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My Journey January 2011

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My Journey January 2011

Post  ChasingSanity on Wed Jan 19, 2011 5:10 am

Saturday, January 8th, 2011
I... where's my map? I look at a map, see the names of places and hope to remember what happened there. Smile I was at the Magaritaville Inn, Pensacola Beach, Florida, then...

January 16th, 2011
Well, at least I'm still in the same state, Florida. I stopped at this small motel at the end of the beach strip road to ask for a cup of coffee and possibly breakfast. I got to talking with the motel staff then some of the breakfast-going customers. One of the breakfast-goers was a Korean newspaper man who interviewed me. I have his business card. I can read his email address but the rest is not decipherable by my American eyes. Smile I was interviewed by a Korean newspaper, I was interviewed by a Korean newspaper! So, I rode across the bridge to Ft. Walton and camped just outside of Fort Walton for the night.

I feel bad not getting very far each day before camping for the night. I don't know why I consistently only get a little ways. Maybe, it is because I want to be warm; I go to sleep early to be in my warm sleeping bag and do not want to get out of my warm sleeping bag until 7 or 8 in the morning. It is slovenly, I know, I know. But, my schedule consists of avoiding hard freezes this winter (and Florida is freezing) then being in the British Isles in the spring or late (warmer) winter,or even in the summer. Generally, I want to be in warmer climates during colder seasons. Simple, in theory. Smile

I asked the police some ways east of Panama City Beach if they knew a place I could camp for free. The officer I talked with said no, but a lot of... transients (he and I both thought of other words like homeless and street people to describe the ragged looking people I am grouped with) camp out in the woods. He could not tell me where the best places were because he would then be obligated to kick me out of there. Smile I called back a while later and asked about camping way back in the woods behind a (named but forgotten) church. Yeah, sure. I strung up my clothes to dry from the rains and resultant humidity.

I saw what looked like a man standing on the side of the road, or was it a sign? No, it was a man with a.. big lens camera, taking pictures of coastal birds? No, taking pictures of me. I stopped a short ways past him and asked him if he wanted me to pose. Smile (I don't have his card anymore so the photographer's name is forgotten) said there were not any reporters on the weekend to interview me but another city like Port St. Joe could with their sister newspaper and use his photographs. Port St. Joe it would be.

I rode into Panama City in the dark, it sure seemed like only a little ways on the map. I made arrangements with a CouchSurfing guy to stay the night in Panama City but he never replied back with his address. I was just going to meet and greet another guy but asked him if I could stay with him as a backup plan. Uhm, sure, I guess, address included. Thoughts of how my sleeping arrangements would manifest themselves were on my ming as I crossed the bridge that night. Then, the curb manifested itself. I hit the curb coming down off the bridge at 30 miles an hour.

A guy behind me saw me hit the curb. He pulled over and asked if I was OK. He figured, from what he saw I would need an ambulance. My whole world wobbled, including my thoughts. I said No, I am not OK. I started checking body parts. My head was banged up, right side, upper half. My sinuses felt funny, they swelled up, got to be painful. My bike tires were flat and the rims were bent. I was not going anywhere without help. A police officer pulled up. When he saw the car and the bicycle, he thought an ambulance would be needed. I was not going through another session of bill collectors hounding me for 6 months, or was it a year? They said it was free, so did the people in Santa Fe, NM. They all had the best intentions at heart, right up to the ones paying the bills for the hospital. No, thank you. I asked the guy that stopped if he could give me a ride to the house where I was supposed to be staying for the night. My huge, long bike actually fit in his SUV.

We drove to the address I had written down, butt it was an apartment complex. He took me to the library across the street where they had internet access. I pulled up the CouchSurfing message Louis, my backup plan guy gave me. I did not see an apartment number but I had the message and his picture. We drove back across the street. I tried talking with people in th apartment complex, asking if they recognized his picture. My helper guy had to leave, he had a life to get back to, sleeping being the immediate priority. I thanked him.

I could not think what to do. I could not think much at all. I figured the police would soon be coming to arrest me for harassing the apartment renters. I called the police. I told them I was between several rocks and hard places. I was riding my bicycle across country and made arrangements to stay with a guy, he gave me his address but not his apartment number, nobody was letting me use their WIFI to email him, my bike was un-ridable after hitting the curb so I could not move around and everything I owned was on my bike so I did not want to leave it to go across the street to the library and I did not know if I needed medical attention.

