Today was one of those days we’d circled on the calendar with a little extra enthusiasm. Not only did we roll into our seventh state (hello, Alabama),

but we also got to ride the Mobile Bay Ferry from Dauphin Island to Mobile Point. A ferry day is basically a holiday for cyclists: no pedaling, no headwinds, no surprise hills—just sunshine, water, and the chance to pretend we’re rugged maritime explorers instead of two guys in spandex.

The catch? We all had to make the 11 a.m. ferry. To be safe, the group left 15 minutes early. Our lead guide assured us—confidently—that no one in his groups had ever missed the ferry. “Don’t worry,” he said. Which, of course, is the universal phrase that guarantees something interesting is about to happen.

Sure enough, a few miles in, we found Frank on the side of the road with a flat. John and the rest of the crew kept rolling, and I stayed back to help. Frank had already dealt with a mysterious tubeless flat the day before, so today he went full exorcism: new tire, new tube, new hope. Unfortunately, the tire and rim combination had the personality of a stubborn mule, so by the time we got everything seated and inflated, we were well behind the pack.

Frank and I set off at a “determined but not foolish” pace and managed to see the second group at the first water stop. Quick refill, quick potty stop… where did they go? They had already left, so back to the chase. By halfway to the ferry, we’d caught up. Spirits were high. We were on track. We were going to make it with time to spare.

Then, five miles from the ferry, my Di2 battery (electronic shifter battery) decided it was too low. It refused to shift back into the big ring, which meant I spent the final stretch spinning like a caffeinated hamster while John cruised ahead looking composed and normal. I looked like a man auditioning for a windmill impersonation contest. But we made it.

The moment we rolled onto the ferry, we went straight to the van, grabbed the Di2 charger, mixed up some Swift cold brew, and started charging up the Bluetooth speakers. The sun was out, the water was calm, and for 40 glorious minutes we were two very happy cyclists on the top deck, sipping cold brew and soaking in the view. John asked what I was doing, and I told him, “Riding a boat across the country!!” A pelican definitely laughed. Or judged us. Hard to tell with pelicans.

Lunch was waiting just 100 feet off the ferry, which felt like the universe giving us a hug. After eating, I was fully prepared to nap right there in the grass. The ferry ride plus immediate lunch was exactly the kind of luxurious break we didn’t know we needed. Even the Bluetooth speaker and the Di2 battery got the recharge they deserved.

We rolled out of lunch at a pace best described as “unhurried.” No reason to hammer—arriving early just means waiting for rooms. Instead, we floated along a lovely bike path for eight miles, enjoying the shade and the quiet.

Then, three miles from the hotel, John spotted salvation: an ice cream shop. Not just any ice cream shop—one that might be able to make affogato. It wasn’t on the menu, but they had espresso and ice cream, and that’s all the encouragement we needed. We talked them into it and enjoyed a little affogato porching in Alabama. It was magnificent.

Tomorrow is a rest day. Next week is our final week. We’re trying to stay present, grateful, and not think too hard about the finish line creeping closer. This whole adventure has been a gift, and we’re savoring every mile—on land or, apparently, at sea.