Storming Castillo de san Marcos in St. Augustine

Miles: 10335.6
Gallons Burned: 340.2
Caffeinated Drinks: 65
Gigabytes of Pictures: 27.9

I'm in New York. It's awesome. People from everywhere, culture being made everywhere, life in every stage, movement, constant movement, basically a taste of heaven. I don't know how to articulate what I feel here in the Big Apple. I just stood in Time Square for over an hour watching all the faces stream by, wondering at their existence, imagining how beautiful their stories must be...Why is she smiling?...What makes them looking into each other's eyes like that?...Why is that blond gal looking so sad and standing in the middle of so many just to be alone?...What brought him to the place where he hands out fliers to a strip club?
This city is devastating. I couldn't deal with this place for an extended period, there are just too many stories, too many lives to constantly wonder about. I am too curious for this city. I can't be like the wall of people who don't so much as turn to look when a man screams in agony after being clipped by a cab or at the screaming prostitute led away by New York's finest.
I am glad I leave tomorrow. I love this city, its the greatest in the world, but I can't handle it. Maybe I'm just too small for it.
Seeing the acid-worn statuary in Washington Park made me think about my time in St. Augustine Florida, so let's step back.
I got to Augustine at about 11pm after a slow drive up from the Miami Area. Parking was easy in old town and I (being an obsessive walker) headed in search of adventure before the engine had stopped settle into stasis. I walked through the Plaza de la Constitucion into the old retail district:

Then I saw the oldest wooden school house in N. America:

I ease-dropped on a ghost tour discussing the city wall watchman's daughter who is said still stand at the wall and wave at drunk people. Here is her wall:

After that I started looking for some coffee, failed, started getting cold and thought about going back to the car and abandoning my quest for the castle. I'm glad I didn't. Instead of getting warm I drove on quickening my pace to stay warm. I found the famous Castillo de san Marcos. It was closed (obvious I know by then it was 11:50pm). However I felt that I had a moral obligation to breach the wall being a loyal subject of her majesty the Queen of England. Oh yeah! Didn't I mention it? I am a dual citizen of both the United Kingdom and the United States. Wierd huh? Email/call me and I'll explain if your interested in another piece of my story. Anyways, when the Spanish held this historic fortress the British tried several times to take it. They were repelled each time. The Fortress is imposing to be sure, but couldn't the British ships blast a hole in the wall and storm the castle? Well no. One reason is that the fortress is built from Cantila (a locally hewn sedimentary rock that is very porous). When a cannon ball strikes this it doesn't crack/shatter the bulwark, rather the ball is "absorbed" into the wall. It just gets stuck inside of the stone. So this fort was never defeated in battle.
I am British. So I mounted a night-time assault. It helped that I was dressed entirely in black (I can't help that it is my most flattering color). So I snuck past a young star-gazing couple and a bored looking guard and into the grounds of the National Monument. I jumped down into the fort's moat, this is what I saw:



The lack of light made any longer range photos a study in black shadow.
I ran into an official ghost tour of the fort and I blended into the group. That's when I saw this cannonball furnace. What the defenders would do was heat a cannon ball until it glowed red and then drop it into a cannon and shoot it into a ship starting a fire:

Oh and this store's sign reminded me of Phil's upcoming clothing line:

One final anecdote. As i walked back to the car around 2am I approached a ghost tour from a dark alley. One of the tour participants looked down the alley and violently grabbed his buddy and pointed at me. I stopped and stared the wide-eyed men down...What was the big deal? They eventually moved on whispering to each other. This was my wardrobe for the evening:

Was I really that "ghost like"?
Next time I'll tell you about a church that made Mars Hill look like a preschool...

Danger Ahead - This is Gonna Be Sweet

Miles: 9956.2
Gallons Burned: 327.7
Caffeinated Drinks: 63
Gigabytes of Pictures: 27.1

Nick (who flew in to DC and will fly out of NYC) and I will be leaving DC on Friday night and hitting New York City at about 6:00am Saturday after a quick stay at a motel.
Just one little problem...more like a fun new adventure (AD-VENTCHA for those who know me well). There is a new storm front in process that is slated to drop 12-15 inches on New Jersey and Eastern New York. So we'll be dodging flakes while you are all snug in your beds. Keep us both in your hearts and on Saturday we'll be eating some fine New York Pizza.
All the hippie-references I have seen in here in DC made me think of this fun picture I took in Pensacola:

