Riding with the ROBOS -- Asheville and a Blue Ghost Firefly Tour

The ROBOS on the steps of the Grove Park Inn 

Note to self: Riding an electric bike isn't quite as easy as it looks. It's one thing for cyclists to use the extra assist to pedal around Punta Gorda and quite another to negotiate an e-bike's thrust to cycle up a hill in city traffic. And that's without taking into account the leader having to keep track of his nine little charges all in a row (more or less).  But the ROBOS are always up for an adventure.

Enter The Flying Bike (aka Touring with Torin). Torin is an old hand at e-biking. He commuted to work in Asheville on his electric bike for six years before finding an e-bike business opportunity on Craigslist when looking for a new battery. It seemed meant to be.

Interior of Basilica of St. Lawrence

After an exhaustive orientation (the details of which I promptly forgot once I was on the bike), we headed onto the streets of Asheville. It was only slightly nerve-wracking as we made our way -- in fits and starts -- to the oft-overlooked Basilica of St. Lawrence.

The Basilica was designed by Rafael Guastavino, a Spanish architect who was a contemporary of Gaudi. While you may not know his name, I suspect you're familiar with some of his designs. Guastavino is credited with creating the ubiquitous subway tile design that graces many a shower. This likely comes from the faience tile work Guastavino did for the New York City subway station when it was built in the early 1900s. His most significant work for the subway system was the City Hall station, now used as a turnaround for the 6 train. Guastavino and his well-trained son are also responsible for the McKim Building at the Boston Public Library and the Oyster Bar at Grand Central Station. For some great pics of his work, click here.

Our guide Torin

Back to Asheville and the Basilica of St. Lawrence. The interior features the largest unsupported elliptical dome in North America. It's quite an amazing structure made of terra cotta tiles molded together with thin layers of mortar. There's nary a piece of steel or wood in the dome. Guastavino is also responsible for the stunning blue tiled pool at the Biltmore Estate.

From there we were off to the glitz and glamour of the Grove Park Inn.  No trip to Asheville is complete without taking in the view of the Blue Ridge Mountains from the hotel terrace.

Torin shared a couple of noteworthy tidbits about the Inn with our group. The sprawling structure required 200 tons of stone for its still-original exterior. If I understood Torin correctly, most of the stone was hauled up the hill by mules. (Talk about being a beast of burden.)  And here's the kicker -- the Inn was built in just 362 days. The story goes that Henry Ford bet E.W. Grove the Inn could not be built in under a year. Grove employed 400 men who worked ten hours each day to accomplish the feat. Their daily pay of $1 was the best in town. Sadly, I failed to ask what Grove won for besting Ford other than some serious bragging rights.

Dinner at a picnic area on the Blue Ridge Parkway

That evening found us at the Cradle of the Forestry for a Blue Ghost Firefly Tour. While darkness fell, we were given the lowdown on fireflies, which are actually soft-bodied beetles. If I'd thought about it, I probably wouldn't have been surprised to learn that the fireflies' lanterns serve a reproductive purpose. (We were informed the number one pick up line for fireflies is "You sure look flashy tonight." Groan.)

Male fireflies hover one to four feet above the forest floor with their two lanterns on (unless, that is, they are in "private mode," in which case only their lower light is on). Their lanterns can emit light for up to a minute. Female fireflies stay in the leaves where they will nest for their gestation period. Perhaps it is because they are frequently hidden from view that females can have up to nine lanterns.

I got a bit nervous when we were warned we might not actually see any fireflies on our walk through the forest. It was early in the season (which only lasts two-three weeks), and fireflies aren't fond of temperatures under 60 degrees. The Cradle's location at an elevation of 3200 feet made it cooler than it was in Asheville. But my fears were abated when walkie talkies started sounding off as guides already in the forest reported, "I have visuals." Whew!

The ROBOS and our vehicle

As we entered the forest, we immediately saw a few fireflies flitting around. It was fun to hear people use their newfound knowledge as they excitedly announced the sex of the firefly they'd seen.  Before long the crowd spread out, and I found myself walking alone for much of the mile long path. It was a special experience to be amidst the trees with a nearly full moon shedding light on the path. Seeing some fireflies along the way was just a bonus.

All too soon, it was time to bundle ourselves back into our ten person passenger van and head home. I'm proud to report that I did much of the driving, including on the winding road back down the mountain. It was no harder than riding an  electric bike, except when it came to parking.

A huge thanks to Pam for organizing the ROBOS' South Carolina adventure with near military precision. The planning paid off, with every day full of friendship, the beauty of nature, and new experiences. Who could ask for anything more from a getaway?

Riding with the ROBOS -- Greenville

Back row: Lynden, Pat, Jeanne, Carol and Brideen

Front row: Gaye, Meike, Pam and me

A couple months back, I received an excited email from my friend Pam. "The ROBOS are coming to South Carolina!" it declared. The missive went on to ask if I wanted to join them for their U.S. cycling adventure. Needless to say, I was in. But a bit of background might be required....

