Oscar Gamble State Park

At Oscar Scherer State Park, just south of Sarasota. Oscar Scherer was the father of one Elsa Burrows,who donated the land for the park. I was forced to look up this fact to alleviate my confusion of this site with the nearby Gamble Plantation Historic Site. Somehow I managed to mind meld the 2 and ended up referring to this place as Oscar Gamble State Park. (Oscar Gamble,according to my brother who was looking a bit askance at me, was a major league outfielder who sported a particularly large afro.) Oh well, the brain fails in mysterious ways--talk about a SWAMP.
     As a campground this place is very beautiful, but its recreational draws leave me a tad leery: a "creek"(think:someone's flushing the hydrants,but damn the crappie fishing might be good) leading to a "lake",which actually has a sign that reads ALLIGATORS:SWIM WITH CAUTION. And yet people were letting their babies frolic in this thing!
     Spent the morning,as yesterday afternoon, at the dog beach in Venice,just south of here. I never thought I'd say it, but there were TOO MANY DOGS. Then explored Siesta Key,and found a great fish taco place tucked away at a little marina on the intracoastal.
     Got to this side of Florida by taking Rt.70,a 2 lane road that leads almost directly from Stuart on the East coast to here.It featured 3 curves (including a dastardly 10 degree job) and 1 hill (elevation 50 feet). Otherwise it was 200 miles of cattle ranches,thoroughbred places and sod farms. Due to a 3 way battle between Mapquest, the GPS,and common sense,we also got to see the interior towns of Indiantown (um...ugh?) and Okeechobie (double ugh). Tomorrow it's up to our favorite campground from last year in St. Pete,Fort DeSoto, via Longboat Key. Then around the 3rd or 4th we'll try to figure out how to angle Northeast back up to 95,avoiding all things Orlando.

Bar People

Spent a weekend doing hotel respite at the Pirate Cove Resort and Marina in Stuart. Nice balcony room overlooking the pool,with a little fridge that  chilled my Boddington's Pub Ale to a level of coldness that would have set the Brit's tongues clucking.And a shower that I could walk to naked! This is a small hotel/bar/restaurant that also rents dock space to people living on their boats. Naturally these guys (and their invariably younger wives) spend a good deal of their time in the bar,where Gordon quickly became a regular.
 Very conversational these folks. One woman demonstrated doggy massage; one guy was a failed tennis pro.(" I was ranked 200th in the world after high school") Another guy looked like he just came in from the Hi Hat in Providence, and waxed nostalgic about figure 8 racing at Riverside Park.
     The best one was the guy who gave us his card advertising his business of scattering remains (pets too!) at sea from his private plane,complete with a video and a flyover of the watering hole of your choice.
     We actually broke the rule and talked a little politics with these people. Surprise! They all want Obama care.

Jonathan Dickinson State Park: Sounds and Smells

Spent 4 nights here after fleeing Sebastian Inlet. The early exit up there was due solely to the utter dog unfriendliness of both Volusia and Indian Counties. (Oddly,some beach regs are by county,and some by individual towns.) Ironically though,were we not traveling with an exercise hound,the beaches of Melbourne Beach are the best of Florida. Fantastic surf,great sand,very wild---all set in a 10 mile stretch of preserve. Not sure about the accommodations for the non-camping set though: somewhere in the 3 hr. 95 stretch we did from St. Augustine south,the deal changed from nice towns with funky beach areas (typically an A1A strip, with hundreds of one block long streets leading East to the beach,with cottages and the occasional "Beachcomber" establishment) to "all waterfront not officially in a preserve is private and taken up with mansions---and did we mention it's private?"
 
 At any rate, there were some odd goings on at Johnathan Dickinson: a 1/2 hearted drum circle, a flutist who kept at the same 4 bars of the 1812 Overture-(the Quaker Puffed shot-from-guns part); a clearly ADHD kid whose parents let him bring that damn plastic recorder he got in music class camping.
      And then some people pulled in whose camper smelled like an incipient electrical fire,and who then proceeded to grill up something that smelled like a couple of cans of 9 Lives.

Now I know why that thing Mark and Chester installed is called "The Fantastic Fan"---goodbye rubber cat food casserole, and it's a white noise machine too!

