Date:                                       March 26, 2008

Location:                                Carrabelle, FL

0930

            The solitude of doing nothing is a wonderful thing.  It is especially wonderful when a person can look out his window at the glistening jewels of sun light reflecting off the calm waters of the Gulf of Mexico.  The fact that it is not in the mid to upper seventies is not as depressing as it might seem to someone that is only dreaming of living in a tropical paradise.  We have walked the white sandy beaches and had the warm Gulf waters lap at our feet while the soothing breezes temper the seventy to eighty degree sun light reflecting off the ocean.  If, for a day or two, we must “suffer” through the calamity of bright skies, glistening waters and a temperature of 65, I think that we can make it.

            Our door was still open and the sun shinning through the window was still warm and we both have good books to read.  It is really not too tough of a life to live.  I close my eyes and visualize the last claws of winter still present in our destination on Grand Island in New York and then I open them to view the swaying palms trees silhouetted against a bright blue sun lit sky.  I do so very much remember why it is that I am here and not there.  I, also, remember why it is that we are not in too great a hurry to point our home to the north and venture back to the wakening spring of the northeast winter tundra.  We know spring is coming and we know how beautiful it can be in New York.  We also know that we are not going to hurry it along by returning too early.

            Between chapters of our books and the simple pleasure of watching the calming effects of the brilliant jewel like glistening Gulf waters Connie decided that we should go look for a Laundromat.  Into each picture of perfection a moment of reality must appear.  Trying to illicit some form of sympathy from anyone because we had to drive along the palm tree lined serpentine roadway that hugs the shallow shores of the northern edge of the Gulf of Mexico would be futile and I will not even attempt to accomplish such a task.  I truly must admit that I found little need to feel sorry for myself as we packed up a week’s load of laundry and headed into the civilization.  Spring is fully shouting its presence along the tempered coast and bright colors of flowering trees punctuates every home as we travel by them.  As is to be expected, some home are brighter and more glorious than others, but they all seem to beckon a greeting of welcome to spring with splashes of vibrant colors shouted from bushes and budding trees.  Picture frame this excursion into visual paradise with swaying palm trees against a backdrop of a crystal clear bright summer sky of blue and you might get a slight glimpse of just how pleasurable a drive can be in our new neighborhood.

            We finished our laundry in a not so great Laundromat; I got to watch a helicopter fight a small brush fire that was just across the bay from our little laundry plaza; and we had our dinner cooked out on the grill.  It was a pretty good day and the temperature never did make it into the seventies.  I do realize that back in New York some people are just grateful if the temperature makes it above freezing, but there are no lack of people that will gladly support the theory that I am unabashedly spoiled.  As we rest in this place of calm and pleasure we can but hope that Mother Nature is progressing in her attempts to push spring time into the reality of the Northeast.  Our plan has been to chase the onset of spring north as we head to our home on Grand Island for the summer.  As we bathe in the pleasure of paradise on the northern coast of the Gulf of Mexico we are enjoying a wonderful start to our sojourn home.  If Mother Nature and the weather will cooperate it should be a pleasant trip home.  We still have a couple of weeks for the snow to quit and the mud to dry away before we reach the awakening spring pleasures of New York.  We also have a secondary plan if Mother Nature seems to be a little bit too slow.  Myrtle Beach is on the way home, sort of.

Date:                                       March 20, 2008                     

Location:                                Carrabelle, FL

1100

            The excitement of a large weather front is beyond us now and we have our placid beauty of the Gulf of Mexico out our window again.  As we watch the devastation played before our eyes on the news we are quite thankful that the weather front decided to pass just a bit north of us and ignore our location.  We did get to watch the Gulf throw a little bit of a snit as the grey clouds on ominous horizons danced just across the street form our site.  There were actually waves crashing the shore and rolling white foam of agitation crawling up the smooth sandy beaches.  It looked just like an ocean, at least for  most of the day yesterday.  Today we are back to glistening calm waters and the picturesque peace of paradise.

            We had been promised, by the weather wonks, an afternoon of thunderstorms and some severe weather.  It was from this warning that we decided to stay home and watch the “severe weather” march across the panhandle of Florida.  We did see some grey ominous clouds, and felt a full day of some rather strong winds, but we were luckily deprived of the more adventuresome example of Mother Nature’s temper.  During the afternoon I did have to close my window for a while as the mist became more like rain and the wind blew it in on my computer screen.  This was much more of an inconvenience than a problem.  The breeze, when it was not laden with wet droplets of mist, was strong but refreshingly warm and Connie and I both had some reading to catch up on, so it was a good day.

