St. Josephs Peninsula State Park, Florida

It’s going to be a whole lot of Florida for the next week, folks. So buckle up.





Yesterday was ideal. When I sat day dreaming about this trip and what my daily routine would look like, I imagined yesterday.


The day before (3/3/15) I met a self-proclaimed nomad named Scooter (mid-thirties). He recommended a good oyster bar happy hour in town at Peg Leg Petes and told me that if I was headed east, I had to drive through either St. Joe Peninsula or St. George Island.


Yesterday (3/4/15) I set out early – despite the time zone change – on the 98 East. It was still foggy, but by the time I turned off on the 30A towards St. Joseph Peninsula the sun reigned.


A few miles into the peninsula I saw there was a bike path paralleling the road. Perfect.


I pulled over just before the road began north and unloaded my bike, filled up my Camelbak, and hit the highway, wind at my back. The state park entrance was a good ways from where I parked, which was just what my lazy legs needed. $8 per vehicle, and $2 for pedestrians and bicyclists. Nice.


It was hard to pay attention to the road.


I rode as far north as the road allowed and went west to the Gulf of Mexico side. A few families and some fishermen were already there enjoying the easy waves and white sand beaches. I didn’t see anyone else swim, but I’m sure I didn’t invent the concept. I read a chapter of Wild (thanks Liz!) and snapped a few photos of the scene.




Satisfied with my progress and hungry for lunch, I jammed back the way I came, albeit a bit slower because of the headwind.







Gulf Architecture 1
Gulf Architecture 2
Gulf Architecture 3


This morning (3/5/15) I talked to a group of people loading down their already stuffed enclosed trailer with groceries and booze and learned that there is a three day muddin rally happening right down the road.


“Trucks Gone Wild are gonna be there.”


My sisters boyfriend, a Florida native, told me I had to check out a mud rally, “just trust me” he said, and this one, The Iron Horse Mud Ranch: Dysfunctional Family Reunion, fell right into my lap!


So here I sit, in the Taylor County Public Library, freshly restocked with food, booze, and ice, vibrating to drive out to whats guaranteed to be the shit-kick’n-ist good time I’ve had in a while ⇒ Yew-Dilly!”





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