Catsup

Here in Fort DeSoto, which does not disappoint.Managed to get a super primo site on the water, which seems to be experiencing a constant fish Jubilee.(Look that up) Overheard from the site next door: (repeated 3 times)  "Did Ah leave mah clevah heah?"

 What follows is one of those multiple posting things,beginning when last we talked.

Fish Pier

Well a writer needs to consider her audience, and I can't think of a single one of you Sues,Susans,Suzannes, or Suzies who might be into this,but maybe Harold will relate. Gnatsville,AKA Sebastian Inslet SP was described as a fisherman's paradise. So I left Mark and Gordon to deal with the no see ums (sadly,lacking the necessary materials  we found useful for the strategies we developed camping in Venezuela: a) slather your body in Hawaiian Tropic,so as to drown then; down a bottle of  over the counter available Codeine cough syrup as a nightcap and go to sleep in your now greasy tent. Or b) sleep with your body submerged in the Caribbean,with only your towel wrapped head on the sand) and went off to the big pier that extends into the Atlantic. I had expected to be joining older retirees,enjoying a cigar and the salt breezes,or a father-son duo on a Sunday outing. Whoa! What I entered was a United Nations maelstrom of SERIOUS professionals. Asians,Haitians,Cubans, even what seemed to be a gang-type operation of bait selling,position jockeying,and fish mongering. These guys were reeling in giants: redfish,black drum,sharks,doormat sized flounder.Hooks were flying,with 1/2 lb weights attached . They all had these carts with about 4 rods with various set ups,ice,bait coolers and other accoutrements.Kind of like wheeling your own Sabrette's hot dog cart out there.To the right,in the actual inlet where the surf crashing in from the ocean met the outflow from the river the boat guys were swirling around in circles, working various "holes". It looked like someone had flushed,and all were inevitably going down. So I retreated to the kiddie area more appropriate for my light tackle and level of inexpertise. Except for the kids cast netting for finger mullet to bring out to their bosses out on the big pier,this was a lot calmer. The guy next to me caught 2 fish which he proceeded to beat the hell out of on the concrete. From what I could fathom from his accent,they were something called Southern Star Gazers...so named for the eyes on top of their heads,and possessing the capability to deliver some sort of serious electric jolt if you touched them. Think I'll stick with the no see ums.

Jupiter Home of Burt Reynolds

Presently camping in Hobe Sound which is 9 minutes from Jupiter Beach.  The temp is 80 degrees and sunny.  The water is beautiful and very warm.  The dog policy is all pets must be under voice command so no leash problems there.  On our way back from the beach we found Jupiter Island which must be Newport South..  miles and miles of gigantic estates. (lots of golf carts no travel trailers)  We bet Burt must live there or maybe Lonnie got it in the divorce.  Last night Lucy had her birthday dinner of sword fish (the other white meat) at a restaurant in Stuart with her brother David and his wife Ann. Lucy appreciates all the FB b-day shout-outs.   Do the kids hyphenate shout out  these days or are the people who use that term already in their 30's?

Mark

Hey Steve I know you were once the prez of the Burt and Lonnie fan club.  Houz 'bout an update on his hair piece and her reduction surgery.  Jeez her back must really hurt by now.

Larry finds Big Pussy

More clothing (mercifully) than what I saw,but otherwise right on. 

 Didn't do to much today except take Gordon to a vet after a loose pit bull charged up the beach and grabbed on to his ear.  We both had to beat on this dog to let go of him. The good news is he only needed four stitches and the damn thing didn't turn on us.  The dog finally let go when his owner got there.  Oh well a $200 vet bill is minor compared what that beast could have done.  On to the gnats tomorrow.  

Itinerary

Thought about going inland to Ocala National Forest. Ocala has been described as an area of gently rolling hills, green grassy fields with miles of white board fencing; home to more than 225 horse farms. Sort of like Kentucky in Florida.But when I clicked on images of the 13 campgrounds in this huge park,they all seemed very,well,SWAMPY. And 1 of the 3 that offered flush toilets and hot showers took extra pains to describe the Alligator dangers for campers w/dogs. So we are staying coastal,moving on Sat. to a park called Sebastian Inlet that is,I dunno,on some water. Of course this one warns of gnats. Anyway,4 days there,then 2 days at one in Hobe Sound that is both near Jupiter,home of the dog friendliest beaches in the state, and near my brother in Stuart,where we are looking forward to a Thanksgiving Prime Rib fest complete with Patriots football.Then 2 days at a hotel which we fondly call Puke Manor,thanks to a little incident last year w/Gordon. We're the kind of repeat business they're looking for!

