Today if I planned on heading straight home the distance is 2,371 miles. Tomorrow we ride 244 miles to a city in Florida called Port St Joe. Right now from my room vantage point I can hear thunder and see lightning. That should give you an indication of things to come.
Update: Woke up to a strong rain downpour. Headed to breakfast, then road on. Bike handled great on all but, the dirt section. Russ with knobbies signaled for us to turn around and so we foynd a new route vs todays planned route.
The only wet part on me are my dry waterproof boots. The water dripped off my frog togs waterproof clothing and onto the top and inside of my boots.
We are now in what they call the forgotten coast. If we would have a choice betwen riding here and the keys we would choose here. Great scenery, great roads, great seafood, great people so far. Flirida is a great cut your teeth driving sort of state. No bad roads.
In 1841, three-fourths of the population of this town succumbed to yellow fever that arrived on a Spanish freighter.
The few remaining residents were killed or fled after a hurricane and a tidal wave literally washed the town away in 1844.
Re-established in the 1920s, the resurrected city went industrial with the opening of the St. Joe Co.’s paper mill in 1938. Workers were well-paid and easily employed at the mill, in related forestry industries or in maritime trades. But despite comparative prosperity from union wages and job security, the consistent paper mill stench sent most packing. And so the town floundered until this modern day industey called tourism took hold.