The police came, a man and a woman, we talked. I felt like the female police officer was asking leading questions insinuating I was up to no good and lying to them. I confronted her on that, she denied it. After a while, the male police officer looked at the message I had been waving around on my netbook. He said, there is the apartment number. I felt stupid and told them so. We went looking for Louis's apartment. He came out, we talked, the police got an education on CouchSurfing and they went away. Louis and I talked a little. I assured him I would be out of his apartment, as promised, before 7:30 in the morning, before he left for work. I had something to eat, showered, slept, repacked and put all my stuff on my bike in a corner outside. I hoped it looked unappetizing, would not be noticed or irritating enough to be hauled away – safe.

I walked with the tires to Po-Boy's Bike Shop, the closest of two possible rescuers. On the way, I asked for directions and got a ride from a local merchant of popular herbal substances, working out of his home, yes, one of those. Smile Po-Boy's are a junk yard for bikes. I talked with the owners and picked out the two best bike tires, front and rear I could find and left them with my salvageable tires. I hoped it was too early in the morning for someone to have stolen part of or all of my bike. I asked if (what were the names of the husband/wife team at Po-Boy's?) would drive me to the other shop, Steve's Bike Shop for the remaining parts; gears for the rear tire. Away we went. I made the husband laugh, he has a heart condition. I hope laughing was good for him.

Steve's sells higher end stuff, as expected for a big city resort community on the Gulf Coast. Steve said I should have chosen better with the rear tire. I said options were limited even with all the searching I did. Steve made it work and gave me two working tires. I hoped my bike was still there and intact. I noticed later, Steve gave me a new rear tire. But, now, I was somehow missing the nut/fastener for the front tire. I was too embarrassed to go back to Steve's, I stopped at a store specializing in nuts and bolts.

I stopped in at a Salvation Army office en-route. I told them about the two businesses doing me such big favors and asked if Salvation Army could do anything to help them. Then, the bike shops would be doing me a favor, me doing them a favor in return and Salvation Army doing us both a favor, a symbiotic tri-cycle. No, all Salvation Army could do is put some brochures in their respective stores. Too bad. But, the receptionist at Salvation Army got her first bike from Steve's and she might stop in there and tell them about the conversation she had with this world traveling bicyclist.

I walked back to Louis's apartment hoping my bike was still there. It was and I have not found anything to be missing... yet. I packed up and rode off. Man, was I tired, I got beat up pretty bad then walked all day with my heavy backpack and two bike tires. I had to have camped somewhere shortly outside of Panama City but I don't remember. Wait, it was almost 5PM when I asked at the tourist info center about camping...

I rode up to Tyndall Air Force Base and asked at the Visitor's Center if they would consider donating a 'pickle bag', a military duffel bag, to a worthy cause; me. They didn't use those kind of bags anymore, not for several years. And, if they did, giving military items to me would not be happening. (Now, they use backpacks, I am envious about the backpacks and told them so.)

Time to sleep. I am south of Perry, FL, almost midnight, 6 in the morning is fast approaching.

Monday, January 17th, 2011
It's been pouring down rain since before I woke up at 6AM this morning. Lowell, my host.. oh, Lowell; late yesterday afternoon, I was looking for a place to sleep. Camping was preferred. I saw land for sale with a house on it that looked unoccupied. There was a phone number on the fence. I called and said I was riding cross country on my bicycle and was now in front of their place (address given), could I camp there? Lowell came out of the huge shed next to the house. I went over and talked with him. He offered me a furnished and heated room in the shed. We got along famously, he did much of the talking. I am getting better at sharing the conversation with people instead of hogging it all to myself.

So, Lowell today said I could stay as long as I want. The rain is supposed to lessen between 3 and 5 in the afternoon. Today is Dr. Martin Luther King's birthday, a national holiday, any public libraries in the towns south of here will be closed. The likelihood of finding public access WIFI, out of the rain is slim. I can probably stay another night, if I choose. Lowell is familiar with a good portion of Florida.

Keeping my belongings dry is most important. I told Lowell several times how being warm and dry while the weather is cold and wet feels like magic, I am grateful. Lowell is about my age, a little older. He is a big fan of music prior to 1980, vinyl records. Lowell has been through feast and famine, having an appreciation for life's simple pleasures.