            During the late morning, early afternoon time frame we decided to brave the wind and ferocity of Mather Nature’s temper tantrum and stroll along the beach.  The Gulf must have been going through a spring cleaning frenzy, because all along the shore was a collection of sea weeds and frothy foam of crashing waves.  It may not have been the most beautiful of pictures, but the wind was warm, albeit strong, and the sun was bright, albeit well covered by grey pouting clouds of temper.  As one might expect, the beach was quite lonely and empty, but it still was the beach and it still is the Gulf of Mexico.  If this is as bad as it gets, we may well be in paradise.

            There is, however, evidence of just how harsh the effect of nature’s wrath can be along the coast line of Carrabelle.  In 2005 hurricane Dennis paid a visit to this area and his calling cards can still be seen in the many destroyed homes and business.  The lucky people have been able to rebuild and one can see many new structures standing highly perched above the shore on stilts made of concrete and steel.  Most one story small homes are now two stories in the air allowing many feet of space for the next hurricane to wash below the living area.  There is also a lot of for sale signs dotting the landscape hinting at the desire of the past hurricane survivors wish to not be here for the next weather punishment.  It seems that there is always a price to pay to live in paradise.  In Florida that price is materialistically felt in taxes and huge increase in insurance rates and is also felt spiritually as you see you dreams washed away in an instant succumbing to the awesome powers of Mother Nature.  If it happened before, and it has many times, it will happen again and the only question is when not if.

            It is time for us to enjoy the calm pleasure of a peaceful day after and to realize that no life style is perfect, but the one we have chosen does have it major advantages.  Today our problem is trying to decide which way we want to head when it is time to move our home toward our next destination.  As my favorite American sage once said; “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.”  I guess I will have to worry about that on another day; it is time to walk the beach now.

Date:                           March 17, 2008

Location:                    Carrabelle, FL

0930

            On some mornings the bright blue of the Gulf of Mexico and the gentle breath of a southerly breeze is just not enough and you must go looking for new adventures.  If that is not the sound of a spoiled brat, I do not know what might be.  After being sequestered in our rig watching the grey clouds of one weather front after the next chase each other across the horizon of our vista it was time to escape and enjoy the bright blue new sky of our surroundings.  It was a Sunday; it was in the mid to upper 70s; and the beaches were over flowing so Connie and I packed up our car and headed inland to find a Wal-Mart.  This may sound very plebeian and almost depressing to some people, but if you are fulltime RVer this can, almost, be an adventure.

            The nearest Wal-mart was, according to Sackee, about 30 miles north of where we were and not an insurmountable distance to travel on such a pretty day.  Being a fulltime RVer meant that we traveled nearly 200 hundred miles to accomplish this 60 plus mile round trip.  Why one take the straightest and most simple route when there are so many untraveled roads and they are so close.  Connie and I decided to put Sackee in her adventure mode and explore the National Forest that is just north of us and, sort of, on the way to our shopping destination.  We made it to Wally World; we purchased our necessary resupply of staples for our larder; and we now have a new counter top toaster oven, our old one was in the ICU and had already received the last rights.  It was a good day and the pristine brightness of the new blue sky shown on us all day long.

            We did learn that a “Nation Forest” can mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people.  In the southwest it can mean 6 or 7 trees in a massive valley surrounded by miles of sand and rock and in the southeast it seems to mean miles of very skinny and all pine trees sticking up from a marshy wetland.  I guess I have been spoiled by the Adirondacks of New York and the great Redwoods in California.  It was still a pretty drive even if all of the animals along the way seem to be on vacation and anyplace but near the road side where I could wave a greeting to them.  Maybe they had gone to visit a real forest.

            When, at nearly 4 pm, we had returned form our morning excursion to Wally World we decided it was time for a bite to eat.  There were not many eateries along the very deserted roads that meandered through the Apalachicola National Forest and we were getting a bit famished.  We had been advised to visit a local establishment that just happened to be on our way home and a very short distance from our campsite.  It was an all you can eat fish place and seemed like just what the doctor ordered.  As we walked into the rather stark and bargain basement dinning room we were greeted by a rather large and less than friendly hostess that told us to take a seat and our waitress would be right with us.  We noticed that the only other people in the place were having some kind of serious discussion about the possibility of world peace or something.  We took one of the many empty tables and waited, and waited and waited.  The waitress made no effort to look our way much less to move her rather over fish fed body in our direction.  After what seemed decades Connie and I both decided that the ambience exuding from the grease stains on the walls and the lethargic attention we were commanding from the staff was not exactly what we wanted for our evening remembrance of this otherwise great day.   We choose the take out menu and took ourselves out of this hole in the road and headed home to make other plans.