Florida's Eastern Coast

Miles: 9624.3
Gallons Burned: 316.8 (total gas mileage is 30.377 so far)
Caffeinated Drinks: 59
Gigabytes of Pictures: 26.8

I'm sitting in Scoop Beauregard's Ice Cream and Coffee Shop. Enjoying a nice Latte. Contemplating a book. Yep life is good. Here in Falls Church the weather is cloudy and there are piles of snow everywhere...It's almost like there was a big storm here or something.
I just had this little blond-haired kid come up to me and say "Excuse me mister. But your computer is really cool my uncle has one just like it." All in one breath, then he turned away before I could even say thanks. Man, I clearly remember being that awkward yet bold and honest all at the same time. It was like a week ago! He just wanted to tell me exactly what he thought and that's all. Why do I feel self conscious and so often don't say what I think with boldness like that kid did? We should be more like that kid.
The odd and fantastic people I have run into on this trip have helped me to see why is is so stupid to live as I do: Self absorbed. From those kind folks at St. George's, the great young guy from the Alabama fireworks store, the kid from Wolf Mountain, the snow bird down in the Keys, the friends from school that I have seen, a fellow blogger from Bowling Green, the wonderful couples in San Antonio and Dunedin, all the people that have been there and been harsh or encouraging, the nice and cruel, the needy and the generous, all of you have been agents showing me how small my perspective has been. So thank you. So much.
Now that I have "introspected" a little how about we talk about what happened after my adventure in the Keys.
I slept that night at a rest stop on the Ronald Reagan/Florida's Turnpike. The next day I drove up the east coast of Florida on FL-1 and FL-A1A. I pulled off A1A at Patrick Air Force Base's Beach. There was an amazing beach with no wind and 8 foot waves that dozens of surfers were enjoying. Since this coast is open cold ocean, they were wearing wet suits. I'd love to learn to surf, maybe some day I'll head out to the Washington coast and give it a shot.

I made it to Cape Canaveral about 4pm and drove out to the Kennedy Space Center.



I bet you think I went into the visitor center...Well...No. It was late in the day and it cost $38. But I took pictures of the outside of the center!
On the way out I notice this place:

I guess NASA has its own nuclear reactor across the inter-coastal waterway.
I continued north to New Smyrna Beach and enjoyed seeing the cars out driving on the sand.

Next time St. Augustine and my night time shenanigans at Castillo de San Marcos...

Quick Post

Miles: 9376.3
Gallons Burned: 323.3
Caffeinated Drinks: 57
Gigabytes of Pictures: 26.8

Hey everybody! I just wanted to quickly remind everyone of the best way to get a hold of me while on the road:
(1) - My Cell (when in range and not dead) works best, email me for my number if you don't have it
(2) - Google Chat (now with video)
(3) - Gmail: mrbone02@gmail.com
(4) - Facebook (it might be hard to find me so email me and I'll add you as a friend)
(5) - On The City (Mars Hill's Church social networking tool)

Just to keep you in suspense, I will post a few pictures without any explanation. You'll have to wait for my blog posts...

Eight Keys in a Chain

Miles: 9376.3
Gallons Burned: 323.3
Caffeinated Drinks: 55
Gigabytes of Pictures: 24.9

I was reading Don Miller's "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years", and he quoted Steve Pressfield who said that a writer must push through the resistance that he faces when trying to write. The bigger the resistance, the more important the story. Not to say that this blog post is world changing, but I really am not in the mood/state of mind to write. So here goes.
More about Florida:
I woke up at Flamingo Everglades at 7am and started south towards Key Largo the first of the hundreds of small dots that stretch 175 miles into the Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico. The drive was great and I was impressed with the sheer extent of all the causeways so much like a concrete belt keeping them from floating away.

