Santos Trails And the Endless Descent Dream

Turn, pedal, descend, turn, repeat.

Every once in a while you wake up with no clue where you are, what time it is, or how the heck you got there.  Ever since my diaper wearing drill sergeant arrived in August, those moments have been occurring with more frequency than I’d like to admit.  In that split-second, when you’re perched on the precipice between the dream world and reality, both sides seem equally plausible; and equally absurd.  In those moments your brain scrambles to dissect what was the dream and what reality is awaiting you. 

Was the baby crying?  Was I skiing?  Am I in a tent on top of Lafayette?  Am I sleeping in a chair again?

As I sit here writing about my most recent adventure, I feel like I’m sitting on that divide trying to get a grip on reality.  What the heck just happened?

Flor'Easter: The Videos

Alright, I'm done torturing you with my vacation stories. I swear this is the last of the Flor'Easter posts.

I finally finished sifting through all the footage, searched high and low through iTunes, and put some videos together to go with my reviews.

Enjoy!

Flor'Easter: Day 10- Balm Boyette:

Running Ridgeline.

I started into my dive and the familiar tug in the pit of my stomach made me briefly consider clenching the brakes. However, the sandy, wet concrete honeycomb holding the trail together wouldn’t tolerate even the slightest braking. It threatened a fishtailing disaster to those who dared to defy its pull.  As my speed exploded and I neared the bottom, I felt the bike drifting to one side of the track.  I was headed off of the safety of the honeycomb toward the sandy rock strewn edges and certain ski-season-ending catastrophe.

Flor'Easter: Day 9- Alafia Trails - Transformations

Don't take that corner too quickly.

I know, I skipped a day.  Sue me.

My Florida adventure moved to the Gulf coast where I met up with an old friend, Dave, who showed me around his home course: Alafia Trails in Lithia, Florida.  It was a day of celebrating transformations and new beginnings.

Flor'Easter: Day 7- Golf & Gators

Yeah I think I see your ball right by the water... That's it... just a little closer...

No biking today. I spent most of the day enjoying the sunshine while riding around in a motorized cart chasing a little white ball.

I saw more gators than birdies, but I still managed to have a good time.   

Tomorrow is a travel day, so probably no biking either, but Sunday and Monday are looking good to explore the trails on the Gulf coast.

Flor'Easter: Day 6- Mala Compra

Nearly two hundred years ago Seminole warriors burned what used to be a cotton plantation to the ground.  Today, the forest that covers part of that land houses some of the best mountain biking trails in Florida.

Flor'Easter: Day 5- Graham Swamp Trail(s)

FOMBA with palm trees.

Today promised to be one of those epic days.  Clear skies and highs in the sixties were forecast after yesterday's rain.  With all day to explore Graham Swamp and the Palm Coast area trails, anticipation levels were high.

I'm happy to say that the day did not disappoint.  It was epic.

Flor'Easter: Day 4

Let me introduce you to my best friend this week.  Friends, meet the Kona Tanuki Deluxe.

Flor'Easter: Day 3

Most of today was spent visiting with friends of the family, but I did escape for a few hours to scope out my route to another set of mountain biking trails close to where my in-laws live.

Flor'Easter: Day 2

Sorry, no pictures today.  No oven-fresh tales of adventure either.  Give me break, it's Christmas.

Instead, let me tell you about the time I was introduced to the Florida backcountry...and lived to tell about it.

Flor'Easter: Day 1

The hipsters were jealous.

Adventure will usually meet you half-way if you give it a chance.  Sometimes it even lurks on your doorstep, peeking in your window.  It will not, however, come into your home, turn off your television, shut down your laptop, and drag you off of the couch.

Flor'Easter Backcountry & First World Problems

I’m on my way to a new adventure.

The week between Christmas and New Year’s often heralds the beginning of the ski year for me: that is, if you don’t count an occasional October snowstorm or a few turns down the White Ribbon of Death.  So while most people would jump at the chance to take a trip to warmer climes this time of year, vacationing a thousand miles from a skiable slope during this week is akin to me being sent to my room for a week.