Apalachicola to Crawfordville

Today was another beautiful day for riding. I rode 52.9 miles to Crawfordville. The temp hit 91, but there was a nice gentle wind most of the way. Around 230 miles to go. I’ll head to Perry tomorrow, or maybe just a little beyond, depending on where the motels are.

Here’s a few from yesterday. I left them out somehow. Tyndall Air Force Base. It’s huge and went on for miles with all kinds of secret spots that warned you not to even think about glancing their way. On the subject of conspiracy theories. I have one. These little markers are driven into the roads everywhere, every state. Federal Department of Terrestrials. Part of the civilian surveillance program. Whenever you’re near one, you show up on their radar as a possible terrestrial being. If you’re one of the extra-terrestrial overlords, they ignore you. Pedal faster. This was an interesting looking super secret spot. You can just barely make out the red drone in the deep background. There were several of them pointing out towards the gulf on what looked like launchers. There were a couple of Air Force guys taking a break there and I went up to ask about what I was seeing. I asked if it was a training facility for drone pilots. “Effectively, yes”. Can I take pictures at the gate for a better look? “No”. So, if you see a red plane about the size of a small car, duck for cover.

Here’s the pictures from today’s ride:

Most of today’s ride was right along the shoreline. It was gorgeous all the way. This was in Eastpoint. A big processing plant for oysters. All the oystermen take their daily catch here. Now that’s a big pile of oyster shells. The oyster boats are pretty simple. Most of them have a shelter in the back and a big board on the front. I asked one of the guys to explain how they harvested them. “You rake them onto the board and sort and cull them.” The keepers are anything over 3 inches. Here’s the oyster rake. And here’s where the oysters live. Around here they call it the Gulf of Mexico. The Carrabelle Lighthouse I had lunch here. Fried oysters. Go right to be cured and left to herd worms. A big ol’ terrapin. He was in the middle of the road toddling along, so I moved him in the direction I thought he wanted to go. When I left him, he was still muttering, “What is that beautiful house? Where does that highway go? Am I right? Am I wrong?”Tomorrow, Perry or a little beyond.