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Get away from the street and its honking horns and onto a trail, where you may just find some shade or have a close encounter with wildlife.
By JEFF KLINKENBERG
© St. Petersburg Times, published June 21, 2001
I brake for alligators, though if I can steer my bicycle gracefully around one I'll do that, too. But sometimes, for crying out loud, you have to stop.
You have to stop when an 11-footer sprawls across the bicycle trail at Shark River Valley in Everglades National Park. I'm sure few alligators have an appetite for flesh and chrome. But why take chances? From 30 feet away I watch and wait.
The chess game between man and beast commences. The alligator studies me. I study back. Neither of us is willing to chicken out. Stalemate.
Time for heavy artillery.
I lift my bike by the handlebars above my head. Then I let go. The front wheel bounces off the pavement.
Don't ask me what's going on in the alligator's lima-bean-sized brain. All I know is that gators always react to my bike trick as if a hungry T-Rex is on their trail. My 11-footer bolts for the sawgrass.
I offer the gator tip today to those of you about to embark on a Florida bike trail adventure. You probably won't encounter a trail-hogging crocodilian. But maybe you'll get lucky.
I have yet to ride every Florida trail, but I'm sure I've visited the best of them so far. When out on a story I almost always carry a bike or two in my truck just in case I see a path worth exploring. I've sweated my way along bike trails from the hilly Panhandle to the flat-as-a-hoecake glades.
Of course, I live on the west side of Tampa Bay, which means I'm a regular on the Pinellas Trail. Only a week ago I pedaled 35 miles from U.S. 19 S in St. Petersburg to where the trail finishes in Tarpon Springs. I didn't have to go mano a mano with an alligator, but I did bang my chest on a couple of yellow jackets, which I fear more than snaggletoothed gators. This time they let me go with just a warning.
The Pinellas Trail is hardly known for wildlife, of course, but pay attention. Last month, my son and I encountered a big, fat snapping turtle, which we managed to coerce off the trail and into a ditch. We weren't concerned about the turtle becoming roadkill; we worried more about the soft hands of a child trying to pick up the monster.
I'm so happy to see children on bicycles during these couch-potato times that I regret having to warn you that a kid on a bike, on a busy trail, constitutes a hazard. Most kids don't know about staying on the path's right side. Most don't pay attention to oncoming cyclists. If you're approaching from behind, God help you, and offer the traditional "I'm on your left" warning, a kid likely will automatically veer into your path. Ride defensively and always wear a helmet.
Don't even get me started whining about moronic riders who wear headphones and never hear your warning (or uncharitable words) at all. I'd like to get their attention by throwing, say, a plump snake across their shoulders.
Speaking of serpents, a good snake is one of the pleasures of trail riding for me. I love snakes, always have, as long as they don't try to mate with my spokes.
I've seen America's largest native snake, the Eastern indigo, sunbathing on the Withlacoochee State Trail near Brooksville. It was longer than me. At Torreya State Park near the Apalachicola River I rolled past a copperhead. I almost ran over a pygmy rattlesnake on the mountain bike trail in Myakka River State Park near Sarasota. Alas, my companion's wheel did not miss. My companion survived; I fear the rattlesnake did not.
The paved Van Fleet Trail, which begins (or ends) in Polk City, offers a long and lonely ride through the Green Swamp, where I like to stop at bridges and look in the creeks for cottonmouths.
The St. Mark's Trail, which connects Tallahassee with the coast, is a good place for bald eagles and a full stomach. At the trail's southern end you can fortify yourself for the return journey with a plate of raw oysters.
In the Fakahatchee Strand State Preserve, on the edge of the Big Cypress, I stopped to admire otter scat -- and saw a paw print of a black bear on the dirt road. Every time I pedal through that awesome swamp, I pray for a glimpse of a bear or the rarest large animal in North America, a Florida panther.
I've seen wild hogs on my trail rides near Morris Bridge in Tampa. At Boyd Hill Nature Trail in St. Petersburg, I have demonstrated a real talent for colliding with the golden webs of orb weaver spiders. Nothing gets my heart beating like seeing a coffee-cup-sized spider climbing toward my pulsing jugular. One day a park ranger will find me dead in the bushes -- from a heart attack.
Some people complain about exercising in the heat. Not me. Not when a bike is involved. The nice thing about biking is you create your own breeze. Still, the night before a summer ride I always freeze a sports drink into two plastic bottles. The drink defrosts during my ride.
I prefer riding in the early morning or late afternoon -- for the shade factor. During the middle of the day, most Florida bike trails are something like Death Valley. An exception is the Gainesville-Hawthorne Trail. Part of the 16-mile path passes through a woodsy chunk of Paynes Prairie State Preserve, where I've seen wild turkeys and white-tailed deer. We all feel cool and nice.
Shade, you should know, can be a curse as well as a blessing.
I'll never forget a winter bike ride in Everglades National Park down Snake Bight Trail near Flamingo. I saw no snakes, despite the nomenclature, but only a spectacular tropical hardwood hammock for what seemed like many miles.
It was December, but tropical, and I worked up a sweat.
Ahead of me in the shady gloom was a hiker. He wasn't sauntering through the forest -- he was marching. As I got closer, I understood why.
From a distance I thought his sweat shirt was colored black. But I was wrong. It was black -- from a mass of mosquitoes.
Gulping, I pedaled faster. I reached my destination -- the pier that juts out into breezy Florida Bay.
Safe from mosquitoes in the wind, I studied wading birds. Ten minutes later my hiker strolled onto the pier -- carrying gazillions of mosquitoes.
They were pleased to find a new donor of blood.
I leapt on my bike and prayed the wind would do its job. Even now, years later, when I remember, I reach for the Benadryl.
1. Always wear a helmet. Head injuries are responsible for most cycling fatalities.
2. Avoid riding after dark if possible. Most fatal accidents occur at night. If you must ride, legally you need a white light on the front of your bike and a red light in back.
3. Ride with traffic, not against it.
4. Keep eye contact with motorists; use hand signals to indicate your turns.
5. Never ride while wearing headphones. You'll miss audio cues from other riders and motorists.
Plug into any search engine, and you'll find hundreds of sites. In addition to the sites listed above, some suggestions: The state Department of Transportation (www.dot.state.fl.us) offers information on trails around the state, plus maps and general biking safety information; www.trailsfromrails.com includes Rails-to-Trails sites all over the U.S. For mountain bikers: www.mtbr.com includes reviews from riders.