2022—Carry On Tour

“A New Day, A New Way”

June 17, 2022

$343,572 was the total raised including Sylvester’s .50 : 1 match.

This year’s funds will be directed to further research by Sylvester in cancer epigenetics

Friday, June 17th, 2022

The day began as your typical Friday morning - rolling out of bed at 230am, making breakfast, loading bikes and water bottles, slipping into some spandex, and heading for the door. 

The 10 Castaway cyclists congregated at Castaway Beach between 340 - 350am excited, energized, and ready for a special day. Supply bags were tossed into the lead support van - manned by Patrick, husband of cyclist Stephanie - water bottles were checked, coolers loaded, and final preparations made. Our excitement and carpe diem attitude could only be matched by one other group - South Florida Mosquitoes.

At 355am we gathered around cyclist Andy Martinez for a beautiful opening prayer - however, the aforementioned mosquitoes do not believe in God, and the heretical insects rushed our blessing along so that pedals were up by 357am. 

The team of 10 cyclists lazily rolled out of Castaway Beach with just enough gusto to outrun the godless mosquitoes. The cyclists were escorted through the Rickenbacker Causeway and towards Coconut Grove by Patrick’s van, Captain Javier Hermida’s father in his pickup, and cyclists-in-car (motorists-in-spandex?) Billy Krauss and Ale Palli. 

It was a peaceful, humid morning as we calmly made our way South - pondering the choices we made that would see us end up here. After slicing through Coconut Grove, Coral Gables, and Pinecrest, we approached the straightway to Blackpoint Marina with the same enthusiasm as Tim Rea’s breakfast approaching his bowels. After a call for a brief nature break went ignored, the group broke up as nature insisted on spending quality time with Tim. Once we realized there was a separation, the group pulled to the side of 87th avenue for a collective pee break. We shimmied and jiggled while conducting our business, attempting to avoid mosquito bites in uncomfortable areas.  

Once the band was back together and collectively lightened, the group continued southwest through Blackpoint Marina and Homestead, making it just past the Homestead Motor Speedway before saying hello to flat tire #1. Jesus Lopez led a small team of cyclists who made short work of our first flat (how many cyclists does it take to change a flat tire? 6. The answer is 6.). 

The pre-dawn hours passed quickly and smoothly as we made our way to Checkpoint #1, approximately 40 miles into our ride, at Florida City’s Raceway Gas Station where we were greeted by friends, family, and a beautiful spread of Choripan sandwiches, PB&J’s, energy drinks, fruits, and more - all prepared by the Legendary Cowboy and his son, Craig. 

Led mostly by the locomotive - Danny Girado - we zipped through the exhilarating Card Sound Road and over our first bridge (beautiful view, but unnecessary effort) before turning West towards checkpoint #2. It was on this stretch where we scored our first ever Hat Trick; Josh Cantor dropped his cell phone, Jesus Lopez punctured a tire, and Eric Stabeneau had to pee all in the same 10-meter stretch (we’re using meters because we have teammates who don’t believe in Freedom). We’d encounter flat tire #3 just a few miles later in front of a church (wtf God?) and just a few blocks from our checkpoint - a light drizzle, new tire tubes, and a few pedal strokes later and we arrived at Checkpoint #2. Welcomed by another gorgeous serving of snacks and supplements, we made this a quick 10-minute stop before heading into the longest stretch of the day. 

The next segment would see us through Fiesta Key as we crossed the 100-mile mark (160 kilometers, Tim). This was a tough stretch offering plenty of sun, minimal shade, and busy roads. Our favorite Southerner and the team powerplant - Stephanie Weldon - hit some debris and accounted for a flaccid (not flat) tire which Tim Rea quickly stepped in to remedy - the man won’t stand for flaccidity! We got back on track in short order and were relieved to find Patrick, Cowboy, Craig, and “the wagon” awaiting us at Checkpoint #3 some 115 miles into the day. Lucky for us, Cowboy successfully negotiated a temporary stop in front of a sailboat rental business after being run out of his first attempted checkpoint. Cowboy took it a step further and negotiated an approved stop for next year’s tour with the property owner - Yeehaw Cowboy! 

