Tamiami Trail; Hwy 41

Everglades Slough

Florida Hwy 41
“Tamiami Trail” (Tampa-Miami)
11/12/10

In the unsleeping dark of a still and stifling Everglade pre dawn I lay in bed stuck to my sheets with sweat, waiting for some sign of breeze.  But the Cypress woods to my back and the alligator pond to my front move nary a ripple.  In the primal blackness the only thing that moved was my shallow breathing chest.  After three more hours of trying to roll and peel away from the damp sheets a thin silver light stole upon the horizon.   It was going to be a hot and bright day.  Only one lonely chickadee sang in the tree outside my window but an almost imperceptible movement of air arrived, like a quiet exhalation of breath or the fluttering of her wings.  It soon grew into the slightest waving of grass then tree leaves and its welcome scent
slipped in the window.  The land was coming alight and bringing  with it a palpitation.  Soon a slight but steady breeze was upon us and moved through the interior of the Airstream with its windows now all opened wide.  The currents in the morning light seemed so clean and fresh.  It had to be due to the thousands of acres of grasses growing up through wetlands known by the Seminoles as Pa-Hey-Ogee , Grassy Waters, that filtered this breath miles before it reached us.  It reminded me how the tumultuous waters of one Early Winters Creek tasted long, long ago in the North Cascades - clear, sweet and when swallowed deeply cooled  the spirit and soothed the tired brow.    I drew  in the breeze, free borne and untainted,  in deep and long breaths.  To savor such air and water is a hard won immanent privilege.
On the move again and entering Big Cypress Park we  see the life along the road.  Along side the miles of straight two lanes running to the horizons are wet grassy prairies  and a meandering slough of slow soupy swampy water that  spreads into the shadows of grasses and mangrove roots.  The first thing we noticed were the birds;  herons, buzzards, kingfishers, egrets and ibis in abundance.  The trees were filled with them,  sitting still or even laying on their backs on branches facing the sun with their wings outspread drying off as if embracing sunshine.  Birds flew back and forth across and along the road with long beaked heads somehow gracefully pulling along improbably long thin necks pulling along wings and trailing fragile stem  legs.   Ibis sat in groups in trees like snow white Christmas ornaments.  White Egrets perched in masses in the shrubs and grasses and lit up the shadowy  mangrove roots with their whiteness.
Threads of ibis in elongated flight seemed to float and shift like feathery motes in the air just for the sake of it.  We were blown away by this profusion of graceful motion.
Then there were the alligators.  There were hundreds of them, steely blue grey, beside the roadway waters gliding  submerged save for their knobby heads and eyes or laying about in the shadow of again the mangrove roots.  There were  all sizes of gaitors including fat babies only a foot long but already sunning lethargically on sunny stumps.   The ecological importance of these mangrove plants and Pa-Hey-Ogee is so obvious to all animal life in the Everglades.   No  Virginia this is not a zoo.
This was one of the most exciting drives we have made so far after almost 12,000 miles on the road.
It was a great disappointment to eventually approach Naples on the West Coast and civilization as I shook my head at the point and shoot camera in my hands inadequate to record my visions.  Already there is the nagging desire to return for an extended exploration.

Florida Keys

Key West

 Key West

11/10/10 - 11/11/10

Leaving  the Southern Everglades National Park we headed north then back south along US 

Cigarette offshore ocean racers

A1A for Key Largo and points south with our evntual destination Key West the southern most point of the Unted States.  As we passed through Key Largo the causeways   and bridges began to take over and separated islands were connected together.  US A1A in several long sections ran alongside the original A1A  with its concrete arches spanning from concrete abutments long abandoned and now rusting away.  I felt its forms to be more attractive that the newer  one upon which we drove.  For almost 90 miles the two lane road bridges crossed the waters with the Gulf of Mexico to the West and the Atlantic on the East.  At about 33 miles from Key West we stopped on Big Pine Key and the      