As soon as I hit Key West, I drove around getting feel for the place. When I hit the intersection of Elizabeth and Fleming, I saw and grabbed an open parking space in front of the public library. I walked without any direction, just people watching, until I wandered west to lands end and the entry of Fort Zachary Taylor Historic SP. I had no idea what the park was like, but lots of cars were going in, so I figured why not. So I paid $2.50 (as a pedestrian!) and walked the 1/3 of a mile to the park. This is what I found:

To get a map of where this is click HERE.
I swam in the water that was 69 degrees. Apparently, that is cold for this area! The sun was out and it was 70 degrees (21C), so I guess my farewell to the sun in the Everglades was premature. I was right on the division between the Gulf's waters and the Atlantic. But at this beach I was technically in the Atlantic. This is my first time swimming in the Atlantic, I kinda guess that the rest of it isn't this warm.
I spoke with Charlie from Ontario while riding the waves. He is one of the many snow birds who live the 6 winter months in Florida. He told me a little of the history of Key West. There was a mayor of the city named Charles "Sonny" McCoy who water skied all the way from Key West to Cuba on Sept. 10, 1978. He was a crazy man who was escorted into Havana Harbor by a pair of Soviet-made gun boats. That means he made 105 miles behind a speed boat.
Today the town is the usual mix of tourist traps, bars, clubs, sand and mom-N'-pop restaurants.
After enjoying 2.5 hours in the water and on the beach, I showered off, toweled down, and headed back to town. Once back into town, I saw this rare and sweet BMW X6 M:

I walked to the southern end of Duval Street and recorded this:

The storm was building and you can see the waves are picking up. The only thing was, I didn't know there was going to be a storm, let alone a full blown mini-tropical storm.
By this time, I was feeling hungry. Being so close to Cuba, I felt like I ought to try the local cuisine. As the first rain drops started to fall, I walked north on Duval until I saw a tiny sign pointing to El Meson de Pepe, a family owned restaurant that has been open for 20 years. I really enjoyed the feel of the place, and I asked to be seated near the open square in the back near the Mariachi band. Right after I ordered the heavy rain started and the band quit. The spray came in and hit me in the face as the wind roared and put out the candle on my table. People rushed in to seek shelter and a man at the adjacent table told me that the storm had been forecast for days, and the wind was supposed to gust to 80 miles per hour (129 kph)! This is what it was like:

You can't get a good feel from the storm but it's the best I could do.
Anyways, as I dodged rain blasts, I ate this great meal:


I ordered the Completa de Caballo Grande, Pepe's Homemade Sangria, and some Key Lime Pie. The main course was a sampler of classic Cuban fare. First there was Lechon Asado which is roasted pork marinated in cumin-"mojo" sauce. Then I had Ropa Vieja which is shredded beef stewed with fresh tomatoes, green peppers, onions and red wine; it is translated as "old clothes" (Lili please correct me if I got that wrong). The third item was spicy Picadillo, ground beef steeped in sofrito, olives, capers, and raisins. This was the best of the three main courses. I think the sofrito was the key ingredient. Complementing the meal was a pleasant light Sangria. I admit that I was full, but I promised Eric from Pensacola that I'd have Key Lime Pie on the keys, so I put my pride/good sense aside and dug in. I got only half way through the pie and was feeling pretty good. All in all, the meal was great, the ambiance was great, and the service was great. So I tipped well (No to say that I normally don't tip well) and started walking back to my car though the rain.
The streets were flooded and occasional people ran in the shadows dodging the rain. Police in pairs were sipping coffee under the cover of awnings and chatting quietly. The night was dark and I was feeling good. Just to be clear, I had one glass of Sangria. Just one. There is less alcohol in a glass of Sangria than in a glass of Merlot. Yet my head began to swirl. I felt hot, stumbled, and my vision became clouded. As I leaned against a brick building, I felt my stomach rise. I barely made it to a trash can before I puked the entire meal. A patrol man looked at me suspiciously. After, I felt better. I walked another 20 steps and suddenly found that there was still another half of the meal to lose. So I "washed" the sidewalk in Puréed Ropa Vieja.
Eventually I made it back to the car feeling terrible. I don't know if it was the food, some stomach bug, my pre-meal dehydration, the sudden transition from eating to my ever-brisk walking pace, or just some inexplicable random event. I decided to take a nap from 8pm to 11pm in my car. Afterward, I felt marginally better.
My 9 hours on Key West were fun despite the unfortunate end.
Next time I'll tell you about another Floridian experience...