Back when I was married, we had a home in Chester, Nova Scotia. It is an incredibly beautiful place on Mahone Bay filled with interesting and fun people living life to its fullest. The days were spent golfing and biking and -- gasp -- even doing some sailing.  No matter what the activity, there was always lots of great comaraderie.

Meike, Pam, Pat and Lynden at Swamp Rabbit Trail Café -
the Stecca bread was amazing!

In 2008, some of the more avid cyclists organized the ROBOS, or Ride on Buns of Steel.  (It never hurts to be aspirational, does it?)  Each year since then, the group has gathered for a cycling-oriented trip. Sometimes they've braved the elements and ridden from inn to inn with their gear in panniers. Other years they've done bike and barge tours or more urban adventures. I was finally going to experience a ROBOS adventure firsthand.

Our first day of cycling took us to Greenville. We rented bikes in Travelers Rest, a town whose name comes from the days when stage coaches would stop there to allow travelers time to rest and reprovision before heading over the mountains.

Pam on the Swamp Rabbit Trail

It's a straight shot on the Swamp Rabbit Trail from Travelers Rest to Greenville. Not surprisingly, there's a story behind the name of the trail. In 1887, the shortline Greenville and Northern Railroad was established to ferry goods (and perhaps people) the 11.3 mile run between the two towns. It didn't take long for the railroad to become known as the Swamp Rabbit due to its route through the wetlands of the Upper Reedy River. (That explanation doesn't totally clarify things for me, but that's how the story goes.) The multi-purpose trail follows the same path taken by the Swamp Rabbit and thus goes by the same name.

While the name Swamp Rabbit Trail doesn't exactly evoke visions of beauty, the trail is quite lovely. We pedaled under a canopy of trees for much of the ride. Who knew (or at least remembered) that there were so many colors of green?  And I loved the signage along the way, including the four signs that reminded us, "Don't worry/about your hairdo/it's better for you/to wear a helmet." Point taken.

Meike seems to be conversing with Nobel Prize winning

physicist -- and Furman graduate -- Charles Townes

It didn't take long for us to reach Greenville. The former mill town has been revitalized and is now a seriously up and coming city. It was fun to revisit the spots Pam had introduced me to last summer, including Falls Park on the Reedy and the awesome M. Judson Booksellers. The town is filled with sculptures and flowers, and the attentive pedestrian can contemplate the quotes engraved in sidewalk pavers on Main Street. My favorite, compliments of Joseph Joubert, read, "Never cut what you can untie." On my next visit, I'm hoping to do the self-guided public art tour.

All too soon, it was time to ride back to Travelers Rest. After all, there was happy hour to be had at the top of Glassy Mountain, elevation 1647 feet. (Yes, the views were incredible.)  Stay tuned for a recap of our adventures in Asheville and the Blue Ghost Fireflies Tour at Cradle of Forestry.

Riding with Howard Kunik, Part 2

The history tour with City Manager Howard Kunik sometimes felt like a cyclists' version of limbo as I wondered, "How slow can I go?" (The answer is about 3.8 mph without putting a foot down for fear of tipping over.) But everyone arrived safely at each stop on the tour, which was the priority.

Detail from "Our First Firehouse" -- and a  reminder

not to let someone photograph you from below. 

Our tour resumes at Punta Gorda Fire Station #1, where the department's history is on display in a two-paneled mural that stretches across the walls of the bay. "Our First Firehouse" memorializes not only the department's first building but each iteration of firefighting gear and technology, from the rudimentary bucket brigade to the fully-protected covering of modern day firefighters. (The full "outfit"--with air packs--weighs in at 70 pounds.)

My favorite thing about the mural is that it's used as a teaching tool for the 600+ school kids who tour the fire house each year. I love that they've put together a search list of items for kids of all ages to find in the mural, from an axe to two ladybugs to a burnt matchstick to artist Skip Dyrda's signature red strings. I also appreciate the two helmets with identification numbers of firefighters who died on 9/11.

PG resident Charles Philip Bailey, 

a Tuskegee airman

From there we were on to The Blanchard House Museum of African-American History and Culture of Charlotte County. (That's a mouthful! Not surprisingly, the museum is known simply as Blanchard House.) Scot Shively was onsite to tell us about Blanchard House and its history.

Blanchard House was founded in 2004 by Bernice Russell. It's a fitting part of Punta Gorda's history, and not only because four African-American landowners were signatories to our town's certificate of incorporation. The home in which the museum is located was moved to its current location from 1482 feet away to revitalize the street. The cost: $26,000. For the numbers people among us, Shively noted the cost translated into $300/minute or $17.88 per foot.

Blanchard House was named for Joseph Blanchard, an African-American born in 1862 in St. Augustine. Although Florida was a slave state, St. Augustine was part of the Union, so Blanchard was born a free man. His first wife was Caucasian, nothing too unusual in the Spanish town. By the time he came to Punta Gorda to make his living as an oyster fisherman, Blanchard was on wife No. 4, a mail order bride named Minnie.

Each year the Blanchard House mounts an exhibit about African-American history. This year the theme is The Great Migration, and I'm really looking forward to taking it in.

