode through the previous day, so put that as our destination. Surely, that would lead us to Cross Creek. It didn’t.

I could go on and on here, explaining the reason we got lost but the blow by blow details would be boring..... suffice it to say, four miles from our target, we had to stop and ask directions. For those of you who are thinking …. “You were just there the previous day and you can’t find the way back???” …. My attempt to do just that put us on the wrong road. There are several roads and they all look alike, okay? … i.e asphalt and yellow lines, etc.

"You won't find us on your GPS," said the tour guide at the Marjorie K Rawlings site as he began his riveting narration of this subtle moment in history when a “citified” New Jersey couple, both aspiring novelists, came to and fell in love with Florida during a vacation. At least Marjorie did. She proved to be a natural in taking to the hard country life of the 1930’s. Her husband not so much, especially when their newly purchased 72-acre orange grove, which was to be their livelihood (they weren’t writers yet), went bust along with the rest of the country, for they had arrived shortly before the start of the Great Depression. While Charles Rawlings couldn’t handle the added burden of poverty in the already hard circumstances of living off the land, Marjorie thrived. They divorced. He returned north. She stayed. (The movie version, showing Marjorie arriving in Florida alone, is wrong, said our guide.)

The home-grown folks of the nearby swamps didn’t take kindly to Marjorie at first, most likely considering her a "prissy and snooty Yankee" ... but after seeing her hard work and steadfast resourcefulness in overcoming one hardship after another they gained respect for her and became best of friends.

Marjorie's orange grove eventually began to provide a livable income and she was able to concentrate on her true passion, writing. But her efforts in the romance genre wasn't thought publishable by her editor. Instead, he was fascinated by her letters, giving account of daily life in Cross Creek, and told her if she could write “like this” it would sell. So it was, from her surroundings and the people who shared her life, a story for the ages emerged. Marjorie Rawlings’ 1938 novel, “The Yearling,” won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction the following year. The 1946 movie version made her famous.

Eventually, Marjorie remarried --- hotelier Norton Baskin who lived 44 years after Marjorie’s death from a cerebral hemorrhage in 1953 at the age of 57. Recognizing early on their historical worth, Baskin put the home's furnishings in storage and, consistent with Marjorie’s wishes, donated most of the property to the University of Florida in nearby Gainesville where Marjorie taught Creative Writing. The Rawlings home (containing the original furnishings previously stored by Baskin) and surrounding grounds are now maintained as a State Historic Park.

Click here for more of the story: Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

The Movie: Cross Creek

Cousin Ralph's Tourmobile

Ralph Collecting Maps For Us

Entering The Marjorie K Rawlings Property

Chickens Are Maintained On The Premises

Spanish Moss Hanging On Left

Guided Tour Starts At The Barn

Our Tour Guide Captivated Us For An Approximate Hour
With Non Stop Stories About Marjorie K Rawlings' Life At Cross Creek

Our Guide Points Out A Baby Orange

Dressed In Period Attire Is One Of The Tour Guides
At The Marjorie K Rawlings Historical Site

This Rusting Shell Of A 1942 Oldsmobile,
Similar To One Owned By Marjorie Rawlings,
Was Donated To The Historical Site

The Screened Front Porch

Tools Of The Trade

Rawlings' 1939 Pulitzer Prize Winning Novel, The Yearling
Is Among Her Body Of Work On Display Inside The House

Rawlings' Memoirs, Cross Creek,
Was Published In 1942

Marjorie Often Entertained Guests In Her Dining Room And
Always Sat Facing The Window To Spare Her Guests
The Embarrassing View Of The Outhouse

The Red Flag Was A "In Use" Signal To Those Waiting

Our Guide Explaining The Broom Made From Corn Husks

Real Eggs In The Kitchen

As Mentioned By Our Tour Guide,
This Lady Was Prepared To (and did) Separate
From Each Of Us $6.00 At The Tour's Conclusion

In Her Bedroom Is This Portrait Of
Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, c1918

Welcome To Florida

April 30, 2013
I left Dothan, Alabama on this bright, sunny but cool morning -- a welcomed change from two days of rain. Within 40 miles I entered Florida just before the town of Marianna and was quickly aware all my stereotypical thinking about Florida is wrong. I've always heard it is flat, boring and filled with little blue-haired ladies driving around with their left turn signal on. Instead, at least the area I rode through is sparsely populated, lush-green, wind-free, and covered in pine forests. Absolutely beautiful.

Even the stretch of Interstate 10, which I traveled for nearly 100 miles, had light traffic, only thickening a little around Tallahassee. Shortly after bypassing the Capitol city I branched off the freeway at Monticello and rode U.S. 19 to Fanning Springs on the Swanee River where I selected backroads bordered with purple wildflowers in checking out the nearby towns of Bell and Trenton. Then it was on to my day's destination at Cross Creek to visit the historic home of Marjorie K Rawlings (1896-1953) whose claim to fame was her 1938 novel, The Yearling.

