Tour de Felasco 2018 Enough at 50.

The Tour de Felasco was last week. 

In general it was a dismal affair, as it so often is, cold and long and lonely.  This year there was the added pleasure of long stretches of wild pig ruts.  Enough to convince me.  I didn't once consider shivering my way back over those pig ruts in reverse to make it a 65. 

Except for our bike group all gathering for a joyous cocktail hour back at the nice, warm hotel when it's over, San Felasco in January completely lived up to it's usual level of north Florida misery.  I guess that's the reason we go back year after year.  It feels so good when it's over?

Something for everyone.

Easy flats.

And pukey, after-lunch climbing.

OK, that was my own fault. 

I broke the first rule of Felasco. 

Don't eat the chili at the lunch stop.

Peter's been living in DC for a few years now. 

Check it out . 

40 degrees, short sleeves, and a big smile.

I realized I had taken very few picture throughout the day,

so toward the end I stopped three or four times, 

trying to catch a photo representative of the trail.

Along came Greg and Lora.  Perfect timing! 

Kinda rare to see a fat-tire tandem on trail. 

But a tandem fattie AND a Swamp Ape?

Glad I choose not to do the 100k. 

The shadows are already long by my 4pm finish.

The newly redesigned Cabot, aka Doubletree.

We miss the fireplace, the free cocktail hour, and our favorite old lady bartender!

By bringing our own cooler, we still don't pay for drinks, though.

(Showed them.)

Mike, Sean, Gobbler in flip flops, and Altar Boy.

Diane and John.  The selfie pros.

See you next year, Felasco?

Nah, don't think so!

(Well, maybe.)