I spent the night outdoors, on Georgiana’s center concert stage. Though I stayed up till midnight, resting on a rocking chair while charging my phone on the porch of the adjacent Hank Williams Museum, I’d still hoped to awaken & depart around 6 AM. My body, however, was telling me otherwise: more rest!
Yesterday’s miles have taken a toll on me, and I’d really prefer to simply rest & recharge today–even if I’m still somewhat sticky after sweating through sunscreen all day yesterday. I didn’t finally arise till 9 AM, when the lawnmowing contractor showed up to service the grounds, parking in front of me. I said hello to him, and received a “who’s-this-weirdo-bum” look in response. (It probably would have helped to have had my signs out and aimed at him.)
After some restorative yoga & meditation for the next hour, I repacked my belongings and prepared a green superfood+protein+chia shake, materially ready to return to the road. Making my way outta town, a locally-owned, “Unhealthy Foods R Us” style restaurant with a blown out front sign invited me in for a free meal. (Yay!) While it’s typically true that a plethora of additional pounds are to be found on nearly all patrons and staff of such joints, a much louder-to-me and happier truth appeared with their extremely sweet, love-thy-neighbor attitudes. I explained my advocacy simply to them: “more walking; more water.”
It’s almost 11 AM here, and 17 WARM miles await me to reach Greenville, where I’ll once again arrive unexpectedly to townspeople, and seek to make the best of possible scenarios…

To save a 20-mile day from escalating into a 30+ mile day, I decided to risk walking the interstate once again, for the first time since a tiny trio of miles in Louisiana. Well, Alabama State Patrol stopped me as soon as I reached the bottom of the ramp. The trooper told me I couldn’t walk I-65, but as I pled my case to him, asking only to “rush” up to the next exit, Grace Garland, six miles up, he told me he couldn’t “see” me doing so (sly smile), so I couldn’t walk that way as he was driving off. He was giving me “unofficial” permission. So, after charging across those next six miles, I got off at the GG exit and zigzagged my way to Georgiana. So as to arrive before dark, I didn’t sit down for a single break the entire 20 miles. I arrived and went straight to the Georgiana police station. The captain on duty pointed me to the Hank Williams park/museum complex, which is where I’m spending tonight. I’ve parked myself on the covered grandstand concert stage, the very place where musicians perform to thousands during festivals. I’ve been here a couple of hours now– it’s very safe and solitary (I could even change my underwear on center stage). It’s a nice night out. I’m confident I’ll score some quality rest before continuing 17 more miles to Greenville in the morning.

Though I felt I was getting out of Milton somewhat later than I wanted, I left dropped off the keys to my Emerald Sands motel room at 7:15 AM, and wasted no time collecting the miles.
Within the first half mile, a kind soul stopped to offer me additional sunscreen and sun care products.
I was headed north, up Hwy 87, toward Florida’s northern border. I’d hoped to reach my destination of Penton Farms by 4 PM, but it ended up taking me till nearly 7 PM.
Just before the day’s halfway point, a sweet family who recognized me from the local news stopped and delivered me ice cold water. Bless their souls.

Another mile down the road, I heard a loud popping sound burst from my wheel. I looked down to find my starboard tire oozing the green slime tire filler.

Uh-oh.

Good thing I’d just purchased replacement tires and tubes two days before. After finding a well shaded spot on the side of the road as the oven-intense heat wave was quickly escalating the surrounding great outdoors, I spent well over an hour changing both tires and tubes. The most time consuming challenge ended up being successfully getting the new shielding strips to hold their place in between the tube and the tire’s inside wall. Finally worked it out, however, with the very athletic tape I’d bought on my way out of town that morning to protect me feet from newly forming blisters (via my new sandals out of Pensacola).
Other kind souls, including a local man named Ed, stopped with cool water for me. Ed actually escorted me to a small creek aside the road, where families were lounging. I stepped in, and lay gently floating, breathing, and cooling down for many minutes before rising up again, completely refreshed and ready to confront the next six HOT and humid miles to Penton Farms.
By the time I reached Penton Farms, Beth (from PRA) and her kids were waiting out front with me. They’d organized a sweet overnight stay for me at her parents’ hurricane-proof cement dome retirement home!
Great People!!!