Back to where I left off. I rode past Tyndall AFB looking at the woods enviously, I had to pee. But, I figured my getting off my bicycle and going even to the edge of the trees qualified as suspicious behavior. About the time I had the urge, it started to rain, just a little and the winds picked up and the sky darkened. I got out my poncho as quickly as I could. The rain sporadically got worse. I kept thinking 'the rain won't come down any harder, I can't get any wetter.' I kept being proven wrong. But, the scenery, in the rain was awesome, mystical (hehe; mist-ical) with trees rising above dense fog and dark skies overhead. Perfect weather for being warm and cozy, tucked into blankets, by a fire, with hot cocoa and other hot, sweet 'comfort foods'. I was out in the cold and the wet staying just warm enough by pedaling my ass off. Being out in it was a minor detail, I was enjoying myself, reveling in the beauty of my life and the life around me, seeing the splendors of nature most Americans rarely see. Such is my life, I only wish for people to share these experiences with that have to be experienced first hand to be appreciated.

I stopped in Mexico Beach at the first bar and grill and asked if I could get something hot to drink or eat for free. They said not for free, I said I can afford free. They were insulted, I left and asked at the next place, the “Fish House”. The chef/owner said I could have soup and a sandwich; a tuna melt and bowl of oyster chowder. :Sigh: That was good but, in that short time, I felt warmer and drier, going back outside was a shock.

I rode on into Port St. Joe. One of the phone numbers, Devin, the photographer, gave me was for the Star newspaper at Port St. Joe and I had arranged that morning to meet with Tim, the editor, there for an interview in the afternoon. I got there early. I was running early because the winds died down when it was raining and, when I was close to town, a woman and her husband gave me a ride into town, dropping me off in front of the newspaper.

I introduced myself, Tim was not there yet, off doing another story. I went to the Piggely Wiggley grocery store next door and availed myself of their free hot coffee. I checked out my options for getting food stamps in town, their office was just down the street. Should've done it in Panama City, could've gotten it the same day. If I got food stamps in Port St. Joe, the card would have to be mailed to me, arriving an estimated 5 – 7 business days. OK, I need a big town. In a couple days, I could be in Tallahassee. Plan B. Smile I spent the night at the Port St. Joe church across the highway from the beach. It's a gorgeous church with an outdoor atrium they call “The Sails”.

I rode on to Apalachicola. (“Apalachicola” is in my Open Office dictionary but “should've” is not?!) I asked at the IGA grocery store if they had any damaged or out of date foods I could have free or buy at a reduced price. They gave me 10 pieces of hot, cooked chicken. I could not possibly eat that much! I tried, I wolfed down 1/3 of it that night, another 1/3 in the morning and finished it off the next night. In the morning before I left my camp at Apalachicola, I spread out my belongings and let them air dry then redistributed the contents throughout my bags. I also sewed a nylon bag to best fit my tent poles; that project had waited for months.

I met a couple ladies selling goods on the side of the road. It was too windy for their liking butt they told me about the flea market the next day in town, at the school. So often, I am not quite in the right place at the right time, almost does not count.

I rode on to the other side of the bridge, Eastpoint. A sheriff told me I could camp under the bridge for free. I chose my spot carefully, hoping to avoid notice and all manner of debris that collected under the bridge. It was daylight when I set up camp, that was a rare treat, setting up with daylight.

The next morning, as I was breaking camp, a small oyster boat pulled up next to my camp site. Of all the places... They were only 50 feet away from me. There were four people on the boat, two men and a woman, all about 50 years old and a much older woman. The younger of the women was complaining that she was doing most of the work and got very little of what she wanted. She was not related to the older woman, who was loosing control of her bowels, but it fell on her to clean up the mess. She cried and raged, threatening to leave them. I wondered if they would allow her to leave the boat. When they reached shore, she got off the boat and called someone with her cell phone, then waited. A pickup truck came, she got in, they stayed parked. I was packed and rode off. The pickup truck passed me on the road. I hoped she was leaving her old, unhappy life behind and improving her situation. I wondered if there were lessons there for me.