Local author Libby Schaeffer

shared the Ice House's history

The last building on the tour was the Ice House, now known as a great place for darts and burgers. But in the day, 15 tons of ice were made there daily. Before the Ice House, local catch was salted and dried and sent to Cuba. Once the fish could be kept cold, it was marketed to northern destinations as well.

Libby Schaeffer was onsite to share some tidbits from the interview she did with Edna Smith Poppell for her book "The Ladies of Punta Gorda." Poppell is the daughter of Sherrod Smith, known as the "Smiling Iceman." Smith delivered ice to local businesses and residents. But don't envision bags of ice like the ones you pick up at the 7-11. Instead, Smith hauled 50 pound cubes of ice on his back from the Ice House to his truck to their final destination. He earned his nickname from his constantly pleasant demeanor.

Our final stop was the future home of the new mural. As Kelly Gaylord, President of the Historic Mural Society said, "It's not quite the shape of wall we're used to working with." The mural will wrap around the recently widened underpass near the Convention Center. But its not the wrap aspect that's challenging, it's the slant. (You really have to see it to understand the challenge.)

Rendering of marine life mural by Skip Dyrda

When Kelly brought mural artist Skip Dyrda to take a look at the site, he stood for a long time gazing at the 76' long wall. Finally, he said, "I see portholes." And so the mural-to-be will feature portholes through which viewers can see local marine life past and present. It's going to be interesting.

First, however, fundraising has to completed for the $35K project. This will give Dyrda plenty of time to finish "The Ladies Remembered" mural he just started on the Bayside Eye Center building at the corner of Olympia and Tamiami Trail. He will be at work on the mural for the next three months or so. Stop by and say hello!

Thanks to Howard and Kelly for organizing a fun morning learning about the history of Punta Gorda. And, as promised, click here to watch Bruce Tompkins' fabulous video of the tour.

Riding with Howard Kunik, Part 1

Mural Society President Kelly Gaylord 

with City Manager Howard Kunik 

Howard Kunik is the man. Where else but in Punta Gorda can you find a City Manager leading a bike ride highlighting a town's history? The ride took place as part of Punta Gorda's Founders' Week. As a bonus, the monies raised go in the kitty for a new mural to be painted along the expanded Harborwalk underpass.

The ride began at the recently renovated Gilchrist Park. Renovated, that is, but for the new restrooms. As soon as Howard was introduced, someone from the crowd cried out, "Where's the toilet?" "We will be getting the restrooms," Howard assured the 100 strong group. "We are working on ideas until the permanent ones are in place." The question detracted a bit from the beauty of the new park with its double wide sidewalks that allow bikers and walkers to comfortably share the path. But members of Punta Gorda's famous Guitar Army, which meets in the Park every Thursday night, have a legitimate concern.

PG Fire Department personnel and volunteers

with one of the Department's early trucks

Howard's rides typically focus on ongoing projects in town. But we have to wait for his Pedal and Play ride on March 9th for that info. Instead, in keeping with the Founders' Week theme, each stop highlighted a bit of Punta Gorda's history.

As we prepared to head out, Howard noted the ride would not be an aerobic event. The focus instead was on safely getting the group from point A to point B, with police personnel on bikes and a motorcycle leading the way. (It was kind of cool to see a back up on 41 as cyclists crossed the four lane road.)

Our first stop was, quite aptly, the History Park. Margaret Bogardus, President of the Punta Gorda Historical Society, met us there to share some tidbits about the buildings in the park. I'd heard most of the stories before, but the haunted house tale was a new one.

Punta Gorda's own haunted house

Each year, the Historical Society decorates the homes in the park for the holidays. Three years ago, the Price House was chock-full of glass Santa Clauses. Each morning when Gussie Baker entered the house to turn on the lights, she noticed a Santa or two had been moved. It was a mystery, not to mention a nuisance to have to reorganize every day. One morning, an aggravated Gussie cried out, "Whoever this is, stop it!" The empty house echoed. When Gussie returned the next day, all of the Santas had been broken. This year's decorations for the house are made of wood.

From there we were off to the Punta Gorda Train Depot. The depot, which is on the National Register of Historic Places, was built by the Atlantic Coast Line Railroad in 1928. Its primary use was the transportation of freight (mostly fish) to points north, but there was some passenger trade as well. Given the era, the station included separate waiting rooms and bathrooms for whites and "colored." Needless to say, the "white" area was a bit more comfortable. When the depot was restored, Bernice Russell was a member of the committee spearheading the project. (For those who don't know the name, Ms. Russell was a long-time African-American resident of Punta Gorda.) She made sure the segregated facilities were retained in the restoration as a reminder of the past.

Fiestaware at All Aboard

The Last Place Marketplace

Today the Depot is home to All Aboard The Last Stop Marketplace. For lack of a better description, I'll call it an antiques market. If you haven't been there since new management took over in September, check it out. The vendors have really interesting items, and the building has a totally different vibe after a good cleaning.

Howard arranged so many interesting stops on our ride that you'll have to wait for my next installment to read about the Fire House, Blanchard House, the Ice House and the new mural. And here's the real teaser -- I'll include my friend Bruce Tompkins' video of the ride which, as always, is terrific.