Key West Waterfront

Fishing Lodge resort at the southern base of Spanish Waters Bridge.  The resort was under new ownership, as so many seem to claim to be, so everything looked fresly painted.  Drives were of locking crushed coral and palm trees shaded most spots and the ocean touched two sides of the resort.  The two days were warm with sweet breezes.  The first morning we drove 10 minutes to Bahia Honda State Park Beaches.  We got there early before the gates even opened up at 8:00AM.  Cruising the park we opted for Sand Spur Beach.   Clean white sands and turquoise shallow waters under a robin’s egg blue sky.  We had the beach to ourself but as the hours went along the place started to fill up.  Despite          

Sand Spur Beach, Bahia Honda St. Park The Keys

the increase in numbers it was still mellow.  Four hours at the beach is plenty for sun and to regain the energy baked out of us we air conditiond it for a couple of hours back at the Airstream.  After some of the languor wore off we were ready to head in to Key West 33 miles down the causeway.

Key West can best be summed up in five words - money, money, money,  homes and boats.  Jo and I wandered down to the south western marina and things were happening.  It turned out to be the weekend of offshore ocean racing and festivities.  These are cigarette class boats of tremendous horsepower,  sleekness, noise, flash and money.  Boats with rigs to pull them start in the million dollar range and costs jump upwards quickly for maintenance and the lifestyles that go with them.   That much money attracted hoards of the “beautiful and wannabes.”  The docks were jumping, music blaring and money walking about everywhere.  Cigarette boats rumbled at idle while being groomed like the thoroughbreds they are.

JoAnn and I however caught sight of a catamaran with nice exterior lines tied up in the center of all the commotion and finagled ourselves onboard for an inspection with a broker and the boat's owner.  It was informative and we learned much about the Manta class catamarans.  It was a little too cramped and dark for me but the cockpit was well laid out with all control lines coming aft.  

 Sunset was fast approaching and the customary viewing of the setting sun from the southern most point of the United States was gathering people to the waterfront court.  Festivities were in full swing with all the usual hawkers and fire twirlers along with art and food booths.  Sailboats cruised by 15’ off the pier at a steady pace and sailing craft were silhouetted in dusky red on the horizon as lights winked on from mall lamplights and sailboats.

With a few shots of bracing rum it was time to walk the main drag of Duval Street and the side alleys of rock an roll bars.  This was party time on an intense scale.  I sure I would not want to live in this town but Key West was jammed tonight and it was only a Thursday night but the sailors with white tights and spit shined patent shoes added to the festive naughtiness.  Larger older homes on the strip were converted to restaurants with darkened seating out doors amongst the noise of the streets and sidewalks on both sides filled with us gawkers.  After walking up one side and down the other and listening to a terrific rock duet of brothers, one of which played both an electric base and the drums at the same time !  We decided to head back up to Big Pine Key at a slow and careful pace.  We made it back  in one piece with our 60 year old bones intact.

The next morning we looked forward to a  warm water swim in the roof top pool.  I even got to wash the Airstream and polish one exterior section of its aluminum skin.  Then  its off again Northward  to Florida City to catch the famous East coast to West coast connector of Hwy 41, the 'Tamiami Trail."  

Hwy 41 runs close to the top of the everglades and comprises more of the wet grasslands 

Midway Camp, Hwy. 41, Big  Cypress National Park

where Seminoles and Mikasuki Indians lived for centuries and still do.  Its the land of airboats and hunters.  We lucked out as it just got dark when we came across the Midway Campground in Big Cypress National Preserve.  We had been camping in National Parks but were not sure if there were any campgounds in the National Wildlife Preserves.  There are.  And this one was small but brand new with power only hook ups.  You never know which utilities they will provide but it seems in Florida providing power over water and sewer seems to be more common.  Perhaps its because of the air conditioning requirements that need at least 30 amps ?

Anyway it was a welcome respite in the nick of time and it was new and trim to boot.  We backed right in and stayed hitched up working as fast as we could to hook up and stabilize as the skeets were swarming.  We are going to try to sleep with the windows closed to avoid the no se ums from coming in through the screens.  Not sure how that will work.  We shall see.   zzzzzzzzzzzeeeeeee !!!!  slap !!!  scratch......slap !      I do believe JoAnn can’t get out of this state fast enough.  We of color fortunately have thicker skin so its not quite as bad.   Still, we can be eaten up given the right swarm....slap! ... scratch!.....  aghhh !

