Anyway, we looked at maps and talked to the rangers, and decided to ride out the back side of the campground and head for the Old Ingraham Highway. The whole ride ended up being about 25 miles, partially on roads, and partially on very clear trails. We went towards the Nike Missile Site, which didn’t really offer much to see, then we went down the Old Ingraham Highway, which is closed to vehicles but open to hikers and bikers. We pedaled nonchalantly along, until Tom heard a big splash on the side of the trail. We stopped and were looking in the water at the side of the trail, not seeing anything, until I looked about 20 yards ahead and saw a very large - probably 8 feet or a little more - alligator sunning itself right beside the trail. We took photos, but then weren’t sure if it was safe to pedal by, but then we saw a truck maybe 400 yards up the track, so we decided to wait and ask somebody who obviously knew what they were doing.
Our plan was to leave the campsite, stop at a market some camper neighbors at John Pennekamp State Park had recommended, do some grocery shopping, and head towards the Shark Valley trail for a bike ride to the observation tower before heading to our next campsite at Monument Lake in the Big Cypress National Preserve. The day didn't quite go as planned, but it was close enough and turned out to be a good day.
The market, Robert Is Here, far exceeded expectations. It's the first market we've been to since we left Mexico that actually felt like a farmers' market. The prices were, of course, far (far, far, far, far) higher than in Belize or Mexico, but the choice and quality of the produce made us a little homesick. We bought all of the produce we'd intended to buy at the grocery store, as well as a half gallon of honey, as well as the recommended key lime milkshake for me and strawberry-mango-pineapple liquado for Tom. We also wandered the petting zoo, which, while I generally hate those things, wasn't too bad. The animals all seemed happy enough, and even the house full of parrots seemed to be full of healthy, happy birds.
Since we couldn't stop at Shark Valley, we decided to head towards the Ochopee Post Office, the smallest post office in the United States. It had been recommended by a friend who lives in the area, and it didn't disappoint. A few cars were there, but we were able to walk directly to the window, buy a few postcards to send to friends who had requested them, take a few pictures, and head towards our campsite.