Blowin' in the Wind
It was one of our speediest rides to date. With a strong tail wind pushing us along, we found ourselves averaging an effortless 15 MPH as we “flew” down the coast. The ocean was in view most of the day, and the waves were pounding the shoreline with a fury the likes of which we had never seen before. We saw no ships on the horizon, and could only imagine what it must have been like for the early explorers and settlers to cross the Atlantic on tiny vessels for nearly 60 days before arriving in the New World. They were capable of enduring extreme hardship, and no doubt were made of sterner stuff than we.
Later on we learned that the wind had reach 7 on the Beaufort scale, which is an empirical measure for describing wind speed based mainly on observed sea conditions. If you really must know, wind speed on the Beaufort scale can be expressed by the formula:
v = 0.837 B where v is wind speed and B is Beaufort scale number.
Winds of Beaufort 7 are clocked at 32-38 mph and result in the issuance of a small craft warning. The sea heaps up and foam begins to streak. Trees bend over, branches snap, and it is difficult to walk against a wind measuring 7 on the scale. It is considered to be "near gale force". (Force 8 or 9 winds bringing about a full gale warning). We were very thankful that it was blowing all day behind our backs because any attempt to ride into it would have been both fool hardy and futile. It already was a challenge keeping the bike stable, and our guess was that we would have been blown clear back across the Florida/Georgia border if it had been coming from the other direction.
We dreaded the thought of setting up the tent that night, and could only hope that there was an adequate wind break at Gamble Rodgers State Park where we had reserved a campsite. You read that correctly. Reservations are highly recommended at campgrounds in Florida. We would be arriving on a Friday night, and had been warned by fellow travelers to secure a spot as the campgrounds fill up quickly. We heeded the warnings and were glad we did because when you arrive at the check in at 4:30 PM in a Beaufort scale 7 wind, there aren’t many other options available to you. But that was to come later in the day.
As we were propelled southward, we sped through Crescent Beach, Summer Haven, Marineland and Hammock, taking time to put on the brakes, shake the sand out of our teeth, and enjoy Washington Oaks Garden State Park just north of Palm Coast.
Although the formal gardens are the centerpiece of this park, Washington Oaks is also famous for the unique shoreline of coquina rock formations that line its Atlantic beach. Nestled between the Atlantic Ocean and the Matanzas River, this property was once owned by a distant relative of President George Washington. The gardens were established by Louise and Owen Young who purchased the land in 1936 and built a winter retirement home. They named it Washington Oaks and, in 1965, donated most of the property to the State. The gardens make remarkable use of native and exotic species, from azaleas and camellias to the exquisite bird of paradise, sheltered within a picturesque oak hammock. Visitors can picnic and fish from either the beach or the seawall along the Matanzas River. A number of short trails provide opportunities for both hiking and bicycling.
Regretfully, we weren’t able to see any of the coquina rock as we were there during high tide and the seas were so turbulent that no shoreline whatsoever was visible. The wind was so strong that it nearly lifted our helmets off our heads, and we had a hard time standing upright. It was time to get a move on to our nights destination.
We stopped in Flagler Beach to purchase provisions for our evenings meal, not knowing if we would even be able to light our stoves in the howling wind. Flagler Beach is one of those towns in Florida that seems to be on the cusp of being discovered, but right now has the right combination of older buildings, motels, trailers and small stores to make you feel that it has a unique character. So many of the other towns we passed through looked exactly alike, but Flagler still looked pretty much like it did 20 or 30 years ago, and that made us feel good.
As mentioned above, we checked into the campground at 4:30 and learned that our site was backed up right next to the ocean. On any other night this would have been most welcome news, but we were less than enthusiastic on the prospect of trying to pitch our tent in sand during the middle of a gale. We had visions of our trusty tent becoming a hang glider as we tried to secure it to the ground. But as they say, necessity becomes the mother of invention, and after scrounging around the campground awhile, we picked up enough large pieces of coquina rock to hold the tent and ourselves down. Matt fashioned a wind break of sorts that afforded enough protection so we could boil up our steamers, cook our rice and vegetables and have ourselves another well earned feast. We double secured everything on and in the tent, and after polishing off our dinner and bottle of wine, scurried into its safe confines to try and get some needed rest. We had hoped to enjoy the full moon with a quiet stroll on the beach, but that proved to be wishful thinking. We had been fortunate indeed that the wind was basically our ally for the day, but knew all too well that she can be a fickle friend, and had no idea what the dawn would bring.