Big Cypress National Preserve

Everglades Morning

Everglades waterway

 Everglade Morning

11/9/10

Surrounded by the Everglades and perched on the edge of the South Florida Sea dotted with hummocks of mangrove islands morning arrives slow and measured.  Barely after the stars of the Southern hemisphere have had time to fade away the pre dawn slowly slips under the window shades of our Airstream.  As the sun breaks the eastern horizon blocked by a cypress tree line bird songs ease into your sleepy mind.   Wake up you are in the Florida Everglades!  Don’t waste this primeval beginning to a new world.

The avian calls become clearer over the distances like treble staccatos as the sun’s golden light tips the tree tops then slowly climb down the trunks.  Soon the savannah is washed in early morning light.  A light not harsh or glaring but smooth and enveloping.  Its a feeling of good will.  Soon other faint grumbling, barking, grunting, and cooing sounds flow from the swamps to our north.  But mostly its quiet.  Its an immense quiet like the earth had all the time in the world to awaken.

I of course jump up to peer out the door and exclaim “Good Morning gaitors !” - nothing....ah well.  This feels like a morning for Earl Grey Tea, English style with lots of sugar and milk and hot enough to burn.  A proper bracer for a proper morning, an Everglades morning.

                                                                                                  

Gaitor

Today I took a guided flat bottom skiff through the shallow waters of the Everglades inland where bodies, bays, creeks and waterways intermingle in a massive profusion of wildness.   The sky is a cloudless blue white.  Narrow winding creeks and canals lined with impenetrable mangrove trees are tinted a fluid rust from tannic acids of decaying vegetation. 

Tri colored heron

All along the waterways graceful slender herons and egrets suddenly appear out of the tangle, fly along side the boat within arms reach then peel away to the tree tops or light upon a mangrove root.  The colors of plumage breathtaking.  There is an immediate sense of a density of life.  Occasionally the crenelated back of juvenile alligators will slip among the roots or be seen basking on a muddy outcrop.

Then the tight and intimate waterway will suddenly fan open revealing an expanse of  water and sky that stretches to the horizons.  The lake is peppered with floating colonies of coot birds numbering in the hundreds spread about the silvery surface like quivering islands.  On the far horizon, waters too shallow for our craft, the deep green shoreline glitters with thousands of snowy white egrets  drifting to and fro like schools of tropical fish.  The Everglades is truly a paradise for birders.

Sunning

Crossing the open body of water we enter another narrow natural meandering stream again wrapped on both sides by dense deep vegetation, every bend different every bend a new heron, sitting, watching, fishing, oblivious to our presence, an imperious indifference.  There is so much wildlife teeming here that we feel small and ignored but at the same time buoyed and privileged voyeurs to this panoply of 

living ecology.

Bromelaid host

At days end I hoof it back the two miles in the heat and straffing skeeters with a gouty left foot and a blistered right foot.  But after seeing what 

I have seen this afternoon I won’t feel any pity for myself.  It’s just one foot after the other until JoAnn meets me at the park gate.

Mangrove root system

The next morning we drive back up through the park’s rivers of grass, slash pine woods, savannas and miniature cypress forests with sharper eyes.  We are rewarded with more birds than we can identify and one huge raptor atop a snag  and so snow white that I can not be sure I saw it.  I did not slam on the brakes as I wished I had since  we were alone on the road this morning.  But the momentum carried us past that point of stopping that we all wish at one time or another we had just given in to  to slake our wonder, to believe our eyes.   

The most outward exhibit of life in the Everglades are the birds.

vulture drying wings

Miniature cypress forest

Cape Canaveral

Banana River off Merritt Island.  3 miles wide 4' deep

Greens Cove Campground

 Cape Canaveral

11/2 - 11/7

No launch.  As we got in late to Merrit Island, home to Cocoa Beach and Cape Canaveral, we spent the first night at the Wall Mart parking lot and the next three nights at   Green Cove RV Park on the banks of the Banana River.   A broad, to the horizon, but shallow body of water.  The river’s surface was wind tossed most of the time and a permanent resident flock of buzzards spent hours riding the winds back and forth along the damp shores.

We waited through one cancellation after another for the space shuttle launch untill  news came on the morning of the 6th that they finally scrubbed it for good.  At least for the month of November, hydrogen fuel leaks.  Too bad because from our vantage point on the beach we could clearly see the launch towers.