Before I was even five minutes into the day, a super-friendly Ocean Potion representative was delivering to local stores, and decided to stop, inquire about the Walk, then offer me a marvelous myriad of suncare products. He's only pictured holding half of what he gave me-- which is more than enough for the final thousand miles of the Walk!

Though not for hundreds of miles, I've changed many tubes since acquiring the Chariot, 1,500 miles ago. I haven't once changed the tires themselves. However, I could see they had a very limited lifespan, so I picked up some replacement tires at the hardware store in Pace, 36 hours earlier. Good thing, for ten miles into the rural thick of it, one of the tires unexpectedly popped, which sounded like a balloon bursting. I wheeled the Chariot into the best nearby spot I could find, out of the sun, and spent over an hour replacing both tires, tubes, and adding a stubborn liner to the insides. All I could find were all-terrain bicycle tires to replace the 20" Chariot street tires. Though street tires definitely roll more smoothly on pavement, I'm simply happy that I shouldn't have to be concerned with any new tires for the final thousand miles

12 miles into the day, Jerry, a friendly local, stopped off not only to offer me refreshing ice, but also to point out a local community swimming hole to me, just down the road. I followed him to the swimming hole, got in, and simply rested, afloat on my back for ten minutes. I was shocked upon realizing just how overheated my body had been getting, and how these ten minutes in the cool water were making all the difference in the world. Thanks, Jerry!!

Lovely local swimming hole, just a few miles north of Milton, Florida

Berrydale Dome Home. I ended the scorching, 18-mile Memorial Day walk at the dome home of Beth's parents. Beth, Carl & Emily, all of whom had joined me out of Pensacola, invited me to spend a night at Beth's parents home, just a few miles up the road. They served me a delicious dinner and shower before an excellent evening's sleep prepared me for the next day back on the road.

Florida's Endangered Pitcher Plants, which Carl and Emily showed me, just a quarter mile down a trail from their grandparents' home ~

Emily & Carl, brother & sister fun at the end of the long, hot day!

After a punishing day out of Pensacola, I deliberately organized a much shorter follow-up day: I was to walk only seven miles on Sunday, May 27th, to Milton. As was the case with Pace, no hosts had been organized for my arrival to Milton. I was ready to accept anything– including the next concrete slab slumber. If I were to sleep outside again, then I’d spend the blistering hot afternoon at some air-conditioned restaurant or other venue, catching up with personal communications. I wasn’t concerned. My smartphone’s map search told me there was a sandwich shop on the far side of Milton, next to the high school, and I went straight there. I was at first disappointed to find that this sandwich shop sat within a gas station, but still proceeded in the door, and only stood to benefit from my petro-poor expectations. The sandwich shop was about as good as any average lunch bar, including those you find far from poisonous fuel pumps. They also had great air conditioning, booths to sit in, and electrical outlets available for me to plug in. At once I was ready to spend hours here.

From Pace to Milton, May 26 & 27, 2012

I met a family at the gas station who became very interested in the Walk, and they invited me to their local church service later that morning. Beth, from PRA who’d joined me the day before, also recommended I contact the very same St. Rose de Lima Catholic Church that Mike, Laura and their kids were soon to leave the sandwich shop for. “They’ll probably find you a safe place to stay,” they all told me.
And they did. Not only did I enjoy an excellent morning service with Mike, Laura & kids during Pentecost, I met other marvelous souls as well, and Monsignor Bosso provided me with a room at the Emerald Sands Motel. This was way more than I could have asked for– but I accepted the luxury and soon scooted on over there.
After one of the most refreshing showers of all my miles, a nap, and a great night’s sleep later in the evening, I was well charged and ready to head out early to face Memorial Day’s 18 HOT miles to Penton Farms.