The road to Cross Creek is lined with Spanish-Moss-hung-oak-trees and cow-filled pastures -- stunning scenery. I arrived in the area 1/2 hour before the Rawlings exhibit closed, too late for more than a picture from the shoulder of the road. But that was okay. I would seek nearby lodging and visit the site in the morning.

According to the Internet the small town of Citra, six miles further, was home to the "Orange Blossom Motel," its coordinates already programed into my Garmin GPS. The darkening sky and prediction of afternoon thunderstorms quickened the need to cover those six miles soon. But in a sudden turn of luck on what had been a beautiful day of riding, the Garmin led me to a vacant, debris filled lot on the side of the highway at Citra, a town too small for more than one motel. What now? I turned around and re-rode the last couple of miles, thinking I missed it. I hadn't. It still wasn't there.

Incidentally, this wasn't the first time the Garmin had misled me today. When leaving the motel lot in Dothan I knew I needed to turn right but the Garmin said go left. We argued. Remembering the Texas ordeal, I gave in and went left. Then another left, as instructed, and another (after a substantial wait at a red light I might add). This delightful little side trip put me right back where I started, and you guessed it, the Garmin said turn right. I went in a complete circle! FOR NOTHING!

There was nothing left to do but ride on, sixteen miles to Ocala. As I neared the south city limits of Citra, on a rise across the divided highway, was the Orange Blossom Motel, a ramshackle establishment on a dirt lot, probably built in the 1940s and has had minimum upkeep since. Actually, except for a couple of weathered pickup trucks, the place looked abandoned. The sudden appearance of orange traffic cones blocking the recently-asphalted inside lane told me I wouldn't be checking it out anyway, at least not for a few miles until finding an opening to get to that side of the highway.

The cones lasted about 4 miles. By that time it was raining and my focus was finding a wide enough shoulder to pull off and waterproof my luggage and myself. There was no wide shoulder. Had to settle for the corner of a wide intersection. It was there I struggled to fit my rain cover over my "expanded" pack, a dimensional issue I hadn't thought to experiment with before leaving home. It would not fit. I tugged, jerked and wiggled the cover trying to make it fit. I was like OJ trying on the gloves during his big trial. I figured I could be in Ocala before I accomplished the task, so rode on, determined to select the first lodging I saw. It happened to be the $32 Holiday Motel.

If there's a sign on the office counter that reads, "No Prostitutes In Rooms," you just might be in a bad section of town. I put my key in the rusty doorknob, unlocked the door, then could not remove the key. I tugged, jerked and wiggled. Nothing. It would not come out. Before accessing the pliers from my tool kit, I figured I'd first call the office and report the malfunction.

The manager said he'd come by with a can of WD 40, saying it should resolve the problem. He was right. He was also right about there being no prostitutes in the room. There was no coffee either.

11-Minute Video of Today's Ride
From Dothan, Alabama To Ocala, Florida

268 Miles

Alabama Meandering

April 27, 2013
I was never a huge fan of Hank Williams but I grew up listening to his music, because that's what my father listened to. Hank's rags to riches story is an interesting one, starting in the backwoods town of Georgiana, Alabama where he lived until he was 11 years old. His father, a hard worker in the lumber industry, who, when asked about his working hours, would say, "I worked from can to can't," spent much of his time in the "Nervous Hospital" after serving in France during World War 1.

Hank and his sister, Irene, were raised by their mother, a tough woman who backed down to no one. In describing his weapon of choice in the many bar fights that broke out in the Honky Tonks where he played his first music, Hank said all he ever needed in a fight was his mother standing behind him with a broken bottle in her hand.

The home the Williams family occupied in Georgiana is now a museum containing photographs, news articles and various memorabilia associated with the singer's life. I figured since I was in the neighborhood (i.e. Alabama) I'd stop and take a look.

About two miles off Interstate 65, Georgiana is a throw back to the past. The town seemed deserted to me this Saturday afternoon, but there's about 1300 residents according to the elderly lady who took my $3 admission fee at the museum. She's lived in Georgiana since she was 8 years old and is more than willing to tell you anything and everything about the town and/or Hank Williams, Georgiana's claim to fame. She's worked at the museum since 1994, about three years after it opened.

My plan was to make a sweep through Montgomery, 60 miles north of Georgiana, visit Hank Williams' grave, then angle down and enter Florida at Marianna the next day. Made it as far as Greenville, 20 miles north on I-65, and called it a day.