Later on we learned that the wind had reach 7 on the Beaufort scale, which is an empirical measure for describing wind speed based mainly on observed sea conditions. If you really must know, wind speed on the Beaufort scale can be expressed by the formula:
v = 0.837 B where v is wind speed and B is Beaufort scale number.
Winds of Beaufort 7 are clocked at 32-38 mph and result in the issuance of a small craft warning. The sea heaps up and foam begins to streak. Trees bend over, branches snap, and it is difficult to walk against a wind measuring 7 on the scale. It is considered to be "near gale force". (Force 8 or 9 winds bringing about a full gale warning). We were very thankful that it was blowing all day behind our backs because any attempt to ride into it would have been both fool hardy and futile. It already was a challenge keeping the bike stable, and our guess was that we would have been blown clear back across the Florida/Georgia border if it had been coming from the other direction.
We dreaded the thought of setting up the tent that night, and could only hope that there was an adequate wind break at Gamble Rodgers State Park where we had reserved a campsite. You read that correctly. Reservations are highly recommended at campgrounds in Florida. We would be arriving on a Friday night, and had been warned by fellow travelers to secure a spot as the campgrounds fill up quickly. We heeded the warnings and were glad we did because when you arrive at the check in at 4:30 PM in a Beaufort scale 7 wind, there aren’t many other options available to you. But that was to come later in the day.
As we were propelled southward, we sped through Crescent Beach, Summer Haven, Marineland and Hammock, taking time to put on the brakes, shake the sand out of our teeth, and enjoy Washington Oaks Garden State Park just north of Palm Coast.
Although the formal gardens are the centerpiece of this park, Washington Oaks is also famous for the unique shoreline of coquina rock formations that line its Atlantic beach. Nestled between the Atlantic Ocean and the Matanzas River, this property was once owned by a distant relative of President George Washington. The gardens were established by Louise and Owen Young who purchased the land in 1936 and built a winter retirement home. They named it Washington Oaks and, in 1965, donated most of the property to the State. The gardens make remarkable use of native and exotic species, from azaleas and camellias to the exquisite bird of paradise, sheltered within a picturesque oak hammock. Visitors can picnic and fish from either the beach or the seawall along the Matanzas River. A number of short trails provide opportunities for both hiking and bicycling.
Regretfully, we weren’t able to see any of the coquina rock as we were there during high tide and the seas were so turbulent that no shoreline whatsoever was visible. The wind was so strong that it nearly lifted our helmets off our heads, and we had a hard time standing upright. It was time to get a move on to our nights destination.
We stopped in Flagler Beach to purchase provisions for our evenings meal, not knowing if we would even be able to light our stoves in the howling wind. Flagler Beach is one of those towns in Florida that seems to be on the cusp of being discovered, but right now has the right combination of older buildings, motels, trailers and small stores to make you feel that it has a unique character. So many of the other towns we passed through looked exactly alike, but Flagler still looked pretty much like it did 20 or 30 years ago, and that made us feel good.
As mentioned above, we checked into the campground at 4:30 and learned that our site was backed up right next to the ocean. On any other night this would have been most welcome news, but we were less than enthusiastic on the prospect of trying to pitch our tent in sand during the middle of a gale. We had visions of our trusty tent becoming a hang glider as we tried to secure it to the ground. But as they say, necessity becomes the mother of invention, and after scrounging around the campground awhile, we picked up enough large pieces of coquina rock to hold the tent and ourselves down. Matt fashioned a wind break of sorts that afforded enough protection so we could boil up our steamers, cook our rice and vegetables and have ourselves another well earned feast. We double secured everything on and in the tent, and after polishing off our dinner and bottle of wine, scurried into its safe confines to try and get some needed rest. We had hoped to enjoy the full moon with a quiet stroll on the beach, but that proved to be wishful thinking. We had been fortunate indeed that the wind was basically our ally for the day, but knew all too well that she can be a fickle friend, and had no idea what the dawn would bring.
posted by Matt and Mary Ellen | 6:15 AM
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