The team took an extended 20-minute break to hydrate, eat, return nature’s calls and recover before hopping back on our bikes for a short 10-mile stint that would set us up for the 7-mile bridge. 

Checkpoint #4 is meant to be a 5-minute stop to add fresh ice to water bottles, pack tire tubes, and limber up before the 7-mile bridge - however, we were met by Erik Stabaneu’s family, Daniel Girado’s wife, 11-month-old son, and mother, and other well-wishers so we decided to stick around for some hugs and good vibes before heading off. 

The 7-mile bridge has narrow shoulders, is full of debris, and shakes as cars zoom past. There isn’t room for a SAG vehicle, so we’re largely on our own crossing the bridge. Last year the bridge gifted us 4 flat tires. Fortunately, she was stingy this year and we only needed to contend with one hair-raising flat. The ninja-tire-fixing team quickly dispatched the flat and we carried on safely across the bridge and throughout the remaining 20 miles of the penultimate segment. Things were becoming quite warm by this point, so Emilio Pineda made sure to take turns riding in front of each cyclist and cooling us down with his perpetual misting mechanism (i.e.; an abundance of sweat flying off his back) ensuring everyone arrived safely and well-hydrated to the final checkpoint. 

Checkpoint #5 was filled with friends and family, good music, more great food and drink, and the excitement of knowing we’re only 20 miles from Key West. Several Coca-Colas, Choripans, PB&J’s, and ice-cold towels were enjoyed as we made our final preparations to bring it home. Fortunately, Andy Martinez’s computer finally died as we began the last segment into Key West, marking the end of his device’s hours-long search for a device to “pair” with - a task that would end in failure as great as Eric Stabeneau’s attempts to sing for the group at Irish Kevin’s later that evening - but that’s for another write up.

The team made its way down to Key West in a “Tim-Jesus” sandwich where the two telepathically communicated from the back to the front of the group, keeping a perfectly consistent pace and distance between cyclists for the final hour of the ride. It was impressive to see our two most seasoned cyclists working together and keeping the team in lockstep across the final sector. 

At long last, we arrived at Key West’s City Limits, winding east around the island to the Southernmost Point. 12-inch-deep puddles surrounded the famous landmark as a number of adults in spandex attempted to persuade tourists waiting in line for a photo to allow us to skip for a group photo (spoiler: the tourists were not persuaded). We opted for a quick group photo from the road taken by a young man on his honeymoon who was visibly concerned such a masculine and attractive group of men would bring his young marriage to a screeching halt, but Andy was too tired and our new friend’s marriage would live to fight another day. After our brief photoshoot the group began the slowest 1.2-mile ride in the history of cycling (we’re waiting to hear back from Guinness, but it should be any day now) as we sloooowwwwwllllyyyyyy made up Whitehead Street behind painstakingly slow traffic, deep puddles (global warming who?) and more stop signs than a Dad chaperoning his daughter’s 10th-grade dance.      

After what seemed like another 170 miles down Whitehead, we turned the corner towards the Hyatt Centric Key West Hotel and were greeted by an unforgettable reception; banners, music, the cheering of friends and family, and the warm welcome of the entire Castaways Family. Sweaty hugs, handshakes, and high-fives were shared as liberally as the cold beers and champagne magically appearing in each of our hands. Photos were taken, Frigo said things on the microphone, and a perfect day came to a close. 

By the numbers:

• Total Distance: 178 miles

• Average pace: 19mph

• Moving time: 9 hours, 25 minutes

• Total time: 12 hours, 15 minutes

• Average calories burned (per person): 4,150 

• Flat tires: 7.5 (one was flaccid, not flat) 

• Dropped cell phone stops: 1

• Scheduled rest stops: 4

• Unscheduled pee breaks: 4

• Unscheduled incognito poop breaks: 1

• Number of times a cyclist fell down, all on their own, while standing still: 1

• Total Peanut Butter + Jelly sandwiches consumed: 44

• Total Pan con Jamón ibérico y manchego consumed: 51

• Total Coca-Colas: 22

• Total Water consumed: 30.5 gallons

• Number of times a cyclist shouted "hole!": 1,782,364 (probably) 

• Total funds raised by cyclists: $52,912

  To see what the paddlers were doing 6 days leading up to our pedals going up and as we cycled down, click here for their Trip Report.