We woke up on the 2nd day of the bike tour to sunny skies and warm weather. I had gotten a better sleep than I normally do camping, because I upgraded to a different sleeping pad: the Big Agnes. I didn’t feel the ground at all on her. Wonderful compared to the foam-based one I’d previously been using, and a big space saver.
We had a gorgeous view, but a big bridge in front of us. The map said it was the 7-mile Bridge, but the labeling was a little off. We had a 7-mile ride until we reached the real 7-mile Bridge.
Along the way we saw evidence of damage from hurricanes past.
A broken, closed bridge. 
Seawall damage & flooding
We also hit a dead end at one point. We could cross spans on some of the pedestrian bridges, but this one ended where we thought it would take us across. Oops!
Our ultimate goal was Long Key State Park: approximately 35 miles from Big Pine Key. We read online that their normal camping was closed due to hurricane damage, but that they could accommodate cyclists in their primitive camping area. We took the risk of just showing up and finding out. Turns out that wasn’t the best of ideas. The Rangers said no. Even though they were going to open up camping on 01/01/2020 (just three days away!) the answer was still no.
So we had to figure out other lodging for the night. Which is not so easy to do in high tourist season in the Keys. I Googled and called hotels. Most were full up. The ones that weren’t started at $600 a night. We stopped at a marina that looked like they might allow us to put up our tents. I put a Facebook call out to friends seeing if they knew anyone in the area. Options were running out.
I was hoping for one of those serrendipitous bike touring stories, where just when you think you’re going to have to stealth camp some lovely human comes and invites you in. (A slightly different version happened on my bike tourin the Gaspésie.)
Finally I found a park on the map, and we aimed for there. Even though it was after hours, the gate was open. It had a picnic table. This would be the perfect place to crash just until morning. And I thought we were golden, until about 45 minutes late (9:15 p.m.) or so, we see the bright light.
“Don’t see us,” I thought. “Pass on by.”
No such luck. It was Sheriff or Police officer whose task was to lock up the park. He was decent enough. Told us to find a place out of sight and we should be Ok. He wouldn’t give any specific recommendations, so it wasn’t the most helpful for two people who aren’t used to breaking the law at all. So we gathered up our stuff and moved on, scouting for places that were out of sight along the way.
We looked at a few places, but passed them by as too visible. We road about 2.5 miles past the park before we came across a row of hedges that separated the bike path from some sort of easement. If we crouched down, it might just work. We decided to try it.
At first I tried to sleep sitting up, leaned back on my panniers. Certainly that wasn’t working. Then Kathy, my travel partner, got her tarp out and got a little more comfortable. I mimicked her. I can’t say I slept well, but we stayed there for the rest of the night. We got rained on a bit: just a drizzle. Raccoons chirped at each other throughout the night. A couple of times I was scared we were found out as bright car lights shone down on us from one end of the easement or another. I think they were just people turning. They weren’t interested in us.
With all of the trouble of that night, there was also beauty. In between the clouds, the sky was dark and the stars were lovely. There was the realization that I’d never forget this portion of the trip, because it was unlike anything I’d experienced before.
That day we ended up riding 50 miles instead of 35. I might have slept in bursts of 15 minutes. Despite the lack of sleep, I felt Ok when we finally rolled out at 6 a.m.