Well, after a relatively relaxing ten days in Pensacola, replete with polite people and healthy eating, I returned to the road on Saturday, May 26th, at 9 AM. My hosts Daniel, Jen, and Conrad (their toddler) joined seven Pensacola Runners Association (PRA) supporters in showing up and officially sending me off with a small walk out of town. The online map had told me that I’d be facing about 16 miles to Pace, where I planned to park it for the evening. After several days off, I have to reintegrate my body to the rigors of the road in steps. On the hottest day of the year, an ultra-humid 95 F, the PRA directed me to Scenic Highway– easily the prettiest way out of Pensacola. What I didn’t learn till much later was that this maneuver guided me into a 20+ mile day– one in which I felt the opening pangs of exhaustion just six miles into the Walk. Oh well, that which does not kill me makes me stronger!!

Pensacola Runners Association bids me a warm farewell as I embark on the last thousand miles north. They joined me for several miles on my way out of town. Great people!!

When the PRA reached the top of “Summit Blvd” with me, which they told me was the highest piece of land in the entire state of Florida (and an average city hill back home), we parted ways. They’re really a fantastic group, and I enjoyed walking and talking with Beth, her daughter, Carl, Jehan, Lisa, Amy, and the others (names escape me!). Carl stuck with me for several more miles than the others, and Beth, his mom, retrieved him later as we reached Interstate 10– the last time I’d be seeing I-10, after walking on, near, or parallel to it since leaving the California coast.
I made it to Pace before Sunset, occasionally dropping into businesses for breaks of a few minutes here and a few minutes there along the way. Their air conditioning may have been crucial to my not suffering from heat stroke.
I had no hosting invitations in Pace, so as I typically do in such a scenario, I call around to churches and find one who won’t mind me sleeping outside for the evening. Aiming for churches both on my Hwy 90 route and located past the multi-purpose store in which I planned to purchase replacement tires for my Chariot, on cold call #3 I reached Pastor Paul Woody of the Trinity Baptist Church. He invited me to camp behind the church, just before 9 PM.
Though some retailers, including those with wireless, would be open for a while, which would offer me a window to not only cool down from the AC, but also to get some work done on my laptop, my body wanted only to lie down and rest, so I proceed the final mile down the highway, straight to the church.
On the covered concrete slab out back, I lied down atop my narrow sleeping mat in a positive and peaceful environment, ready for a full night’s recharge.

Farewell, Interstate 10. At California's Santa Monica Coast, I turned east, walking parallel to, aside, and occasionally even on I-10 for thousands of miles. Now, turning north, Pensacola is the last time I'll see I-10 on the Walk. Farewell, I-10-- thanks for all the wonderful memories

My first walk north, out of Pensacola, was a blistering hot day that nearly reached 100 F (with humidity!). I had no forthcoming invitation from Pace/Milton, so I simply called some churches as the day expired, and Pastor Paul Woody of the Trinity Baptist Church invited me to camp outside his church. It was a Saturday night, so I some early-arriving members the following morning, who seemed to wonder why I was there. As I was returning to the road, I informed them of my story.

After walking 1,000 miles south, 2,600 miles east, I’m poised to turn north on Saturday, May 26. I haven’t etched in every last stop between here and the White House, and for now, I’ve only pieced together a probable draft for the next nearly 600 miles. I will walk north from Pensacola, back into Alabama, through Andalusia, Montgomery, Tuskegee and Auburn. I then will reach the Georgia border, and proceed through Peachtree City, Atlanta, and other towns before sliding into Greenville, South Carolina. From Greenville, it’s either on to Charlotte, if I feel invited. If not Charlotte, I’ll be ready and willing to head on up and into Asheville– which I’ve been told great things about now for over a year. It will take me months to reach Greenville, SC, and I probably won’t nail down any subsequent routes till I reach Groovy Greenville.

My tentative 500-mile route from Pensacola to Greenville, South Carolina

While I had to reroute more than once through today’s 20 miles from Innerarity, and though I arrived with what was possibly the second-worst case of food poisoning I’ve had in my life, I showed up to the front door of Pensacola hosts Daniel and Jen Jordan with a smile on my face and a smile in my heart. We’d been in contact for a while, and it was great to finally be meeting them in person.

