February, 2009 - We left San Diego and started a cross-country trek to visit Mark's son at Navy Dive School in Panama City,
Florida. We didn't intend to cover the distance quickly, but suddenly found ourselves doing 400-500 mile days. I-10 through Texas
stretches for 880 miles, and you get a sense of treading water somewhere around San Antonio. We wondered if we'd ever get out
of Texas. So it was with exhaustion and relief that we finally pulled off the interstate in Louisiana to stop at Delta Downs Casino.
We were simply hoping for a quiet night's sleep, but when I began to
close the shades I noticed that there was a horse racetrack right behind
where we were parked, and the stadium lights were on! We wandered
over, and suddenly found ourselves swept up in the horse racing scene.
I had never been to a racetrack before, and I was amazed as the
horses were paraded and their credentials were read by the
announcer. The jockeys were smaller than the Tour-de-France
cyclists who specialize in climbing, and the horses were lean, fit and
eager to race.
The betting office opened, the stats for each horse were displayed on a
huge electronic board, and a line of seasoned racetrack bettors
suddenly formed.
While the TV cameras rolled, a gun went off, and the ground
rumbled beneath our feet. Suddenly, a hurtling pack of hooves
and snorting nostrils streaked past us.
As a little boy, Mark spent a lot of time at the horse races with his
beloved grandpa, and he had told me, "Watch horse #2." Sure
enough, that horse won, and Mark caught the winning moment on
camera. Too bad he hadn't bet a buck or so on that horse, it
would have been a really good payout!
That happy evening's unplanned entertainment put smiles on our faces
that were still there two days later when a group of seagulls greeted us
at the first tiny beach on the Emerald Coast in Florida. Panama City
Beach was just starting a warm spell when we arrived, and we made a
beeline for the famed spring breakers' beach.
There is something
about turquoise water
and white sand and
young lovers romping
around that makes the
heart sing. Panama
City Beach is an arcade
and mini-golf heaven,
but the beach is pure
and true, even though
high-rises anchor it to
the modern era.
We took a side trip to Mexico Beach, a delightful, tiny, seaside
community that is all low-rise buildings offering more of that beautiful
sugar-sand beach.
Friends of ours were staying at the Driftwood Inn, a beautiful property
that is worth a visit even if you aren't lucky enough to get a room. It is
charming and artsy and a little funky, with antiques and a unique mini-
chapel that the original owner built for his wife.
From Mexico Beach we began a tour of three state parks along the
"Forgotten Coast." The first was Ochlockonee River State Park, a
lovely park amid thousands of skinny "pecker pines."
We had read that "a patient observer may be rewarded with a sighting
of the rare white squirrel, a local mutation that is not an albino." On our
very first hike we saw one. What luck! Like many park animals, he was
unafraid of us, and he busied himself eating nuts and scampering up
and down tree trunks without the slightest concern for our presence.
This park sits at the confluence of two rivers and has several pretty
hiking trails. We had just purchased an inflatable tandem kayak as
a combination 5th anniversary gift and pair of birthday gifts for each
other, and we couldn't wait to launch it in the river. It is a very cool
kayak that has pedals as well as paddles, perfect for a pair of
cyclists. And it fits in our basement (barely!).
The air was about 50 degrees when we first set it up on the river's
edge, and we were both bundled in many layers of clothing. Mark
hopped in and situated himself while I chatted with a pair of
experienced kayakers who had just shown up on the beach.
"Does that have pedals?" the veteran kayaker asked me. "Yeah!" I said
proudly, "Isn't it cool? This is our first time out!" I confidently put one foot
in the kayak to launch it, taking care not to get my other foot wet as I
pushed off from the shore. In an instant, I was over the side, one leg
looped over the edge of the boat, hanging on for dear life, while the other
sank steadily deeper until I was submerged, half under the boat, in cold
water up to my neck. "Sweety!' Mark called out. "You didn't want to get
your feet wet, and now look at you!"
Very funny!
I found my footing and scrambled ashore, squeezing gallons of water out of the arms of my jacket. Why do these kinds of things
always happen with an audience? After a change of clothes and a few colorful remarks from yours truly, we eventually got the
kayak launched, both of us dry and in the proper seats in the boat. What a blast. It flies along effortlessly and opens up all kinds of
possibilities for exploration we could never do from shore.
We moved over to St. Joseph State Park where we spent a few days
perched on the end of a long skinny peninsula of sand. The roar of the
waves lulled us to sleep every night, accompanied only occasional by an
owl nearby our campsite.
We had stayed
there last year,
but we got better
weather this year
(fewer bugs) and
enjoyed many
wonderful
beachcombing
walks along the
shore.
My mom visited us for a week, and as we walked and talked, catching
up on all kinds of things, we had to stop every so often to look around
and soak in the gorgeous colors. The many pretty shells evoked all
kinds of creative ideas for crafts and decorations, as well as thoughts
of the creatures that had once lived inside.
It is fortunate that this is the "Forgotten Coast," because it is very sleepy
and almost feels undiscovered. The sugar sand brings out the kid in
everyone, and a grandson-grandpa pair were fishing happily from the
shore, poles vertical and ready, and souls relaxed and free.
As we asked the many fishermen along the beach what they were
catching, everyone had hopes for various kinds of fish, but no one
was catching much of anything, and nobody seemed to care either.
It was too beautiful to feel anything but joy at being alive.
St Joseph State Park opens onto a shallow bay as well as the Gulf,
and the bay side retains some of the swampy feeling of the inland
rivers. The shorebirds like to mingle with the swamp birds, and the
brackish water from the rivers mixes with the tidal waters of the
ocean.
Everywhere you look you feel the essence of peace.
Boardwalks connect the two campgrounds, taking strollers on a tour
of the marshlands.
Mom and I sat for a while, contemplating the swaying grasses
and the ibis and herons that stalked their prey among the
rushes.