Howdy, Campers! It's
Silver Cliche' again. Writing tonight from beautiful Santa Rosa
Beach, Florida.
Reflecting on the
day, I realized that I often share a perspective on where we are, the
history of the area, geography, community, appearance, and even
geology. I don't believe I've ever shared how we find these
places or how we live on the road. Since today would be known in
journalism circles as “a slow news day” this seems the perfect
time to share thoughts about that.
The years leading up
to Mrs. C' and I becoming the cliche's we are today were hectic. For
four years we were planning our retirement and relocation to Florida
from Maryland. In those years we moved (slowly at first, then with a
flurry) ourselves and family 8 times. Three of those moves were
within Maryland, three to Florida and two within Vero Beach. Even
after we retired we threw in one more for good luck. For me,
traveling was utilitarian. It was something to be achieved quickly,
safely and with a distinct purpose. I believe I made 30 round trips
between the DC area and Vero Beach, FL in those four years. All of
the 60 one-way passages of I-95 during those years were done in a
single shot. Twenty or more of those one-way trips were done with a
trailer behind my truck. I believe I stopped for gas at every exit on
I-95 between Woodbridge, VA and Cocoa, FL. I have been driving on
I-95 somewhere between Washington and Vero Beach at literally every
hour of the day and night at some point or another. So, travel for me
was something one approached with a purpose and a vengeance.
Along comes the
Airstream. This seemed like the perfect excuse to slow down and smell
the roses. Instead of driving 900+ miles in a single stretch we could
slow waaaaayyyyyy down and drive maybe 300 or 400 miles. That's only
5 or 6 or 7 hours. Except 6 driving hours translates to about 9 clock
hours by the time you factor in gas stops, traffic slow downs, potty
breaks, dog walks and lunch. That means leave the campground at 9 and
get to the next one to set up camp at 6. That means start prepping at
8 AM and don't eat until 8 PM then go to bed and start all over again
the next day. That sounds a lot like work and work is what we had
retired to get away from! That's roughly how we brought the trailer
home from New Jersey in October, 2014. Given Mrs. C's professional
training and experience, I received a good amount of feedback and
counseling about the effect my particular style of trip planning
effected those around me. For that, I am of course thankful.
Evidently not everyone believes 9 hours on the road is a break from
the rigors of travel. I came to understand that after the first trip.
Along comes the
second major trip in the Airstream. Yellowstone, 2015. A chance for
redemption for this planner-of-trips. This time we would drive no
more than 4 hours a day (making six clock hours from camp-to-camp).
Better yet, we would spend at least one day per week while transiting
to our destination in place… anyplace… no travel whatsoever… a
chance to rub elbows with the locals wherever we happened to be. That
worked out better, but still required an iron butt and a love of
learning about America through a pattern of bug splotches on the
Trunda's windshield.
Trip three, fall
2015 to Buffalo, Maryland and down the Atlantic coast. Now its 3-4
hours with 1 or two stops per week. Getting better… not quite there
yet.
So, on the planning
for this trip we targeted 3 driving hours on days we move and two
days per week off the road. So far, so good. It gives us more time to
meander or explore on travel days and more time to sightsee and
decompress. Today and tomorrow fit that pattern. We hung around
reading and drinking coffee at Ochlockonee River until well after
10:00. When we hit the road we took the slightly longer route along
the Gulf shore versus the faster route on the Interstate. It was well
worth the extra time. We also have our first day off tomorrow (day 4
of the trip) then will travel one day and have another day off in New
Orleans.
Today's trip as I
said above followed the shore route. It was interesting to see how
the communities along the beach here in the Florida Panhandle differ
from our beachside community on the Atlantic coast. The type, density
and even construction of houses here differs considerably from the
Atlantic. Among other things, they build on stilts here like they do
in the Outer Banks and the Florida Keys. We don't see that in Vero
Beach. In many areas we were on a main road and there were single
building lots (maybe 150 to 200' deep) between the road and the shore
each with a single house on it. I could see a TV show set in those
areas. It could be called “Little cottage on the beach and
the highway”. An actor like Michael Landon could be raising a flock
of kids while alternately praising God's bounty from the sea and
cursing the traffic noise. Naw… I think Gilbert Godfrey might be a
better choice.
So as we roamed
along on a beautiful Florida Panhandle April day (high of 82 degrees,
sunny and breezy) practicing comparative Florida architectural
criticism we suddenly found a gem. Apalachicola, Florida was near the
mid point of our day. What a pretty little seaside (ok… Gulfside)
town. It's town center was small, older, lovingly cared for and
(unfortunately) mostly closed on a Sunday after the seasonal people
have moved back home. In Florida, any place that actually has an
identifiable town center is rare. Urban planning here generally
follows the Johnny Appleseed method… let a random passerby scatter
seeds everywhere and lets see which ones grow. Apalachicola was not
cast in that mold. Also, the best of Florida is generally quite new.
The sub-average parts of Florida date from the 1960's and 70's.
Apalachicola looks like its from the 1920s or even earlier. This is
the sort of charm one might associate with Cape May, NJ or some
coastal town in New England where people still carve scrimshaw… not
Florida. But there it was.
From there things
got worse (that was predictable… they couldn't have gotten much
better as far as a delightful Sunday drive goes). We passed through
Port St. Joe, Tyndall Air Force Base and the gleaming rhinestone in
the buckle of the redneck beach belt… Panama City! The good news
about Panama City is you can get a tattoo while waiting for your
transmission repair then eat sushi without leaving the strip mall
where you stopped for a bottle of Southern Comfort and a new handgun.
What a town!
Thanks to the time
change (we are in CDT now!) we got to the campsite at Grayton Beach
State Park by mid afternoon. We thought about running right over to
Seaside but decided to lay low for the evening and do that tomorrow
(you see… the shorter driving days are having their effect!). So, I
tried something new. This trip I brought a baking stone for the
grill. I made up a batch of scratch bread dough, left it outside (but
covered) to rise and beat it senseless into pancakes to toss on the
wicked hot baking stone. 10 minutes later… voila!… campground
pita! I think it went quite well with some avocado/tomato/mozzarella
salad. Here, take a look at the bread:
Ok, Campers. That's
the story of how 1,000 mile driving days became 130 mile driving days
and how that allowed us to find Apalachicola and fresh pita from a
camp grill.
Tomorrow we explore
Seaside and (I hope) wash the dogs… its getting a bit ripe in the
truck with them all day.
Later,
SC
No comments:
Post a Comment