The Florida coast continued to provide me with opportunities to cycle directly north along barrier islands, with water on both sides of me, often within sight. The beaches and the turquoise seas were delightful when you could access them; but the beach front continued to be developed almost without a break. During the course of today, the really big, fancy developments gave way to more modest shore residences, and I even saw my first stretch of nature along the sea shore, where a rare piece of coastline had been purchased by the Nature Conservancy.
The shore of the Intracoastal waterway was also heavily populated, especially when, after an hour or so, I reached the city of Palm Beach. All along the waterfront here were countless super yachts, costing God only knows how much. There was plenty of activity on the water and the drawbridges linking the islands to the mainland were regularly raised: the one leading out of central West Palm Beach, for example, twice every hour. I just made it over before the lights began to flash. This whole area was dripping with wealth, and contained many incredible waterfront mansions, large enough o be museums. But security here was high, and the sea shore was only accessible directly from the private boardwalks that each had locked gates. This was territory of the most exclusive nature, and not to be shared.
I was well over 100 miles north of Miami Beach before things took on more of an air of normality. I stopped for coffee and then headed north again on a long straight road that gave way to a cycle path through a state park. It was a lucky find, and I felt like I was cycling through a Dr Seuss landscape of arid scrub with periodic tall trees that had bare trunks and bushy tops. I pressed on because this well made path had to lead somewhere, and it did. After a few miles of the busy route one, I was back onto a drawbridge over the broad St Lucie River, and then I found a smaller road that hugged the western shore of the South Indian River for twenty miles, looking across to the islands for once instead of being on them. This delightful road took me all the way to the pleasant town of Fort Pierce, my destination, which I reached as the sun was setting.
Fort Pierce was also my first encounter of this trip with train lines and – more evocatively – that plaintive wail made by the goods trains, heard all over America on their vast, slow journeys. It was a sound I had missed: these enormously long freight trains were my regular companions in 2023, and I was glad to be reacquainted. It represented a side to the country I identified with much more than the super rich – albeit in their stunningly well manicured surroundings. It is mostly lovely to see; but they can keep it.