Though it had been a long, slow, hot, sick day to reach them, it was so relieving to feel I was “home.” Though it was a completely new place to me– someone else’s residence– the Jordans surely invited me to make myself at home. Shortly after getting to know each other better in person, punctuated by necessary trips to the bathroom, I was showering and ready to sleep off the nastiness attacking me from within.
I only remember having food poisoning one other time, about ten years ago, and that first experience was a most terrible one. The difference from then to now, however, is that I’m in excellent physical shape, my diet is great, and mentally, I’m much stronger. When dealing with any sort of evil surprise, I put every tool I have to work. As a result, what could have been a far worse sickness scenario had a much milder impact on me. It still wasn’t fun– but at least it wasn’t terribly overwhelming!!

I look forward to spending a few healthy days here in Pensacola, with more than one host, before turning north and moving on…

Through the morning half of today's miles to Pensacola, I was treated to an aerial art show by the Blue Angels, who I did not trained in the area. Loved it.

Despite walking through most of the day sick to my stomach (food poisoning), it was refreshing to walk the final five miles of the day off the main roads, through many peaceful neighborhoods.

Downtown Pensacola: Palafox Street (Only a handful more miles to go, at this point.)

Almost finished for the day, I see what becomes my favorite live oak of the state of Florida. I've been seeing these live oaks all across America's South, and I absolutely LOVE them! They're such special, magical trees!!

At the end of the day, I finally arrive to Daniel & Jen's home, on Yonge Street

Daniel, Jen & Conrad, wonderful hosts, warmly welcome me in for over a week, as I recuperate, plan, and prepare to turn thousands of walking miles back to the north.

On my final day in Orange Beach, Alabama, knowing that I’d be crossing the Florida border later in the day, I sought out hosting just beyond Perdido Key. Using the search function on Google Maps, I found there were a small handful of churches near a Publix grocery store, and as one had an attached community center, I gave the community center a business-hours call. A sweet woman named Kandi answered, and upon passing all of my information along to her, she told me she’d look into the potential and contact me back. Within 15 minutes Kandi was calling me back, enthusiasm replacing the uncertainty in her voice from my first “cold call.” I was invited to camp there, shower there, and if I arrived before their 9 P.M. closing time, they’d feed me too.
Well, given that I’d made a late start from Orange Beach after a busy day of communications and repacking, I didn’t make it to the church till about 11 PM– a rare late arrival for me. As we’d stayed in contact, Kandi knew I’d be arriving late, and she listed a number of spots on the grounds where I could safely camp. She also left me her cell phone number, telling me that if I needed anything, to give her a call at any time of the night.
Arriving late to the grounds, I found the easiest and safest place for me to sleep was going to be the picnic table in front of the large family/community center. The evening weather was favorable enough to need no tent. Digging out, setting up, and ultimately breaking down the tent must take a total of about an hour, it seems, when I include selecting the perfect spot, clearing potential debris, tarping, etc., etc. Sleeping atop the picnic table not only saves time and effort on late, tired nights, it also allows me to quickly wake up and be totally aware of my surroundings if I suddenly am wondering what one noise or another is… Atop the picnic table, no mice or raccoons approach me, and no fire ants surprise me from below. I lay my sleeping mat down on it, and when measuring comfort, there’s not much difference from sleeping on the wooden table or sleeping on the earth.
Luckily, the Perdido Key area was pretty quiet, and I enjoyed the sounds of the surrounding birds and insects throughout the night. Shortly after sunrise, up and at ‘em, it was time to pack up and move on to Pensacola!

On my final mile before reaching the Florida border, I met Lori Bell, who was completing her first mile into Alabama. Lori is a very loving and energetic soul who's bicycling across America for the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation. We got to know each other for about a half hour, exchanged contact info, and proceeded in our opposite directions. Find Lori on line: www.blueturtleblog.blogspot.com

Lori Bell takes a pic of me on my final mile up to the Florida border

Welcome to Florida!

First Night in Florida. I often sleep on picnic tables simply because it saves a lot of time with not having to unpack, set up, and repack the tent. Also, in new places, I enjoy having a 360 panoramic view of all that is occurring around me-- the safest of possible scenarios-- which I cannot get inside a tent. Finally, especially if my permission in any given area is potentially "questionable," it allows me to respond to any inquirers instantaneously.