Girlfriend Get-Away

Lynden, Pat and Pa

Traditions are a wonderful thing. And one of my favorites is my annual outing with friends from my time in Nova Scotia. This year's adventure was geared around biking the Pinellas Trail between Dunedin and Tarpon Springs.

Our first stop was the Sunken Gardens in St. Petersburg. In 1903, plumber George Turner purchased four acres in what is now downtown St. Pete.The property had a lake on it that filled an ancient sinkhole. Mr. Turner promptly drained the lake and turned the area--15 feet below street level--into a gorgeous tropical garden.

Over time, Mr. Turner's gardens became so popular that he began charging a five cent admission fee to tour them. (Inflation being what it is, it now costs $10 to enter.)

In 1998, after being nurtured by three generations of Turners, the Sunken Gardens were declared a local historic landmark and purchased by the City of St. Petersburg.

I knew none of this history when proposing the stop. The Gardens just sounded interesting, and I knew my friends are botanical types. As promised, the Gardens are pretty impressive. They are incredibly lush, with water features and all sorts of beautiful palms and bamboo and bougainvillea. We marveled over the amount of maintenance required to keep the almost jungle-like property in such good condition.

I was taken by the flamingos, which do in fact stand--and sleep--on one leg.(Interestingly, scientists don't seem to know exactly why. Some think the posture allows the birds to conserve body heat, since they lose warmth through their legs and feet. Others believe it allows the non-standing leg to rest so the bird can make a quick getaway if it suddenly became prey. Whatever the reason, it's quite charming. ) It was fun to watch them scoop water into their beaks and filter out anything other than tidbits worthy of eating. And it was interesting to see their feathers stand on end when they got into a bit of a squawk.

We awoke the next day at our "quirky" AirBNB to perfect biking weather -- cool but sunny.  (Note: Even the Nova Scotians thought it was cool, so it wasn't just my thinned out Florida blood.) We headed out to rent bikes but were quickly sidetracked when we spotted  a farmer's market. 

We all fell in love with the Oprah-approved Fouta spa towels. They can be used as beach towels or bath towels or a throw. And, as shown here, they can also be worn as a wrap at the beach. (The photo featuring our Mediterranean model was a condition of my purchase.)  Their versatility reminded me of the old slice-o-matic with its catchy "it slices, it dices, it makes julienne fries" ads.

With our new treasures tucked away in my car, it was time to get the main event underway. Jake, our new buddy at Energy Conservatory Bike Shop, set us up with rental bikes for the day. (Our enthusiasm over having a cute young guy help us was a bit embarrassing.)

The Pinellas Trail is a biker's dream. The 47-mile path runs from St. Pete to Tarpon Springs. It's plenty wide for two bikers to ride abreast with an additional lane for walkers and runners.  The Trail is the western-most section of a Coast to Coast trail that runs from St. Pete to Cape Canaveral, a route that warrants future exploration.

For our outing, we had decided on the Dunedin-Tarpon Springs leg of the Trail, which is about a 12 mile ride each way. We meandered along, chatting and anticipating the exciting Sponge Docks (and the promise of an authentic Greek feast) once we arrived at Tarpon Springs.

An unexpected sight

on the Pinellas Trail

Suddenly, we saw a crowd of people and heard a lot of ape-like whooping. We had stumbled upon the Suncoast Primate Sanctuary, which has outdoor cages where some of the residents spend their days. Conveniently, a volunteer was outside giving a short explanation about the Sanctuary.

The facility is home to over 100 animals that have no place else to go. In their previous lives, they might have been pets or film stars or zoo animals. The Sanctuary is intended as a haven in which these animals can live out their twilight years. We didn't have time to go inside, so I didn't get a feel for the whole place. But the apes outside put on quite a show for us. One sweet ape would mimic on-lookers when they clapped. Two large apes were swinging and screaming and pounding their chests. (I'm betting they were the retired film stars.)

Finally, we reached Tarpon Springs. The Sponge Docks area is a tourist trap extraordinaire. There's shop after shop with sponge-related items. And while we made a brief foray into a shop or two, the food was the main attraction. 

You (meaning me) might expect such a tourist spot to have over-priced restaurants with barely edible food. But happily, the Greek community in Tarpon Springs is serious about its food. Our friend Jake had suggested we check out Hellas, where we dined on octopus and grape leaves and pastitsio. I was glad to burn off some of those calories on the bike ride back to Dunedin. 

There was more to our adventure -- sunset at Honeymoon Island State Park, a book discussion, a great craft fair, the Charlotte High production of "Tarzan." But the best part of the week-end was just spending time together. We talked about our lives and the world and people we know. As Pam told her husband, "We share our hearts." While this comment immediately made me mimic gagging, I might be the one who appreciated our talks the most. I'm already looking forward to next year's get-together.

Gaslighted in Gulfport

You may recall the movie "Gaslight" starring Ingrid Bergman as a woman whose husband tries to drive her crazy. (And I mean literally mad, not the type of crazy found in normal relationships.)  While the movie is a classic, I've never felt any sympathy for Bergman's character -- until now. 