            Since Carol’s Seafood restaurant was east of our site, please don’t go there, we headed west looking for and hoping to find a place that offered service along with a good meal and maybe even be on the water.  Fortune was to shine again upon our heads.  A few miles west of our campground is That Place on 98, a very famous small casual seafood restaurant and it sits on the Gulf.  It is famous because it does sit on the Gulf and Hurricane Dennis tried to move it off a few years back.  There is a picture that I am sure most of you have seen with the owner and his wife surveying the devastation of his retirement investments in a shambles and he is wearing a T-shirt that reads, “We Will Be Back.”  The T-shirt was right and the place is well worth a visit if not for the wonderful food, at least for the history of rebirth after one of Florida’s many hurricanes.  The chowder is, if not the best I have had, on a very short list of my favorites.  The service was gracious and friendly and the fried oysters were wonderful.  I did not know I liked fried oysters.  I did not know I like oysters of any kind.  Did I mention that this place sits right on the Gulf of Mexico?  Had that rather tubby waitress at Carol’s realized that I do leave a nice tip to pleasant servers she might have waddled her fat ass to out table and at least given us a glass of tea.  It was her loss and our gain.  I am sure we will return to That Place on 98 and enjoy many more bowls of their chowder as we explore the very fresh offerings of seafood from the menu.

            A ride though a National Forest on a bright sunny day; a new toaster oven; accomplishing a mundane chore with some semblance of adventure thrown in; and a fantastic seafood dinner overlooking the Gulf of Mexico, it was a good day.  We managed to finish the day with soft southern Gulf breezes blowing in our open bedroom windows to soothe us to sleep.  We had a great day.  How was yours?

Date:                           March 15, 2008

Location:                    Carrabelle, FL

1000

            It is still a grey funky day on the northern coast of the Gulf of Mexico and a scenario that could cause a person to be a bit in the dumps if he chose, but I am not.  We spent a day snuggled in our home yesterday watching our campsite become all to near a lake front property as the rain filled the road and area along our RV with water.  Another chance to race into the pits of depression and yet I am not.  Our friends stopped in, during the rain, to wish us a fond farewell as they were leaving for new adventures and we are left to man the water pump in our basement, and yet I still do not find a reason to feel down trodden.  It was not really a bad day at all.  We were dry, warm and supplied with good books.  On some level it was quite a nice rest from our winter of project work and travel.  I even paid my bills for the month and still did not fall in to the avenues of despair.  It must be the winds of pleasure blowing off Gulf that dispel the blues.  By the way, there was a lot of wind blowing off the Gulf yesterday.

            As I rested in my ocean front abode it was a charm to watch the multitude of emotions that the Gulf of Mexico was exhibiting as the first of many weather fronts progressed across our scenic horizon.  There were actually white caps and crashing waves slamming the shore as the rain and wind punished the normally calm waters of the Forgotten Coast.  This morning the Gulf is much more calm and returning to her placid temperament that we are becoming used to seeing.  The wind is still trying to rile up an emotion or two on the water, but it is the waving branches of the palm tress that are indicative of the weather discomfort more than any sign of wave action.  The people that are strolling the beach are wrapped up in coats and long sleeved sweatshirts, but there are, at least, people strolling on the beach today.  Maybe not many, but there are a few brave hearts fighting the rather strong breezes sandwiched between the racing fronts of weather chasing each other to the east coast.  Periodically there is even a ray of bright sun that struggles through the heavy clouded sky to signify the promise of pleasure to come.

            It is the type of day that a person might find a reason to complain, and yet I feel no desire to fall into that trap.  The lake that formed in front of our home is shrinking and I think that I might be able to get to our car without scuba gear now.  The many emotions of the ocean, out our front window, are seemingly headed in a positive direction.  At times there are areas of glistening diamonds floating on the calm ripples of the water beckoning us to come the few feet to the beach and stroll along the Gulf of Mexico and let the rest of the world pass.  If you are to look at just the right time and in just the right direction I am told that we can actually find patches of blue sky.  And, there are still those swaying palm trees silhouetted against a brightening sky that seem to promise the quickly returning elements of paradise. 

            This is the type of day that a person might find a reason to feel less than wonderful, and yet I do not feel the need to venture into that dismal attitude.  There is a charm and soul found pleasure felt along the Forgotten Coast of Florida and on this day I choose to enjoy that emotion.  Let the blue light of a clear sky continue to defeat the obstacles of clouds, and let the sun dispel the gloom of grey funky weather as it trudges across the panhandle of Florida and my day will get even better.  Would that every day be able hold so much promise.  And yet there may be a lesson for me to learn in all of this.  It may be that I need to look for the promise that every day holds and get beyond the grey clouds of depression.  I know that above every cloudy, miserable day of rain a blue sky awaits and a brighter day is promised.  It is, after all, about our attitudes and our willingness to exhibit a little patience as we allow the weather front to move on through that the new a day awaits.  We must allow the clouds to clear and the brightness to dispel the gloom.  For truly above every grey cloud of despair the sun awaits our return.

