Playing in the Panhandle

Our friend, Michel Laxson, with whom we paddled the Silver and Oklawaha Rivers earlier in the spring, has a waterfront home in Freeport where she likes to spend weekends during the summer. She invited us to participate in two river paddles that a local kayak club had organized for the upcoming weekend. So, Saturday we met her at her house, loaded the boats and headed for the put-in location at Vernon, on the Holmes River, about an hour’s drive to the northeast. The river was at flood stage and many areas of shoreline were completely submerged and were deep enough for us to paddle between the trees poking out of the murky, brown water like rebar in a concrete pillar. The high water also made navigation difficult as the banks that defined the river were gone. Fortunately the trip leader knew the way and we just relaxed into a steady stroke and enjoyed the ride on a gloriously warm, sunny day.

Solid ground would normally be visible at the base of these trees.

Note the “redneck canopy” mounted on the front of this vessel.

Jay and Chris were in separate kayaks and, as usual, Jay lagged behind a bit taking his time and looking for interesting critters. He struck gold when he spied a grayish-brown snake clinging to a tree just above the water. Unable to control himself he found a plastic bag in his kayak and stuffed the reptile inside. Chris just sighed and rolled her eyes figuring they would sort out the poor creature’s fate before leaving Florida. Michel contributed to the snake’s comfort by donating a large, plastic cat food container, with a secure lid, for a temporary home. Chris dug out an old, soft hand towel and bunched it up in the bottom for some warmth. Thus “Vern” may not be very happy but at least he was comfortable.

It’s a bit out of focus (Jay took the photo) but it is Vern on the tree before Jay “sacked” him.

Michel in the kayak and other members of our party.

Our second paddle with Michel was on the Econfina River on Tuesday, May 11^th. Each river we had been on was unique in its feature and the Econfina’s was high banks dripping with masses of lush, green fern, dotted with the white flower clusters of Oakleaf Hydranea. We paddled up narrow channels to several springs that fed crystalline water into the main river which had turned a muddy brown due to the sediment washed into it by the recent rain. There was a distinct line where the clear water of one large spring met the main flow. We eased down the river at a leisurely pace stopping at a little beach along the way for a snack and pretty much wasted the whole day having a wonderful time! How could our lives be any better? Oh, I know, we could win the lottery!

We paddled up one spring where the water was so crystalline you could see details in the roots of this cypress tree.

Notice the line where the brown water of the main spring meets the clear of another that feeds into it.

A view of this gorgeous river.

Michel resting near a bank of lush, fern.

As many of you know we are now Florida residents with a mailing address in a small, panhandle town named Crestview. As luck would have it Crestview is less than 20 miles from Niceville. We just had to pay our mailing service a visit to meet the people that take such good care of our mail. The operation is housed in a 20’ x 20’ room in one section of a small, one-story office building; the wall coverings consisting of a couple hundred dark gray, square cubbies for the client’s mail. We were warmly received by the two person staff and we can now honestly say that we’re from Crestview.

The water tower in our “home” town.

One of Chris’ passions is gardening and she brought along potted herbs to use in her cooking. In North Carolina she bought two pots of salad greens which we consumed in a short time so, she planted lettuce and spinach seeds to replenish the supply. They were decimated by pests, including a peacock in Miami and squirrels at every park where we stayed, who seemed to prefer digging in her pots to the expansive, surrounding acreage. Her imagination worked overtime creating solutions to the problem. Crunching up aluminum foil and placing it around the established herb plants seemed to work but she couldn’t use it over newly planted seeds as it would block the sunlight. She tried a variety of other deterrents to no avail. The day before we left Niceville she decided to try one last solution before giving up on the project entirely. After planting new seeds she stuck plastic forks all around the pot rims with the tines pointing outward. She then arranged the pots on the picnic table at the campsite, so that the squirrels would have difficulty accessing them. The next morning all was intact so there was hope we would be enjoying home grown salad greens in the near future.

Jay had been pondering Vern’s fate for almost a week; should he keep him or not? There were pros and cons to the decision. Jay’s pros were he’d most likely live a longer life in captivity since Jay would feed him regularly, and he wouldn’t be in danger of becoming a meal for a hungry hawk! The cons were he would be removed from the freedom of his natural habitat and contained in a terrarium. The RV has very little space to accommodate even a small terrarium. How often would we be near a pet store to obtain mice for his food, and finally, we were headed to the colder regions of the country and, if Jay did have to release him for some reason, he probably could not survive in an environment other than that found in Florida. The day we left Florida, Jay decided to release Vern, much to Chris’ relief. She assured him that when they settled in back at home he could get a pet snake if he so desired.

