by Brett Manero
This past February, my friend Ben and I made the trek to Florida from Denver, where we biked the coat to coast trail, which connects the east coast of Florida near Cape Canaveral to St. Petersburg, just west of Tampa.
And what a trip! Not always the most easy one, but a most worthy one. It was born out of a desire to take a trip that would be both fun and challenging to commemorate my upcoming fortieth birthday. Knowing that Ben is always up for a good trip and for something physically challenging, I invited him to join, which he immediately agreed to. Various ideas had entered my head, including hiking some of the Grand Canyon to biking from San Diego to Los Angeles. The latter was our original plan, until we discerned that, while the weather in Southern California is basically the same all year round, the most ideal weather for a long bike trip in Florida would be ideal during the winter months. We decided on Florida and, lo and behold, there is indeed the coast to coast trail that connects both sides of the state.
I must give proper recognition to Ben, who planned the vast majority of the trip, from where to stay, from biking the path, to renting and acquiring and returning the bikes. I simply followed his trustworthy lead.
The trip also coincided with my winter break, and hence there was no need to formally take time off from work. The Sunday night before our painfully-early flight, I was somewhat regretting booking the trip (which is common for me: I have such excitement about booking a trip and then regret it the night before I travel). After some three hours of sleep, Ben and I parked at Denver Airport, taking a Frontier flight (we took Frontier both ways, and while the seats are still nothing to admire, they were both remarkably smooth flights) to Orlando, where we picked up our rental truck and with it, acquired our rental bikes.
The path itself starts just east of Titusville, which is east of Orlando. To bike the true entirety of the path, one must bike some five miles or so east of Titusville, crossing several bridges across the water that takes you to near Cape Canaveral. We started slightly late, and had just a small window of time to be able to make it to the official start of the path near the launching site. That spot lies within a state park that, of course, closes at evening hours, enforced by a massive closed gate (getting stuck inside would’ve been an adventure itself) and by police. But, we sure tried to get as close to the opening spot as possible. We biked into the park, braving a busy road with countless cars whizzing by. Seeing the incredible sight of the launching pad and rockets at Cape Canaveral, several miles away, was breathtaking. Seeing that sight makes you marvel at the ingenuity of the human race.
Some two or so miles from the starting point, a police officer yelled at Ben (who was consistently about half a mile ahead of me the entire trip, due to his being in far better biking shape), that we had to leave immediately due to the park closing soon. Oh well – we got close enough, and this would have to count.
Returning westward, possibly the same cop followed us, making sure we departed the park. When we and he stopped for traffic, I encountered a welcomed moment of kindness from him: he advised us to stay safe, as it was a busy road. Most police offers are good and decent people.
As we continued, my overconfidence grew. It was getting much windier, and we had to cross one massive bridge to return to Titusville. It had been several months since I had biked, and now I was attempting to bike across the entire state of Florida – but it had to be done now that we were there. In a classic moment of “pride goes before the fall,” I was feeling terribly overconfident, and kept biking too fast across the walking path on the bridge, failing to stop to allow pedestrians to walk by me first. Losing my balance, I crashed right into the side of the bridge, feeling somewhat humiliated as several people witnessed. Most were tremendously friendly – in fact, I was impressed by just how many people waved to us while we were biking. “Are you okay?” they asked as I pulled myself together, surprisingly in little pain. “I’m okay!” I responded, but soon I looked at the space between my index and middle fingers of my right hand and, lo and behold, a deep gash was present and a tremendous amount of blood. I’m horribly squeamish about such things, so I’m amazed that I didn’t pass out when I looked at the wound and very much into my hand. “It’ll be okay, don’t panic,” I thought, as I walked the rest of the way across the bridge.
At this point, Ben was likely at least a mile ahead of me, and by the time I reached the end of the bridge, I had at least two missed calls from him. He had looked behind himself and not seen any sight of me, and figured that something had gone wrong. When we finally reconnected, he saw my wound and, in a moment of true friendship, advised that we visit an urgent care doctor because, as he said, I would almost certainly require stitches.
Stitches! We had just arrived and started the ride and now because of a truly idiotic moment, I needed stitches. But he was right and, providentially, there was an urgent care only a mile or so away, and which was open for another hour. In true friendship, Ben showered neither impatience of frustration, but genuine concern that I get taken care of. He even offered that we cancel the bike trip altogether and do something else in Florida as my hand recovered. After all, there’s plenty to do in Florida – the beach, Disney World, and much more. “We’ll see what the doctor says,” I responded.
The doctor was indeed phenomenal. Stitching me up, she even gave me permission to continue the bike trip since, after all, we had flown all the way from Denver to do this thing. As long as I didn’t allow any stiches to fall out, that I applied antibiotic cream to it several times daily, and kept my fingers together, all should be well. So, the trip continued, and while two stiches did fall out due to the inevitability of moving my hand suddenly while biking, the wound eventually healed, with a lovely scar to prove it.