The day started off innocently enough.  The Isles Yacht Club biking group had organized an overnight outing in Gulfport.  Twenty-four bikers arrived at the Historic Peninsula Inn & Spa and headed out for a 16+ mile ride before lunch.  The ride itself was unremarkable except for the "Pinellas Hills."  As I was riding along the wide paved trail, a concrete structure loomed up ahead.  Florida, of course, is a state whose flatness rivals that of my home state of Kansas.  My obvious assumption was that it must be a drawbridge lifted to allow boats to pass under.  But no, it was the first of a series of overpasses that got my heart pumping and legs burning.  From there it was lunch and back to the hotel to settle in. And that's when it started to get weird.

In the lobby, there was a handy itinerary of the evening's activities for our group.  It was the typical stuff -- 5:00 Happy Hour, 6:00 Dinner.  And then I noticed the Midnight activity: "Nanette & her spa girls host strip poker for the guys."  What???!!!  The joke had Bruce written all over it, but I couldn't figure out how he could have been involved.  And it also didn't seem like it was put together by anyone familiar with the concept of Punta Gorda midnight (i.e., when the clock strikes nine). Weird, and slightly embarrassing as the only single woman in the crowd, but whatever. 

Fast forward to dinner in our private dining room. I paid with cash and waited for the waiter to bring my change.  Instead, when he returned, he said, "How did you know my name?" "What?" I asked.  "How did you know my name?" he repeated.  He then showed me the five dollar bill that had been included with my payment.  On the front of the bill, a message had been written to "Blakey Poo" from his "secret admirer."  What???!!!  This was starting to get out of hand. 

When we went upstairs, Bruce freaked me out a bit as he reminded me that the hotel had changed my room at the last minute (probably, he suggested, to move me to a room with surveillance equipment).  "Never fear, though," he said.  "Dorrit will be right across the hall."  I wondered aloud if I would be able to scream if something actually happened or if I would lose my voice as if in a dream.  

But it was the music that really put me over the edge. First it was guitar music, soothing yet irritating at the same time. Then the harpsichord.  When I ventured out into the hall, I couldn't hear it, so I assumed it was music the guests above me played in order to get to sleep.  With a pillow over my head, I finally went to sleep, only to be awakened several times during the night as the door to the adjoining room rattled as if someone was trying to get in. 

When I awoke for the final time at 5:45, the music was still playing -- arghhhh.  I went downstairs to the lobby in search of a refuge only to find the music blaring from speakers with no one in attendance to turn it off.  And so I took the only logical course of action.  I wrote this blog while looking forward to being back home tonight in the peace and quiet of my own little piece of the world.

Who Put the Hit on Ponce?

Riding in Pedal and Play in Paradise has become an annual event for me. At its core, it's a bike ride sponsored by TEAM Punta Gorda and the Isles Yacht Club to benefit bike friendly initiatives and The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. And while I could pretend that I ride to support these great causes, the truth is that's it just a really fun day.

Participants are given the choice of 60, 30 or 15 mile straight up rides or the 10 mile mystery ride.  Each year my intention is to sign up for at least the 15 mile ride (which, given the lack of elevation changes, is not a big deal). But each year the mystery ride sounds so entertaining that my good intentions go by the wayside.  This year was no exception.

Mayor Freeland with Inspector Tompkins

The mystery to be solved was the cold case of "Who Put the Hit on Ponce?"  As I'm sure you all know, Ponce de Leon died in 1521 after he was shot by an arrow poisoned with the sap of a Machineel tree. What you might not have known, though, is that the master mind behind this murder was one of Punta Gorda's own "Fat Point Four" (Mayor Carolyn Freeland, Police Chief Butch Arenal, Fire Chief Ray Briggs and City Manager Howard Kunik).  It was Scotland Yard investigator Bruce ("Sherlock") Tompkins who discovered this connection nearly 500 years after the fact.  And it was his intention to solve the mystery of which one of these city officials was responsible once and for all -- with the help of Dorrit (aka Watson/Vanna) and the mystery tour riders.  

As is customary in murder investigations, the footage from the interrogations was made available to the public.  (Click here to view the most hilarious of Bruce's videos. You might notice that only one of the suspects retained counsel.)

Bruce and Dorrit set up two clues booths (or what I called obfuscation stations) that were chock full of incredibly unhelpful information.  Janice and I rode to the booth in Gilchrist where we were confronted with over a dozen "clues" that said things like "Clues stated as declarative sentences are true," "The Mayor uttered one true sentence and one false sentence" and "The City Manager is incomprehensible, but is it just the peace pipe?" As we rode along and discussed the case, we realized that we were spending much more time analyzing Bruce than the leads we had been given. 

Me, Chief, Janice and Dorrit

When we arrived back at Laishley Park, we spent some quality time with Chief Phull-a-Bull, the Calusa Indian who had conducted the autopsy on Ponce. After more discussion, we cast our votes for the identity of the guilty party and awaited the verdict (while consuming way more calories than we had burned on our little ride). 