When I got to highway 319, I turned to the north. Just after the Ocklockonee River, at sunset, I saw a car turn onto a residential road. I followed them to ask about tonight's weather and any opportunities to camp for free. The stopped almost immediately. I stopped a respectable ways away and asked Wayne Cooper and his wife (Connie?) my questions. We talked for a tiny bit, they invited me in for coffee and a shower, if I needed it. I even got to do laundry. Clean clothes and clean body are almost as good as it gets, companionship is it.

Wednesday, January 19th, 2011
I thanked them, they loaded me up with provisions they had on hand and I rode across the street to the Ochlockonee River State Park. It was dark and after hours, there were no employees. I sneaked around the fence and rode through the park to the end where the 'Pavilion' was supposed to be on the map, next to the toilets. I strung up my hammock under the Pavilion. The temperature and humidity were that perfect balance that makes bone-chilling. I made clam chowder, man it smelled good. I spilled it. So much for getting that rich warmth down in my belly. I made another pot of soup. I wore as much of my warm clothing as I could and still fit into my sleeping bag.

In the morning, I saw something new, some exotic, white, scurrying.. albino squirrels? Maybe they are just wearing their winter coats? I took pictures, they were fearless but to busy chasing pine nuts to pose for me. I packed and continued riding on highway 319 through Sopchoppy. Wait, I see signs for other roads but no '319'. Where and when did I make a wrong turn? I stopped at a real estate office and asked.

Debi Revell (www.revellrealty.com) said that was indeed 319 out there. We got to talking, I made friends with her schnauzers. She invited me to lunch; she cooked blackened grouper with rice. It was divine. She made lots of coffee. Her sister says she does not make her coffee strong enough so she made it really strong for me; I got to drink really good coffee.

Her friend and client came by, they talked. I gave the two ladies space to socialize and do business. Somewhere in all that, my bubble popped; Debi just got married. No fabulously adventurous, healthy, vibrant woman riding off with me, not today, not this one anyways. Still, I feel Debi is a newfound friend and wish I met her new husband.

In Medart, I stopped at a gas station to throw out my trash. I never saw a gas pump placed in front of the one door to the convenience store. I parted perpendicular to the pump. On one side of the oddly placed gas pump was a woman was leaning into the backseat of her car, playing with her infant. A car pulled up on the other side of the pump. A man got out and got belligerent about my being in his way getting in and the woman's way getting out. I said give me a minute. He said I got 120 seconds, that is 2 minutes. I told him being pushy and hostile was not an effective motivator. He seemed like he was ready to fight me. I said it is not worth it, settle down. He told me to go back wherever I came from, He has lived here, in Medart all his life. He stomped into the convenience store. I rode off and thought a lot about possible outcomes, what could I have done better? I realized all the things I imagined saying to him were excellent advice to me too. Smile I tried to let go of all that. It amazes me how much garbage like that; resentments, guilt, confusion.. I carry for so long.

January 27th, 2011
I rode into Tallahassee, found out I needed to be a Florida RESIDENT to get food stamps. That would change my permanent address, NOT doing that, no food stamps for me in Florida. I met a few people that gave me money. (Here and now, I say; I do not beg, panhandle or ask for money. I sometimes ask for work, sometimes I help out for free. If I do it for free, I got to be quick – get it done before they say they can not allow me to do that because of liability issues. We can not help each other out because then we can sue each other? That is criminal, our morals are being eroded by the law, what does that say about our country, the land of the free and the home of the brave?)

I gave up on finding a free duffel bag and bought the military style duffel bag I so coveted along with a pair of polypropylene glove liners that were supposed to make my gloves a lot warmer. The glove liners were amazingly effective. I stayed the night in a homeless shelter. I met a man there, at the homeless shelter that night, he said he would buy me some groceries with his food stamps in the morning. Sure enough, we found a secure place to stow my bike (the gated apartment building next to the homeless shelter, I asked to keep my bike there, locked up while he took me to the store, they said yes) and away we went,to Wal-Mart. I gave him my Racing Pickle. A military style duffel bag is called a Pickle bag, it is heavy, made of thick, durable, material. My racing pickle was a thin, lightweight, nylon version on the same lines. He loved it; he needed more portable storage space. I also gave him many ideas and tips regarding survival and succeeding making a respectable living on the streets.

