2009-03-22 I'm kind of sleepy. Between the whipping wind snapping my rain fly up and down and cars roaring by about ten yards away I didn't sleep very good last night. I met a number of other cyclists today with their bicycles loaded up like mine. Unfortunately only one of those people appeared to be actually going someplace. His name is Chris and he was cycling from Key West to Quebec. His collection of gear induced great jealousy in me and has inspired me to try and trim down my load. He had the same model of Trek as me, but his was new and shiny, while mine is still splattered with gunk from the Everglades (which might actually improve its looks). If you want to learn more about him you can visit his website, www.cycleforheart.org. Chris presents his trips to students across the country. Because of that, he plays by the rules. He has to be a good role model. No trespassing, stealing tomatoes, removing the helmet on quiet roads or wearing headphones. Guess I won't be talking to students. I finally made it to Key West. I visited the Southernmost Point. I did a lap along the beaches. I watched hundreds of other tourists consulting maps. And then I found myself bored with it all and went and tried to get wifi (unsuccessfully) at Salty Sam's Marina. I took the Key West Express from Key West to Marco Island. It turns out that terrorist are constantly trying to hijack ferries as well. (That was sarcasm.) I was forced to dismount all of my bags and present them for inspection. At one point I asked how this would work because I knew for a fact that I would never be able to carry half of my gear through an airport checkpoint. "Just like a plane," was the answer I received. I guess my life could have been made very rough, but the authority wannabes choose to ignore my uncased laptop, pocket knife, multiple sharp tools, significantly-in-excess-of-four-ounces liquids and the steel in my shoes. Just like a plane? Because of the abundant wind (that had been my friend up to now) the seas were a bit on the rough side. And the boat traveled very fast. I am trying to conjure an adequate description of just how unpleasant the forward seats were, but can only visualize towels in a slowly tumbling commercial drier. I watched the sun set in fits and spurts. Sometimes it was above the window, sometimes below, sometimes to the left, and sometimes to the right. The boat landed on Marco Island after dark, so for the fourth night in a row I was forced to find a campsite in the dark. I succeeded some distance from the well-populated island.

wind in my favor for once more birds Southernmost Point die BlackBerry die