© 2016 by Marisol Cruz.

    May 17, 2018

    May 10, 2018

    April 24, 2018

    September 16, 2017

    May 22, 2017

    November 18, 2016

    November 17, 2016

    Please reload

    Recent Posts

    Comedy of Errors

    May 17, 2018

    Please reload

    Featured Posts

    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.

















    Please reload

    Follow Us