From this came a spiritual lesson. I felt like such an idiot for crashing on the very first day of this trip that had been my idea. I inconvenienced my friend, and I had to feel the occasional discomfort of the wound while biking hundreds of miles. But such moments in life are to be expected, and from comes much good, as God works good through the bad. In prayer, I felt Him say: I allowed you to have that minor fall and wound so that you would be much more careful the rest of the week, and avoid a much worse fall and wound. God is good, and He knows us and plans ahead for us. In my ADHD mind which is constantly prone to distractions and failing to pay attention, a much worse accident could have happened. But the minor crash made me be more careful, and so I avoided anything worse. God works in such ways: He allows us to fall in smaller ways so that we can learn, and avoid falling in bigger ways.
Due to the injury and doctor trip, we got started on our evening biking late (during which we also saw Cape Canaveral lit up at night, and what a sight!), and so we arrived at our first destination quite late – just before midnight. Biking on the trail – which is mostly completed and mostly paved and is remarkably convenient and safe – we biked through countless miles of darkness amidst the Florida forest as we entered deeper into the state. I realized other mistakes I had made: failing to bring my bike’s seat cushion (I paid for that mistake), and failing to bring a bike light – a must have for such trips. I was able to hold my phone and use its light, but this proved uncomfortable due to my injured hand. Relying on Ben’s light, we made our way through so many miles of trees and pure darkness. Some moments were slightly disconcerting, especially as we biked through swamp territory and heard what may have been an alligator or some other creatures splashing through the waters near us. “What was that?” Ben asked. “Don’t know, just keep peddling!” was my response. The air became colder and colder, despite us being in Florida, of all places. We stopped several times for rest, and in one moment, I looked up at the skies, at the “Abraham sky,” so to speak, and noted that we ought to take a few minutes to just stare at the sky, because when would be the next time we would bike this trail? The trail was apparently far enough away from city lights that we could see endless amounts of stars, reminding one of Abraham viewing the stars in Genesis.
Arriving our destination, we stayed in an RV that acted as our first Air B and B for the night, and what a night’s sleep we got! We went to bed around midnight, and having only slept three hours the previous night, we both enjoyed at least nine hours of sleep. Awakening with a sore hand (the first full day of stiches typically is painful), we got started on our first full day.
The next few days were a mixture of adventure, pain, fun, massive amounts of laughter, prayer, and satisfaction at making the trip. We both had doubted if we could complete the entire 250 mile trek, but we seemed to get stronger with each day. We even biked on Ash Wednesday, which may have actually been the most enjoyable day of all – perhaps we received some graces for the holy day. I typically enjoy attending daily Mass, but we weren’t able to go to church once, but Ash Wednesday is not a day of obligation, and many Rosaries and other prayers were said nonetheless.
Each day, we covered some fifty or so miles. I was amazed by how much forest we saw in Florida. When one thinks of Florida, one often thinks of the beach and Disney World. But inland, there was so much forest and wildlife to enjoy. There is something peaceful and satisfying about biking silently and taking it all in. If I had been wearing proper bike shorts and sitting on a bike cushion, I would’ve enjoyed it even more – lessons for next time.
Each night, we treated ourselves to a proper meal, including a beer that was rightly deserved. Oftentimes, traveling with a friend, even a close friend, can be challenging, but traveling with Ben felt right. Perhaps the most enjoyable moment was arriving in the town (forgive me for forgetting its name) just north of St. Petersburg on the west coast, where we grabbed drinks at a bar by the marina and made it to the beach at sunset. It was a packed beach, and watching the sun go down was a perfect way to arrive on the other side of the state.
Heading south to St. Petersburg, we had another thirty or so miles to go. By this time, I was really feeling the fatigue, but we were so close. Biking in the dark again, my hand had healed just enough to be able to hold my phone while biking at night (again, lesson for next time: use a bike lamp, because they are inexpensive and they work!). Our last night was a stay in a house that served as an Air B and B. We watched an 80’s movie nightly, but I fell asleep for the final thirty minutes (at least) of that movie’s showing.
The final day was easy compared to all other days. A simple ten-or-so bike ride to the beach in St. Petersburg, marking the official end of the trail. The coastline and water in this area of Florida is astounding – somewhere I would gladly live if circumstances allowed. Finishing the trip, we dropped off our bikes and made our way to the airport in Tampa, returning to Denver that evening.
All in all, biking the coast to coast trail in Florida is a great adventure. It was definitely harder than I expected, and not just because I had stupidly crashed on the first day. I recommend doing some proper bike training for at least several weeks before doing such a trip, not to mention using that bike light, wearing bike shorts, and yes, using a bike cushion – all of those will make all the difference.
Would I do it again? Probably, not, as there are so many other trails to enjoy. Am I glad I did it? Absolutely.
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