Five months after entering the state of Florida we departed for points north on Thursday, May 13^th. We had decided to head to St. Paul, MN where Chris’ grandfather lived in his youth and spend two weeks investigating items of her family’s that reside in the Minnesota Historical Society. We were not looking forward to the four day journey on interstates since we’d so much enjoyed meandering along the back roads of Florida. But, our long-term plans to spend the summer exploring the Upper Peninsula of Michigan warranted us getting north as soon as possible.

Jewels of the Emerald Coast

Friends are like jewels that bedeck our lives with sparkling conversation, glistening moments of happiness and enduring love. Much to our joy they are sprinkled about the country and we love to stop and visit, share a meal, exchange hugs and pass on new stories strewn with laughter.

We had not seen Evette Tanguay since the Pterodactyl Roost in Miami in 2001. She now lives in a nice home on a small lake in Panama City where we passed an afternoon with her and Jay reminiscing about their times in Puerto Rico, Mobile and Washington, D.C. when her husband, Joe, was Jay’s boss.

A friend of hers is on a vegan diet. When Evette learned that Chris was as well, she immediately called her friend. She and Chris shared the benefits of their vegan diet experiences and hoped that a similar commitment on Evette’s part would ease her arthritis pain.

The following day we again headed to Panama City for a visit with Chan Lipscom who had chartered Jay’s sailboat many years ago. Lana Williamson, his wife, is a photographer and he buys fixer-upper houses, renovates then sells them. One he bought last year, in a business district, was a perfect location for Lana’s photography studio. Months of renovation later, half of it houses a reception area and two separate portrait studios and the other half a hair salon. The idea is that portrait customers would get their hair and makeup done there prior to their photo session. During our tour he related the trials of the project but it all turned out so beautifully, who would know!

This is the building they renovated for Lana’s studio.

Lana joined us for lunch at a nearby waterfront restaurant where Jay got his meat fix for the week. Then Chan took us to another home he was renovating that was just about ready to put on the market. He said it was in pretty good shape when he bought it (read he didn’t have to empty the contents into a dumpster) so, painting, refinishing floors and upgrading the bathroom and kitchen was all that was needed. All in all, our visit with them was an interesting and enjoyable experience.

Jay, Chris, Lana and Chan in front of the studio.

Late in the afternoon, we said our goodbyes and headed to Grayton Beach and a rendezvous with Karen (pronounced car-en) Kolenberg, a friend of Chris’ from Maryland who moved to Freeport a few years ago. She and her boyfriend, Duane, were at an art festival kick-off party and had invited us along. We found them at an outdoor café listening to two musicians who took turns playing their own compositions; the man, a Cal Ripkin look-alike, played humorous country songs on guitar, and the woman, sad and soulful songs on an electric keyboard. At dusk we drove a short distance to the silky, white quartz sandy beach of the Emerald Coast to enjoy the soft breezes and sunset. Due to the recent heavy rains a dune pond had broken through the sand and a channel of brown water co-mingled with that of the clear, blue-green ocean. Workers were busy stretching an orange, floating oil barrier across the newly created channel to protect the pond from the impending Deepwater Horizon oil slick creeping toward the coast. Two heron waded through the shallow water, waiting patiently for their evening meal to blunder within striking distance, their silhouettes dark against the orange sky. Although we are boat people and not necessarily beach lovers, we understand why so many people are attracted to this area during their retirement years. It truly is a paradise.

Duane and Karen on the beach.

Sunday was Mother’s Day and Karen and Duane had invited us for brunch and a day at the Art Quest Festival in Seaside, a planned beach community of quaint, early 1900 Floridian style homes and condos painted in soft shades of yellow, blue, green and white. It was the 23^rd year of the festival and it attracted nationally accomplished artisans of all types from pottery to bronze sculpture to paintings in all mediums. Chris was inspired by the technique of capturing beach scenes by an exhibiting photographer. It was a subject matter that she had not been drawn to previously but now has some fresh ideas to try out.

