sprocket i/o

I’ve always believed in the mantra “It’s the journey, not the destination”. This past weekend, I put it into practice. I rode down to Orlando for the wedding of my next-door neighbor for 15 years: Julie Loschiavo. I haven’t gone through the wedding photos yet, so for now I’ll just write about the trip to there and back.

The ride was about 1,000 miles round trip. For the first time, I got to use my shiny N2 di-GPS mini camera attachment that added GPS coordinates to most of my photos for the trip. You can see the results in the Picasaweb Album Map. In any case, one of my first stops was Unadilla, GA, just a bit south of Macon, GA:

Unadilla is a native-american term for “Gathering Place”, but this small town of 2700 people certainly did not look like it. The downtown area was very much a ghost-town, with abandoned or derelict buildings. There were many signs of there being a better time in this towns life, when the railroads were busier. Around 30% of the town lives below the poverty level, and the biggest building in town is Dooly State Prison, a medium-level facility with 1100 inmates. The town did have some fresh signs of growth though, with bits of construction here and there.

My next stop was to get a photo of me and my bike next to an ‘Entering Florida’ sign. I pulled off at GA exit 2, hoping to enter Florida via a side-road so that I could stop and get my photo without endangering myself and others. Sadly, the only sign I saw was one for whichever county it was on the Florida side of the border. I try to avoid going back the way I came when I’m on an adventure, so I can see just a little bit more of my surroundings. I noticed a dirt road that appeared to head back to the interstate just outside of Octahatchee / Jennings, FL:

One thing you’ll notice is the Spanish Moss. I thought a lot during my ride about the origins of the name of this plant, but couldnt’ come up with much. There are some conflicting reports, but the most common storry is that it was named after a spaniard who got his beard caught in a tree while chasing a Native American maiden. According to Everything2, Spanish Moss is known as “French Hair” in Spain, and “Spanish Beard” in France. In any case, this road had a few houses, some swamps, and some huge irrigated fields. The dirt was mostly compact, but there were some thick bits of sugar sand in the turns that had me a bit skittish.

As it was getting dark on the highway, I kept making more and more stops. I’d stop every 150 miles for gas (75% of my capacity), and all of the rest stops too. Eventually I got to the Turnpike, where I had to pay $3 in tolls to get down to the hotel. I’m not a huge fan of paying tolls on a motorcycle, as often times I need to take my gloves off to get the money out. I always feel a bit nervous that someone isn’t going to notice a motorcycle sitting there fumbling with change and rear-end me, though I honestly think it’s pretty unlikely given the necessary stop at a toll booth. Well, eventually I got there, dropped my things off, and said hi to my niece, Amanda:

While we were in Orlando, I got to hang out with my family, see Chris and Julie get married, and wander around the area some. I’ll save all that for another blog entry though, since those photos are not yet ready. Here is one to get you by with though:

On my way back, I took a detour to visit Emeralda Marsh, a popular birding location southeast of Ocala, FL. I didn’t have my birding lens with me, but the 18-200mm did a respectable job to at least see the birds with. On the way to the marsh, I spotted an Osprey from a gas station:

At the marsh itself, I was able to spot some herons, ibises, and even a set of moorhen:

Noticing I was running out of time, I headed back to the Interstate. Not wanting to backtrack again, I disagreed with the GPS and headed north. It’s a very flat, rural area, but surprisingly, there were some great twisty roads to be found. At one point, I saw a pickup truck park longways in my lane at a 90′ turn, so that they could talk to someone. There was no way for a car to see me if I went around him, and no way for me to see a car, so I cut through the driveway and lawn of the person he was talking to. They seemed to approve. *shrug*. I was really hoping to do some offroad again, and my GPS informed me that 500ft ahead there was a turnoff that appeared to be sand. Knowing how I hadn’t fared very well turning in deep sand before, I turned slowly and deliberately onto the small road. Within a moments notice, the bike decided that it was nap time:

I was over before I could even think about how to counter it. My instincts served me very badly here, as you can see where I stomped my left foot on the ground to keep it from toppling over, as the bike was still in motion (see drag mark). The correct answer would have been to open up the throttle a bit more to straighten out. My only injury was a swollen ankle, so I looked around, and lifted the bike up. A lady then pulled in next to me to check her mailbox, and after waving to her, I noticed that this was a dead-end residential road that I had turned onto, with the road the GPS was asking me to go to hidden behind the trees.

I waited for the lady to leave, and then began pushing my bike around the sand so that I could get out of there with minimal fuss. As I was doing so, some guy riding a cruiser with no helmet on passed me without even noticing. Given that I wear a bright yellow-green jacket, and a white helmet, I figure it was just a snub more than a lack of attention. I noticed an interesting cultural split in Florida between people who wear helmets and those that do not. I give a wave to every rider I see — but the ones without helmets never wave back.

So, as I headed out of the neighborhood, I spotted some Sandhill Cranes in a field. I think they are one of the most beautiful birds in the US, and I had not seen them since I lived in Florida over 10 years ago. I pulled to the shoulder of the road and snapped a few photos of them:

Just as soon as I had pulled away from there, I saw a large white and black raptor fly over the road into some trees. I was sure it was a Bald Eagle, so I coasted toward the tree that I thought he had landed in and pulled over. I managed to get this photo from the seat of my motorcycle:

The Bald Eagle was evidently interested in the remains of a dead Possum that was lying in the road. I waited patiently for the eagle to make a move for it, but it wouldn’t budge with me around. I then tried to get off my bike to see if I could get some better photos, but the eagle flew off to the opposite side of the road instead. It was getting a little later in the day than I had intended, so I raced off toward Ocala so that I could hop on I-75 to get home and see my wife.

On the way back, I only stopped at gas stations when I ran low on gas, figuring a break every 150 miles would be sufficient interval to prevent my tail end from hurting. As the adrenalin of the fall before had worn off, and the swelling in my ankle increased, it was getting harder to upshift. I did get home around 9:30pm, and was glad to see Dallas again. The end. For more photos, check out my To Orlando And Back Album.