Across Florida, A Southern Adventure Day 4-5

There is nothing so nice as blogging on a sunny evening outside, by a saltwater creek watching the birds and lizards' antics. Nothing in the blog-writing circumstances on this trip, that is, so far. I'm writing from Islamarada, in the Florida Keys at a very nice place called the Creekside Inn. Jeff's great uncle built the original building in his developing days but from the looks of that structure it's a good thing the renovators are working there and we are staying at our building! It's right on one of the salt water canals leading to to the ocean, simple, pretty and fresh. Just remember to ask for a canal-side room or the traffic will bring you a lived experience of noise pollution. But we anticipate sleeping deeply tonight thanks to a gracious room change.
Returning to our subject, our 479 miles of Florida covered so far...
The first evening (Friday), we stopped in Apalachicola, which made it into the itinerary via National Geographic's 500 Journeys of a lifetime. I am not kidding. I stumbled on this pretty picture of "quintessential Old Florida" and decided that was sufficiently interesting and out-of-the-way to be seen. Known for their oysters, as I mentioned before, it is a few streets wide and long at the heart of the village, and still functions as an active fishing town. There had been a revival of quaint shops and bed & breakfasts as well, so visitors come to fish, relax, and eat oysters. After a long day of driving, we only indulged in the last two. It was quiet on the whole, very pretty (some portions of town rather ramshackle, but quite kept in check), and dinner at Up the Creek Raw Bar was delicious. Fear not, raw oysters were not on our dinner plates. After the chef (himself) chatted up the daily special of Oysters Southern, with "collard greens from my garden" and bacon bits, we couldn't resist. We also nearly succumbed to gnat bites, since we were in fact far up the creek, away from where the Apalachicola River and it's little cousins empty into the bay. But it was worth it!
We then hopped across the bay to Eastpoint, where we stayed at the Sportsman Lodge. Known for their peacock flock and little marina, it's like a cross between family camping and fisherman cabins all built into a cluster motel/cottage arrangements. The peacocks run free, perch in the ancient trees, and entertain everyone... And sometimes get worked up. Arguing peacocks produce a unique mix of annoyed cat and chicken sounds, and if you arrive on just the wrong day when they all got up on the wrong side of their branches, well it's quite the racket, intermittently. Thankfully, the bayside charm, fresh breeze (banishing gnats), and feeling of having really gotten away balanced out the ornithological outbursts.
Saturday we headed east again, this time detouring through the Apalachicola National Forest. Mile after mile of pine, palmetto and myrtle. Beautiful, especially on a quiet morning. I have a small video - really more of a sound byte - I will try and load up later. The only thing missing was... Breakfast. Woops. Don't hope for breakfast in a national forest. At least, not after an economic downturn.
Instead, head to Tallahasee, accidentally get lost on the University campus, and pull off to map out your path to one of the many small cafes. Do not hope to just "pull in" or you will see them only as you pass by in a crowd of cars and, electing to place safety above food, make it through the city unscathed but now with audible stomach protests. You will then eat Subway, and be thankful.
Forging ahead, the next stop was Devil's Millhopper St Park, a 100 ft sinkhole that you explore by way of 200 stairs. Smaller than we expected, it's geological significance is indisputable as you can descend from the now familiar pine and Spanish moss forest to ferns and algae alongside the ever-running little waterfalls which disappear through the limestone floor. Simply vanish. Then climb up the stairs again and wish you had remembered your geology and botany classes because it's the details, not the wow-effect that counts here. Take my word for it. Or take the park district's word, as they have the geology degree. Either way, it was an interesting and enjoyable way to stretch our legs before heading southeast to Port St Lucie.
Before you enter the Orlando advertising district, cruising even the non-national forest highway in Florida is lovely. To my surprise it looks a lot like Kentucky: gently rolling green pastures neatly edged in black rail fences, dotted with herds of horses, long horn and angus. And on occasion, goats. Maybe it's the latest push for locally sourced goat cheese? I'm not sure, but there they were.
We arrived in Port St Lucie in perfect time to pick up Jeff's uncle Dave for a beach walk and dinner in Jensen Beach. No family connection here, just a fun coincidence. The actual beach is on the Atlantic side of Hutchinson Island, one if several south of Cape Canaveral and NASA's former operations. The town is on the mainland. Beach activities were starting to taper off by the time we got there, so we enjoyed relative peace, wading in the waves, looking at the seashells, chatting. It's the first time in my limited seaside experience to find sand dollars! No whole specimens, but beautiful white and rose-pink fragments with the tell-tale fern-like imprints were everywhere. So we're crazy gulls and pelicans skimming just above the water as if in formation, ready for a dinner dive. The area is subject, as you can imagine, to heavy hurricane damage, and there are sad reminders of this with abandoned hotels- relics of business speculation gone awry- along the beach. Hopefully some day it will be cleaned up and left in it's natural beauty.
Dinner at an open air grill - seafood, of course- was a refreshing end to our cross state trek.