Jessie Goes….

I’d heard many a time that the panhandle of Florida isn’t Florida in the sense of our national identity of it, as a bastion for snowbirds, northern accents, and non-southern traditions which involve hot nights, latin influences and Mickey Mouse.    The panhandle, just as I’ve been told, is southern in attitude, and Apalachicola is the little southern coastal town.       BTW, it is assigned a much larger dot on the map than its size would suggest!

Apalachicola is, at its core, a fishing village. Trawlers occupy the riverfront.   I was told there were some 40+ fishing warehouses on the river in Apalachicolas heyday, a booming seaport in Victorian times.   The architecture reflects this, with a mix of Victorian, greek revival, and the traditional southern veranda style houses.      The population was many times what it is today, as along side its busy waterfront commerce, the locals prospered in the lumber industry. 

Today, my sense is that the town has clawed itself back from tough times to create a charming small village.  There are still fishermen and their trawlers to be seen, with no doubt the backbreaking lifestyle that comes included, but there is a tourist industry here.   There still are quite a few blank storefronts in the downtown historic buildings, but there are also numerous unique shops too.   Among them, a 50s style soda fountain and knickknack store.   Rob and I missed this, but we were kicking ourselves for delaying until afterhours.    We also visited a cobbled together couple of rivershacks occupied by tons of new and old seafaring knickknacks.   Rob was in nautical heaven, with all the buoys, life rafts, charts and sea lanterns one could hope for.  It was a pretty cool store. 

Back to tourism, there was not a room to be found in the traditional Victorian inns that populate the town.  There are so many of them, and they are all booked.    The street fronting the river was hosting a classic boat show, and the town right down the coast Carabelle was having a festival of its own, so we were out of luck for the bed and breakfast or charming inn!    We ended up in the Rancho Inn, a fake adobe looking Mexican affair motel, which cost us about 30 more dollars than one of the charming inns with complementary breakfast.   Ah, well.    Rob and I, in room 114 of the “Nacho” as we affectionately called the motel, still had a great time, took a nap, watched movies into the wee hours with some snackfood from the convenience store across the street, well after Apalachicola had called it a night (11pm), and laughed at our grandious lifestyle.       Places we went worth mentioning:

We’re Off!  

In true roadtrip fashion, we leave tampa today 2 hours late, and get our early morning start at the crack of 9:30.   The general plan is to head up the SunCoast Highway, then get onto rt 19 to rt 98 until we hit Apalachicola.  We are in absolutely no rush.

The day is cloudless and gorgeous, hot and dry, and the drive is easy.  The windows are down, and NPR is on the radio; Click and Clack discussing replacing a clutch.   19 is a small highway, dotted on each side by little towns, aged reminants of a bygone era before the coming of the interstate.   The Florida coastal jungle is big here, pines and undergrowth so thick, both Rob and I were individually wondering what it must have been like for the explorers in the day who landed here looking for gold.   Daunting enough, that I imagine had they not just spent a month or so on a ship, they’d have just said, ‘to heck with it, the beach looks just fine’.    Between malaria, alligators and lack of fresh water, I imagine there are lots of explorer bones out there.

There are wildflowers everywhere, and little rotting shacks off the side of the road, most unlived in for years, but a few, in similar condition, with some parts on the porch and the signs of life emanating from within.     It is oddly, not florida.  Or anything you’d associate with the state whose real estate boom has left most of Florida with homes worth only 60% of their value a year ago.   The boom never hit here, it is rural, and poor, in an almost romantic nostalgic way.     The shacks are  quaint, the few still operating 50s style roadside motels remind me of the kid my dad must have been.    It does look like the last time this entire stretch of coast had an industry was then, when the newly minted travelers with their family cars headed down to the coast with their beachballs and buckets,  leaving behind their suburban lives for a week or two.     All romance aside, which mostly likely is only romantic because I’m passing by, I debate with myself if the locals are happy people who enjoy the simple life and pleasures, or they wile away days in quiet desperation, trapped by lack of opportunity and a decaying homeland.   It is nice to see a place not occupied by strip malls and general highway uglies though.   And this is only a few miles from the coast.  Its sort of unreal. 

Nearing Apalachicola, as we veer west onto 98, the ruralness takes on a slightly less destitute quality, and as the coast goes from 2 miles away to 1 miles away, to just beyond that clump of trees, the signs of modern America start peaking through, in the forms of recently built housing of the road overlooking the green blue ocean.    The real estate bubble is apparent too though, as many lots are cleared, and unbuilt, have foundatations, which will never be built, or houses which stand 80% constructed by empty.  Every house is for sale.     But still, on the whole, there is very little in the way of development in comparison to any other “non-state land” coast I’ve ever been on in the USA.   Its nickname “the Forgotten Coast” is appropriate. 

Travelling again, finally, this time with more time and less money, and of course after such a long hiatus, I am excited.    This is my first grand adventure of what I hope will be many since I quit my Wall St. job, moved from NYC, and pretty much changed my whole life around.

The plan:  travel roadtrip style through the deep south: Alabama, Mississippi, Louisana, Georgia, with the panhandle of Florida thrown in for good measure.      The area is known for its southern hospitality, charming mansions, the civil war, Mississippi river, cajuns, delta blues music and, of course, Hurricane Katrina:  all of which I plan to ferret out at every turn.       I also plan to avoid all interstates and as many 4 lane highways as I can.   One girl, one car, and the all the backroads of the south (no grits, though, hate those)!

At the get go, one thing I notice is that there are next to no inexpensive establishments to stay the night unless you drive to a city motel 6! (and even those are generally 60+ bucks).    So, taking the warnings of many on the web, I have made some reservations in advance, particularly in New Orleans, which will be mid-jazzfest when I get there.    As a girl alone, I am going to try my best to avoid sleeping in my car on some country road, with rows of cotton and live oaks sheathed in spanish moss shining eerily in the moonlight.      I know it takes some of the fun of discovery out of it, but honestly, I can discover all day long: there are no hostels in them there parts to wander up to and crash, so all I want to be discovering come evening is a known place to put my stuff so I can enjoy some of the local nightlife.

Another thing I notice is that even though you can find guidebooks to Burma and Zimbabwe, the California coast, southern Montana the Amazon River etc, there is no good source of information on this type of trip!  So, save for a few bloggers who have gone before me, and a random southern foodie article or two, I’m on my own!  Small town south is NOT a big blip on the traveller map!

 Stay tuned!   Day 1 of the roadtrip starts April 25, 2008