Uncharted Territory

On I-95 in Georgia there are signs telling you, the motorist, that the State of Georgia is targeting aggressive drivers. Then it says: "Keep more distance". That's a different approach, but I never saw one single officer....state, city, sheriff's dept, whereas when I crossed into Florida this morning, the State Troopers were everywhere all day. It was 55 degrees, but a gray, damp 55....and tonight it's FREEZING! (Don't worry, I'm warm and dry.) I drove past the exits for Tallahassee without curiosity. Although I respect Bobby Bowden and root for the Seminoles when they aren't playing the Hurricanes, the campus of FSU didn't call to me. I approached Pensacola with anticipation. I've always had a visual of it based upon nothing, but strangely enough reality came very close to imagination. Pensacola, to me, is a clean, low profile, bright, laid back town with a prosperous looking population. There is a LOT of water here. And a LOT of bridges. I-110 is undergoing major expansion and traffic at rush hour is a mess as a result, but drivers yield the right of way with a wave and a smile. I would guess there's not much tension here in day to day life. I would also venture to guess that the strong military presence here may be partially responsible for the cleanliness and sense of order. The one word I would use to describe Pensacola is: Appealing. It's the kind of town you could spend a lazy week in. Eat too much. Sleep in a hammock. Pick up shells on beautiful Pensacola Beach. The spot that had the most appeal to me was located between P. Beach and Pensacola itself. Gulf Breeze. I worked with women in Norfolk whose husbands had been stationed at the Naval Air Station and they liked the town, but became bored with it after a few months. It's not NEAR anything significant. You have to do a lot of driving to reach Atlanta or Miami. Too much for a getaway weekend. I have driven 1,200 miles so far and hope to stay in New Orleans Saturday and Sunday. I want to talk to people about what promises, if any, have been kept by the government post Katrina. I need to see it myself, not just take the media's word for it. I expect to post many pictures so you can see what I have seen. Stay tuned! The one photo I am posting today is of the Historic District, which was actually taken 2/14. (Happy Valentine's Day!) When I drove into town I went straight to the beaches and it was too captivating to think about photographing it, so now I'm doing a little editing and backtracking. There will be more commentary & photos above.

Standing Ovation

Many thanks to these companies who offer a safe haven to RV'ers!

Every Color in The Rainbow

Beaufort SC was one of my favorite stops on the ICW trip in 1979. I remember the three days spent there as clearly as if it was yesterday. There was a strong current and Bob lost control of the boat briefly, coming close to slamming into someone else's boat at the dock. After we tied up and looked over the town, we bought shrimp from a commercial fisherman who was docked next to us. Until that day I had never known that shrimp were irridescent. These were so fresh, they still had their natural colors...mostly green, violet and purple. The locals were curious, talkative and full of information. We learned about the history of the area, the economy, we were even given recipes for the shrimp. The Marine boot camp, Parris Island, is just down the road. When you travel by boat you can go thirty miles and it feels like a long, long trip. Then you see how quickly these little towns are reached by car...it's hard to explain...it takes some of the magic away. In any case, I held my breath as I turned off the street and into the marina parking lot. Would it be there? Would it be changed? Happily, it's just the same! I spent a few hours at the dock, enjoying the view and the boats and then went back to Rte. 17 and figured I would be in Savannah in about an hour. All of a sudden I found myself on I-95. 17 merges into it for a few miles now...I never knew that. I went the posted speed of 70 and just like that (snap), I had had enough of nostalgia. I blew past the exit to Savannah and pulled off the interstate for the night with a new plan. Enough of looking back. I'm ready for the future and the cities and towns I've never seen between Florida and California! Sorry, Savannah, lovely lady that you are...I'll have to put off finding out who it is who dyes the Savannah River green every St. Patrick's Day and how long that takes and what it costs. I'm impatient for new horizons. It's pouring and the raindrops make a comforting sound on the van. I'll sleep well tonight.

A Living Museum, Cherished and Preserved

I stayed too long in the Battery and stopped someone to ask where I could find a grocery for dinner. By that time it was dark and I hadn't made provisions for dropping anchor. I wasn't too concerned however, and I needn't have been. It's a funny thing I've learned about (most) people. If you expect the best from them, they often deliver. I selected sushi from one of the largest and best stocked Harris Teeter's I've been in. I was a little worried that Food Lion and Piggly Wiggly would be my choices. When checking out I asked the cashier if she knew where I could park my van for the night. I hastened to acknowledge the signs in the parking lot prohibiting overnights. "Oh, that doesn't mean anything. Ask a manager. They'll give you a pass." I did and she did. Put the pass on my windshield, gave Danny a long walk, caught up on emails and called it a night. The store was open 24 hours and walked by a securityguard . This morning I wanted to go back to the Battery, but first, coffee. In the daylight I saw clearly that this was no average building. I asked an African American bag boy if I was an historic building. "Yes, it is. Built in 1670. Harris Teeter just expanded the back of it. It was the railroad station". "Isn't it great they preserved it?", I commented. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said: "Yes. They brought the slaves into Charleston here". "Maybe they shouldn't have preserved it," I said. "Well", he responded with a bright smile, "It IS historical!" Look for the long, low bldg in the photos. Later I parked and walked around "The Market". I couldn't find any identification of what it was used for. About that time a Charlestonian decided to chat me up. He introduced himself as Mike. I found out that the locals know it not as the "Market", but the"Slave Market". I asked what it was used for. He said, "Not what people think it was used for. Have you ever been to a Farmer's Market?" "Yes, I love Farmer's Markets." "Were they selling farmers there?" "OoooKkkkk, so what DID they sell here?" "The slaves came from the plantations with goods to be sold and then bought what the owner's needed to go home with."

