Gorgeous Fleeting Craziness

A very interesting time into Georgia and Florida. I breezed through Georgia for the most part. Still unsure why? I mean, I did go through the heart of her; I kept trying the cities (Macon, Savannah) but was chased out by all the ruckus. Not a city girl. AND I could have sworn there'd be more road-signs directing traffic towards Peanuts, Pecans and Peaches... I was wary of going into a place called "WE'RE NUTS!" allbeit a cute pun, and that turned out to be the last sign for such a market. So, I didn't get any nuts. Nuts. But I will be headed back up through Alabama, I'm sure I'll come across something good.

So, in Waycross, Georgia, at an awesome little coffeeshop called Hotty Toddy, I had internet for just long enough to review cool spots and state parks along the coast of Florida. The first and best looking option for the hour was Anastasia State Park off Saint Augustine. Amazing place. 4 Miles of beach, a pier, a rental shop, beautiful palmettos everywhere, best looking campsite ever, pitching my tent over white sand.


With virtually no neighbors, I spent a good deal of time partying by myself and making dinner, with only a few fleeting pangs for want of company. I actually found myself falling asleep before the VP debate could even begin. Or maybe I was still blasting music and trying not to care at all about the political quagmire that has overwhelmed our country... Either way, you've heard about the rest of my evening in my sunrise report.

So, let's start in the morning, amidst the beautiful scenery, with the sun making its first appearances into the dimlit pink sky; a woman, fresh from a morning swim, crosses my path - well, actually, she stands between me and the glorious view until I've acknowledged her presence - and she initiates conversation. Usually I would be pretty annoyed at this most unwanted interruption, but in favor of 'getting out there' and 'meeting new people,' I went along with the whole thing. Apparently a veteran surfer and surfboard designer (Tom-Lee boards? Anybody? Anybody? No? Oh...), she had some interesting tales; being as socially-starved as I was (read: bored), I was in a unique position to be intrigued.

So, after talking through the whole damned sunset, she helped me take some footage of a tri-color heron doing some early morning fishing in the shallow tide.

TANGENT
Let me advise my readers right now; If you click on theses pictures, more often than not they get a helluvalot bigger. Go ahead. Try it. And while you're trying new things, take another look at this guy. I mistakenly identified him as a lizard. This, ladies and gentlemen, is a juvenile skink. Also on a tangent, did you know that there are lizards who have no legs? Yeah, I would call them snakes too, but they're not, they're Glass Lizards.

So, when a jogger scares the heron away, it's time for me to try and catch up on some sleep. I'm invited over to coffee and tea at this lady's tent in an hour, and I consider it. I go back to my site to strike the tent and straighten up the car, and the lady walks over to again request my presence at her tent for 'hot liquids' and to meet the nice park rangers she'd met. Now I begin to rethink my 'convenient' location to the bathroom - it certainly strips away the privacy. I tell her I'll come, and I mean it; I had already made up my mind, despite her weird ways; I know I'll leave her and be off on my own adventure soon enough. Free coffee sounds wonderful, especilly before I head down the coast to check out the surf spots she'd told me about during our conversations on the beach.

I stroll over to her site and am offered some nice hot tea. She's got one of those single-coffee-doers and I don't want to put her out. As a side-note, I could feel the burn from that first sip of tea for the next 36 hours...

In conversation with myself and the park ranger(s), she speaks of her plans to visit Saint Augustine for some olde-tyme Spanish food and a glorious chocolate store. The chocolate store peaks my attention, and she invites me to follow her to the city. She also stresses that she wants to be my Sacajawea and bring me to Flagler Beach to check out the swell. She's got an ounce of Native American blood that makes her very proud. I think it's sweet, but all the while I know that I have to shake her and regain my solitude; after I experience the city.

And experience the 'city' I did - the historic city, where people were dressed in 1700's gear and the food was delectable. Before we made it that far, though, she introduced me to this old guy, who she'd met earlier:



And this big feller (gopher tortoise, by my best estimation):


While we 'met with' the turtle, a transient she had befriended in the city the day before pedaled by, and she invited him over. He looked like a pirate and wielded a guitar, so aside from being skeptical as hell about hanging out with this man, I was somewhat comforted by the fact that he wasn't getting into my car. So he joined us in the city. He actually proved to be much more interesting company than she was; when we were asked by the 1700's dressed tavern maiden where we were from, he jubilantly replied "under the bridge." Eventually I hear him play music with another old hobo, and that was nice.

All 'amped up' on leading me down the coast, this lady is quickly becoming hard to shake. I had planned to lose her in traffic after the Spanish food and the chocolate store, but tragically I hit a huge obstacle - apparently, though both of us were camping at the State Park, only I had brought a cooler, a necessary element in keeping "our" chocolates cool for later down the road. So she puts her chocolates in my car! She hadn't done anything to cross me yet, I just yearned for solitude - I never had any intentions of stealing her goods... And this lady is so intent on leading me on my adventures that she's pulling over anytime a car gets between us, and driving 5 below the speed limit to boot. Somehow it got late in the day, and all day-dreams of catching a wave in Florida had dissipated. I tried to photograph the sunset at 60 MPH.


It was nice to say goodnight to the same sun I'd said good morning to, although in a much different state of mind; in the morning I had been as free as one of those birds and as careless as the idle fisherman, and at the present time I was seeking the escape route that would bring me back to such peaceful times.

We make it to Flagler where live music abounds, putting us on the top deck of a bar overlooking the beach. All suspicions on this lady's sanity are soon proven sturdy by her own alcoholism; she freaked when we couldn't order a certain shot. Not being a huge fan of the alcohol, I'm unphased by such a letdown, but she wouldn't have it, causing a semi-scene and making my anxiety for flight a little more urgent. After I calm her down and the mood returns to a high-pitched normal, she continues bonding with me, and at some point calls me her twin sister from a different mother...

Yeah, a terrifying thought, even with her dentures in..

A few rounds later (although I secretly poured out a few of my beeers while she wasn't looking, well aware of the late-night highway scramble I had before me), she takes me down the road to a freebie campground where we could spend the night. So immediately I start tapping away at my GPS looking for that escape route - but we stop too short! I hesitate to get out of my car, but she's pacing around; again she has a semi-melt down, exclaiming that she doesn't feel I'll approve of the sites she has to offer. I calm her by feigning confidence in the spot she'd like the most, and, sharing her relief, we continue down the road. More tapping on the GPS, and I discover that I-95 is one right turn and a windy road away from my current locale.

So she puts on her left blinker. I put on my left blinker. She comes to a full stop and takes a left turn. I come to a full stop looking to take a left turn. She continues slowly down the road, brake lights flashing at her jerky driving, and I feign a left. When her brake-foot relaxes and the red light disappears, I swoop a right and go, looking back every half second and noting her abrupt stop and idling. I do not see her turn around as I pass the nearest corner. To add to the drama, as take the corner, a pick-up truck slows me right down, coasting between me and my I-95 retreat. Having a few drinks under my belt and not wanting to test the law (though not nearly enough to declare 'impairment,' I didn't want to take the risk), the slowest high-speed chase you'd ever imagine ensued. At least in my mind. And even when I got to the ramp and entered anonymity, I still felt like she was close behind. Vermont plates are not easy to hide in a sea of white, orange and green Gators.

I didn't stop until I reached Orlando. You wouldn't believe the traffic in Orlando at 3:00 AM on a Friday night.

This is why I'm a fricken' recluse... you meet crazy people like this and your solitude is justified in a hurry. I was elated to hit the city limits, call that a first.

Here's to family in Miami, a safe-haven from the madness of strange strangers.