We got up early (*cough cough*) and left Fernandina Beach heading down A1A. It was a beautiful Florida day and we were all excited about what the day had in store for us.

The parking lot at the hotel in Fernandina Beach, Florida.

We didn't go far before we had to board a ferry in order to cross the St. Johns River. After a couple of ferry boat rides on the North Carolina Outer Banks Julie and I were expecting a lengthy cruise. Imagine our surprise when we found out that we were literally just crossing the river, about a 10 minute ride!

We barely had time to get out of our helmets, get out our cameras, then put them up and on again before the ride was over!

Riding further south we came to St. Augustine and came upon this fort used first by the Spanish and later by colonials in the Revolutionary War.

Bryan & Jordan strike a pose.

Display showing the different cannons used in the fort over the years.

Bruce, Jordan & Bryan acting like tourists.

After leaving St. Augustine we continued on down A1A towards Daytona Beach. Although we didn't plan it this way, it was the first Monday of Daytona Bike Week. None of us had ever been, and even though we don't normally go in for bike rallies and such things we were all looking forward to riding through Daytona and seeing what it was all about.

I wish I could say it was a pleasant experience...

The traffic started about 30 miles north of Daytona and got worse the closer we got to Daytona. From that point until we finally got off A1A at New Smyrna Beach I don't think we ever got out of 2nd gear. It was mile after drudging mile of stop and go, wall to wall traffic.

Daytona itself was a nightmare. I don't remember ever seeing so many bikes in one place before. I also don't ever remember seeing so many jack asses, or motorcycle trailers (can you say 'trailer queens'?) in one place either. We had wanted to stop someplace and get a couple of t-shirts, but ended up going to the south side of Daytona before we could even change lanes to get over and stop! Even with our signals on no one would let us over and more than a few 'bikers' flipped us off when they got beside us in the lane we were trying to get to!

At one point near the middle of town we had two guys on customs come out of a side street past a traffic cop and cut us off at the light! One came so close to me that we almost hit. Then these two lunatics stopped less than 20 yards ahead at the next traffic light in the turn lane heading to the beach. Once stopped they turned around and laughed looking in our direction.

We did manage to get stopped and went in to three different shops looking for a shirt or two. Everything we found was either decidedly Harley-ish, vulgar and rude or all of the above. We left empty handed, and glad to be heading out of town in one piece.

Never again.

It took over four and a half hours to go the 40 or so miles we were in that freak show. What that effectively did was use up the time we had figured we'd have to go all the way down A1A to the Vero Beach area. Instead we were forced to get out on I 95 and haul tail down to SR 70 so that we could make it into Clewiston that night.

It's my own fault, I should have known better. Next time I will know to avoid it like the plague.

As we were headed south on I 95 a storm blew up, threatening to rain on us, but thankfully it never did. Bryan took the photos above while we were stopped for fuel somewhere along the way on I 95.