Sweet Home Alabama
Gulf Shores, AL
This is the moment where I could officially tell my friends that I rode my bike to Alabama.
Alabama was my first big milestone of the trip. 700 miles ain’t too shabby for a bike ride, as far as I’m concerned. I remember staring at the sign in the photo above for a brief moment, allowing myself to feel the strange cocktail of emotions. I had ridden so far and endured a tremendous amount of pain. Yet, I still had nearly 2,500 miles left to go. Not to mention, there wasn’t really much terrain for me to experience in Florida. Looking to the West, I still had to pedal over the continental divide and struggle through 1500 miles of desert. It’s a strange moment to think back to with the knowledge I have today. Because everything seems so obvious when you know the story. Back then, the narrative was still developing and there was no way to read ahead. I would find out soon enough.
My bike had taken a real beating by this point. You can see that I had a ridiculous amount of weight over my back wheel. This would cause me to break a spoke every 250 miles or so. By now, I was due for a third pit stop at a bike shop. About once a week, I would limp into one of these stores along my route, have them true-up my rear wheel, load up on tire tubes for the inevitable and numerous sharp objects that I was going to encounter, and then “yea yea, sure sure” the bike technician as he tried to sell me on a bike that was far more suited for the task.
The joy that I felt as I crossed my first state border, dissipated rather quickly. It was a cold morning. The temperature was in the 40s and the breeze was stiff. Along the Gulf Shores was a beautiful bike path with a wonderful southern canopy. But, I had no time to waste and couldn’t fully enjoy the scenery. I had a boat to catch! As you approach Mobile Bay heading West, a cyclist has two options: take a small car ferry across the mouth of the bay to Dauphin Island, using the freeway to get back to the mainland from there, or ride around the entire bay, adding about 100 miles to your route. Given my maritime background, I wanted to scoot across the bay by way of water and take a trip down memory lane. There was just one problem… I didn’t account for the headwind that morning when discerning how much time I needed to make the 40 miles to the ferry from my previous place of rest, just West of Pensacola Beach.
I woke up early and began pedaling like a madman down Perdido Key, into Alabama, making a B-line towards Fort Morgan where the ferry departed from. Had I missed the boat, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world because the schedule called for another departure 90 minutes later. There was, however, one thing that I clumsily overlooked. I’ve spent hundreds of hours receiving specialized training in ship handling. You would think that I would take into account the effect of wind on a maneuvering vessel. I made it to the pier in an alarming state of fatigue and was surprised to find that no one had been manning the ticket booth. That is because the ferry was closed for the day due to the high winds. The next departure wasn’t until the following morning!
Normally, I would have just grabbed whatever accommodation I could in the area. Unfortunately, there was none. It was out of season and many of the inns closed down for the winter with all the other small businesses. There was nowhere to camp, and what sparse accommodation there was, had already been booked up. My only option was to backtrack 20 miles towards Gulf Shores and book a room for the night. I would need to retrace those 20 miles in the morning to make another attempt at the ferry.
Upon reaching Gulf Shores, I noticed that there was a large sign on the side of the road that read “FORT MORGAN FERRY - CLOSED”. Had I paid a bit more attention earlier, I would have saved myself 40 miles of riding. I considered my blunder as an opportunity to rest my legs for the afternoon. After grabbing a heaping pile of fast food for dinner, I turned in early for the night. I’d be back to riding by sun up.
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Looking at the photo above, This is a great opportunity to run you through my setup. The red and yellow panniers on the rear of my bike, are where I would keep 80% of my gear. Initially, I tried to keep all of my clothes, a pair of shoes, toiletries, and spare food/water in the yellow bag. In the red, I would keep all of my camera gear, tools, spare tubes, a tiny cooking stove, and whatever else I could stuff in there. The black, triangular bag in the center of the frame is where I would keep almost all of my food. In that bag, I could carry about 1.5 days worth. The small red bag above it is where I would keep things like sunscreen, electrolyte tablets, and the occasional extra cheeseburger. My entire sleep system fit in the “sausage roll” between my handlebars. That is where I kept my tent, sleeping mat, air pillow, and sleeping bag. Lastly, attached to my front fork, is where I carried two, half-gallon water jugs. I found myself buying a gallon of water a day. For long stretches in the desert, I would buy a few extra liters, and stuff them wherever I had space to ensure I didn’t run dry. I came close a few times. Fortunately, I always had at least a few mouthfuls of water by the time I made it into town.