Date:                           March 14, 2008

Location:                    Carrabelle, FL

1000

            Wind, rain and an occasional flash of lightning spots our visit to paradise.   From the comfort and dry safety of my home I can see palm tress swaying all to vigorously in the winds of a spring thunderstorm and the uncharacteristic white splashes of waves crashing on the shore of Carrabelle Beach.  The beauty of the Gulf of Mexico is, today, hiding behind a curtain of grey funk and rain as a temperamental front slides across the panhandle of Florida.  Still, the pleasure of peering into the promise of better weather and the warmth of the tropical wonder of the forgotten coast of Florida makes this day acceptable on some ethereal level.  We are, after all, parked in a friendly campground with our window overlooking the Gulf of Mexico and less than a football field away from the water and a short pathway away from the white sands of the beach.  This may be called the “forgotten coast” but, once you have had the pleasure of enjoying its charm it is a memory that will rest in your treasure chest of experiences forever.

            It has been an eventful season for Connie and me, so far this year.  We have finished three NOMADS projects, had our motorhome in a repairshop, been unable to get the starter on Aurora to work, and had dinner setting near the same spot “Ulee’s Gold” opening scene was filmed.  And, that does not even begin to sum up all that has been happening at the rolling house called Aurora.  Life is, in deed, what happens while you are making other plans.  Some of our plans have been good and sometimes we have been near tears as life has played out its struggles in our existence.  The price of fuel has climbed to 4 dollars a gallon, the price of bread is often over 3 dollars a loaf and sanity is nearly nonexistent in the world that see exploding before us.  If one was of want they could find all too many reasons to spiral into a bout of deepest depression.  This is a fact that we all must keep in mind as we awake each day and face another fight for sanity and stability.  I am seriously beginning to think about turning the news channels off and dedicating myself to the Cartoon Network.  I can more easily handle a few more “Beep Beeps” from the Roadrunner and lot less “blank-ity blank” news from the pseudo-reporters.

            There is more pleasure in watching the waves of rain and wind crash on to the sandy beach of Carrabelle than it is to think about the events we call normalcy in today’s world.  As I sit in my chair on a grey wind driven day of rain and storms I picture more pleasure and possibilities than any evening news cast could ever offer.   Would I not be a fool if I failed to enjoy what is just out my window and across the beach?

            A moment of simplicity is so often more memorable than a moment in historical significance.  We have a governor of New York that is destroying his political career, a historical campaign for the presidency that is attacking some prejudicial stigmas in our society and a president that will, for all reason, go down in history as the worst leader of a free country in the history of man. And yet, I have a moment of simplicity that will put all of that trash in some kind of perspective.  It is simply the warmth and pleasure of spending a day with friends.  While Dave and Mary joined Connie and me for a walk along the white sandy beach of Carrabelle none of the other garbage seemed important at all.  We were strolling in the warm Gulf of Mexico on a day of bright sun and slight breezes along the forgotten coast and the rest of the world was really the place that we were easily able to forget.  Mary and I even strolled out into the middle of the Gulf, or maybe towards the middle of the Gulf, on a sandbar and waved at our spouses who were way back on the shoreline.  There is a therapeutic pleasure in the solitude of standing in the Gulf of Mexico as the tidal waves rush to the shore and you realize that you are a full football field away from safe land.  It was only the night before that Connie and I had watched 2 dolphins swimming and feeding closer to the shoreline than I was now standing.  It may not have been in the exact same sport, but very close.  From this point I did not need to care about political leader’s moral ineptitude, political prejudice and racism or presidential leadership inabilities.  I could just wave to my wife, soak in the warmth of the on rushing tidal waters, and wonder how fast and how high the tide did rise along the northern coast of the Gulf of Mexico. 

            I made it back to shore; my knees did not get wet; and I have a memory punctuated with addition new shell for our collection.  It was for all intense purposes a pretty great moment, all be it of the most pleasurable simplicity.  When next you are in front of a  nightly diatribe of news and you are venturing into the pits of depression and dismay, just close your eyes and imagine the feeling of the warm 70 plus degree waters of the Gulf of Mexico washing across your toes as the bright sun warms the back of your neck and a gentle breeze blows your hair.  This should remove you from your spiraling pit of depression called reality and may place you in the fantasy land of pleasure that Connie and I will be calling home for the next month.  Come and visit us, in your imagination if not in your Bermuda shorts.