For-Everglades

Miles: 8197.4
Gallons Burned: 279.3
Caffeinated Drinks: 46
Gigabytes of Pictures: 18.2

This Latte is great here at Fido in Nashville. Josh and I enjoyed the Opryland Hotel & Resort and the Nashville Parthenon...Yes it exists. I'll post pictures when I get caught up in posting. Until then let's go back to the Everglades.
At a place like to the Everglades, biodiversity is the most amazing thing...No. Actually the sun is. In Seattle we get 8 months of gray cloudy drizzle 2.5 months of cool partly cloudy Fall and 1.5 months of Sun. The lack of sun makes Seattle known for its high use of anti-depressants and caffeine. So as the typical moody Seattle guy, the Sun in Florida's southern extremes is amazing.
Fist I'd like to talk about the Fauna.
Did you know there is an American Crocodile? (Yeah Alicia and Jen you know but how about other people?) I had no idea. Turns out there are between 1600-2000 adult Crocs in Florida and the Everglades is the only place on Earth where Crocs and Gators coexist. They can be clearly differentiated using three basic characteristics:
1 - snout shape - The Crocs' snout is narrower than the Gators'
2 - teeth - the Crocs' teeth upper and lower teeth are always visible, whereas only the Gators' upper teeth are visible
3 - color - The Gator is darker than the Croc
This little guy was hot so he had his mouth open to cool down. He and his bigger friend looked chill, so I walked up (ready to sprint away if he/she so much as flinched) and took this:

This little guy was next to the Crocs above:

Just like in Seattle this "Laughing Gull" is fearless and begs shamelessly for food:

I was hiking toward Snake Bight when I ducked off-trail and wandered for a 100 yards until I ran across this Snowy Egret and his with reflection.

While on the Bight path I found the secret spider that bit Peter Parker.

At Snake Bight there were no snakes but there were these neuts (or non-specific lizards). This littl eguy is about 3 inches long:

Here we see a Great Egret, notice the distinctive beak that differentiates it from the Snowy Egret. he was sunning himself, so I used my old trick to get close to him so I could get this shot. Oh what's my trick? Hmm... I don't want to tell you otherwise you tell a cat or bird and they won't fall for it anmore.

My only shot of Manatees, you really need a boat to see them well and Jolly Green wouldn't stand for the injustice of having to wear that hat (cars with kayaks on top look like the "cool" kids with their fancy hats).

I made a friend! "Tony", an adolescent Brown Pelican, hung out with me for 45 minutes when I wrote those blog posts from Flamingo Bay. Again the trick worked!

As I stalked an egret to get a great shot, I saw this little fellow.

The rare and illusive "Bowen".


Moving on to the glade part of the Glades
As a registered "amateur, amateur botanist" I feel qualified to use the Latin classification of genus and species when referring to the flower below: Prettius Flowerus

See how dense the undergrowth and Mangroves gets.

Again this "amateur, amateur botanist" will use my massive knowledge of plants to classify this little fellow: the Parasitic Aloe. Actually my mycologist friend Josh informed me it is a Bromeliad.

Josh couldn't ID this one so I'll call it a Lilly.

Yeah, they have palm trees everwhere.


I really enjoyed the Everglades and the whole experience of seeing this sub-tropical nirvana.
Next time the Keys...

Evergladed

Miles: 8197.4
Gallons Burned: 279.3
Caffeinated Drinks: 45
Gigabytes of Pictures: 18.1 (new stat!)

I'm in Nashville Tennessee enjoying a beautiful Latte with some great foam art (a leaf). Fido Coffee near Vanderbilt University is great. I'm here with one of my oldest friends, Josh. We just saw the Tennessee Parthenon and the Opryland Hotel (pictures coming soon).
It is snowing lightly with temperatures in the high 20s (-6C).
Back to my time in Florida.
Here is my third official Video Blog Post from the Everglades. So long sun!