The homeless people I met in Tallahassee did not believe I was riding away, into the wilderness and the unknown. Ha! I was only there overnight; doing business in the afternoon of one day and the morning of the next. I managed to ride past the Tallahassee city limits and all those hills by sunset! Yes! I asked at a church nearby if I could camp in their backyard. They told me they had a house I could sleep at! We put my loaded bike in the back of their pickup truck... and drive back into the heart of Tallahassee?
They have four concrete cottages packed with guys. Some of the guys are on parole with radio transmitter ankle bracelets telling the police their location 24/7. This is not exactly what I had in mind...
But, it was supposed to be a really, really cold night and I would get a free dinner, breakfast and shower. These guys were also in disbelieve at my leaving at first opportunity in the morning. I rode back out of Tallahassee.

I rode east on highway 27 to highway 19. About the time I got to Perry, FL, I figured out the chirping sound my bike was making was another break in the frame of the ExtraCycle on the back of my bike. I needed a welder to fix that ASAP. I stopped at a tire store and asked about the whereabouts of any welders. I also asked for a received a couple junk inner tubes – car tire sized inner tubes. I cut them into strips and wrapped them around my bike seat that had torn apart from the inside out. The tire mechanics recommended keeping the foam on the seat rod and wrapping the inner tube around it. I decided that did not work after a few days and re-wrapped it without the foam. The nearest welder that would probably help me was just down the road. I followed the directions then the banging of hammer on anvil to the blacksmith. Yes, a real, live, old fashioned blacksmith! I fantasized over a year ago about apprenticing to one of these guys. But, “Hippie” had no electricity. People did not pay him for his work and he was operating on a tight budget already. He was without electricity since October – five months. That's a long time for a crisis of that nature... But, could I camp in his yard for the night?

In the morning, we loaded up my bike in his truck and rode a short ways to his friends workshop. Hippie welded, I tried not to look (the lights from any kind of welding device will burn your eyes because they are so bright). I offered to help anybody out in any way, no luck. When Hippie finished, I had a much stronger XtraCycle frame than... even when it was new.

I rode on. I got about 100 miles north of Tampa, just north of Tennile, when one of the spokes on my rear wheel broke. I knew I needed to get a tougher rear wheel, here was proof. The worst part was, this time, if I had a spoke, I could fix it myself. I did not think to buy extra spokes when I got this new wheel. I walked about 15 miles while trying to hitchhike until a couple picked me up. I was headed to the nearest bike shop; either Tampa or Gainesville. They were going to Gainesville. I forgot their names. They had two bikes in the back of their pickup truck with luggage and a camper cover. They are retired, he races his recumbent bicycle in events and she sees the sights. It took a bit of rearranging of their stuff and disassembly of mine but we were on our way to Gainesville.

They dropped me off at the bike shop with assurances I would be OK. Gainesville is a college town and this bike shop was on the expensive, elite end of the bike shop spectrum. But, I could afford the spoke I needed plus a couple spares and I managed to get the wheel trued for free. They closed right after that. I barely made it to the shop at the end of their day. It was 9PM by the time I was ready to roll. Where could I sleep?

I rode to the nearest gas station south and asked. Paines Prairie was huge, free and only a few miles south. Watch out for alligators; stay on the path. Oh, and avoid the places where a lot of pine needles have collected; coral snakes like that. Water moccasins like water and they will chase you. Also, a lot of bums camp out there, so be careful.

I rode a ways, I was so tired. I asked along the way if I was still headed in the right direction. I got to another gas station, a big one and asked I could camp out back. I checked the back first, then asked. Wink The lady running the gas station said yes. I handed her my card so she would have an easier time explaining if anybody had any questions.

In the morning, I got up early, no sleeping late here, and thanked the day crew. I rode south on highway 121 to highway 41. Take 41 south for a faster ride to Tampa where Alyne, my Tampa CouchSurfing host was or take highway 19 for the scenic route? I circled the intersection a few times, deciding. My trip is all about seeing the sights and collecting memories. I continued on to Highway 19. The guys in Gainesville said there was nothing out there, from Gainesville to Lebanon Station but a few houses; be careful and be prepared. There was a lot of houses, some of them were huge, fancy mansions.

By the time I got to Lebanon station though, I was feeling antsy. When I stopped to eat, I hitchhiked; might as well do two things at once. If I got a ride, I would be that much further down the road, if no ride, nothing lost. I wanted to get to Tampa, get a better rear wheel, meet Alyne (my first CouchSurfing Ambassador), and be on my way to Key West. A few cars drove by, this guy in a big pickup truck turned around and came back.

