Road Ride to Bad Patty's

Baby got a new road bike.

I was on my way to work at the Ten-Speed Greens Saturday farmstand one morning and drove past a garage sale. Out of the corner of my eye I happened to see a cute little number propped up by the curb and slammed on the brakes. It was a vintage Trek, it was in working order, the former owner was my height and the price was right. BOOYAH. I haven't owned a road bike in years!

Clearly, the right thing to do would be to take it out for a spin. Travis looked up some road ride routes, courtesy of the Capital City Cyclists. When I'm looking to go for a longer ride, I usually just do the obvious thing and ride the St. Marks Trail. It's flat and pretty and about 40 miles round trip if you go all the way to the lighthouse at the coast. But I felt so zippy and adventurous on my new whip, I was excited that Travis found us somewhere different to ride.

The route we chose started in a tiny community called Chaires, headed east toward Capitola (even tinier), continued on into Jefferson County, then looped back around to the starting point. Now when I say I felt zippy, I REALLY meant it. I love my Old Field Cycles touring frame, but it is not a fast bike. It is a sturdy, reliable, practical bike for the long haul. My new Trek allows me to actually pedal 16 miles an hour without breaking too much of a sweat. It's like the aluminum frame, 700c wheels and skinny little tires were designed for speed or something.

Riding down these little country roads right outside of town can almost transport you to a different life. The shells of these formerly thriving communities exist through closed down railroad depots, moss-covered picket fences, and shuttered country stores.

Plenty of people still live out here though, one of whom being Bad Patty.

I first met Bad Patty during my short stint working out at Turkey Hill Farm. Farmer Herman took me on a field trip to go visit his best friend Pat, who lives over on Cherry Tree Road. Pat bought the property 25 years ago, and the story goes that he meant to build a house for himself and his sweetheart. He even poured the house's foundation. Well something didn't work out and the two were never betrothed, and instead of building a house Pat built a hobo camp.

Every Sunday Pat invites folks out to do some work, throw some projectiles, and eat some food. He grows a big garden to feed himself and his few young proteges living out there with him, and he raises hogs, rabbits, chickens, and guinea fowl as well. He always needs help. And once he's got some work done, he sets everyone loose to throw tomahawks, shoot bows and arrows, or fire guns in his shooting range. His property backs up to a forest preserve, and he says when everything comes crashing down one day at least he'll have the avenue of escape, as well as the tools for surviving the post apocalypse.

I feel like it's important for you to know that Pat never built his house. He instead built himself a screened in pagoda, an outdoor kitchen, and a shop to house his thousands of tools. The whole place runs off a gas-powered generator. His proteges live rent-free in tents and school buses. He's teaching them how build a life using few resources, and they're happy to help him run his homestead.

Bad Patty's place happened to be on our route, and it also happened to be a Sunday. So Travis and I stopped by to see what was cooking. There was a big work crew out transplanting seedlings in the garden, and there was some pork on the BBQ. I shoveled a wheelbarrow full of chicken manure for the garden, borrowed an allen wrech to raise my seatpost, and said hello to the adorable Miss Piggy, the wild piglet (and future bacon) found on a neighboring plantation.

The rest of the ride back to the car took us through farmland, quail plantations, and some awful pretty Spanish moss canopies.

We're so lucky to have an active cycling community in Tallahassee to put together such helpful route maps. Do you have any routes that you like to ride on a free afternoon?

#WESTCOASTTOURRIBLE

Announcement! Announcement! Everything is Tourrible is taking it back to the road!

At the end of the Florida growing season, Travis and I are taking another epic bike tour! This year we'll be starting in Seattle and wiggling our way down the Pacific coast to end up in San Francisco. #Westcoasttourible only nine weeks away!

I'm so excited to say that we have three official sponsors for this year's adventure: Anhaica Bag Works, Old Field Cycles, and Whiskey Dog Wares. All three of these grassroots companies are owned by ambitious young people who I greatly admire, and I am honored to be taking their products on the road.

So look forward to some epic updates starting July 23. We promise to provide you with some exciting stories for you to live vicariously through!

Wacissa River

If you spent the amount of time it takes getting fancied up for a night on the town and instead spent it driving, you could reach the Wacissa River.

If you spent the amount of money it takes to buy two fancy cocktails, you can rent a canoe for a few hours and paddle up the Big Blue, one of the big springs that feeds into the Wacissa.

Basically, with a little coordination you can take your friends out to explore the surrounding nature quickly and on the cheap. No epic journeys necessary. And here's where we come to the second installment of the "Claire and Travis Actually DO Have Friends" posts.