Central Florida

Miles: 7765.3
Gallons Burned: 265.8
Caffeinated Drinks: 42

Holy cow! I added 1,000 miles from 11pm on February 12th to 6pm on February 14th. That's not at break neck speed, but most of them were at night and on unfamiliar roads all the while fighting my GPS unit and its strange concept of space and time.
No big deal.
Right now I'm at Eric's house (not the soon-to-be-winged naval aviator in Pensacola from my high school days) in Atlanta Georgia. He has one orange tabby in particular who is my buddy right now. He is constantly nosing the keyboard, so any misspellings are do to him. So how do I know Eric? Well I go to Mars Hill Church and there is this guy who started showing up to Campus Cleanup, Yuskie (pronounced Yoose-Kay). He had just moved out to Seattle from Atlanta for work. Yuskie is a solid guy who is honestly amazing. He is fun to be around and knows God in a refreshing way. So his buddy Eric from Buckhead Church (yeah, the name...its odd. But nothing compared to Mars Hill Church, sounds cultish) offered to put me up for tonight.
There is snow on the ground...Not good. I knew that the white was coming, but seeing it for the first time since New Mexico sends shivers down my spine.
How about I tell you about my time after Dunedin, FL?
Fort DeSoto was a strategic defense position guarding the entrance to Tampa Bay. It was built at the turn of last century.
The guns and fortifications are significant, but the purpose of the structure was to be an invisible mortar position that would deal massive damage to ships at close range (less than 5000 yards). The exposed side is overgrown by brush intentionally to provide camouflage. An invading ship wouldn't even see the lethal shot coming.


After the fort, I ran down to Myakka State Park in south central Florida. The park is famous for the two biggest airboats in the world and the best example of Florida's old prairies. They still burn the prairies to renew the ecosystem.
Both here and in the Everglades the vultures are a constant menace...to cars. Yeah they will eat the rubber tires off your car!

I got so close to this little guy that I almost stepped on him! Armadillos are really neat. I ran into at least 20 in my 5 hours at Myakka.

So as I drove through the park I realized there were no trail markers.
WARNING Random Aside!!
I love to hike. I have been known to walk the mile down to Lincoln Park in West Seattle and wander through the tall pines and cedars for hours lost in thought just to "hike". I have driven the 22 miles out to Tiger Mountain over and over just so I can pack 40 pounds of bricks up to the summit (Nick an I are building something...It'll be sweet when we're done). I love to drive the 195 miles out to Mount Rainier at least 6 times a summer (often alone) just so I can hike at 1-2 mile high altitudes. I like hiking!
So back to Myakka. They had NO trails, NO self guided tours. Only a road to drive. Well I couldn't stand for that! So I ditched my car, slapped on some Vietnam Marine Corp BDUs (battle dress uniform), laced up my steel toes, and charged into the brush. I still hadn't seen an alligator and I really wanted to. Very soon I came to a game trail and followed that. I saw this. Can you see the alligator? With my trusty 25X monocular, I could just make it out. I saw my first alligator! Yes!

Here are two pictures showing just how amazing this place is.


And I even took a picture of myself on location.

Sorry I look all pissed off. But the downpour started just as the picture was taken making a second shot dangerous for the camera.
After Mayakka, I headed south with the last of the day light being drenched in subtropical showers. I told George that I would stay near Myakka, but I changed my mind. I guess the rain sealed the deal. I pushed on to the Everglades so I could wake up in the warm southern sun. I took highway 41 instead of interstate 75. I figured I could save $5 on tolls by taking the county highway instead of the famed "Alligator Alley". I still stand by my decision, but I nearly bit it on that road.
I started down 41 at 9:30pm I anticipated a deserted stretch of straight blacktop. It wasn't.
In the first 20 minutes I dodged 4 oblivious armadillos. They aren't the most destructive things you can hit, but I'm not driving an uparmored turbo-diesel air ride equipped HMMWV(huvmee). I'm driving the Jolly Green (short for jolly green giant, because is is green, small, and sounds like a happy kid hopped up on Skittles each time I turn the key).
The really fun part came when I was doing 65 mph (105 kph for my English browsers) with my brights on and this blinding brown blur flew at me from my left. I swerved hard right and felt contact through the steering wheel. I counter-steered hard left feeling the car sliding sideways, so I tapped the brake to bring her out of the slide then counter-steered lightly left once more and came to a quick stop.
My post incident inspection revealed no damage to the car. My suspicion is that the deer's nose clipped the left side mirror casement and then the front or flank touched my left rear fender.
The whole ordeal reminded me of a night Joe and I were coming back to Hillsdale from a Ted Leo concert in Detroit. It was 2:30am and I was on my 3rd mug of "caffeine re-enforced cappuccino". We were at 68 mph (109 kph) and I looked this 10 point buck in the eye as I slammed the car hard right and hard left. On highway 41 I was not as heavily caffeinated, so my slower reflexes probably bloodied some poor deers nose.
I made it to Flamingo in the Everglades at about 12:45am and slept the sleep of the satiated.

