Blog#25-From Georgia back to Florida

Crooked River to Amelia Island

I met a fellow solo woman camper this morning at Crooked River.  She is from the Atlanta area and has been camping by herself for years.  Her husband does not like to camp…Silly boob.

Carolina Wren

? Could be a lot of things…

She gave me some insights on where to go to see birds and good camping spots. She strongly encouraged me to go the Cumberland National Seashore visitor center in St. Mary’s, even if I couldn’t get out to Cumberland Island.  So I followed her advice and went to the center.

I was met by a woman working there who gave me all sorts of reading material  and encouraged me to go to the island, if not now, then in the future. I missed the ferry today, and was not too keen on leaving my car unattended for any length of time anyway. She assured me I could safely leave my car in their lot. I’ll remember that for next time.

She also encouraged me to go three blocks and visit the Cumberland Island/War of 1812 Museum.  “It’s free”, she said.  I think telling her I was living in my car may have given the wrong impression, but I like free. So out the door to the museum I went, at which time I realized that beneath all the pamplets she had given me was a sticker I had picked out, intending to buy.  I had to turn around and go back, cop to the shoplifting and then buy the thing.  Stupid American Woman.

I found the museum- I am not a history buff by any means, but must admit that I am starting to take an interest. The South is a virtual history tour. Spanish/English/Civil War– I may have to read a book.

Pileated Red Crowned Woodpecker

Cumberland Island, I learned, was 80% owned at one time by the Carnegie family. Lucy Carnegie was given the intial chunk of it as a birthday gift from her husband, Thomas.  Lucy Colman Carnegie came from a wealthy background also, her father being an iron producer. After Thomas died, she moved permanently to Cumberland Island to raise their 9 children. The island was somethink like Tara–croquet and tennis, fishing and hunting. But Lucy also taught her children and grandchildren how to work. She deeded the land to her children and helped several of them to build additional homes on the island. Today, some of the descendants continue to live and work there, but the large part of the island is now a National Seashore. Developers keep trying to build there, but the Carnegies and the Department of the Interior have managed to defeat them.

The woman I met in my campground told me that Cumberland Island is beautiful. The ruins of Dungeness, the main home, are still there after the home burned many years ago. There are wild horses there, leftover from when the Spanish brought horses to the island. I thought the history fascinating, so I did more research on the Carnegies. Very interesting reading.

I left St. Mary’s in Georgia and headed South, not really sure where I was going to lay my head. I passed a sign in Northern Florida for Amelia Island, so naturally, I detoured.

There are two major towns on Amelia Island, one thinks of itself as Amelia Island, and the other is Fernandino Beach. The two seem to be the same, but no matter. In the Historic Downtown, a good percentage of the businesses have Amelia in the name. I stopped at the Chamber of Commerce/Welcome Center and picked up a map, then headed to the state park to see if I was lucky enough to get a tent site at the last minute.

I was not lucky. I got on Expedia and searched for a hotel. Not many rooms left on the island during spring break, but I secured one for way over my budget at the Amelia Hotel at the Beach. Older motel, much to my liking. I went downtown to where the action was and went into a shop to browse. I was talking with the lady who was running the store, and she was so excited when birds came up. She directed me to the Egan’s Creek Greenway, which is a greenbelt running next to the creek that dissects a good part of the island from north to south. She lived near it, and it sounded like she walked it often. She gave me the skinny on what birds were recently there, and also warned me about gators and possible snakes on the path. She also told me her favorite spot to see the sunset over the bay “with the dolphins swimming by as the sun goes down”. Said she’d never seen a bad sunset there, ever.

I went to Egans Creek and found the greenway. I passed some dog walkers and several bicyclists. Very pleasant path, really a dirt road, that is well maintained. Grass is cut short, so it would be hard to miss any snakes… I watched for them anyway.

Great Blue Heron over Egan’s Creek

It was getting to be time for sunset, so I tried to find the place the store lady had told me about, but I couldn’t remember the name. She had told me how to get to the beach, other places to bird as well as the greenway, other stores that might have what I wanted. It was running together, honestly. I suspect that my focus was on those instructions leading to the birds and the rest was white noise. So I missed the sunset with the dolphins. Strike 2 for dolphins.

Egan’s Creek-Momma was also there

I went and checked in and unloaded baby Yeti, then went out to eat at the Amelia Tavern. I had a roasted golden beet salad with candied pistachios, arugula, goat cheese(done right. Small particles, not big fatty chunks that overwhelm.), with a sweet fruit vinegarette of some type. I washed it down with a dry Irish stout, brewed by Amelia Brewing Co. Excellent meal. I sat at a long, u-shaped bar and people watched. I asked if I could buy a bottle of their beer, but they haven’t gotten licensed for that yet. Too bad. I know a couple people who would have liked to try it…

My dinner house

I stayed up until 3am working on the blog while I had WiFi. It is surprising just how much time it takes to produce. When I start writing, time just slips away.

