By bicycle along America’s south coast: Between sugar beaches, pastel houses, and snowbirds
A winter fairytale with a lot of sunscreen needed!
I’m smitten, in love, and deeply moved. It’s just beautiful here in the south of the USA. We’re freezing — and yet, or maybe because of that, this journey feels like a gift. The beauty of this place makes us forget about cold feet, numb fingers, the effort, and the chilly nights. Under our tires, the sand crunches like freshly fallen powder snow — just warmer, no shovels needed, but just as blinding.
While back home in Germany the winter brings dark, grey days with no sign of improvement, we cycle through Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida, past pastel-colored houses and retirees cruising in golf carts. Welcome to the American South, where the sand looks like powdered sugar.
Well, as I said, we simply manage to forget the cold and damp from time to time. After all, we are in the sunshine state Florida. The South of the USA. But the cold already started in New Orleans.
Two wheels in paradise: Between adventure and relaxation
Cycling the southern coast can be a dream — or a little adventure. Florida shines with its well-developed bike paths. Alabama and Mississippi, on the other hand, are more for the adventurous: fewer bike lanes, but a slower pace and incredibly kind, respectful drivers.
About 800 kilometers of bike trails stretch along this coastline. Honestly, what more could I wish for?
Sugar beaches: The magic of the Gulf Coast
Florida’s so-called sugar beaches truly live up to their name. The sand is so white and fine, I’ve only seen something like it in India. And to be honest: these beaches are often even more beautiful than the Caribbean — less crowded, finer sand, softer dunes.
My favorite: Okaloosa Island Beach.
Snowbirds on the move: When the North flies South
And then, of course, there are the “snowbirds” — not exotic seagulls, but retirees from the North who flock south every winter to escape the cold. They fill golf courses and seaside promenades, bringing plenty of spending money to the area. Some people love them, some roll their eyes — but they’ve become part of the Southern landscape.
Pastel dreams and Southern charm: The houses of the South, the Gulf Coast
The architecture alone is worth the trip. In Louisiana and Mississippi, we roll past grand antebellum homes with columns, porches, and billowing curtains. In Florida, it’s all about pastel-colored wooden houses — as if flamingos and ice cream cones teamed up to pick the palette.
We can’t stop marveling. Blue skies, turquoise water, white beaches, and those dreamy pastel houses. I’m overwhelmed — a little more every day.
The cool, crisp air on our faces keeps us pedaling on. Eventually, we reach Tallahassee, stay with a friend for a few days, and plot more adventures.
And since we still have time before our ship back to Europe, we decide: let’s ride to Key West.
Key West — An architectural candy box with chickens
Key West is the last wobbly tip of the Florida Keys, a tropical paradise that feels like someone accidentally stapled the Caribbean onto the U.S. We take a ferry from Fort Myers to this tip of the world and ride the islands all the way up to Miami.
Key West, the southernmost point of the USA., lies just about 150 kilometers from Cuba.
In the morning, we wake up in our tent to a chorus of loud roosters. Soon, we realize: the streets are full of chickens. It turns out they’re protected here.
The chickens (and roosters) are descendants of backyard chickens and fighting cocks that were released decades ago when cockfighting was banned. Since then, they’ve multiplied and become a quirky part of the local scene.
Why protected? Because the people of Key West have come to embrace their feathered neighbors. Many see the chickens as “living cultural heritage” or a charming local symbol. It’s even illegal to harm or capture them. There’s an official city program — the “Chicken Management Program” — to keep the chaos under control. No joke.
In short: the chickens are like the unofficial natives of Key West — loud, colorful, and absolutely everywhere.
A few facts about the Keys
Key West belongs to the Florida Keys, a chain of over 800 islands strung across the sea like a pearl necklace in the south-west of the USA.
The islands are connected by the famous Overseas Highway (U.S. Route 1), stretching over 200 kilometers from Miami to Key West — crossing 42 bridges (!), including the legendary Seven Mile Bridge, which looks like someone planted a highway right into the turquoise sea.
Originally, this was a railroad route, heavily damaged by a hurricane in 1935. It was later converted into a road, and today a modern highway runs alongside it. Sadly, there are still frequent closures and damages — but riding across the Keys is a dream.
We are cycling from the south to the north, from Key West to Fort Lauderdale. Our big stroke of luck: the state parks have agreed to give every cyclist or hiker a spot for one night in their campground. So we can cruise along without worry, knowing we’ll always have a safe place to pitch the tent.
And because it’s just so beautiful right now in the south of the USA – and because we feel we’ve earned it – here are a few thoughts on long-term travel we like to share.
Life on a long-term journey: Not a perfect dream, but hard work.