Dunedin Flor and Chess' Core

Miles: 6460.2
Gallons Burned: 221.4
Caffeinated Drinks: 36

I am sitting in George and Catie's (Alicia's parents, thanks so much to the three of you) living room at about 11:30pm while I listen to The Mountain goats (Thanks Joe!). Dunedin Florida (pronounced "done-eden", huh reminds me of Seqium, WA which of course is pronounced "squim") is a neat city outside of the Tampa Bay Metro-plex. George took me on a great evening tour of the city and allowed me a glimpse into his illustrious chess career.
Here we go again...another Aside! Are you serious?!
George has beaten Masters and even a handful of Grandmasters! He has played in the Canadian Open and many regional and national US tournaments. George's highest rating was 2250 USCF. He has a second edition Nimzowitsch's "My System" and a book published in 1848 that has games recorded with white starting first as well as games with black starting first! He has a beautiful ivory whale bone chess set that is all hand-made and might cost as much as $200-$400 per piece to replace!
So...why do I care so much about finding someone who is passionate about those 64 squares and 32 pieces? Glad you asked! My dad loves the game, and he imparted his love to me. I played in my first rated chess tournament when I was four-and-a-half years old and won 3 games out of 5 (I think, is that right Dad?). Over the next 14 years I played more than 480 rated tournament games, more than any other player in Washington State scholastic history (there is one seventh grader who is on pace to play 510 if he sticks with it as long as I did). With my dad's help, I traveled to Canada and 13 states (and DC if that one counts for anything) to play in all kinds of events ranging from an international match to the US Open.
I guess I am sort of bragging...oh wait...no. I'm a chess player. We are a peculiar folk, not mainstream, so there is not much to brag about.
When you would have been playing PeeWee football or staying after school to work on a play, I would sit alone memorizing famous games and endgame tactics or hidden in a little room with a couple of other not-so-cool kids practicing opening strategy.
My dad shelled out a lot of cash on lessons from an International Master and on plane tickets. I won a couple of state championships and some national honors. But why Chess? All those hours, days, months, dollars...
The game is ancient and has been played from India to Iceland in people's basements and in Cold War international matches between superpowers. It is kinda "the" game. For those who are new to the topic of Chess, it is an exercise in spatial pattern recognition blended into a psychological interrogation of your opponent wrapped neatly in 64 squares with the brutal soundtrack of a ticking binary clock.
I have made people cry in frustration and defeat. I have been offered bribes to throw games. I have seen and executed checkmates 12 moves into the future. I have broken down others and been broken.
To answer the why question, I need to have another Aside. (Seriously can you actually have an Aside within an Aside? A digression to a digression?)
I was home schooled (No not like that...well sort of). My mom and dad didn't want me (the tiny Josh, lowest 2 percent of elementary boys in height) in school. Problem was they weren't teachers. They did their best, but what it came down to was me and a bunch of books. I taught myself math, history, science, and cursive writing. I didn't always do a good job (just look at my cursive writing, I sort of made up my own letter style which is not correct by anyone's standard, I still use them today).
So my mind was formed into a almost totally analytical computer. I looked at everything in terms of protocols and decision trees stretching into the future...even people. That makes me a horrible person in many ways, but ideally suited to Chess. I am still trying to add the whole empathic, artistic, and "fuzzy" sides to my character (hence the road trip and forcing myself to write this journal, but I still get to use Excel so I am in in my emotional happy place).
To summarize why I love chess:
I enjoy chess because I wired my brain to love systems and incremental analysis, both of the board and my opponent's mind, and because it allowed me to have an identity as a kid and adolescent.
When I went into a chess slump, I felt terrible and my identity as a chess players (and as a person) was rocked.
Don't tie your identity to something transient like I did. It sucks.
Basically, it was a treat to meet someone like George who shares an obscure passion and interest.
Tomorrow, February 9th, I'll be heading south to see Fort DeSoto, the Sunshine Skyway, Myakka State Park, and the Everglades.