All Who Wander Are Not Lost....

How true. I don't know who said that but I'd like to know. Today was wonderful. I found the Wilmington I left, virtually unchanged at the foot of Market Street. The historic downtown area was built on the banks of the Cape Fear River. Not much has changed in spite of the passing of almost 29 years. It's had a face lift here and there...haven't we all...but the biggest change is now they are touting free range chicken and Kona coffee. Oh, and there's a water taxi both downtown and in Wrightsville Beach. Live jazz, attractive boutiques and The Cotton Exchange is still there...see the 2nd floor courtyard in photo. When I left on 17 South I was gifted with a great view of the city and across from it the battleship USS North Carolina, permanently docked for the tourists' pleasure. But not this tourist...my eyes were on Charleston, one of the South's great cities. Boaters needn't have anyone explain the sign above, but then again the warning isn't for the boaters, it's ABOUT them. What it says, in plain English, is that no one has been able to stop boaters from emptying their black water tanks at the docks. Fish and other edible critters, notably shrimp, love to feed on it. If you then catch and eat those shrimp, Hep C is about the BEST you can hope to contract. Which reminds of a warning I once received from a friend....don't eat those gargantuan shrimp served on the Caribbean cruises...use your imagination....yikes! As I left North Carolina behind, I saw a sign outside Georgetown, SC that read: "Jake braking is Prohibited". What the heck is "jake braking"? Google knew. It means using the engine's compression to slow the vehicle. This has been banned because it results in a very loud chattering, or machine gun, sound. This delights the child in me...seeing things I haven't seen, learning things I never knew....very cool. Soon names and words you only see in South Carolina began appearing. "Francis Marion" aka "The Swamp Fox". He was a Brig General in the Revolutionary War who knew the marshlands like the back of his hand and used them to confound and defeat British soldiers on his turf. The Brits gave him the nickname as he usually struck at night and then disappeared into the misty swamps. "Gullah" traditions, culture, history, and cuisine. The Gullah language is a mixture of Elizabethan English and African languages. It was developed on the slave coasts in South Carolina and Georgia and is still spoken today. Want to know more? Go to www.knowitall.org/gullahnet. "Lowcountry". No, I didn't forget to separate the words. The people who inhabit the Lowcountry run the two words together. Lowcountry encompasses South Carolina's coastal counties and includes Charleston, Beaufort (BEW-fort), Hilton Head Island and the other Sea Islands. Shortly I spotted the twin sails of the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge which spans the Cooper River between Mt. Pleasant and Charleston. Opened in 2005, it is the longest cable-stayed bridge in the country. At the peak I glanced tenuously to my left at the city. Low lying except for the many church spires, it was covered in a gray haze and looked totally uninviting. Had I never seen Charleston before, I might have kept driving. Luckily I know it as one of the most carefully preserved of all Southern cities. Nicknamed "The Holy City" due to those spires, it was appropriately honored as the best mannered city in the US. I'll second that. People greet you on the streets, strike up conversations, offer assistance and look you in the eye. I exited on Meeting Street at the same time the students from the College of Charleston spilled out noisily on the narrow streets. Though the day was fairly cool, they skated, jogged and engaged in lively horseplay dressed in shorts. I crawled carefully toward the historic "Battery". This is a park and walk city. Ditch the car and get ready to savor a town not in decay, but kept vibrant and exciting by it's residents...most of whom view it with reverance. Can you say Rhett Butler? Charleston is not to be missed even if you have no interest in the Civil War. In Battery Park is a statue looking out over Charleston Harbor which reads: "Count them happy who for their faith and their courage endured a great fight". On April 12, 1861 the Civil War began with Charleston's Confederate artillery firing on Union-garrisoned Ft. Sumter which surrendered 34 hours later. You don't need much imagination to relive the glory days of the city. Many of the mansions built facing the harbor still remain in almost perfect condition. The style of architecture is peculiar to Charleston. Raised entry doors, broad and long porches angled to capture cooler breezes off the water. I noticed that many of the doorways are lit by gas lanterns, burning day and night. The photos don't begin to capture the spirit, energy and pride found in "The Holy City".

We Have Liftoff!

