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    Beach to Beach

    November 17, 2016

    I slept in a little later than the previous morning.

     

    No sunrise.

     

    Still, I was up just after 7 a.m.

     

    Again, I made breakfast: soft-boiled eggs and toast.

     

    By 10 a.m., I was packed and ready to go.

     

    I lubed the chain and secured all my belongings.

     

    Keith and Cathy watched my departure, and suggested that John Anderson route.  I invited them to Savannah knowing that they would come visit; it's too close for them not to stop and see me.

     

    From Anderson, I jumped onto 100 back to A1a.

     

    I took A1a all the way through St. Augustine and into Jacksonville.

     

    The weather could not have been more perfect:  a cloudless sky with temperatures in the 70s.  

     

    Views of the ocean.

     

    Views of various rivers.

     

    Views of McMansions, too.  

     

    When I reached Beach Boulevard, I stopped at a Walgreens to hydrate and enjoy a snack.  

     

    It was a miraculous stop, for I ran into a 70-something black man named Leo.  He was in an old F150 admiring my motorcycle when he asked me how many cc's it had.

     

    We had a lengthy conversation as to why he was there.  

     

    His daughter -- the one he raised since birth -- had questions as to whether or not he was her biological father.  He was at the Walgreens waiting to speak to a pharmacist about some sort of DNA test that he could take to prove his paternity.  

     

    Apparently, his ex-wife had filled his 50-something, Atlanta-based daughter's head with the notion that he was not her father.

     

    What a load of bull -- not just on his ex-wife's part, but his daughter, too.   

     

    Who cares if he was "blood."  

     

    Leo did the fathering part -- raising her!  

     

    Later, when the time was right, I told him about my journey.

     

    He knew that I would be crossing over A1a, so he proceeded to give me exact directions to the Mayport ferry.  

     

    I had taken all these pictures to figure out how to get there, and here, I meet Leo, and voila, like magic he's there to guide my way.  

     

    And... that's how it is on a motorcycle.

     

    I call it moto-flow.  

     

    Here's a truth:  when you are on a motorcycle, all that you need arrives just when you need it right when you need it.  

     

    I said goodbye to Leo and headed to Mayport for my first St. John's River ferry ride (with my motorcycle).

     

    There, I paid $5.00 to get from side of A1a to the other.

     

    There, a young transportation agent (and cash collector) shared a

    motorcycle story with me.

     

    There, I took this photo.  

    Following my river crossing, I continued along A1a.

     

    I passed more beautiful vistas including several state parks as I reached Amelia Island.

     

    Along the way, I saw a sign for a Harris-Teeter, and thanks to a Charleston vacation, I knew what it was.

     

    I pulled into the grocery store to have a late lunch (in the parking lot of course).

     

    Then, I looked for directions to my airbnb -- it was less than five miles away.

     

    I drove along A1a into Fernandina Beach and pulled into the house where I would be staying.  

     

    Modest, but private it was.

     

    In the Florida room (aka back porch) was where I was.  

     

    I pulled into the driveway, unloaded my gear, and walked toward the back of the house.

     

    The door was open, so I dropped my stuff down and freshened up.

     

    Then, I drove back to the beach to take a long coastal walk on such a crisp, cool day.

     

    When I returned to my motorcycle, I drove into the quaint downtown area.

     

    Finding a coffee shop, I parked and pulled into the establishment.  

     

    Appropriately called Amelia Island Coffee, I ordered a chai and a half-price piece of cake (coconut and vanilla).

     

    Later, I drove back to my airbnb spot, and met up at the kitchen table with Martha (a Nassau County theater teacher).  

     

    I closed the evening with a lively discussion before drifting off to sleep on a pull-out couch in a Florida room on Amelia Island.

    Until we meet again.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

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