Super Saints Win

Miles: 6810.4
Gallons Burned: 231.8
Caffeinated Drinks: 37

Still here on the pier in Flamingo Bay.
Remember how the Saints beat the Colts on that most holy of American days, Superbowl Sunday? (Congrats Andrew, you were right the heart of those Saints beat the precision of Manning) I really don't. There were some amazing passes, that fateful interception...something about the Who. My point is that I don't really remember the game, because I was with some neat people.
The day after my harrowing beach adventure, my official plan was to wake up at noon, eat some steak, and watch Mad Max, Mad Max 2: the Road Warrior, and Mad Max 3: Beyond Thunderdome. I accomplished my first two goals and even managed to start watching Mad Max when Cheryl and Susan came over to my car.
When I looked up and saw two people approaching I thought, "Oh no. What did I do wrong? Did they find out about my bonfire? Am I breaking some obscure rule about sleeping in my car? Oh no there getting closer!"
Did I mention my strong bent toward antisocialism...(I like Rand but I'm not talking about that kind of socialism right now). Anyways, these two kind and gracious beyond gracious women invited me over to a fancy RV to watch the Superbowl with them. I was so taken aback that I blurted something out then as they asked what I had just said, I said, "Let me get my shoes on." They didn't understand what I had said until I actually used intelligible words. Being a 23 year old guy from Seattle I'm used to being ignored, silently judged, sworn at, receiving the finger, and the like by complete strangers. So you might imagine what it is like to receive grace, mercy, kindness, respect, even...dare I say it...FOOD from strangers. Not just strangers but strangers who are different. Bill & Antje, Jack & Cheryl, and Brad & Susan are all older individuals who are either retired or semi-retired.
Suppose you see some strange kid with Washington State plates in a Florida State Park who has slept in his car the one day you knew he existed. Would you go out of your way to engage him (taking the risk of rudeness, rejection, even possibly danger)? How about inviting him into your home (the RV is Brad and Susan's full-time home)? I'd have a hard time doing that. But that's because I am not as nice as these six wonderful individuals. I'd like to publicly thank all six of you for your generosity and overwhelming hospitality!
I feel embarrassed that I couldn't even offer you any of my food (raw steaks, a block of cheese, and some Cheez-its don't really work).
We talked all through the game and shared stories on every topic from "special" beaches to a 170 mile-an-hour car ride that Bill once took. I enjoyed myself immensely and really treasure the experience. Unfortunately, I forgot to take a picture of them, but if you want to see them just close your eyes and imagine the 6 kindest people who have ever graced you in your time under the sun.
Feel free to leave a comment telling a story about how people have been kind to you.

Triumph of Gandolf the White Sandy Beaches

Miles: 6810.4
Gallons Burned: 231.8
Caffeinated Drinks: 37

I don't know why I went with that particular title for this post but lets roll with it. I have recently watched the Lord of the Rings cycle and listened to the Silmarillion.
Right now I'm sitting on a pier at Flamingo Bay in Everglades National Park. Hi Everbody!

Yeah it's sunny and 75...aahhh. There are Pelicans lazily preening. A little while ago three Manatees floated by followed by two canoes of Korean tourists. Across the bay, there are three American Crocodiles (not Alligators) lounging in the sun. There are even vultures circling over head. It is a very cool place.
Enough about the present, lets go back to my time at St. George's Island State Park in the Panhandle of Florida.
This SP is a barrier island on the West side of Florida facing the Gulf of Mexico. The island is about 12 miles long and at its widest is about 1 mile across. Only the northernmost 2 miles of the island are inhabited (mostly by timeshare condos), but the other 10 miles are wild. The gulf side is veiled in pristine white sandy beaches. In 2003 and 2005, this place was named the best Florida State Park (the only park to win twice).
You enter the park from the northwest end of the island, and drive 4 miles southeast to reach the campground. The campsites are shielded from the wind by 30 foot tall dunes and these thin pines.

There once was a road that went further, but recent hurricanes destroyed that road. The average height above sea level in the SP is onlyu 3 feet.
I entered the state park at about 2:30pm and paid $79 to spend 3 nights. As soon as I pulled the car into the campsite, I loaded up my back pack and set out due southeast.

As the sun approached the horizon, I had traveled 5.75 miles coming within 3/4 of a mile of lands end. I turned back and returned to the camp well after dark.
That night I watched Twelve Monkeys for the first time on the netbook. I really was amazed and impressed by the movie's premise and the great acting of Brad Pit.
After waking up late and eating steak and eggs, I set out again all decked out in my boots, shorts, T-shirt, rain jacket, and towel (I read A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, so I always have my towel). I again made progress up the 6 miles of windy white sand towards lands end.


The sun was out and in full glory making the high about 65 degrees (that's Fahrenheit for my followers from my native land of England). This is a little of what I found when the island ended.