From Greenville I called "Cousin Rick", whom I'd never met but with whom I've traded information concerning our mutual ancestry for at least ten years. It was my intention to finally meet him and suggested we meet for dinner in his town of Bell, Florida in two days. He countered with an invitation to his home for dinner. He lives six miles out of Bell on a dirt road. But a really short, motorcycle friendly, dirt road he promised.

April 28, 2013
I arrived in Montgomery under overcast sky with a slight threat of rain, about 10 a.m. It was Sunday. Traffic was light but police manned all intersections I came to due to some kind of bicycle and/or jogging race. I saw representatives of both.

My destination, Oakwood Cemetery, wasn't hard to find with the GPS guiding the way. I took some photos of the Williams' grave and was soon working my way south out of Montgomery onto State Route 53.

It was about 2:30 p.m. when I stopped for fuel in Dothan. Ignoring the darkening clouds I started south once more, only 40 miles from my day's destination of Marianna, Florida. Rumbles of thunder got my attention. I could keep going, head into an obvious storm, or dive into the first motel parking I came to. I wimped out and opted for the motel, barely securing a room before the sky opened up. I unstrapped my luggage in record time as the soaking commenced, then stood under the overhang by my motel door and watched the parking lot turn into a lake within five minutes.

April 29, 2013
One look out the window told me I'm not going anywhere this morning. The parking lot lake from yesterday was now underwater and it appeared there was no stopping this "new" torrential downpour. I decided to stay put and signed up for another day, figuring I'd use the time to catch up on picture editing and blogging. First I needed to call Rick and cancel tonight's dinner plans.

Cousin Rick is the principal of Bell High School and a very busy man. Tonight's arrangement was the only one he could manage in the foreseeable future. We eventually agreed to wait for my exit of Florida in a couple of weeks. Perhaps then we could meet for dinner.

Graves of Hank and Audrey Williams
Oakwood Cemetery, Montgomery, Alabama

Video Set To Alan Jackson's
Tribute Song To Hank Williams,
"Midnight In Montgomery"

Mobile To Greenville, AL (126 Miles)

Greenville To Dothan, Alabama (146 Miles)

Nautical Times In Mobile

Two Unintended Nights In Hammond, Louisiana

April 25, 2013
Set back a day due to stormy weather, I was only too happy to be eastbound on I-12 and away from Hammond, hoping to also leave the dreary overcast sky and find predicted sunshine at Mobile.

It was windy. I expected that. It was cold. I didn't expect that. I wore a turtle neck under my jacket. Almost wish I had on long johns and heavier gloves. Once the chill sets in it is hard to shake, even when the weather warms up. Cousin Jim is probably chuckling, thinking of his heated handgrips, seat, and I think he even has an electric vest?

After 95 to 100 miles I was finally seeing some blue sky through my sunglasses, which I debated on wearing because they make things too dark on a cloudy day ... but my amber glasses for rain-riding are scuffed.

I signed up for two nights here at the Battleship Inn Resort, next door to the military park. My $98-plus-tax-room ranks among the "dirtiest" rooms I've ever stayed in. $50 Motel 6 is cleaner. Numerous stains on the carpet, which match the stains on the upholstered booths of the restaurant next door called "The Captains Table." The term "Resort" is an idle boast I'm sure.

In the evening a brown dog of the Terrier persuasion roams the premises, barking at guests. He acts like he owns the place. I found out he does. His name is "Chewy" (wonder how many guests he's chewed to earn that name?). From the office sofa, he and his Chihuahua sidekick have the day watch, pretending to be courteous and responsible. Complaints go unreprimanded because the dogs belong to the owner, according to the desk clerk. Meanwhile, a rotund black lab snoozes on the front steps and you have to walk around him. What's up with this place?

The good news .... there is a laundry service that picks up and delivers. The cost for my bag of clothes was $14; steep but I consider it a bargain when the alternative is hunting the streets of Mobile for a laundromat.

I spent two nights at the Battleship Inn "resort" and had all meals at the Captain's Table -- sparse and marginal food for a high price but it's the only place within walking distance.

On day two I spent 5 or 6 hours walking the decks and climbing the ladders of the USS Alabama next door. Some of that time was spent in the nearby aircraft pavillion and on the USS Drum, a land-mounted submarine. It was a day filled with fascinating discoveries of both ships' involvement in World War II. Their stories are only a click away on the Internet.

Click: USS Alabama BB60

Click: USS Drum SS228

I made a slideshow with pictures of the Alabama (included in the video below) and, for mood-setting music, added Johnny Horton's 1960 hit, "Sink The Bismark". Granted, the Alabama had nothing to do with that historical event, which was a British victory six months before America even entered the war.... but the song sets the appropriate ambience for big ships with big guns.