We tried to kill time by going to the beach but it was too cold even under  a cloudless blue sky. 

The Everglades

Nov. 7,8,9

 So we packed up and left yesterday, the 7th, for the Everglades.

After a 5 hour drive going by a very clean looking Palm Beach and a ritzy looking Miami Beach we arrived at Everglades National Park and Lone Pine Campgounds.

Not sure about staying though as the bugs are pretty active this time of year and they drove JoAnn nuts with their constant biting inspite of two types of repellent we used.  They mostly went for my ankles.  We are even seriously thinking of bagging heading down to the Keys.  Too bad as visiting Key Largo always interested me ever since seeing the Bogart movie “Key Largo” with Lauren Bacall and Edward G. Robinson.  But I too can not stand the constant biting of the gnats, no seums and the mosquitos small and slow though they are.

I also really looked forward to an air boat ride through the swamps but I have to accept that I don’t do well when being consumed by insects.

What Florida needs is a good freeze and what we need is dryer warmer weather.  Not too dry though.  Have you experienced the gentle hydrating and scented airs of  Hawaii or Moorea ?  

We will decide this morning where to go. 

This morning we decide to hele on down to the Southern most Everglades park mainland at Flamingo Beach before the mangrove dotted seas of Florida Bay.  A cool breeze seems to have modified the presence of skeets and gnats so we took the two lane road down at 55mph and a high 3’ above sea level !

Flamingo Park was huge.  Huge but only two other people were camping.  White power posts at each site stood like a field of open cemetary markers or like lonely speaker posts at an empty drive in theater.  I mean there was essentially nobody here.  We are talking about a site that could hole 300-400 campers ! Beyond the Bay of Florida lay with white egrets flocking by the hundreds among the tide flats.  The camp grounds were under the domain of vulture birds.  They were trashing one of the only two occupied sites because the campers had left food on their picnic table.   A warning to us.

This afternoon the glorious sun came out and a steady breeze swept along the everglade flats washing through the Airstream and kept the area clear of all insects.  And the solitude was heady.  The golden light was soon to be of low angled shafts and long of shadows lighting up blades of grass along their sides feathering the open grounds with wide drifts of irridescent chartreuse.  Again these vast fields of light we had to ourselves.  Tomorrow perhaps we’ll boat through the mangrove seas of Florida Bay.

Sunset  was a Florida one sinking into the Everglades and flashing the horizon and coloring the underside of low clouds the color of torn peach skins.

Flamingo Beach National Park.  Nobody but us.

Frank and Ann

Tree with Spanish Moss

Jacksonville, Florida

10/31-11/3/10

What an enjoyable visit we had with Frank, my ex 
brother in law and his wife Ann.  I had not seen Frank 
since my son’s wedding and before that perhaps another 
20 years ?  Another of life’s collateral victims of divorce 
where a former relative one really likes seems to go 
away with the split.

We did find a place to camp nearby at Hanna State Park 
right on the beach, a wide and endless that stretched for 
miles and only a 2 minute drive from our site.  Primitive 
is the word for Hanna Park.  It has all the facilities and 
hookups but the thick undergrowth of Palmetto palms 
and closely spaced tall trees gives a prehistoric feel.  
There is plenty of privacy due to the  dense palm fronds 
at low level.

After connecting by phone with Frank, JoAnn and I head 
off, mostly trusting the iPhone’s gps,  to gather up dinner.  
We even make it to Costco for some rib eye steaks and 
get ready for a feast at camp.  Frank and Ann came by 
camp and we had the table set with broiled stakes so 
thick we had to half them, scallop potatoes, caesar salads,
lobster dip, wine, beers and black cherry cider, ice cream 
and chocolates and an aromatic  fire in the pit.  It did get 
dark quick so we had the candles and flashlights going 
as well.  It was a great time for wine, camp fire catching 
up.  We hardly scratched the surface of memories past 
but it was a great start.   As they had the next day off, 
Sunday,   we looked forward to visiting their home.