Someone created a heart shape out of shells (about 15 feet across).



I decided to make a bonfire so I collected every mite of driftwood along a full mile of coastline. After the two hours of hunting and gathering, I had a modest assortment (there just wasn't much to be had and 1/3 of the wood I did gather was wet wood).
While I waited for darkness to fall, I scouted around and found a partially wind shielded place hidden behind some large sand dunes. I built the fire there.

Before lighting the pile, I walked around the perimeter. I noticed a large swamp no more than 35 paces from my fire-to-be. As the sun hit the horizon, the sounds began...
Remember in the Fellowship of the Ring when the Orc drums slowly started up after Peregrin Took knocked the bucket and skeleton down the well in the Mines of Moria? Yeah it was kinda like that. Fwwiptth...Crooonnk...EeeoWWWaaak...
Over and over. Sometime so close I could swear whatever had made it was right behind me. Other times far away. There were at least 20...No more like 30 "things" out there making that same sound. Whatever they were some of them sounded pretty big. Occasionally I would hear some snapping and crunching as some of the sparse dune grass was smashed by one of them.
Lets review the situation shall we:
1) I am the only person in 6 miles
2) I have a knife
3) After calling Ethan, Cassie, my Grandpa, and Sam (I'll get to that conversation in a moment) my cell is about to die
4) This is my first time in Florida, I don't know the wildlife, or how to respond to any aggressive wildlife
5) I have plenty of batteries for my Maglite flashlight
6) Maybe the "big" fire I'm about to lite will scare away the Nocturnes, or attract them
7) I will need to sleep at some point, closing my eyes to the potential dangers around me
What should I do? I don't know, so I called Sam.
Following the usual pleasantries, I asked the innocent little question, "So Sam...what do alligators sound like?" She and Lili (1,900 miles away, wow ain't technology great) proceeded to find out. According to youtube.com's assorted videos they hiss a lot, they can cough on occasion, and during mating season (which runs FEEBRUARY- May) they call out frequently in sort of the same way as phoneticized above. After thanking Sam and receiving her advice to leave, I lit my fire.
The first box of matches failed to successfully light the pile. Similarly the second box fail also. even the most dry wood I found was not kindling, and the partially blocked gusting wind didn't help. So being the kid who lasted exactly 2 hours in Boy Scouts (long story), I was prepared. On this road trip I have taken to carrying a road flare with me on all my hikes. It has now come in handy twice (remember the Joshua Tree Episode?). With the help of the 2,000 degree (again Fahrenheit) torch, I lit the pile and settled in for a long night.
All of you with experience with Alligators probably are laughing at me for being scared of them, but I live in Seattle. We have garter snakes and salmon as the most dangerous beach related wildlife. My experience with diamondback rattle snakes and brown bears (fun stories about both) didn't prepare me for that night. Each time I heard some snapping grass, I charged over the hill separating me from the by now roaring swamp. I think Alligators' eyes glow when hit with a flash light, but I don't know. Each time I charged over I saw eyes, but due to the dense grass and low brush, I couldn't tell to what the eyes belonged.
I also saw three sets of these. The front two scrapes near the flash light are claw marks. To the untrained Seattlelite, this print and the 5 others like it look Alligator-ish. There is no pad imprint like a dog's print would have. The claws are visible, so it isn't a big cat. The tracks are bowed outward as I believe the gators are. And the prints are deep, indicating a lot of weight for the well muscled lizard. Additionally, the recent rain and unceasing wind erase prints very quickly indicating that these were left within the last 6 hours (wild guess, I'm an economist, not a forensic pathologist). The Maglite is a three-D cell and used for scale comparison.

By 11:30pm my supply of wood was gone, everything was on the fire. I was cold even wrapped in my stalking cap, jacket, boots, SHORTS, and towel. The wind just never stopped. I was so close to the fire each time it would snap, the flying embers would land on me. Yeah, don't wear shorts if you stay the night out under the stars.
At midnight all that remained was the glowing core of the fire. I decided to leave not because I was afraid of being eaten by a gator, but rather because I didn't want to crawl the 6 miles back to camp hurt. It'd be embarrassing. Remember my cell is dead so I'd have to get help instead of help coming to me. Next time Superbowl Sunday!
Man I need an editor more that Neal Stephens!!