 Today we had a nice day checking out old St. Augustine. There is a ton of history here,but they sell it to to masses with Ghost Tours,pirate stuff and trolley tours.There's a nice Spanish Quarter,with stores and eateries occupying the old buildings. We sat out in a courtyard w/ Gordon and had a Cuban sandwich and a few beers. The big attraction though,is the Ripley Believe it or Not Museum. Oddly enough, this is the kind of place I would probably like were I not traveling with a dog...kind of like going to the Spy Museum in DC. Think of the blog fodder!

Finally, The Sopranos lied! Big Pussy Bonpensiero was not wacked. In fact I am absolutely positive that I have discovered him here in witness protection,splayed out on and around a beach chair. No pic,since I didn't want to disappear myself, but hey Larry,how about a little illustration for our readers?

 Tomorrow we might rent Segways and make funny looking crop circles on the beach.

Lesson of the Day

Never take a restaurant recommendation from that lady you met on the beach unless you're sure she's on the spring side of 80,or can otherwise determine the percentage of soft food in her diet. Let's just say O'STEEN'S was not all that.

Walmart and the Cupcake Cabinet

Yesterday we went to Walmart (I know,it's a siren song) to pick up a few things: a long handled broom to sweep away this impossibly fine chalk-like sand,batteries,a bottle of red wine for dinner, and a couple of hand towels. The towels were needed to avoid using the airdryers in the bathroom. These things are beyond TURBO. They blow the extra skin on the back of your hands all the way up to your armpits. But it is the sound that is truly offensive. You need airport runway caliber ear protection.
     Anyway,when we returned, Mark was perusing the receipt, and suddenly exclaimed "Hey,we got charged 10 bucks for a cupcake cabinet! Did you buy a cupcake cabinet??"
 (I must explain here that our daughter Alex owns and is storing just such an item in our basement.)
But no,no Mark, I did not buy a cupcake cabinet. And THAT,Mr NCCN,is comedy.

By the way, despite its availability at Walmart,the Cupcake Vineyards Cabernet is emminitelyswillable.

What's an Armadillo?

One thing I did not get a photo of further north,since they come out at night was the Armadillos that scuttled about. (Well,there was that road kill one...) When we arrived here at Anastasia I had quite the conversation with my North Carolinan Campground Neighbor.
 
 Me: We saw lots of Armadillos.
 NCCN: What's an Armadillo?
 Me: Well it looks like a possum with armor.
NCCN: (patiently) This is a JOKE. An armadillo is a possum on the half shell! (knee slap)
Me: Oh.

Guess I need a comedy appreciation course.

Whilst the Wi-Fi Flys

Ok,flush from my recent success in posting a picture, (OK,I confess,Mark did it.But now I'm flying solo ) here's a few things from up at Fort Clinch. Sunset.Our tepee. A shot taken in that cool "this is Florida?" downtown and some guys trailer hitch.

 About that last one: Anyone who tows anything needs something to cover the hitch ball,or risks ruination of every pair of pants they own with a big greasy smear just at knee level. And I'm not talking some little salad dressing spot here. Obviously the opportunity for personalization here is great,but alas,I haven't yet found the one that just screams "ME".

Whatchamacallit

Today I will learn how to post a photo on this thing. It's never as easy as described on the tutorial.
There! Now we have a logo,a profile picture,an avatar,a WHATCHAMACALLIT!
 Of course I will never get this thing to come up automatically for every post.I could bone up and attempt to learn,but Hey,I've got SCRABBLE turns to take and football picks to make. So study it,memorize it and conjure it up for me in the future,OK?

 So now I'm going to proceed to make a bunch of short quasi related posts,in order to minimize the potential for sudden total vaporization. Steve,you can read them all in a lump.

By the way

Gordon tends to be a real conversation starter. So far,I haven't talked to a soul that I wouldn't describe as anything other than really nice. Of course,we're not talking politics or anything of great import here. But either I'm losing my edge,or there really is something to this southern hospitality thing.
 And finally,commenters are encouraged to talk amongst themselves.