At the appointed hour, the suspects were lined up along with some Conquistadors there to maintain control of the situation.  Modern day police were also on hand to take custody of the offending party.  After much ado, Bruce announced that the responsible party was --- drum roll, please -- City Manager Howard Kunik. Really? I, for one, was very surprised -- and more than a bit dismayed that both Janice and I had voted for the wrong scoundrel.

The guilty party:  City Manager Howard Kunik

 

 Howard donned a prisoner's cap and was handcuffed and taken away.  He was immediately released pursuant to a work order so he could lead the City Manager's ride, another great Pedal and Play tradition.

Once again, it was a fun day Punta Gorda style.  I give a lot of credit not only to Bruce and Dorrit for scheming this whole thing up, but also to each of the "Fat Point Four" for participating with such gusto.  And, of course, to the volunteers from TEAM Punta Gorda and the Isles Yacht Club who made the whole event happen.  I'm already looking forward to next year. 

Fifth Annual Pedal and Play in Paradise

Pedal and Play in Paradise is the epitome of what life in Punta Gorda is all about.  The event celebrated its fifth anniversary this year, and it was my third time as a participant.  Each year I've enjoyed the event more.  I'm sure that's in part because I know more people.  But I think it's also because my appreciation of the commitment people have to making Punta Gorda such a special place also continues to grow.

Jennifer French

This year, the Yoga Sanctuary joined in the fun with two yoga sessions.  On Friday night, Jennifer French led a sunset class at Laishley Park.  Needless to say, I was all over that.  What could be better than yoga by the water with a cool breeze flowing over you?  (Sure, some people would say that sitting at the Tiki Hut having a cocktail--and watching people do yoga--is more fun, but I'll take my downward dog any day.)  We all laughed when Jen reflexively instructed us to bring our collective gaze to the ceiling.  It made me think of Pharrell Williams' "Happy" song and the room without a roof.

I also showed up for the 6:40 pre-ride yoga stretch on Saturday morning.  I wasn't thrilled when my alarm went off at 6 a.m., but it felt great, and it was a fun way to get the day started.

One benefit of arriving so early was that I had the chance to see a little bit of what's involved in putting on this event. Volunteers had been there since 5:30 setting up registration tables and the breakfast spread, and everybody had smiles on their faces. At 7:00 sharp, riders started showing up. Being in the midst of people who are excited and looking forward to the day can't help but make your energy level soar.  With over 500 riders, that was a lot of positive energy!

Me, Dorrit, Bruce and Emila

As in years past, I hemmed and hawed over which ride to do.  The 62 mile ride was out of the question, but I always consider the 30 mile route, with the 15 mile ride as my back-up plan.  And, as always, I ended up doing the shortest ride, an 11 mile poker run.  In the past, the event's shortest ride has been a "mystery tour."  Riders were given a list of questions to find the answers to along the way.  It was lots of fun to search out the number of stop signs at Fishermen's Village or what's unique about the way armadillos breed.  (In case you're wondering, most armadillos give birth to quadruplets of the same sex.)  Event organizers mixed it up a bit this year with the poker run, with stops along the route to pick up our sealed envelopes with cards.  It just seemed like too much fun to miss out on, and I figured I can always go for a long ride on my own, right?  (Sadly, similar to my intent to do early morning yoga on my own, can and will are two very different things.)

Aahhhh

As you can imagine, I was pretty tight after the intense 11 mile ride (punctuated with four stops along the way where we chatted with other riders and picked up additional water, snacks and our cards).  And so I took advantage of the free massages being given by two therapists from the Therapeutic Wellness Center.  Kathleen Kelley was my therapist, and she was awesome.  Despite the fact that there was a lot of activity going on around me, I was transported to a calm and quiet place, and I staggered around a bit when I got off the table the way you do when you've had a really good massage.

Jim Morris

Before we knew it, Jim Morris began the entertainment portion of the event, playing his own brand of trop-rock.  And then it was time to eat again.  (Seriously, even if you do the 62 mile ride, you run the risk of gaining weight at this event!)   Both breakfast and lunch were delicious, and actually very healthy if you limited yourself to one cookie.  

My hand

It was finally time for the big reveal, and tension mounted as the 100 or so riders who participated in the poker run tore open their envelopes to find if Lady Luck was on their side.  It was a bit chaotic as participants -- many of whom were not experienced poker players -- tried to figure out if their hands had a chance of winning.  (As you can see, mine was pretty lame.)  After a lot of discussion, three winners were announced -- two people with flushes and Emila with three tens in her hand).  Prizes were given out and the crowd disbursed, with many riders continuing on with the City Manager Tour.  Unfortunately,  a prior commitment prevented me from going on that ride, but I understand it was great. City Manager Howard Kunik showed off where the new library will be built and where exercise equipment will be installed on the Linear Trail (compliments of the Rotary Club) along with a variety of other interesting things going on about town.

I almost forgot to mention that the purpose behind the event is to raise money for two great causes. Pedal and Play is co-sponsored by TEAM Punta Gorda and the Isles Yacht Club.  TEAM will use its share of the proceeds to promote bike initiatives in Punta Gorda.  (Last year's earnings are being used to print brochures with information about the bike loaner program and local bike routes.)  The Isles Yacht Club will donate its share of the proceeds to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.  (The event is the portion of the IYC's annual Leukemia Cup supported by the Club's cyclists.)

