Thanksgiving Morning Ride a Time of Quiet and Real Beauty
Thanksgiving Day 2004 was a first in several ways. It was my first private one since the late 1970s. My mother’s last Thanksgiving at home was in 1998. After that, we would eat in her assisted-living situation at noon and I would go to work afterward. For the last two years, it meant a 12-hour day shift in the emergency department.
This time, it would be an actual holiday. I slept in until almost 5:30 a.m. before a quick, surf-checking walk on the high tide beach. My road bike had been prepared the night before. A new rear tire, recharged headlight and loaded backpack were ready.
I was already very thankful. During the night a “perfect storm” front had come through with three rain sessions just to replenish my yard and the dry trails in Hanna Park. What a thoughtful storm! It was a cool, fresh morning, perfect for a road ride.
Thanksgiving at 6 a.m. is perfect for bike riders. It is as if there is no such thing as a car. The roads belong to the cyclists. From the top of the bridge on Atlantic Boulevard, the pre-dawn sky was breathtaking.
Rich dark clouds were beginning to clear and the nearly full moon had just set in the west. A few stars were proof that the storms had completed their passage. The wind was quite brisk, forcing a low- gear western trip. Destination: IHOP.
The world had been designed just for bike riders that morning. (Oh what a perfect world that would be!) National Public Radio’s Morning Edition featured a story on Florida panthers. I learned that they enjoy eating armadillos by holding them on their back by the tail and eating the belly, like their own version of a lobster on the half shell.
The morning paper weighed down my backpack and it would provide my 45-minute meal with ample reading matter. Warm, crisp harvest grain pancakes with walnuts and blueberries made for a stomach- filling meal. Time to eat slowly and savor the coffee is priceless. (At $7.30, almost, anyway.)
My goal was to find this Wonderwood Expressway that had been in the news with its opening. Monument Road seemed like the right choice since it heads off, roughly, to the northeast from Regency Square. It surprised me with the hills dotting its route.
The Hidden Hills area was quite lovely in the crisp morning light. There are still a surprising amount of wooded areas in East Arlington. Fort Caroline Road remains a two-lane treat when the cars are absent.
On top of Thrill Hill, a spectacular home stands tall and impressive. In the ’50s and early ’60s, we would drive from the beach west on the road just for the scary thrill of climbing the now- removed hilltop in a car. Now, it is a memory and a quite mild ride.
Finally, the Wonderwood Expressway came into view and my left turn put me on the first new bridge at Mount Pleasant Creek. This area is new to me and quite a nice treat.
Just as I arrived at the new Charles Bennett Bridge at the Intracoastal Waterway, WFYV (104.5 FM) rewarded me with a nice memory. The Alice’s Restaurant Massacre by Arlo Guthrie would be played in full, lasting until I arrived at home.
The view from the new bridge was quite fascinating: the St. Johns River to the north and Mayport to the east. With the wind at my back, there was a much welcomed relief for my pedaling efforts.
After switching to my mountain bike, I set off to see the park — Hanna, that is. Beautiful it was on that clear, cool fresh morning. With the once very dense canopy thinned by the hurricanes, the abundance of bright sun rays reaching deep to the forest floor made the ride a true delight.
A lone armadillo ambled out to great me. No hungry panther followed him. The trail surface had been wetted to near perfection. Light danced and bounced off every possible surface. That rich forest became my Eden.
Down the bright beach, home I would go. The rides were overabout six hours after they began. Thanksgiving at and around our area allowed yet another simple homemade journey that was completed with pleasure.
Bill Longenecker is a free-lance writer who lives in Neptune Beach.