The Wacissa is just so close to Tallahassee that it's one of the easiest rivers to find and canoe down. There are three canoe rentals on River Road, the dirt road off Highway 59 that dead ends into the river. Not only that, but there is an open swimming area just near the boat launch, Big Blue spring provides a totally chill spring to hang out/swimming area, AND if you plan your trip during June you can U-pick some blueberries at the riverside blueberry orchard.

For these reasons, the Wacissa is one of the places I like to take out of town folks to visit. It's another springfed river, with 12 major springs contributing to its flow until it reaches the waters of the Aucilla River, which then carry on into the Gulf. The headspring is located right at the end of River Road, and is the major source of the crystal clear water that feeds the river. In 2012 the Wacissa was designated as National Recreation Trail, chiefly because of its pristine waters, remote location and excellent wildlife viewing. It's in the middle of nowhere, and the river isn't used for any other purpose besides paddling, fishing and hunting.

So one Sunday I rounded up a bunch of friends (Travis wasn't even in town!) and we made the 20 minute trip out to the river. Carrie, Javin, Danielle (and Sevy) rented a canoe while me, Jess and Ixtah paddled in one I borrowed from my parents. It was a rowdy weekend down on Wacissa Beach, which is what the locals call the boat ramp park. As I said, this river is in the middle of NOWHERE, so you get a good sampling of what the residents of rural North Florida are like. There's usually some real big trucks blasting either country or R&B, plenty of bad tattoos, puppies, Budweiser, and airboats.

On this particular occasion, a man immediately came up to Javin as he was loading into the canoe and asked, "Are you sure you're not scared? You sure you can swim?" Javin surveyed the situation, acknowledged that the dude was there with a bunch of friends, and chose to waive off the racist comment without making a big deal. This is still something I don't know how to deal with, and it happens more frequently than I would expect: people you know or acquaintances who may act perfectly nice hold racist assumptions and feel like they are appropriate to talk about. I still haven't figured out how to say, "Hey! That's racist!" to someone in a casual situation in a way that is productive, not explosive.  I'm open to suggestions.

Once we all loaded into the river, the paddling was easy up the Big Blue. I don't have a GPS so I can't tell you exactly how to get there. Like lots of these tucked away North Florida nature secrets, you just have someone show you sometime. The spring run juts off on the left riverbank.

You paddle up around the corner till the channel opens up into a sunny swimming hole, shallow enough to stand in the front, and cascading hundreds of feet down to the spring in the back. Every year some intrepid carpenter builds a floating dock and anchors it to the river floor, and every year Fish and Wildlife come and remove it.

Every year, some brave soul scales a tree to tie a branch overhanging the deep spring water, and every year Fish and Wildlife cut it down.

This early in the year there were both a dock AND a ropeswing, so we were set for an afternoon of Bud Light Lime drinking, sunbathing, swing splashing, and gator watching. Yeah, there was a little guy sunbathing on the edge of the spring. But he was only five or so feet long and wasn't gonna hurt anybody.

Now if you're looking for a nice, quiet nature excursion, the weekend is NOT the time to visit Big Blue. There were at least 30 other people hanging out on pontoon boats, airboats, canoes and kayaks. The floating dock almost sank a couple of times.

Among those 30 people was racist dude. He was drinking beers on a pontoon boat all afternoon till his friends were ready to paddle out of there and go home. He dove off the boat so close that Carrie said, "Wow he really almost hit the dock!" And when he emerged from the water with his face bleeding, we realized he didn't come close. He just straight dove into the dock. Well, since he was apparently okay enough to ask for another Bud Light, Danielle figured she should go ahead and document the event.

Maybe it was karma?

All in all, the afternoon was a success. I'd like to make another trip down when the blueberries are ripe (soon!), and one day when I'm feeling ambitious, I'll make Travis paddle the 10 miles down river to the Goose Pasture campground to spend the night on a river island. Can you IMAGINE all the eveningtime birdwatching for Heavy Birdin? And then when I'm feeling REAL ambitious, we'll navigate the paddling trail from the Wacissa through to the Aucilla, canoeing through the coastal swamps till we reach the saltwater of the Gulf of Mexico.

I seriously can't explain to you how much I love living in Florida.

Santa Fe River

At this point in reading my blog, you're probably thinking, "GOD are Claire and Travis one of those couples who ONLY spend time with each other?"

Well, yes and no. I live in Tallahassee, Travis lives in Gainesville. We see each other about every other weekend, so when that happens, we tend to hang out solo. But we DO have friends! Here's proof!