As they say at the Academy Awards, too many people were involved in putting together this year's Pedal and Play to name each one individually.  Special kudos go out to Marilyn Thomas, Ray Starsman and Robin Adair, who headed up event planning on behalf of TEAM and IYC, respectively.  It was a wonderful day in our wonderful city, leading me to ask my rhetorical question once again, "Aren't I lucky to live here?"

Girlfriend Getaway to Naples

While it's great to have company or to visit someone at their home, there's something special about a true getaway.  There's the obvious benefit of no cooking or cleaning.  But it's a lot more than that.  You get to explore together rather than one person leading the others.  And the intimacy of sharing a hotel room harkens back to days of sleepovers and college roommates.

Pat, Pam and me 

Last week I had the chance to spend a couple of days in Naples with two friends from Nova Scotia who, happily, spend their winters on the east coast of Florida.  Our plan had been to have a biking adventure.  And so, on Friday morning, we set out from our hotel down to Gulfshore Blvd., just one block off the beach.  Of course we had to check out the surf, which was fairly dramatic on the cool and windy day.  Then we were off.

In January I biked on Casey Key with a group from the Isles Yacht Club.  The homes there were absolutely incredible.  The houses on Gulfshore Blvd. and the adjacent Gordon Drive are like the Casey Key homes on steroids.  Without a wide angle lens, I had no hope of getting any good pictures, so I settled for gawking as I pedaled.  As we rode by a fenced in property, Pat said, "Oh, look, it's a park."  Nope.  Just someone's huge house with a yard and gardens that boggle the mind.   There was a home on a lot so large that there were three separate driveways; hence, the need for instructions to people arriving as to which drive to use.  My personal favorite was a fenced-in lot on the beach approximately a city block wide with a sign that read "Private Beach Facility."  Not just a private beach, mind you.  No, this was a facility, with kayaks and a grill and a pagoda.  I think I've figured out where the 1% live.

Pat and Pam (and Alfred???)

Our plans for a long bike ride were derailed as soon as we stopped for breakfast at Jane's Cafe on 3rd Street South.  It's tucked away in a little courtyard, with two separate outside areas for dining.  After a generous breakfast, we opted to explore some of the shops rather than risk burning any calories by getting back on our bikes, and that pretty much set the tone for the rest of the day.  None of us cared that we were deviating from our intentions.  We were not on a schedule, and had nobody to account to except ourselves.

We hit shoe stores and galleries and even a consignment store or two.  (True Fashionistas on Vanderbilt is a real gem.)  We ate well, although perhaps not the cuisine one might typically enjoy in Naples.  Instead of a trendy place on 5th Avenue, we opted for more exotic cuisine -- an Indian place one night and the European Bakery Cafe the other.  The Cafe (located on the corner of Central Avenue and 41) is a charming Polish restaurant run by a couple who came to the United States about 12 years ago.  We loved the place the moment we stepped in the door with its mismatched furniture and piano sitting in the corner.  The meal was great from start to finish.

Biking or no biking, we accomplished our mission -- having the chance to catch up in a leisurely fashion, talking about everything from books and movies to relationships and aging.  As always, our time together was much too short.  I'm already looking forward to next year's getaway.

Life is Short. Eat Dessert First.

Email news flash:  "Sharkey's is out.  The Soda Fountain is in."  This breaking development set the tone for this month's bike to lunch with the Isles Yacht Club organized by Bruce and Dorrit Tompkins.

Jim and Claudia Morrow

Anyone who knows Bruce knows how much he likes his ice cream.  One year during Pedal and Play, he enjoyed ice cream at three (or was it four?) stops.  (He says he was just supporting the community.)  And so it came as no surprise to me when the traditional lunch locale for a bike ride in Venice was changed from Sharkey's on the Pier to The Soda Fountain. (In addition to a narrow front room with an old fashioned counter and booths, the Soda Fountain has a back room with just enough tables to accommodate the 20 or so riders on our outing.) What did surprise me, though, was the enthusiasm with which most of the group embraced Bruce's willingness to forego a traditional lunch in favor of sundaes and floats.  (I have to admit to going with a BLT.)  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Like a boy scout, Bruce is always prepared.

The day started off with my friend Wendi, who was visiting from New York, and I meeting the group at Shamrock Park in Venice.  We picked up the Venetian Waterway Trail, a multi-use recreational trail that runs for five miles on each side of the Intracoastal Highway. With Bruce as our tour guide we headed along the trail -- with a stop to appreciate the "watch for falling baseballs" sign -- and made our way across the Circus Bridge towards downtown Venice.

