2023—Ridiculous Stunt Tour

“Somersaulting Towards Hope”

June 16th, 2023

$418,874 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

This time last year we were cursing the existence of mosquitoes. Angry with these terrible bloodsuckers, we collectively agreed these mosquitoes were the bane of our existence and we would have given anything to be rid of them.

Fast-forward to this year’s ride - same place, same time - and something was very different; there were practically no mosquitoes. A couple of us celebrated the absence of the little pests and commented how lucky we were to be mosquito-free at 4am. Little did we know… Little. Did. We. Know.

The Mississippi Maven (Stephanie) led us through a beautiful pre-dawn blessing before 12 Castaway Cyclists strolled onto the Rickenbacker Causeway, escorted by friends and family and our first-leg support vehicle, Captain Hermida Sr.

The morning was muggier than Girado’s chamois, and there were hints of an unwelcome headwind, but we were on our way. Rookie Castaway Cyclists were sleepily acquainting themselves, and old friends groggily caught up as we wove quietly through Coconut Grove, past Coral Gables, down Old Cutler and towards Deering Bay when someone confused Grand Theft Auto for real life and decided to overtake our group and play chicken with an oncoming BMW. Fortunately, the BMW was piloted by Dale Earnhardt Jr. himself, who successfully navigated the car off the road, swerving between trees, and coming to a complete stop without killing anyone.

With the group now wide-awake – and bowels lightened, although nobody would admit it – we were back on our way. Tim “The Kangaroo” Rea showed us a new route through Homestead that was buttery smooth, and it wasn’t long before we cruised past the Homestead Motor Speedway and rolled into Checkpoint 1 in Florida City. We were greeted by Cowboy and Indian (sorry Craig), and we awaited the return of Captain Hermida Sr. who decided to take a little joyride halfway to Key Largo before realizing the stop was in Florida City.

The Canadian Sensation (Cam) displayed his talent for undressing himself while still clipped into a bike, and made an expert-triathlon-level transition from parking lot to toilet – but not just any toilet; the Man from the Great White North converted an innocent traffic barrier and bush into his personal outhouse, and it was beautiful.

Having had our fill of snacks and topped off water bottles, we mounted our bikes and bid farewell to The Half-Ride Hero (Josh) – who decided this would be enough exercise for the day before heading back north to his family, a decision that would prove incredibly wise as the day wore on.

Next we were onto Card Sound Road. The sun began to shine as we made our way South, mostly behind the wheels of Danny “The Train” Girado and Missy “The Missyle” Gomez (I think I’m going to start an amateur boxing league with all of these nicknames), taking turns pulling against a modest headwind. Cars zipped past, a disappointingly low number of truckers honked their trucker horns, and we worked our way over the Card Sound Bridge to take in the beautiful view. We approached our second stop at the mouth of Key Largo, thrilled to take a break from the mounting heat and humidity. Here we’d welcome Kayaker-turned-Cyclist, Omar The Amphibian, who would be joining us for the 100 miles that remained to Key West, along with Stephanie, who had been supporting us from the car until this point, but decided to hop on her bike and join us the rest of way South.

The next leg is the “bad leg”. By this point, we’ve logged ~70 miles, the sun is starting to show up en force, and we need to contend with a 37-mile stretch sans cloud cover. We continued South as the heat and headwind began to build. It was somewhere along this stretch where things began to get dicey and the fatigue was clearly setting in. In these moments, you begin to realize everyone’s strengths; Erik Stabenau would impart his expertise and coach Alex and Omar on his mastery in the avoidance of expending unnecessary energy, Andy would show his expertise in pretending to work while not actually pulling at all, and most importantly, our veterans would get a timely read on the mess that was beginning to unfold. Tim, Mario, and Jesus called for a quick, much-needed, impromptu water stop halfway through this leg to top off bottles, and boy was that music to our ears. We briefly pulled into a small parking lot where Cowboy was at the ready. Tim offered a brief “pep talk” (you had to be there) and spelled out the plan for the rest of the ride: Tim would pull the group the rest of the way to Key West, while Jesus (the cyclist and the Son of God) brought up the rear, and Mario would shuttle up and down the group providing encouragement, water, snacks, and a cute Texas drawl. A few short moments later - at the 101st mile - Cam blessed us all with a flat tire. We happily pulled over and attempted to sabotage the tire-changing effort in exchange for just a few more moments of rest.

We finally arrived at our third checkpoint, ecstatic to see Cowboy and Indian and indulge in a nice long break. We drank as much as we could, ate whatever our stomachs would allow, and did our best to encourage one another before hopping back on the road. 

The group took its time completing the short 11-mile leg that sees us to the entrance of the 7-mile bridge. We took advantage of another break from the hot sun, refilled our bottles, drank more and more liquids, and spent time with family that met us at the rest stop, while praying for rain and cloud cover that would never come. Stephanie, Missy, Girado, and Cap’ kept the vibes positive and encouraging, while Andy, Alex, Ale, and Yours Truly bitched about everything we could - balance is key. 

