Road Trip 3
continued from below
When you stand on the Keys, you appreciate the fragility of nature, and the vulnerability of the world we know. The land is so low, and if you turn left or right, you see open water. Any rise in sea level would be devastating.
But if you understand the land there, you know you're standing on the fossil of a dead coral reef. Only 20,000 or so years ago, this was a thriving undersa oasis. Then the sea level fell as the climate cooled and the ice advanced, and the delicate ecosystem died a terrible death. Everything in the middle Keys, from the restaurant parking lot gravel to the 1935 Hurricane memorial in Islamodora, is built from the rubble of an ecological catastrophe.
The earth is delicate. Nature is cruel. Man is part of nature. Man is not the only destructive force on the planet.
Farewell to the Keys until next time. We managed to eat at my two favorite "locals" spots: Herbie's and the Hungry Tarpon.
We broke up the long ride home by spending a couple of days in and around Savannah, another place I count among my favorite bits of turf on the planet. We got off 95 midway up the Georgia coast, and explored the sea island salt marshes and found adventures.
This is Fort King George, a fully reconstructed early 18th century British outpost meant to establish royal authority in the region, which was then a "Debatable Land" between Britain and Spain.
We didn't plan this stop. We just saw the sign. It ended up being a beautiful visit.
Well, it was a sort of honeymoon, after all.
We hiked around the trails through the woods and swamps around the fort, and we discovered this tree. It's one of the unforgettable companions of our vacation. You can't really tell from this picture, but this is all one tree.
For dinner we blundered down Route 17 and found the little fishing town of Shellman's Bluff. There we parked on the bluff over the river and walked in to Hunter's Cafe. We ate a delicious dinner cooked from what had been brought in by the ships sitting in front of us.
It was the kind of old wooden place that made me think of the opening of a Faulkner novel, of some sweet young girl coming out into the hot night with a Coke in her hand, letting the screen door slam behind her, and gazing up through the Spanish moss at the stars.
As sleepy as the place was the day we were there, the owner came out and told us how, just a few days before, it had been overflowing with people, 10,000 of them, perhaps, for the annual St. Patrick's Day festivities. Who knew?
Southern folks: What are "well drinks?" We saw them listed on the menus of all the local places.
Our first morning in Savannah itself was rainy, so we camped out in this coffee shop and waited for it to end. It did.
Every few blocks there's a little park square, offset to the main streets, so they break up the sight lines and tame the traffic. No two are alike; not only are they surrounded by different landmarks, they feature different plantings and statuary.
Amy admires the city.
This is such a sane city; why doesn't everyone live like this? With the possible exception of the central parts of Paris, it's the most human city I've ever been in.
The old city cemetery is full of fascinating stories. Since it operated within a couple of generations of the founding of the city, many of the graves are of people born elsewhere. What surprised me was the numberof them who were born in New England.
The city was founded on bluffs above the Savannah river. Which means the old riverfront wharf is down a flight of steps from the bulk of the old town.
An old man from the sea islands was weaving, and selling, sweetgrass baskets. You used to be able to buy these very cheap, but now I'm glad to see the makers have caught on to how much these things sell for in crafts shops up north and are charging market prices for their work. This fellow explained to us the history of the craft in spiritual terms. When you work 30 hours to make something out of nothing, something more than sweetgrass gets built into it.
We stayed at Gaston Gallery: friendly, affordable, beautiful, and highly recommended.
There's more of our trip pictures, including Luke's artistic shots and bigger versions of some of these pics, in this album.
When you stand on the Keys, you appreciate the fragility of nature, and the vulnerability of the world we know. The land is so low, and if you turn left or right, you see open water. Any rise in sea level would be devastating.
But if you understand the land there, you know you're standing on the fossil of a dead coral reef. Only 20,000 or so years ago, this was a thriving undersa oasis. Then the sea level fell as the climate cooled and the ice advanced, and the delicate ecosystem died a terrible death. Everything in the middle Keys, from the restaurant parking lot gravel to the 1935 Hurricane memorial in Islamodora, is built from the rubble of an ecological catastrophe.
The earth is delicate. Nature is cruel. Man is part of nature. Man is not the only destructive force on the planet.
Farewell to the Keys until next time. We managed to eat at my two favorite "locals" spots: Herbie's and the Hungry Tarpon.
We broke up the long ride home by spending a couple of days in and around Savannah, another place I count among my favorite bits of turf on the planet. We got off 95 midway up the Georgia coast, and explored the sea island salt marshes and found adventures.
This is Fort King George, a fully reconstructed early 18th century British outpost meant to establish royal authority in the region, which was then a "Debatable Land" between Britain and Spain.
We didn't plan this stop. We just saw the sign. It ended up being a beautiful visit.
Well, it was a sort of honeymoon, after all.
We hiked around the trails through the woods and swamps around the fort, and we discovered this tree. It's one of the unforgettable companions of our vacation. You can't really tell from this picture, but this is all one tree.
For dinner we blundered down Route 17 and found the little fishing town of Shellman's Bluff. There we parked on the bluff over the river and walked in to Hunter's Cafe. We ate a delicious dinner cooked from what had been brought in by the ships sitting in front of us.
It was the kind of old wooden place that made me think of the opening of a Faulkner novel, of some sweet young girl coming out into the hot night with a Coke in her hand, letting the screen door slam behind her, and gazing up through the Spanish moss at the stars.
As sleepy as the place was the day we were there, the owner came out and told us how, just a few days before, it had been overflowing with people, 10,000 of them, perhaps, for the annual St. Patrick's Day festivities. Who knew?
Southern folks: What are "well drinks?" We saw them listed on the menus of all the local places.
Our first morning in Savannah itself was rainy, so we camped out in this coffee shop and waited for it to end. It did.
Every few blocks there's a little park square, offset to the main streets, so they break up the sight lines and tame the traffic. No two are alike; not only are they surrounded by different landmarks, they feature different plantings and statuary.
Amy admires the city.
This is such a sane city; why doesn't everyone live like this? With the possible exception of the central parts of Paris, it's the most human city I've ever been in.
The old city cemetery is full of fascinating stories. Since it operated within a couple of generations of the founding of the city, many of the graves are of people born elsewhere. What surprised me was the numberof them who were born in New England.
The city was founded on bluffs above the Savannah river. Which means the old riverfront wharf is down a flight of steps from the bulk of the old town.
An old man from the sea islands was weaving, and selling, sweetgrass baskets. You used to be able to buy these very cheap, but now I'm glad to see the makers have caught on to how much these things sell for in crafts shops up north and are charging market prices for their work. This fellow explained to us the history of the craft in spiritual terms. When you work 30 hours to make something out of nothing, something more than sweetgrass gets built into it.
We stayed at Gaston Gallery: friendly, affordable, beautiful, and highly recommended.
There's more of our trip pictures, including Luke's artistic shots and bigger versions of some of these pics, in this album.