Many people imagine long-term travel – whether by bicycle, backpack, or campervan – as exciting, carefree, romantic. Are we living the perfect dream? Yes, we are living one of our dreams. And yes, we experience the world intensely: we feel the wind on our faces, smell the summer rain, sing by the campfire in the desert (well, actually no, we never do campfires – we don’t really find them romantic :-), see breathtaking landscapes, and meet wonderful people.
But: this life is neither perfect nor carefree – and only rarely romantic. It’s hard work. We are often physically and mentally exhausted, sometimes right at the edge of our limits. Anyone traveling long-term will sooner or later experience mental exhaustion. But why, if we’re supposedly living the “perfect life”? And why do we keep doing it? Why not just stop?
Well, staying home wouldn’t be easier – just without the adventure and all the memories and stories in our heads. For us, time doesn’t race by. People often say, “The older you get, the faster time flies.” That’s nonsense, of course.
Time doesn’t pass faster. You just stop experiencing new things.
The more we experience, the longer time feels. Our memory, our impressions and recollections – that’s what creates our sense of time. The more emotional experiences we have, the longer the past period seems. But theoretically, haven’t all 80-year-olds experienced the same amount? Well, memory traces stay memory traces. What really makes the difference are emotions. They fundamentally shape our sense of time.
Three days at home doing laundry, reading a good book, having tea with friends can feel like just a few hours. But if you spend three days exploring Berlin by bike, stopping spontaneously at a beer garden, having new adventures and sharing them – those three days will feel wonderfully long.
Emotions and novelty – the glue for our memory.
A long life alone isn’t enough.
The older we get, the more routine takes over. That’s why less sticks in our minds. And that’s why the years we look back on seem shorter and shorter. It’s a bit tragic, really. We don’t just want to live long – we want life to feel long and meaningful. A long life alone isn’t enough. And a campfire, and another, and another, isn’t either. The time at the campfire needs to be filled with emotion and novelty. Maybe by singing or dancing, or skipping the fire altogether and just gazing at the stars or listening to the night sounds.
That’s why we do this
I’ve known Klaus for 18 years, and we’ve spent 6 of those years traveling by bicycle. These 18 years have been, without question, the longest of my life.
Touring by bicycle is exhausting.
Covering many kilometers every day wears on body and mind. Your butt hurts, your legs burn. You’re constantly exposed to what’s around you: weather, traffic, pollution, poverty, sometimes even aggression. There’s nowhere to hide. And sometimes it’s just… too much. Then I don’t want to experience anything new. I need peace. Sooner or later, homesickness comes. We miss family, friends, familiar food, or simply a steady daily routine. Luxuries are rare. Even small things can be missed and weigh on your mood.
Bicycle travelers have worries
Just different ones from people at home. Where will we sleep tonight? Do we have enough water? Will the bicycle break down? How long will the money last? Fear of accidents or aggressive dogs is always lurking. And fear drains the mind.
Nowhere is it more obvious how closely physical and mental well-being are linked. What brings us joy today can become a burden tomorrow. When the body gives out, frustration, sadness, or irritability follow. When the body feels good, we’re ready for the next adventure.
We’ve thought a lot about how to stay mentally healthy on tour – here are our most important strategies:
Give yourself real breaks. Rest days are not for sightseeing or catching up on chores. They’re for doing nothing.
A little luxury now and then. Small rewards lift the mood – a cold soda, a hot shower, a private room.
Lower your expectations. At first, we thought we’d cover big distances every day, meet kind people everywhere, enjoy stunning views. Reality: rain, headwinds, breakdowns, and unromantic nights at gas stations. Not forgetting our fight against nausea and diarrhea.
Since we’ve let go of expectations, we’re more relaxed – and more grateful when things actually go well. And most importantly, we notice it.
Eat well, drink plenty. Sugar gives only a quick boost. Fresh fruit, vegetables, and lots of water keep you strong. We try hard to eat at least one serving of fruit and one serving of vegetables every day.
Enough sleep is essential. We keep a regular sleep schedule: 10 hours at least. No late-night scrolling!
We fail – and try again. Lovely rules, right? Of course, we don’t always stick to them. We fail. But we remind ourselves of them, we get better, and we enjoy the journey more.
Well, we arrived at this Biscuit Factory on a Monday. Sometimes things just go wrong. In this cold, the anticipation of a sweet, freshly baked biscuit was huge. So the disappointment was huge as well. But later this day, we were able to buy our first was a crisp bread in three years at a supermarket. That made almost up for it.
But anyway Apalachicola in Florida is a nice little town to visit. So staying two days to warm up was a great thing to do.
Final thoughts
Long-term travel is no fairytale. It’s a privilege, a challenge, and a school of life. It teaches us to be humble, to stay flexible, and to appreciate both the big and the small moments.
We don’t travel to escape life – we travel so life doesn’t escape us.
