It nearly killed me.

Steph and I were feeling energetic after breakfast, so a bike ride to the
seven mile bridge seemed like a good idea.  We were hoping to see a
turtle, or rays, or a shark- you know, something blog-worthy.

It was a pleasant ride out, as we pedal, pedal, pedalled our clown bikes past
all of our favorite haunts and such.  It was a pleasant ride.  We felt so good
we opted to pedal, pedal, pedal another two miles out to the end of the bridge.
The views of the water were beautiful, and I barely pedaled at all-

The 25 mph wind PUSHED us to the end of the bridge!
(recognize this view from the movie True Lies?)

We were feeling so good, we decided to walk down to Pigeon Key for a
closer look-see at the water's edge.  I'd never been down there before.

We were all smiles as we looked for sea shells :)

We marvelled at the bridge down to the encampment, and chatted about
the history of the Labor Day Hurricane of 1935 that took out the
Flagler Railroad and the hundreds who lost their lives that day.
We're both history buffs for that sort of thing.

We walked back up, and looked out over the present-day Pigeon Key
that hosts a number of festivals and camps year round.

We also took one last glorious look out over the Gulf, where the tour
boat docks to bring guests to Pigeon Key via the water way.

And then we hopped back up on our clown bikes and pedal, pedal, pedaled our way back (2.1 miles of bridge, mind you) into a 25 MPH HEADWIND!  It was all we could do to keep our heads down, pedaling for all it was worth, in the lowest gear possible, praying, praying, praying that we would see the next quarter mile marker spray painted onto the roadway of the bridge.  To say it sucked, would be a gross understatement.  We tried to make it in half mile stretches, only to reward ourselves with a water break and a much needed breather.  It was awful.  By the time the snot-nosed kid whizzed by us on his BMX bike with his helmet on, I was reminded of my niece, Courtney, and how she left her mountain bike laying on a trail in Westwood Park back home.  I seriously wanted to pitch the damn clown bike off the Seven Mile Bridge.  Stephanie finally gave up and walked her bike off the last mile.

I forged ahead; pedal, pedal, pedalling that damn clown bike to the beginning of the bridge.  I refused to stop!  I am a Survivor!! I will NOT be defeated!!!  I no sooner took my last swallow of water, and gasped for breath, when Stephanie walked up, with her clown bike, right beside me.  That just goes to show you how much faster I was riding, than her walking.  We had no choice but to continue on.   We were still nearly two and a half miles from home, and home was directly into that same 25 mph easterly headwind.  We set a goal to make it to Daffy's- and reward ourselves with a cold fountain drink, some air conditioning, and a $1.99 subway sandwich.  We were getting hungry afterall, and it was no wonder, it was going on 1pm already.  This little trip to the seven mile bridge was taking MUCH longer than anticipated.

We took off from the bridge, and I thought we would get a good coast going down hill back to street level.  We would have been able to coast, if it wasn't for the 25 MPH HEADWIND!  I don't know what happened to Stephanie, I just had to go to my 'happy place', and pedal, pedal, pedal.  By the time I got to Daffy's parking lot, I thought I was going to expire.  My legs were shot, I was covered in sweat, I couldn't have been any more parched, and I was dizzy.  Stephanie nearly crash landed onto the sidewalk.  She said her legs were like jello, her hands were numb from gripping the handlebars so hard, and she could barely get off her bike.  Her hair was wringing wet.  Heck, she was wet all over. Her face was red-violet, and I was afraid she was going to stroke out.  Her hands were shaking so bad, she looked like she was in her third day of detox!  She said two guys said something to us from their pick up truck, but I have no idea.  I was experiencing tunnel vision, and it was all I could do to get to the fountain drink station before I hit the floor.

An ice cold Pepsi never tasted so good.  To think that Cap'n had the audacity
 to call me wondering where his sandwich was...he was waiting by the pool.
hmph.  I have words for people like him.

By the time we got back to Banana Bay, sure enough, the gang got
tired of waiting, and started the game of dominoes without us.

I could only watch longingly from afar...

Ken is so out of sorts from not fishing for over a week now, (have I
told you the wind has been blowing over 25 mph?!), that he
has taken up water aerobics.  That's just sad.  He even bought a
box of chum the other day just to make himself feel better. Really sad.

After spending the afternoon in the pool and playing
dominoes (can you believe I swam 10 laps?!) we
took Stephanie on a dinghy ride to Faro Blanco.
aka 'Jurassic Park', or the 'Haunted Lighthouse'.

Now you see him...

now you don't...or do you?

what about now?

We watched this fella walk down a busted dock to get a drink of
saltwater.  Can you see his red tongue?  Iquanas are so creepy.

We made it back in time for a quick shower and to see the sunset.

...and to give Willis a little love.  A Willis is so much more cuddly than an iguana.

It was looking to be a promising sunset...

...and then it wasn't. It faded to look like a watercolor painting.  Still beautiful.
I am beyond pooped.  I 've got to rest up for tomorrow's adventures.
G'nite y'all!