I did it!

Most of the "Ladies of the Southern Tier" waiting at the fire station for the police escort into town. The three muskateers mis read the cue sheet and arrived after this picture was taken, Lois S and Nancy are also missing- they were taking the pictures.

Janet Bee, sometime SAG driver and riding partner and I, together we made it.

following the police car onto the state highway from the fire station

Me and BeBe, my bike doing a victory dance in the Atlantic Ocean after 3007 miles and 52 days of riding

The ladies of the Southern Tier at Anastasia State Park beach, doing a victory cheer after dipping their front wheels in the Atlantic Ocean.


I'd rather let the pictures tell the story. Suffice it to say that it had been firmly impressed upon all of us that we absolutely had to be at the Fire Station by 10:30 AM. This meant that we were all revved up to go by 7:00 AM and between the relative shortness of the route, and the adreniline. We all made it by 9:30 except for the three muskateers who had entirely skipped the fire station and were wandering around five miles away in downtown St. Augustine. Fortunately, the SAG drove ahead, located them, got them turned around and came back to the fire station before Carol and Linda arrived from the hotel, where they had dropped the trailer.Those of us who were there had plenty of time to take pictures, chat with the fire crew, use the facilities, and take more pictures.

Everybody assembled, we all put ourselves in a line, paired with whomever we chose to ride in with. I ended up at the front of the line with Janet, who had been given place of honor as the oldest rider.

I cannot describe the mixture of emotions that flooded through me as I rode in the last five miles beside my riding partner. We had a motocycle cop leapfrogging us to stop traffic at each intersection, along with intermittent police officers stopping the traffic along the way. The police car ahead of us kept up a constant cacaphony of sirens, clearing both lines of the highway for us. As we went through the central part of St. Augustine, the sidewalks were lined with people coming out of the stores and tourist sites to applaud us. Even the construction workers, rebuilding the Bridge of Lions next to the temporary bridge we crossed over to get to Anastasia Island and the beach, applauded. As we entered the Anastasia State Park, the park rangers came out an applauded us, and as we entered the parking lot, many of the riders were met with balloons, and flowers by friends and family who cheered us all indiscrimately.

There were some women there who lived in the general area, general being a very broad term, who had done the tour in previous years and had come out to welcome us in as well. We all doffed our shoes and socks, picked up our bikes and headed out across the sand towards the water to dip our front tires in the Atlantic. The only way I could express my joy and sense of victory and completion was to hoist my bike above my head and do a happy dance in the water. Several of the bikers stripped down to sports bra and shorts, carefully laid their bikes down above the water line and dove into the ocean for a victory swim. It was all chaotic but oh so joyfull.

As she came out of the water, Marcy was met by her boyfriend, who dropped to his knees and asked her to marry him on the spot, and there she stood, dripping wet, partially clad, laughing, smiling and crying. What better ending could there be to a bike ride.

We all adjourned to the parking lot where the owners of the beach cafe promptly hooked up a hose so we could rinse the sand and salt water off of our bikes. We parked them where they could dry in the sun and went on to the pavillion for a picnic lunch complete with champagne toasts and much laughter.

The ride back into town to the motel was short and quiet. This time we had to walk our bikes back across the bridge, which gave us an opportunity to survey the waterfront of the town and admire Castello San Marcos, the Spanish fort, close to where we are staying.

Later for dinner, bike riders and tour guides only adjourned to a near by restaurant for a final meal together which gave us a final opportunity to say good bye to each other and bring the ride to some sort of closure.

Tomorrow, we will all be going our separate ways, but if the other riders feel like me, they will know they have earned the title of "Cross Country Bikers" and gained 20 new sisters or best friends.

a look at communication central, the door of the trailer with our "tired tire" tally, check in sheet, corrected cue sheet and a message from Linda. It pretty much sums up the ride.

today's stats

distance 47.4

ride time 3 1/2 hours

speed 14.5