Murrs Across America

The birthday boy woke up bouncing. Beneath our Yurt, our fatigued muscles and sore spots received body blows, elbow jabs, headbutts, and otherwise steamrolling wiggle assaults as Brady reveled in serious three-year-old birthday ecstasy.

We (as in Stuart) fixed our first flat of the trip, a slow leak from a previous patch on the old Burley’s wheel that required a new tube. We pedaled half a mile to the Blue Hole Springs trailhead. We toted (forbidden) food, presents, and decorations down to the spring, which was so clear that Jane declared it “fairy water” and spent the rest of her time there on sharp lookout for water sprites.

Our new friends, Stephanie and Doug, were kayaking nearby, and after hearing Brady on the trail, they joined us at the spring for lunch and a birthday party. We all had a ball, especially Brady.

After the party, we rode in the wind to the Spirit of Suwannee Music Park and Campground on the coffee-colored Suwannee River. We ate chicken fried steak and the like, and enjoyed the Elvis Impersonator-supplied karaoke and the senior citizen two-step rave.  Elvis called Brady to the stage, and the assembly (more lively than they sound here…kind of) sang Happy Birthday.  Later, I sang Bobby McGee as the children boogied and stockpiled yet another dancehall memory to share with future therapist(s).