Was I OK? He asked. Yep, just running late for meeting with my people in Tampa to stay at their house to sleep. Vance was going all the way into Pinellas Park, part of the Tampa area. Smile But that would put me in Tampa a day early. Camp out on the outskirts of Tampa and ride in? Go to a homeless shelter for the night? Try my luck finding a church willing to let me camp on their grounds? Vance also offered his back yard as a possibility. Deal! Vance was worth remembering, worth getting to know better and safer than all those. Also, he was a local with lots of knowledge and resources.

Vance is semi-retired, he delivers all kinds of things to all kinds of places on the flatbed trailers he has and he and his wife ride their motorcycle(s) all over. Also, Vance gets on his CB radio and talks with all his CB radio friends. Well, I asked about work and, after searching his mental inventory, Vance came up with my putting weather-proofing tar-goop around the leaky air vent hole in a friends roof. For $30 dollars?! I climb up a ladder onto a standard height house roof, put tar from a bucket (already on the roof) around the junction of air vent, OK, (two air vents) and roof, then climb down for $40? Yes, the payment got sweeter. Got anymore roof?

Well, now I had enough money for another rear wheel; a used 26 inch, aluminum, double-walled, mountain bike wheel with a quick release. I had a 6 or 7 speed free wheel sprocket (rear wheel gears) but would prefer a cassette. Cassette costs more, freewheel it is. Can you imagine saying that over the phone to every bike shop when calling to ask if they have what you want? I got it right most times. There was a shop with the wheel I wanted at the price I wanted, $30, butt it was in Ocala, about 100 miles north, close to where I was a few days ago. They could bring it down to their sister store in Tampa in 5 days. Or I could ride the 100 miles over there and pick it up myself. Or I could shop around for another wheel in town. I kept my options open while I shopped around.

Mannie, at University Bike Shop, on Fletcher Ave. had the used wheel I wanted but steered me to a new steel, single walled rear wheel with huge spokes. That sounded logical, steel is stronger, the spokes were very thick and the rim was broader, giving it potentially more structural stability. But, THAT steel was softer and prone to bending more than THAT aluminum and the used aluminum wheel was double walled. Anyways, he was the expert with more than 30 years owning this bike shop. I trusted his experience and was led astray. The new, steel wheel was not nearly as good as the used, aluminum one would have been. Sad

Anyways, I rode away happy, thinking I was good. I figured the steel wheels were not that popular anymore because, I knew, when aluminum bends it is irreparably weakened and everybody in the industry knows that, so maybe, the industry was selling aluminum wheels on the basis they were lighter so you could go faster and be cooler and when they get a tiny bit bent, you have to buy a NEW, expensive wheel. Makes sense to me from a predatory, capitalistic salesman point of view.

Time to go; my trashed steel wheel is now the coveted used, double-walled aluminum wheel courtesy of Fletch, Village Bikes and Sarasota Cyclery, all in Sarasota, FL.

Thursday, February 10th, 2011
I forgot part of the story! I used CouchSurfing.org to setup a place to stay. I met Alayne and her friends at her home. They were having a small, informal party. It was great fun. I felt I was included in their small circle. She has this... a pendulum suspended over a dish of sand that is, itself, suspended, both from the ceiling. you can move the dish and the pendulum draws designs in the sand, or move the pendulum. It was fascinating, simple, elegant, beautiful, can't say enough.

The next day, I tried to ride out of Tampa. It is too big, I got downtown, found out there is a homeless shelter nearby. Vince called, I forgot some things at his house, money was one of them. I asked if he could bring it all to me or not worry about it. He delivered downtown. Finding each other was something of a challenge because many of the streets only run one way for a stretch. It was good to see Vince again. Smile I rode out in the morning and barely got out of the city limits. I camped in the backyard of a church.
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Hi Ari...Nicole from Ambrosia

Post  ChasingSanity on Wed Mar 30, 2011 1:23 pm

Moved Nicolen's comment here (the month it was posted)

Hi Ari,

This is Nicole from Ambrosia...the girl from Ambrosia with dreadlocks! (Madison, WI)

It was great to meet you this summer, and I hope you are having a great adventure!

You are quite inspiring!

Peace,

Nicole
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