Chris standing next to a painting she liked.

It became a six foot tall, 3-dimensional work of art because of the amount of paint the artist used.

We returned to Karen’s home and hopped on Duane’s jet boat for a cruise up the nearby river to a waterfront biker bar that hosts live music on Sunday afternoons. We arrived too late for the entertainment but enjoyed a nice boat ride on a gloriously beautiful day.

The Pterodactyl Returns to His Nest

The Panhandle of Florida is longer than you might think. We had friends in Panama City and Freeport and Jay wanted Chris to see the Naval Museum in Pensacola, where he completed his flight training in the 60s. We decided to stay in a location central to it all; the Fred Gannon Rocky Bayou State Park in Niceville, a little west of Freeport. As it turns out we should have stayed further east as most of our day trips were to Freeport and Panama City. A valuable lesson was learned about spending less money to stay at a State Park but a lot more on gas and time to travel to our daily destinations.

The clouds threatened rain our entire drive from Tallahassee. Within seconds of checking in at the State Park office, and driving to our site, Zeus roared and the heavens opened. We pulled to the side of the road in front of our site and waited for it to stop … and waited … and waited … a full 45 minutes with no decrease in intensity. We decided we had no choice but to grin and bear it and at least get backed into the site and bump out the slides. Hookups could be done later. So, Chris dug out her red boots, donned her rain jacket and gripping an umbrella in one hand and walkie-talkie in the other, talked Jay into the site. Dodging the drops he completed the hookups and in no time we were fully functional and snug inside. Had we waited until the rain stopped, or even subsided, we would still have been sitting by the road the next morning. The storm we experienced was part of the system that caused massive flooding in Nashville, TN.

Our first stop the next day was Cort Furniture in Pensacola. Chris had called ahead and confirmed that they had a desk chair that would meet her needs and she practically bounded into the store in anticipation. After fifteen minutes of testing several chairs, debating about the size of the seats and if we could remove the arms on our favorite, we walked out with our slightly used, in perfect condition, for about 40% of new price, chair.

One would think that an 8’ bed of a pickup truck would hold a measly little ol’ chair, but no. It wasn’t the depth or width that was a problem, but the height. The bed of the truck has a heavy vinyl cover that keeps the contents secure from inclement weather and curious eyeballs and fingers. If we laid the chair on its back or side, the seat was too tall. Upright was definitely out of the question and even when we disconnected the back, the leg and seat portion was still too tall. The only solution that worked was to remove the seat back and wedge both pieces into the cab space behind the front seats. Whew!!

The Naval Air Museum is truly an amazing experience. It must house close to 200 aircraft, from four A-4 Skyhawk, Blue Angel jets suspended from the ceiling; to planes flown in France in WWI; to Coast Guard helicopters; and that is just what is under its roof. A trolley ride took us to the back lot where an additional 80+ planes were displayed, all neatly lined up in rows. Our driver/guide was a 70 something year old retired Navy pilot who explained what the planes were and their significance. We saw a radar plane which is used to fly into the eye of a hurricane. They are named for the first hurricane they fly into; in this case, Bertha. Nearby was the jet in which George W. Bush flew to the aircraft carrier Abraham Lincoln during the Gulf War, and lots more. A nearby hanger housed more aircraft in various stages of restoration.

Four of these jets are suspended from the ceiling of an atrium area in the museum.

This jet is now known as Navy 1.

An H-19 helicopter the predecessor of the H-52 that Jay flew during his time in the CG.

At the end of our tour our guide told us to get the cookies at the museum restaurant. We did and they were fabulous. The restaurant was a museum within a museum. Every flat surface, except the tables and floors, were covered with plaques of the many air/sea missions that left from the Subic Bay Naval Air Station on Cubic Point in the Philippine Islands and originally hung in the Cubi Point Officers Club. Each was completely unique ranging from flat wooded plaques with the mission logo and list of crew names to a 3-dimentional carving of a boxing glove holding a bolt of lightning.

The boxing glove along with dozens of other plaques.

Despite her many years of boating, Chris has always had a problem with motion sickness. The museum had two simulator rides totaling about ten minutes of “flying time”. Ten minutes? No sweat. Halfway through the second ride she had to close her eyes and the feeling gripping her stomach persisted through dinner until bedtime. Oh yeah! That’s why she doesn’t do carnival rides either! (Old Iron Gut Jay wanted to go again.)