Our friends Casey and Perry got hitched, and because they are such wonderful people they chose to do the deed at O'Leno State Park in High Springs, about 20 minutes north of Gainesville. This is one of Florida's first state parks, built by the fine men of the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s. It was built on the sight of a ghost town, originally called Keno after a popular gambling game. But in 1876, after the town got a little more reputable, they changed the name of the town to Leno so people wouldn't get the wrong idea about its fine upstanding citizens. The town died out when the railroad was built to bypass the town, and its hotel, saw mill, and town center eventually became abandoned. People started called it "Old Leno", and now it's O'Leno.

What's cool about this park is that it swallows up the Santa Fe river. Literally! The headwaters of the river are Lake Santa Fe, but about 45 miles downstream the river takes a nosedive underground, and emerges three miles later at River Rise State Park. This is all because of Florida's crazy limestone foundation, which is porous and highly susceptible to erosion. The result is sinkholes, springs, underwater caves, and natural land bridges.

O'Leno is set up for a party, complete with a chapel, an event hall, and even rustic cabins for overnight guests. Casey and Perry's charming little wedding fit right in with the brilliant spring growth happening in the forest, and Travis and I partied hard and danced harder- but not TOO hard, because we are both tired farmers. We retired to our cabin around 11:30, with plenty of time to sleep before the next day's adventure.

Because why waste a good trip to High Springs? RIGHT? The Canoe Outpost was right there, just ten minutes away! So after a diner breakfast we rented a giant canoe and hit the water.

We're really good at canoeing at this point. The only thing that causes steering problems is when one of us has to bust out the 'nocs to try and identify a bird or see if we can spot a tiny little baby turtle resting at the Shell Station.

It had rained a bunch the week before, so not only was the river brown from all the tannins leaching out from the leaf litter, it was also flooded at some points.

And it was cold. Like in the 60s. In April. In Florida. Travis prefers cool or cold weather. He actually LIKES having to be forced to wear beanies in the winter. He's a weirdo. So he was having a great time but I was pretty chilly the whole time. I did not appreciate being chilly, but that is because I want to go swimming literally every opportunity possible.

The Santa Fe is fed by hundreds of little springs, some of them large and swimmable and some of them just little gurgles up from the limestone. We stopped in at Poe Spring to check it out, but unfortunately because of the rain, it was tea colored instead of the usual sapphire. But you see that ripple? That's water pumping up out of the ground and into the spring run.

But that water was still a constant 72 degrees, ten degrees warmer than the air outside. We saw a girl slip out of the water and into her kayak, which I thought was brave. She had a bigger hoodie than me though. Poe Spring is a great little picnic spot- there are bathrooms and pavilions and if the water were clear it would make for amazing swimming. But not for today. We continued on downstream, and watched the clearer water of the spring mix with the dark tannic water of the river.

We passed all kinds of pretty things.

And then we passed something else entirely.

Yessssssssss?

Obviously we were very intrigued. We paddled up the spring run of Lily Spring, and parked the canoe for a second so we could take a look around. An old man sat on a dock behind a waist-high wooden partition across the spring. "Are you Naked Ed?" I called. "Well, not right now!" was his response. And that's how we met Naked Ed, the leader and enforcer of a little nudist spring retreat.

As I said earlier, it was a little chilly so Naked Ed was wearing pants that day, but on warm days he sits out on his dock in the clothes he was born in. He bought the property surrounding Lily Spring in the 80s, and since then he has built himself a little encampment for himself along the river, and invites others out to camp and hang out at his spring.

Ed said he gets all kinds of people visiting him, some just passing through, some staying the night to camp. Clothing is purely optional, and Ed has become somewhat of a policeman of his nudist hideaway. You know, not everyone can take their clothes off and stay out of trouble. He's gotta watch for creepy old dudes with cameras, he requests that children put on clothes when strangers paddle in, and he's had to ask a few people to leave and never come back. It's interesting all that can happen when normal rules (clothes) don't apply. Well Ed certainly had a lot to say on the subjects of his extremely brittle bones (he's broken all this arms and legs), the beer a fan brewed and named after him, and how some of his visitors are just too lazy to walk out of the water and up to the bathroom to pee. He would have kept talking damn day if I hadn't paddled away literally mid-sentence, but visiting Lily Spring was certainly an unexpected detour. Maybe we'll stop by when it's warmer and get the full Naked Ed experience.

We finished up our trip at Rum Island, where the canoe outfitters picked us up. Not bad for a quick day trip. The Santa Fe eventually feeds into the Suwannee, so there might be an epic canoe-camping trip in our future once the busy farm season is over. My advice is that if you do plan on making a trip down the Santa Fe, try and pick a time where it hasn't rained recently and the springs will be bright blue and poppin'. So we'll save that for next time.