We crossed the 7-mile-bridge uneventfully, and continued southwest into the headwind that would spend all day trying to keep us from Duval Street. We took comfort in knowing we were getting ever closer to our destination, but the sun was really baking the asphalt now and it felt like the convection oven was just starting to ramp up. The Amphibian (Omar) was fighting tooth and nail for every meter we covered (that’s right, metric system), but after suffering a minor accident early in the ride - compounded by the brutal conditions - I’m convinced the veteran “efficiency expert” Erik Stabenau talked Omar into throwing in the towel just as we approached a perfect little watering hole named “Mangrove Mama’s” in Summerland Key. The bartenders and regulars were perplexed by the group of smelly spandex-clad individuals with plastic helmets suddenly descending upon their bar - but once Captain Hermida told the Tale of the Castaways, we were treated like heroes. My memory was foggy at this point, but I vaguely recall sodas, small orders of deep fried foods (there’s debate about this), talk of rum and cokes, and the comforting face of my best friend in misery - Ale Palli. His melancholy expression was a warm sweater on a cold snowy day. 

Once the controversial fried treats were consumed (or not, we don’t know), and soda pitchers ran dry, we bid farewell to Omar and our precious Mangrove Mama to putter down the road for a handful of miles to the final rest stop. 

The final stop is everyone’s favorite stop - just one hour from Key West, we get the chance to enjoy ourselves with friends and family, and the mood dramatically improves as hope begins to flicker like a tattered neon sign above Sloppy Joe’s. I was personally looking forward to the 30-minute “airing of grievances” I was prepared to host - but just as I pulled up my chair to begin our therapeutic session, we were alerted that Paige Douglass - who was running to Key West - decided to make a u-turn and come back to greet the cyclists. And just like that, our right to complain was blown away by the same headwind we’d been cursing all day. The cyclists did their little cycling-shoe-funny-walk to the road and cheered for Paige as she completed her 75-mile run and sat down with us for snacks, refreshments, and stories. 

The cyclists, support teams, friends, family, and runners all sat around under the tent sharing experiences and complaining about the heat with faces wearing big smiles, hands filled with hydration drinks and carby snacks, and hearts full of joy. This is, for me, one of the most beautiful moments in the ride, and being joined by Paige and Vince was a special blessing that I won’t forget. Sitting together, understanding that we’ve all been suffering all day, but remembering that our suffering is a privilege, provides just enough of a boost to get us home. With newly topped-off water bottles and perspective, we began the final leg into Key West - Just. 20. Miles. 

The heat was peaking now; a full-on broiler with what felt like a furnace blowing steaming asphalt-laiden heat into our faces. Andy and Alex blessed us with a couple more flat tires on this leg, while the remaining castaways huddled together under narrow shadows more closely than high school kids hiding in a closet midway through a kegger that’s been busted by cops.

Too tired to complain, or feel anything at all really, we slowly but surely pulled into the Great Revolutionary City of Key West. We circled wide and rode to the Southernmost Point where we jumped the line and asked literally the worst photographer that ever existed in the history of mankind to take our photo. 

We banded together one last time for the final mile - slowly weaving through Key West back roads before turning into the Hyatt Centric alleyway and being received by the most beautiful reception we could imagine. Friends, family, onlookers, all there to cheer for us, welcome us, and make us feel like what we’ve just done was only sort of ridiculous. 

Author’s Note: Writing this year’s Trip Report was very challenging. The ride was very difficult for me personally, and the report kept taking too negative of a tone. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered me, but it’s important to remember why we are Castaways and why we put ourselves through this. While I may find comfort - and even humor - in some of the negativity, the people we ride for would give anything to “suffer” in an elective and inconsequential way the way we’ve decided to. This sentiment was furthered by the news that our Paige Douglas has been fighting an incredibly fierce form of cancer beginning mere weeks after our ride (and her run) to Key West. Her battle is incredibly humbling, and the grace with which she fights is legendary. “Eyes up. Stout heart. Fight like hell. And, Believe. Believe. Believe.”

After a warm Castaway welcome, cheers, photos, and some words by the cyclist, the pool was the place to be for a brief moment.  So many stories were being exchanged from paddlers, runners, and cyclists.  Crazy stories converged in that wonderful pool.  Loud laughs and a lot of “no ways” were heard by all who were trying to relax.

With Patrick Linfors absent, Paul Kumer stepped up to MC the Flower Ceremony on the dock at the Hyatt Centric.  Cup in hand….at least for 2 minutes, before he dropped it during his opening monologue.  He navigated 30+ Castaways giving testimony to why they paddle, run, cycle, and landlub.  Emotions were high and sharing was insightful.  The ceremony started later than last year which allowed for the sunset to naturally provide a gorgeous backdrop to the flowers reath, In Honor Banner, and the candles that were placed before it by the Castaways and those supporters in attendance.

After a few moments of silence and somberness, all that were gathered wiped their tears, hugged, and made their way to Papa’s Pilar to do what Castaways do best, celebrate life with their loved ones front of mind.  Papa’s Pilar was a blast.  The food was on point, the drinks hit the spot, and the Castaway family was celebrating their collective success.  Kids ran around and runners, cyclists, and paddlers held court in small circles telling tales of their journies down.  The night ended for most people here but the usual (and not so usual) partygoers made their way to Irish Kevin’s and beyond.  For those stories, you’ll have to catch one of those CACs off the record.

Saturday morning in Key West is always a great time for a stroll.  The town is quiet and restaurants have seating.  As you walk the streets it feels like you run into a Castaways every other block or so.  Brunches were had and once again the pool because the popular meeting ground for Castaways to piece together the last week and last night.  Sloppy Joes for lunch has become a tradition where Castaways unofficially gather for good family fun.  Another year in the books.  24 years of paddling, 3 of cycling, and 1 of running.  Who knows what the 25th tour will bring but it’s sure to be notable.

• 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 and here for the Runner’s Report.