40.4 mi / 13.1 mph / 146 ft. climbing
Home: Gulf View Inn

We continued west along the Gulf Coast on US-98, and six miles in when it cut overland, Rett voted to branch off onto the minor road that continued to hug the coast, a rare vote because it added four miles to our day. US-98 wasn’t some bike-touring dream, but it was fine, so I took it as a sign of Rett’s strength and relatively-pain-free back and butt that she was willing to add 10% to our day when it wasn’t strictly necessary.

Our extra miles started on a road that was nearly a bike-touring dream. It oddly started its first mile without shoulders, but then added them once it got further away from US-98? In neither section were they really necessary, as it was probably the emptiest road-with-shoulders we’ve ever been on.

Once we hit the tip of the tooth that bites into the gulf, we turned north and traffic immediately became much heavier. Apparently a lot of people drive out on the 15-mile-long St. Joseph Peninsula, and we were now traveling with all the people heading to/from there. Before continuing on, we stopped at the St. Joseph Bay State Buffer Preserve Visitor Center and Observation Tower, a place whose name is as long as its observation tower is tall. It’s the latter that drew our attention, and we climbed to the top with our lunches and our chairs, enjoying the perspective of Florida we hadn’t seen since the top of a roller coaster in Orlando (it also gave us real-world proof of what a pain it must be to live in a stilt-house, since we could see one nearly at our level, meaning it must have nearly an equal number of stairs!)

Almost without realizing it, we crossed into the Central Time Zone, the first time we’ve pedaled into Central Time. First, it seems weird that Florida is far enough west to be in the Central Time Zone. But of course only part of it is, which is also weird, because not many states are split across multiple time zones. But even weirder than that, the county we were in for most of the day, is itself split between Central and Eastern time! And not on an east-west basis! The coast on the south is Eastern Time, while the inland north is Central. We were temporarily confused at lunch because we thought we were stopping early, before noon, but then our phones said it was 12:30pm. And the were wrong! The observation tower was still in Eastern Time (though it was surprisingly difficult to find a map/legal description delineating the division in Bay County), but our phones must have connected to a tower in Central Time. A couple miles on they switched back, only to switch again (correctly this time) just outside of Mexico City. It sure must be annoying to live here (I guess everyone just turns off automatic time zone switching on their phones?)

Mexico Beach gave us our first true sight of the Gulf of Mexico, neither hidden in fog nor diminished into a bay by a barrier island. And we maintained that view from inside our motel, the appropriately-named Gulf View Inn! It was the nicest motel we’ve stayed in since we were outside of Charleston, and even after splurging for a full kitchen, it was a steal at only $114. We had our own porch on the backside of our room that was just a road and a beach away from the turquoise waters. Even though Rett had earlier rejected the option of staying here (rather than Apalachicola) for two nights (an option I presented because I had a feeling it would be quite nice), we both still said “why aren’t we staying here for two nights?” Well, one reason is that there oddly aren’t any grocery stores in town; we had to bring our frozen pizza from Port St. Joe, 10 miles back.

Only after we had left town the next day did I stumble across the fact that the eye of Hurricane Michael, the 5th strongest hurricane to ever land on the continental US, landed right at Mexico Beach. The entire town was essentially destroyed, so the Inn and just about every building around it, were brand new buildings. What’s amazing is that Michael wreaked its havoc only six years ago, yet it took a random aside on Wikipedia to bring it to my attention. None of the destruction remained visible in the physical landscape of Mexico Beach to clue me in. Yes, in retrospect I could recall some signs: the new-ish buildings everywhere, a couple of still-empty lots, that perfect line of new palm trees, and the “surge me once…” stilt-houses of the wider region. But for the most part, insurers had successfully built over the evidence, allowing a whole new town to spring up over the flattened old town. After seeing the extent to which those insurers upheld their promises in 2018, it’s no surprise that Florida residents are finding it difficult in 2025 to get any company to take a similar risk.