Circus mural by artist Frances Smith (2007)

Why, I asked myself, was the bridge called the Circus Bridge?  I didn't have to wonder for long as we soon came upon a mural and some pavers celebrating the time that the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus was in Venice.  Little did I know that Venice was the Circus' winter home for more than 30 years.  Each year the circus held its world premiere in Venice, with performers Gunther Gebel-Williams (animal trainer extraordinaire), Michu (the smallest human on Earth) and the Living Unicorn making their American debuts there.  The bridge was christened with its name in 2005 by the Venice City Council in recognition of the parade of animals and circus equipment that made the journey from the train station to the arena over the years.

Me, Wendi and Dorrit at Sharkey's dolphin

As the day progressed, we periodically stopped to get interactive with some of the "Sea Venice" fiberglass sculptures of dolphins and turtles.  The consummate New Yorker, Wendi was reluctant to leave her bike helmet with our bikes when we left them to do some exploring.  The helmet came in handy as she used it to adorn several of the painted dolphins and turtles along the way, including this one at Sharkey's. (Coincidentally, when we were out on the pier, two real dolphins made an appearance.)

Wendi and I rounded our day off with some time at Nokomis beach.  As I sat on the sand with goose bumps on my arms (the temperature had dropped precipitously below 75 degrees), Wendi got in some water time.  Another successful outing, Southwest Florida style.

   

Biking Casey Key

Dorrit outside the entrance to a solarium 

Remember the expression "seeing how the other half lives"?  The phrase came to mind today when biking with a group from the Isles Yacht Club on Casey Key in Sarasota County.   All I can say is, "Wow!!!"   With the waters of the Gulf of Mexico lapping at their doorsteps, these homeowners know how to choose a place to live.  (I use the term "live" loosely, as I suspect that the residents of Casey Key--who number fewer than 400 and include the likes of Stephen King and Rosie O'Donnell -- have more than one place to lay their heads down at night.)   And Anne and Jeff Peltier, our leaders for the day, know how to choose a place to bike.

The house proper that goes with the solarium

Our outing took us down Casey Key Road, a somewhat narrow road that meanders more or less five miles from the Casey Key Fish House to North Jetty Beach Park.   Traffic is sparse, though, so there wasn't any concern about a speeding car plowing us down.

The ride was very leisurely -- the equivalent of an afternoon stroll.  There was just too much to gawk at to have a need for speed.   At times I actually wished I were on foot so that I could more easily stop and take pictures and appreciate the details of the homes and our surroundings.

The white sandy beaches on Casey Key are gorgeous, and the good news is that there are several ways for us mere mortals to enjoy them.  Nokomis Beach Park is a free public beach, with restrooms, a concession stand, and free parking.  North Jetty Beach Park is an option if you like to fish or, if the tide's up, surf.  (You can buy your fishing license on site if you neglected to tend to this detail in advance.)  And if you want more than an afternoon of fun and sun, there are a number of motels of the Mom and Pop variety that were grandfathered in under the zoning laws.

After our ride, we met up at the Casey Key Fish House for lunch.  It's basically a beach shack, with cute decor and standard fare.  I had a blackened grouper sandwich that was quite tasty.  And the service was unexpectedly excellent (which definitely is not always the case with these group rides).   All in all, a great outing -- and a definite destination to add to my list for future visitors.  The welcome mat is out!

Biking on Boca Grande

Each month a group from IYC heads out for a bike ride to a fun destination followed by lunch. I have to admit that I love being able to explore other areas on a route that someone else has already scoped out (although eventually I will have to step up to the plate and do some organizing myself!) This month's destination was Boca Grande on Gasparilla Island, a little slice of heaven with its beautiful beaches and blue waters.

Boca Grande is best known today for its big money tarpon fishing tournaments. Back in the late 19th century, though, phosphate was the name of the game, and its discovery in Charlotte Harbor led to the development of Gasparilla Island into a major deep water port and the construction of a railway system to transport supplies to the port and to move phosphate onto ocean going freighters. When the port went out of business in 1979, the need for the railroad no longer existed. Seeing an opportunity to enhance the town's amenities, the Gasparilla Island Conservation and Improvement Association converted the old railway bed into a bike path that is now shared by bikes and golf carts.

Thirty plus bikers (too many to get a good picture of!) gathered about three miles outside of town in a hotel parking lot to get organized for the ride. The only mishap of the day occurred when we discovered that the hotel had closed down since Murray, our trip leader, spoke with them the prior week, leaving us without "facilities" to use before the ride. Sometimes you just have to tough it out, though, so we saddled up and headed onto the bike path. Everyone ignored the route that Murray had planned which would have taken us down some of Boca Grande's little side streets and headed straight for Gasparilla Island State Park.

In addition to its beautiful beaches, Gasparilla Island State Park is home to a lighthouse that was constructed in 1890 with $35,000 of Congressionally-allocated funds. The lighthouse now houses a neat little museum where, for a nominal charge, you can read about the history of Boca Grande and check out some very cool old photos of the area.

After enjoying some time on the beach, we headed off for lunch at the Pink Elephant. Cathy and Glen saved room for what looked to be a delicious key lime pie for dessert (and then showed some of the other bikers the way to the Loose Caboose for ice cream. They did not, however, double dip!) I'm not sure that the calories burnt on our 13 mile ride offset the calories from dessert, but who's counting on a beautiful December day in Southwest Florida???