Fort Clinch to Anastasia

Spent 2 nights at Fort Clinch State Park,which is on the border of Georgia and Florida,on Amelia Island,just South of Cumberland Island. In fact you can take a ferry from Historic Downtown Ferdanina Beach to Cumberland Island in case you want to see where John John and Carolyn tied the knot.

 The campgrounds themselves are pretty nice, including bathrooms that are way nicer than my bathroom at home: recessed lighting,gleaming subway tile,nice and warm. Of course,my bathroom at home doesn't have 3 blondes with southern accents applying makeup at the mirror. ..OR DOES IT???
 Apparently,there is a Fort there as well as a lighthouse. We didn't investigate,since I find Civil War Wonks to be really annoying, and Mark reacts to Lighthouses the way some people react to clowns.

But the area itself is one of those great not what you think of when you think of Florida places. A great beach, a really nice little downtown.We went to a Saloon there to watch the Pats on Sunday Night. They had a live band which I actually liked. Yikes.

Today we moved on to Anastasia St. Park in St Augustine. This is probably the nicest State Park ever.  Great surf sounds from your bed. Tomorrow we're going driving on the beach,and checking out Old St. Augustine.

Getting There

Band at the Wedding

www.youtube.com

Band shows up for Wedding Gig

 

This thing is very amusing. But I post it here because it uses the same voice as our GPS. Today we auditioned "Jack",but were forced to fire him due to his inability to pronounce certain crucial words like "Left" and "Right". So we reverted to the somewhat strident "Samantha" who guided our retreat from the cold and windy coast back to 95.  Many signs of the South: Cotton fields,peanut places and Baptist churches. The cotton fields made me remember elementary school music class,learning all the not- so -subtlely-racist songs of Stephen Foster.

 Once on 95 we of course had to stop at JR's. For those that haven't made the drive, it is THE place to stock up on your porcelein dolls,goobers and NASCAR wear. And of course, the-product-that-shall-not-be-mentioned. (Cough,Wheeze.)

   

 Considered camping tonight, as the daytime temps are 70ish, but are pretty much in getting there mode,and didn't want to detour off the highway to the State Park. And there was no way in hell we were camping with Pedro at South of The Border.

Side Trip

Beach snobs such as ourselves,our love/hate relationship with the Cape Cod National Seashore notwithstanding, should never go to places like Rehoboth Beach DE, Ocean City Maryland or Myrtle Beach South Carolina. But the good result of the excursion was our disabusing ourselves of the fanciful notion that we could CAMP! TONIGHT! At Delaware Shore St. Park. After all,it got down to 27 degrees last winter in Florida. But no, we came to our senses,and are currently ensconced in our FREE (thanks to the many nights last year) Red Roof Superior King. And having tried today means we won't try the Outer Banks route tomorrow. (Wussies)

OK,must go watch Grey's Ridiculous Anatomy...(it's only fair to confess now that I've exposed Mark as a Swamploggers fan)

Lesson of the day:  Always have thy camera handy. Today we sped right past a chicken place called The Big Pecker.

Driving day,with a side trip

I live about about 3 miles from the infamous New Jersey "Great Swamp'. Only NJ would have an actual swamp that they would officially call Great!---Larry Ross

Well we did pass it up in favor of actually getting on the road. And then,not an hour into the trip,also chose to ride right on by Pigeon Swamp State Park. Its proximity to Trenton was tantalizing!

Sue T.:You suggested we name our blog "8 Wheels South". But our trailer has only 2 wheels.And a good thing that is,otherwise the raping for pulling a trailer off the Jersey Turnpike and over that bridge into Delaware would have been way worse than the $29.00 fee today.

Onward we went, resisting a stop in Milford DE, the home of the breeder of our late great Wendell...("How does such a nice dog smell so bad ??"---Gordon D.Murphy). But we HAD to see Rehobeth Beach and points South

Takeoff

Finishing up some chores tomorrow and heading to Madison NJ,our traditional jumping off point,courtesy of the ever welcoming Larry Ross. That is one mean driveway however. (Family members,picture Harold swerving the white Caddy out of there...) Then plan to progress south down through Delaware and the Eastern Shore of Maryland through the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel to Norfolk Virginia.