Riding Into--And Out Of--History

During my first trip to France, I walked around the Place de la Concorde.  While encircling the Fountain of River Commerce and Navigation, I admired the elegance of the fountain, the obelisk and the buildings that flank the Rue Royale.

But then a sadness and a sense of terror and grief.  I recalled, at that moment, that the Place had witnessed one of the greatest scenes of savagery.  It was there, of course, that the French monarchy as well as a number of well-known people who were, or merely suspected of being, friends of the executed King Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette and prominent members of the aristocracy.  Although I am no fan of monarchy and aristocracy, I could not help but to feel that it must have been truly appalling to see the Place "covered in blood" and for people like Georges Danton, one of the chief forces in the overthrow of the monarchy, to lose his head to advocates of revolutionary terror who believed that he gave succor to enemies of the revolution.

I was thinking about that today, after cycling to this place:

Why?  Well, this bucolic scene was once part of the Bulow plantation.  My ride today took me there, as well as other places.

Some ruins of the plantation remain nearby.

  
They give little, if any, hint that one scene of this country's two greatest sins (along with the physical as well as mental and spiritual massacre of Native Americans) took place there.  I rode the trail in and ate my lunch; others drove in to fish, paddle canoes or simply spend the day in a green setting.

And, I admit, after spending about an hour there, I continued to ride to places where people tend not to think much about history.  I didn't.  I enjoyed the ride, though.

Rusty Race

During the past seven years, I've come to Palm Coast, Florida a dozen or so times.  On each trip here, I've done a few bike rides.  As a result, I've seen much of this town and its surrounding area.

One of the few places I've never explored is The City Marketplace.  There's a good reason for that: From the road, it's completely nondescript and half of its offices and stores seem to be vacant at any given moment.  Today, after the rains let up and I had lunch with a friend of my mother's, I took a short ride. I passed the Marketplace and took a detour through the parking lot behind it, which I had never before seen.  A surprise awaited me:

 





This is Wes Cackler's "The Race", installed for the Gargiulo Foundation's bike and poetry show in June 2012. (I wish I'd known about that!)  The photo was taken when the show opened.

Of course, no bike--or human--remains in "showroom condition" for very long, especially if left outdoors in Florida rain and humidity:

Part of the reason for that is, as you might expect, the town has practically no arts budget, and ten different organizations share what little money is allocated.  The irony is that the bicycle sculptures are in such a sorry state (and the sign in front of it has faded as well as rusted, rendering it unreadable) in a place with an extensive network of bike lanes.

Does anyone make Gore-Tex bike shoes?

 
Who needs gloves?
 

Looks like the chain needs replacing, though!

Make Sure You Get Back In Time For Dinner!

Ever since I arrived in Palm Coast, we've had weather that is more akin to what one might experience in April or October on Long Island or New Jersey:  cloudy and cool, with no real threat of rain. However, torrential rain is forecast for early tomorrow morning, courtesy of a storm system that's moving across the Gulf of Mexico.  Areas to our south and west might have "severe" weather, which could include a tornado.  The weather forecasters say there's a smaller chance that weather could reach this part of Florida.

In addition, my mother planned to make a particularly rich dinner for tonight:  home-made cream of broccoli soup, roast beef au jus; baked potatoes; mushroom gravy made with some of the juice; and broccoli cooked in the oven with olive oil, garlic and Parmesan cheese and baked potatoes. I would need to burn a few calories, to say the least, in advance!

I woke up about an hour later than I'd planned. (OK, when I'm at my parents' house, I don't plan much of anything!) Although days here are about an hour longer than those in New York, there's still a fairly limited amount of time to ride. (The bike I'm riding doesn't have good lights.)  "Are you going to ride to St. Augustine today?", my father asked.  

It was already nearly 10:30.  In one way, my parents have "gone native":  they, like most people of a certain age in Florida, eat dinner at 5pm or thereabouts.  And you simply do not arrive late for dinner with an Italian (or Italian-American) family!

I would certainly have ample time to ride there and back, even on the rusting beach cruiser I ride whenever I'm here.  But I wouldn't have very much time to spend in the city, let alone to shop or stop for anything that looked interesting.

  

Still, I said, "Yes!"  My mother smiled.  The ride there and back is a "metric century".  She knows that if I'm going to do such a ride, all is normal--or, at least, I'm OK.

 

The ride was pleasant, if uneventful.  From the Hammock Dunes Bridge, I rode along the stretch of Route A1A north of the segment I rode yesterday.  Both parts skirt the Atlantic Ocean.  Yesterday's ride--which took me through Painters Hill, Flagler Beach and Ormond Beach to Daytona--rolled alongside sea oats and other flora and fauna that flickered atop sand dunes; today's trek zigged and zagged along inlets and bays.

On the way to St. Augustine, I pedaled into a steady brisk wind.  That meant, of course, the ride back took about half an hour less than the ride up.  Great, both ways.

Dinner was great!