Under a cloudless blue sky I left Virginia Beach yesterday morning. As agreed, I just left....no goodbye's. Despite my eagerness to begin my adventure, I struggled with leaving Noel and Ava. One light touch of Noel's head, one more look at a sleeping grandaughter, and I was gone. I had a few more things to leave with Celine. We unloaded them into her home and went to breakfast at Panera. We were seated next to the front door and so were able to see all who entered after us battling a gusty wind. I was to fight that same high wind all day but it provided entertainment as well as a challenge to keep the van on the road. At the last minute I decided my route. Once upon a time if you wanted to drive south through some of the most picturesque and historical Southern towns, you automatically headed for Route 17. When Bob's partners forced the sale of WFOG in 1979, Bob endured a non-compete clause. We first took the boat down the Intracoastal for a few months, then came home to Virginia Beach where he was completely bored without running a radio station. A friend of his owned one in Wilmington, NC and offered him a consulting position. He took it and we lived in Wilmington and Wrightsville Beach for a year. In 1980 we were living in a beach home with an eighteen month old, Lucia, and our Samoyed, Chimo. The town was small enough to be compared favorably with "Mayberry, RFD". I remember walking into the post office to pick up the mail one day and being greated with "You got a letter from Canada today". Mind you, I had never had a word with this man so I was just a little thrown off. But the town was friendly and we enjoyed our time there. And so, I opted for the "Great Nostalgia Tour" and headed down Rte. 17 into North Carolina. I love North Carolina. It's a beautiful state, delivering beautiful beaches with high surf (and a dangerous undertow) and rolls west to the Great Smokey Mountains. It has everything. That brings me to my favorite definition of N.C.
"A vale of Humility between two mountains of Conceit". Although no one in South Carolina has ever offended me, you gotta love it!
It didn't take long to realize that my "Great Nostalgia Tour" was so long in coming that there's not alot to be nostalgic about! The two lane Route 17 so revered in my memory looks a lot like I-95 in several places. The road that once meandered through small towns has been replaced except in a few stretches. Crossing the Perquimans River (per-KIM-uns) I saw white caps; not often seen this far inland. Through the dormant peanut and soy fields there was another result of the ferocious wind....dust funnels. By the time I reached Edenton, I wanted a break. "Historic Edenton" sounded good. I headed for the harbour which the town has enhanced with a park for children and four legged children. The entrance salutes the Confederate Army. A bronze CSA soldier stares down at you. The wind almost blew me off my feet. A clean, playful wind. A warm day. Then I saw it! The civic league moved a decrepit and stunningly beautiful lighthouse to it's new home in the park where it remains on the trailer until funds are found to complete the project. Believe me, the photo doesn't capture the reverence you feel when seeing it for the first time. I drank it in and moved on. There are two field cannons standing sentry over the harbour. This town is representative of the conflicted loyalties found in many states...both Southern and Northern. The churches sent their bells to a foundry in Richmond VA...capital of the Confederacy...and had them recast as the cannons you see in the photo. They were used to protect the harbour from Northern intruders and their sympathizers. At the same time, Edenton had a strong Underground Railroad.
When I left, I stopped to read the inscription on the statue of the soldier:

"Our Confederate Dead

1861-1865

Gashed with Honorable Scars,
Low in Glory's Lap they Lie,
Though They Fell,
They fell like Stars,
Streaming Splendour through the Sky"

On to Bertie (burr-TEA) County where the road abruptly returned to the familiar two lanes of old, cut through stands of feathery pines. The speed limit here was 20 mph. What I found interesting is that when I left VA Beach, gas was $2.65. No where in coastal NC was it less than $2.90, topping out at about $3.09. With a lengthy detour resulting from a brush fire, I reached Wilmington at 730PM. What a surprise...it is unrecognizable on the outer fringes. Completely built up. I went to Harris Teeter for dinner and retired to Cracker Barrel for the evening. I had planned before dark and find somewhere less commercial to lay my head for the night. When I saw that I was in a city I no longer knew, I went for the familiar instead. This morning brought bright sunlight and the desire to see how much the beach had changed. I'm sitting there now, overlooking the Intracoastal after touring. The Blockade Runner, The Bridge Tender, Roberts Grocery...all still there. Our temporary home? 765 South Lumina is still there, surrounded by more grandiose houses but looking good. The Holiday Inn, former site of great Sunday buffets, was razed and a new Holiday Inn stands in it's place. Yes, I realize that Holiday Inn and great food is an oxymoron. Finally I parked the van and ate a breakfast of coffee, crusty boule and cheese. I glanced across the street and into floor to ceiling glass on the second floor of a home with a baby grand piano facing the Atlantic. The sun was clearing the horizon and I envisioned the pianist beating back the pain with a vigorous concerto and a view of Eternity.

The Road Beckons

As the day approaches, I awake with a sense of excitement. I find it more difficult to sleep. My mind wanders during the day. What will the day look like when I leave Virginia Beach for my journey? How far will I get the first day? Who will I meet and what will I see? I plan to eat fresh, small meals from grocery stores. Most now have soup stations and salad bars. Warm bread and soup....hmmm. There is, too, a sense of loss at leaving Noel and Ava. At the same time, a feeling of joy, knowing that Lucia, Malakai and Jocelyn are waiting for me. Virginia Beach is enjoying that week of beach weather in February that I talked about earlier. All the windows and doors are open and a warm breeze clears the stale air in the house. In with the new, out with the old. New beginnings. The constant circle of living. Sunday, February 10th. A new week, a new chapter.