Frank lives in a little subdivision called Spanish Loop 
that backs up to broad grassy marshes that connect 
with the Inter Coastal Waterway providing endless 
kayaking, fishing, and a myriad of water activity.  
The Inter Coastal Waterway can be navigated from 
Texas to Maine with only a few detours out to the 
ocean.  The marshy plains give a sense of openness 
that seems to be an integral part of Florida, an 
essentially flat state.

After hanging out on the rickity piers but newer docks
of their neighbors Ann and Frank prepared a large 
shrimp feast topped off with key lime cheesecakes.  
All of this of course after we visited as much of the 
history in all the photos, jogging fading memories, 
soaking up as much as I could of any of the details and 
colors from each room, print, baseball collection, record 
collection and even Norm’s (Frank’s dad) old lovingly 
restored 68 chevy pick up. The years go by so fast with 
paths so divergent that coming around again to however 
briefly cross trails and touch bases is what life is  much 
about.  These rekindlings are both sad for time apart and 
at the same time happy at eye contacts and seeing those 
familiar facial expressions. There are always dreams still 
to be explored and new times to treasure.                           .

The next morning JoAnn and I caught up on much 
needed laundry then headed to the beach again for  
walks and watched he dolphins breech and surf for a
long time.  The water was pleasantly warm and the sun  
hot and  I ended up with a pocket full of shells I could  
not resist.  They will probably end up on the picnic 
table when we leave.
That evening we headed back to Frank’s to watch what 

ended up to be the last game of the 2010 World Series 
between San Francisco and Texas.   Frank a die hard fan 
of  SF has been waiting for 50 years for SF’s time in the 
sun and it was to happen this night.  Nothing like a
winning game to whoop things up.  

I had a little difficulty recognizing some streets at
night so with grumpiness I relinquished the driving 
back to camp to Jo.  

On our last full day in Jax we tried the beach again in the 
morning but it was chilly and overcast with dark grey 
rain clouds moving down from the north.  So its back to 
camp to clean up the trailer in preparation for moving on 
down the road... with great reluctance.  
We did however get together one last time to see Amy, 
their daughter, who was only 8 years old the last time I 
saw her.  She is now a mother of two and we met up 
with Frank, Ann, and Amy, and her son Jack, to watch 
Amy’s daughter Rachel play in a  school volleyball 
tournament. It could not have been a more brief meeting.  
Amy couldn’t have dinner with us as her two kids kept 
her too busy from one event to another.  It was 
disappointing not being able to talk with  her after so 
many years but it appears that she has turned out to 
be quite the lady thanks to Ann and Frank.

As our last supper we sat down for some Philly Cheese 
Steak sandwiches and YuengLing beers, a heaping stack 
of fries and talk of the sixties and past beginnings.  

Not wanting to say adios. 

Trailing off with talk of future connections some where, 
some time.

Thanks to Frank and Ann for taking the time.  Time 
being in some inexplicable way the only constant 
that is real.

The only reality that is constant.

See you down the road...

Ann, Frank and I

Jo and poisonous snake!

Frankie @ one of Frank's stores!

Savannah

Savannah River

downtown parking street

Savannah waterfront 

275 year old waterfront buildings

Museum of art

Savannah, Georgia

We had heard from many travelers about Skidaway  Island State Park in Georgia.  It turned out to be a very unique place.  It had water and power and even TV cable but no individual sewer hook ups.  What it has in spades is atmosphere.  Its the quintesential Southern Park of the old south with a completely treed site, high canopy above, clear below and hanging down everywhere the silver grey of Spanish Moss.  There is a cathedral like quiet between arrival and departures of campers in such a shaded open space under the backlit threads and tendrils of slowly swaying moss.  The sites are huge and with our doorway facing more open woods there is a feeling of spacious privacy.

This is a very cool space and un crowded.  From here we will make our forays into the old city of Savannah.

Savannah was fairly easy to get into by short freeway.  The residential streets on the perimeter are old and dripping with character and history.  Their streets are tree lined and shaded by huge trees and Spanish Moss hangs everywhere.  Here and there groups of walking tours stand about in front of historic homes with guides.  Small block size parkes are scattered throughout the city where roads intersect them at midpoints requiring one way traffic around them.  This really gives the place a feeling of a smaller town with many neighborhoods.  All of the little parks are shady and cool retreats.