Woke up to another beautiful day. Haven’t been able to sleep in after late nights blogging, don’t know whats up with that. I do know that my shoulder is a bugger. It’s getting old

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First thing I did was go back to the campground and ask if there was any cancellations or early departures. “Well, we had one, but just filled it.”

You snooze, you lose. So I had to leave Amelia Island, and I didn’t want to. It is a really quaint little town. It reminds of downtown Walnut Creek, but smaller. The old part of town is nice pubs and restaurants, small shops, ice cream parlors, fudge shops, etc. No chain stores. No theater or bowling alley. Little car traffic, most folks are on foot. There are horse-drawn carriages with the drivers turned around talking to the riders while the horse plods along without direction.

The part of town where my hotel was runs along the ocean. Cottages, houses and hotels, but not chain hotels. It was kinda nice to see privately owned, older hotels.
The neighborhoods are true neighborhoods. People who obviously care about their homes. Not mansions, but not tiny houses, either. Bigger lots, tree lined streets. I liked Amelia Island.

I went back to walk the other side of Eagans Creek before leaving.

On the Greenway

Saw lots of turtles and gators, and another warbler that will be next to impossible to identify. Oh well… if it were easy, it wouldn’t be any fun.

Good luck

I thought it time to get my oil changed, since I had driven 6300 miles since the last service. Maintenance recommends changes at 15% life left in the oil. I was down to 30%, so I went ahead. There are no Jiffy Lubes or Oil Can Henrys that I have seen since California. I went to a Castrol Oil place and watched on the video as they did the job. In the pit was a woman who was doing the oil change and a man up top who checked and topped off my fluids, vacuumed what part of the floor he could see, and washed my windshield. The lady had on earbuds and she was rocking out while waiting for the oil to drain. Reminded me of the lady from Little Caesar’s in Bend who dances with the cardboard guitar on the street corner. Entertainment in the oil change lobby—who’d a thought?

Either romance still lives, or one is afraid the other will get lost

Amelia Island Lighthouse

Since I was destined to go south, I thought it would be kinda fun to drive A1A, a scenic drive that starts in Fernandina Beach and goes along the coast all the way to Key West. Easier said than done. The highway, as I may have mentioned about other roads in the south, has multiple other names in various places. It is also Atlantic Ave. Hwy 200. Hwy 95. Yada yada. I plugged in A1A and it kept sending me back into Amelia Island. I picked a town on A1A further south and put in into Google maps. It took me to Jacksonville on Hwy 95/Hwy 10. Another 2 name highway. I kept stopping to look at the paper atlas, but it was no less confusing. I gave up and drove to Faver Dykes State Park, outside St. Augustine, where I have a reservation for tomorrow. Hoping they had a site left open for tonight.

Storefront on Amelia Island-all granite and quartz scraps from countertops

I arrived just as the ranger was leaving for the day. He told me he had one spot for tonight—go claim it. So I did.

I regrettably left Amelia Island, and now I am happy that I did. I have spoken with several sets of campers here and they all are on the lookout to find me an armadillo. Turned out, I found one all by myself. Armadillos come through the crunchy underbrush like elephants. I got a really poor photo, but it’s proof!

Armadillo by flashlight

The campground is peaceful and wooded, with some swampy areas a little ways off. The people next door are a young couple with 2 small children. They live close by, but just bought an RV and are on a maiden voyage to get the wrinkles ironed out before they go for a longer trip. They learned very soon that they had forgotten a corkscrew, but Mom loaded the little ones in a wagon and went begging from site to site, eventually finding some other campers who came to the rescue. She said the night would go much better now. I remember those days.

I met Anna and Ron on the other side—they have been seeing an armadillo regularly and promise to come get me if one appears. They have a wild orange or lemon tree growing behind their campsite—in the middle of a swamp. Bizarre. Saw the first hummingbird in a month at the citrus blossoms.

Another family came in and set up. Tonight one of the men played acoustic guitar and sang some old mellow rock—Brown- Eyed Girl, Every Rose Has It’s Thorn, etc. It was very pleasant, listening to him under the stars and waiting in the dark for the critters to come out of the bushes. A couple opossums came through, and one spooked and shimmied up the tree behind my picnic table. I was impressed with his speed.

Virginia Opossum above my camp

Tomorrow I will drive into St. Augustine, the oldest city in the USA. I have rebuilt my bed and organized my home on wheels and am good to go. First, some sleep.