On our way back home we wanted to pick up a few grocery items and pulled into the Hurlburt Air Force Base to find a commissary. The store was closed but just inside the front gate was a garden of immaculately restored planes. Of course Jay could not leave without a thorough inspection. Even Chris marveled at the design and obvious power of some of them.

An AC-130 Spectre Gunship

I’d hate to be on the receiving end of this guy.

Notice how the engines are about as big as the fuselage on this plane. It has to scream.

Tarrying at Tallahassee

Our drive from Okefenokee Swamp was scenic and comfortable as we once again chose to travel on a secondary highway, Route 6, which paralleled Interstate Highway 10. Ever since our stay at Ichetucknee Springs we’d wondered about the reason for the hundreds of acres of pine trees, planted in evenly spaced rows, which lined the roads, and the number of trucks, laden with freshly cut logs, that we passed on our day trips. A Ranger at Okefenokee solved the mystery by telling us that the land is owned by Weyerhauser. We surmised there must be a huge paper mill in the area and gave thanks that we never camped downwind of it. Route 6 cut through mile after mile of pine in all stages of growth. Black and brown patches, evidence of controlled burns, severed long sections of green.

We could hardly pass through Florida’s panhandle, on our way toward, Pensacola without stopping for a visit with Jay’s daughter, Lori; so we stopped there on Friday, April 30^th. Tallahassee was the first fairly large city we had experienced in more than a month and Chris, with Jay’s help, spent all day Saturday shopping for new shoes, jewelry, and a waterproof bag to hold our valuables while boating.

Over the previous few months we were spoiled by the sparsely populated campgrounds surrounded by trees and hiking trails and the clean, well-maintained facilities found in the state parks where we stayed. In comparison, the campground in Tallahassee was the complete opposite. We were assigned a pull-through site no more than 20’ wide (with our three slides extended we boast a 14’ wide beam) which faced a row of what one would commonly call trailer trash. At least six rusty, oxidized RVs of 60s vintage, complete with neglected inoperable junk cars, some in makeshift “garages” whose roofs had been absent for some time, was our view. We had the privilege of this vista all for three times more than what we had paid at the State Parks. We counted our blessings that our stay was only three nights.

When Chris makes an apparel purchase she and the item bond for life: Not her life, but the life of the item. Chris had lost one of her favorite gold, hoop earrings while walking around a campground one day. She and Jay retraced their steps and found it but not before a car tire had flattened, mangled and twisted it beyond use. A replacement pair was absolutely essential to her wardrobe!! Her collection of shoes was in dire need of updating and she was delighted to find exactly what she sought and all on SALE!!

Long hours at the computer had finally taken their toll on the seat cushion of Chris’ desk chair. It no longer kept even her light weight from bottoming out on the hard, metal base, her only relief a small, fluffy pillow. Saturday’s search of local office supply stores for an armless, good quality chair proved fruitless. But Chris lit up when she searched for stores on the internet and discovered a Cort Furniture store in Pensacola, our next destination. Her butt felt better already knowing it had only to endure the pain for four more days.

Lori and Sue had arranged to meet us for dinner Saturday night at a Mori Japanese Steakhouse. They had never had to make reservations before and did not this particular evening being unaware of the restaurant’s popularity due to the graduation day of a local college. The place was mobbed with the town’s cap bedecked youths and their families. All things happen for a reason and as it turned out we spent more time visiting together than we would have had there been no wait. We sipped drinks for an hour and a half at the bar catching up on events of the last year and getting to know their friends, Gary and Sandy.

The meal was worth the wait. With much fanfare and fire our chef prepared our dishes on a grill surrounded by a U-shaped table around which we sat. He cooked the food for all of us at the same time; first the vegetables, then the rice were sautéed in a mound of butter the size of a baseball and drenched with a special sauce. Then our individual meat/seafood was cooked to tender, succulent, mouthwatering perfection. Jay remarked that it was most likely the best meal he’d ever had.

Our dinner party; L-R, Lori, Sue, Sandy and Gary

Since the credit card needed to recover from the previous day’s meltdown, we spent all day Sunday catching up on the blog postings and other computer work then departed for our next campground in Niceville on Monday morning.