JoAnn and I parked  on one of the shady side streets above the waterfront and walked down between stone retaining wall over streets still cobbled with rock and down stone staircases  to the single waterfront road.  There among 250-300 year old brick buildings were old shops selling new goods to the tourists but we managed to find the old, 280 years, Boar Heads Pub for a cool mug of brew.  Outside the window behind the bar silently coasted workboats and pleasure craft on the wide and deep Savannah River.

Its off for some banking then a stop at the famous Lowell’s ice cream shop on the way out of town.

Trying another beach trip, we were determined to sit in the sun.

The beach towns are deserted for the fall and parking fees are required everywhere so we don’t linger too long except for a stop at the main pier and a quick sit on the sands.

Its time to head for Jacksonville Florida to see Frank and Ann.

Only 3 hours away we found a place at Hanna State Park on the beach and very close to their house only 4-5 miles away!

Charleston and the Hominy Grill

Ashley Hall, Charleston

Ashley Hall main staircase

Entry Foyer

Charleston,  South Carolina                                          

Main Parlor

Ashley Hall back "sneak" gate

Ashley Main Building

Famous Hominy Grill,  Charleston

10/24, 25, 26/10

Three nights and two days in the old Southern town on the Atlantic Ocean offered us our first opportunity to camp near the beach and to visit the  girls boarding school, Ashley Hall, JoAnn attended in 67 and 68.  We pulled into  James Island County Park late at night as I described in my last blog.  The next day, as usual, we got started a little late after the exhaustion of the previous night.  So we decided to drive out to Folly Beach and check out the beach town.  On the way we crossed over several causeways that spanned marshes of golden grass woven through with still waterways.  Homes on the shores had piered waks with railings that terminated far out in the marsh’s  snaking waterways  with small boat shacks or just roofed platforms.  Most of these walks seem to extend as much as 200-250 feet from shore and appeared to float upon the wheat colored grasses.

Folly Beach was deserted due to the time of year.  In fact it looked like a large ghost town.  Most services and tourist eateries were still open but there just were no people around.  The day was hot and humid so we checked out the beach anyway and wasted almost $40.00 on a lousy tourist trap lunch.   We drove down the key and almost every house on both sides of the road was for sale or  rent. We did some real basic shopping and headed back to camp for  air conditioning. Temperature was in the low  

"Grits are Good for you !"

90’s with 88% humidity.

The next morning we drove into Charleston to visit Ashley Hall.  This should turn out to be a more interesting day.  Rolling over the bridge into Charleston we could see there were many huge boats at the Marina, usually a good sign for the existance of a healthy economic base in town.

Charleston is old.  although there were many large antebellum homes they all had a moist decay about them.  Except for the beautiful waterfront mansions on  Bay Street which smelled of older money riding out this downturned 

Charleston Carriage House Doors

economy. There are still a few sidestreets along the original narrow waterfront with the original stone surfaces.  Not flat cobblestones of old but actually round stones up to 8” in diameter.  This made for a very rough ride even at crawling speeds with modern suspensions.

With the iPhone gps we zeroed in on Ashley Hall and all the streets were familiar to JoAnn.  It took up a city block with one major 4 story classic structure that serves as administration and offices but in the older days also served as dorm rooms.  We poked around, looked at yearbooks and walked the grounds then headed down the block to the Hominy Grill lately made famous by Rachael Ray.  Food was very good, coffe black and Jo had the Shrimp & Grits - and she crab soup, quite good actually.

Drove along the Bay in old waterfront town and polked around a marina until the skies suddenly poured down while we were way out on the docks with no where to hide! Wet docks are the last place you want to be running in the rain wearing sandals.

So its back to James Park to just kick back, which I try to do as much as possible until RV chores and maintenance beckon.  It takes us a little more than an hour every morning to get the Airstream ready to go and the same amount of time when we set it up in camp.  There are probably 15-20 steps to go through otherwise bad things could happen quickly on the road.  JoAnn has her interiors check list with about 30 items.  I take care of the exterior stuff, including the dreaded black water and grey water sewage  dump and clean up.  Thank god all those systems seem to be working well now.  We both work on hitching up and each departure check the turn signals and brake lights then finally we both do a walk around.  Then we get in the truck and proceed to get lost!

Folly Beach,  Charleston

A bit of southern hospitality