First Night in Florida. I often sleep on picnic tables simply because it saves a lot of time with not having to unpack, set up, and repack the tent. Also, in new places, I enjoy having a 360 panoramic view of all that is occurring around me-- the safest of possible scenarios-- which I cannot get inside a tent. Finally, especially if my permission in any given area is potentially "questionable," it allows me to respond to any inquirers instantaneously.

Since walking-across-America colleague Andrew Forsthoefel & I parted in Franklin, Louisiana, each of us proceeding in opposite directions, we’ve each covered hundreds of miles of the other’s preceding paths, with Andrew discovering my eastbound miles, and my unzipping Andrew’s westbound miles. We’ve also put each other in contact with several of the people who hosted each of us before meeting in Franklin. Since leaving Franklin and walking west, Andrew has stayed with friends of mine in New Iberia, Rayne, Lake Charles, Huffman and Goldthwaite. Since leaving Franklin and walking east, I’ve stayed with friends of Andrew in Gibson, New Orleans, and now Orange Beach. Just as I’d heavily recommended that Andrew spend some days with some of the hosts I’ve stayed with, he was very emphatically recommending that I spend a few days in Orange Beach with the Grey Family. The Grey Family had also given me a phone call and a warm welcome shortly after I’d reached Alabama.
Last Thursday, as I made it to Orange Beach, where hosts Willy & Teresa Grey met me on the road to guide me in on foot. Willy runs Whiskey Willy’s Bloody Mary mix from his beautiful home on the Orange Beach waterfront. Twenty years my elder, he’s shared endless fascinating stories with me about growing up in central Florida, moving to Alabama, tending bar, and ultimately bringing his bloody Mary mix to Market, in 1985. As he works from home, and is a culinary genius, he also prepares absolutely delicious meals seven days a week.
Willy & Teresa detailed the experience of what it’s like to live in this area, ups and downs. Their waterfront home is in a hurricane risk area, and they’ve had to evacuate multiple times over the course of the years. Describing what an intensely laborious job it is, Willy showed me nail holes around the windows of where they’ve had to place 3/4″ plywood before any threat of hurricane comes this way. Given that the home is three stories tall, boarding up windows would be no easy job for anyone, and I see his head tilt at the hardship it’s caused him over the years. That said, they appear to love Orange Beach, and spending just a handful of days with them on the water, I understand how quickly one can fall in love living here.

Their kids are outstanding students at a local private school, and as Will the high school junior, had just completed his comprehensive junior year U.S. history exam, I figured I’d ask him what he felt the “Civil War” was about. I say “Civil War,” because I’ve recently learned that so many here refer to the conflict by a different name. Teresa tells me her high school teacher found the term “Civil War” to be strongly offensive, instead opting to call it “The War Between the States.” Others call it “The War of Northern Aggression.” Teresa, now in her 40’s, remembers being instructed to tear out certain pages from the high school history books, and cross out other places. Many here are taught that the war was simply a “states’ rights” issue. Others clarify that the chief “states’ right” being fought for was slavery. Will, fresh out of his history exam, had quite the comprehensive answer, covering all of this. Being from the “neutral” state of Washington, which joined the Union in 1889, nearly twenty-five years after the end of the war, it’s easy to not be seen as having any sort of heritage in the face of the brutal, years-long conflict.

Though I’m about to leave Orange Beach, and I’ll be reaching the HUGE milestone of the Florida border, it’s most likely that I’ll ultimately end up re-entering Alabama as I exit the Florida Panhandle, walking north. I may end up walking over a hundred more miles within Alabama. This will likely be the only time throughout my entire Walk that I cross through any given state twice– all while not breaking the route at all!

After spending days personalizing them, I’ll be sending out nearly 80 postcards today, before reaching the Florida border.

Today’s 30% chance of thunderstorms sounds “exciting.” The positive is that it gives me plenty of cloud cover from the hot-and-getting-hotter Gulf Coast May sunshine.

All is great and getting better!!

Some of the most DELICIOUS food ever!!

The Grey Family's backyard dock, with heron waiting to see if anyone will throw him fresh fish!

Sunset view from the Grey House in Orange Beach