Man Falls Off Bike--And Is Bitten By Alligator

 If you fall while riding your bike, how and where you land--which may or may not be in your control--has much to do with whether, or how severely, you are injured.  (Wear your helmet!) 

Whatever you do, try not to land on an alligator!

That is what happened to a cyclist in Stuart, Florida, a town near Port St. Lucie.  The man, described by Scott Lorraine of the Airborne Mountain Bike Club as an "experienced" cyclist, lost a tire while rounding a curve in Halpatiokee Regional Park and slid into the water, where he landed atop an 8-foot female gator.

The spot where the man fell of his bike and was attacked.  Photo by Charlie Shannon

Charlie Shannon was walking his dog when he encountered the man.  "He was hanging on roots like five feet below," Shannon recalled.  He used his dog's leash as a makeshift tourniquet, which he and others used to lift the man out.  "It was hard to get him out," Shannon said.

The gator, not surprisingly, wasn't happy.  But, according to John Davidson, who trapped the animal, gators can be "extra aggressive" at this time of year.  That might explain the severity of the bites all over the man's leg.

John Davidson, with the gator he captured.

I have seen alligators while cycling in Florida.  I hope I never have an encounter closer than the ones I've had!

He Didn’t Waffle On This Ride!

 Most races and other organized rides are named for the places in which they’re held, sponsors or a person or event commemorated by the ride.

Now, it seems, the name of one California race describes, if unintentionally, its terrain.

On Sunday, Peter Stetina won the men’s Belgian Waffle Ride, which includes single-track, sandy trails and roughly-paved roads near San Diego. That last feature—rough roads— makes me think the Paris-Roubaix race could be named for the beloved snack or breakfast food, depending on your point of view.

(What would a mousse ride look like?  A pizza ride?)

If Peter Stetina’s name looks familiar, you follow bike racing or are about my age.  His father, Dale, and his uncle, Wayne, were part of a generation of cyclists who, during the 1970s, helped to pull the United States out of what Sheldon Brown has called it’s “Dark Ages” of cycling.

It’s fun to imagine that family celebrating—with waffles, of course! 

More From The Fires

 

This morning I rode under more of the haze that blanketed yesterday’s ride.  That’s one reason I limited my saddle time to the morning:  Even before I heard the weather advisory, I knew the air quality wasn’t good.  Also, the forecast included heavy thunderstorms for this afternoon.

That’s the sky I saw at the end of my ride, as I made the turn onto Crescent Street.  Just as I reached my door, I heard the first rumbles of thunder!

Echoes Of Fire

 I have just ridden to Point Lookout, again.  Here, and in other coastal locales, one can ride under overcast skies, or into a misty horizon with no threat of rain.

But today’s haze is something else: smoke from the massive fires that have burned in much of western North America.  

The haze has been the backdrop of my ride, from my apartment 

to the Jamaica Bay Refuge

Rockaway Beach

and here, drawing a curtain just beyond Point Lookout.

Cloud Chase To Connecticut

 Yesterday was, for me, a great day to ride:  A predawn thunderstorm dissipated the heat of the previous few days, and masses of clouds moved across the sky, revealing the sun just long enough to brighten up the ride without bearing down on my melanin-deprived skin.

So I took a ride to Greenwich, Connecticut.  Along the way I felt I was playing hide-and-seek with the sun and clouds.  The clouds caught up at the Greenwich Common, where they retreated behind the Veterans’ Monument—and trees like the ones on the Connecticut state quarter—in full bloom.