I had a hankering to see St Augustine by day but first we drove through the town to check out the beaches.
The Bridge of Lions which seemed rather less massive and impressive in real life than as depicted in pictures. 
In all directions radiating from the core old town section of the city we saw normal humdrum everyday neon America. You could be two blocks from the ancient homes of the city's past and you wouldn't know it. Here on the beach on Anastasia Island, the sandy barrier island that separates St Augustine from the Atlantic Ocean: 
A1A is a wide coastal highway that drives straight south: 
In the midst of all our preoccupations with a "recovering" economy, nuclear meltdown and the Middle East going up in smoke and taking the world's oil supply with it, there are a bunch of kooks worrying about the burqa coming to the US. And they have the money to waste on billboards. Anything to distract the sheeple.
Beach access was rather problematic around here too. Technically in Florida the beach up to the high tide mark is public. In fact all you have to do is develop the shit out of the landward side and most people are cut out.
We did find a small county park where some Spring Break volunteer planting was underway.
And some strange dude was walking his dog by driving in circles. I have no doubt this dog would envy Cheyenne her freedom to roam and sniff and check things out properly.
Ah! Beach access...and dogs were allowed on the beach on a leash. I figured Cheyenne wanted to spend her time street walking as she isn't much of a beach dog. Me neither.
We went back to the mainland, enjoying a brief view of the marshy hinterland:
Recently we have seen lots of debate in Key West about private property tows and what to do about them. They generate lots of money for tow companies and lots of ill feeling. St Augustine has a brilliantly simple and innovative solution to this vexing problem:
St Augustine in sunlight is quite ravishing.
Narrow streets brought out stupid in his truck, here as in many other cities. The gas truck left plenty of room for vehicles to pass but the driver of the pick up truck was shouting and making a meal of the problem. He eventually backed up and let the cars by and when i walked past he had a foot of room on each side of his truck to squeeze past the gas truck making it's delivery. I figure if you can't cope with a large vehicle drive something smaller- penis size be damned! 
One reason I keep trundling along with my blog is because taking pictures forces me to look, really look at stuff that comes into view in my life day after day. Then I have to, by my nature, add words and opinions. Too often when one lives in a remarkable place familiarity as they say breeds contempt. I wonder if locals walk past this house and barely notice it on their way to work.
The main drag is full of tourist shops, all in good taste I might add, no bongs or titty t-shirts, and it made for quite a pleasant stroll in the late morning sun. 
Many of the streets are closed to cars and skateboards and the like. I don't think skateboards are very compatible with cobblestoned streets. 
No pets, no food, no ice cream (which isn't food in some people's minds, apparently), no strollers blah blah blah. 
For people who fear the heat it's worth noting this town at the top of Florida was sensibly cooler than the Florida Keys, particularly after the sun went down. By day it still got up close to 80 degrees but I found the weather to be perfect. So did lots of others judging by these pictures. 
And of course the pirate nonsense is promulgated here as it is in Key west. However St Augustine did actually get ravaged by pirates unlike the Southernmost City. In 1688 Robert Searle, a British privateer (a chartered pirate essentially) did a number on the city raping and pillaging all he could see.
And then Cheyenne and I crossed the street and took in the beauty of St Mark's Fort. The British occupied St Augustine from 1763 to 1783, a period when Caribbean colonies were swapping hands at a dizzying rate between France, Britain, the Netherlands and Spain, and the Spanish San Marcos was renamed by the new occupiers, who also left their mark by building a bakery in town. Such was the measure of progress in the 18th century.
Pets are not allowed inside the Castillo de San Marcos but we took our ease together outside. This is a good spot for contemplation.
The city provides lots of moorings for boat visitors.
And of course what would a city be without a pretty waterfront? 
I suppose it might be an inland city...Cheyenne was ready to do some people watching in the shade of the outer wall of the fort.
Not everyone found the view of the old fort completely absorbing. 
The fort is built to a Spanish design that is familiar to anyone that has travelled the former colonies of Spain in the new world. I have a print photo somewhere of me standing with my previous dog in a sentry turret just like the one shown below. Except it was in the former colonial harbor of Portobello on Panama's Caribbean coast.
Estuarine views.
And there goes one of those trolleys so beloved in Key West. We thought about taking a tour but time was short. The key West tours last 90 minutes cost $22 as I recall and are extremely informative. That they drive residents nuts is an unfortunate by-product. 
"And this is the end the used hay comes out from..." City kids meeting their grandparent's wheels.
And then it was time to go home, but this time we zipped straight down the East Coast on I-95. 
I love the little white Sunpass box on my windshield which gives easy access to Florida's Turnpike, which is the direct route to Homestead and the start of the Florida Keys.
But before we got to Homestead we stopped at Flakowitz's Jewish Deli in Boynton Beach so my wife could reconnect with her people through liver and pastrami and potato pancakes and pickles while I had a monumental grilled meatloaf and cheese sandwich with some really crispy fries.
It looked for a while like summer might be coming to south Florida but the cloudy skies prodcued no torrential downpours and we arrived home with no drama to round out our brief jaunt Up North.
Homestead always looks lovely, small town America is the fading sunlight.
And from there home to our little stilt house on the canal, where Cheyenne jumped out of the car wagging her tail madly.
The Bridge of Lions which seemed rather less massive and impressive in real life than as depicted in pictures. In all directions radiating from the core old town section of the city we saw normal humdrum everyday neon America. You could be two blocks from the ancient homes of the city's past and you wouldn't know it. Here on the beach on Anastasia Island, the sandy barrier island that separates St Augustine from the Atlantic Ocean: A1A is a wide coastal highway that drives straight south: 
In the midst of all our preoccupations with a "recovering" economy, nuclear meltdown and the Middle East going up in smoke and taking the world's oil supply with it, there are a bunch of kooks worrying about the burqa coming to the US. And they have the money to waste on billboards. Anything to distract the sheeple.
Beach access was rather problematic around here too. Technically in Florida the beach up to the high tide mark is public. In fact all you have to do is develop the shit out of the landward side and most people are cut out.
We did find a small county park where some Spring Break volunteer planting was underway.
And some strange dude was walking his dog by driving in circles. I have no doubt this dog would envy Cheyenne her freedom to roam and sniff and check things out properly.
Ah! Beach access...and dogs were allowed on the beach on a leash. I figured Cheyenne wanted to spend her time street walking as she isn't much of a beach dog. Me neither.
We went back to the mainland, enjoying a brief view of the marshy hinterland:
Recently we have seen lots of debate in Key West about private property tows and what to do about them. They generate lots of money for tow companies and lots of ill feeling. St Augustine has a brilliantly simple and innovative solution to this vexing problem:
St Augustine in sunlight is quite ravishing.
Narrow streets brought out stupid in his truck, here as in many other cities. The gas truck left plenty of room for vehicles to pass but the driver of the pick up truck was shouting and making a meal of the problem. He eventually backed up and let the cars by and when i walked past he had a foot of room on each side of his truck to squeeze past the gas truck making it's delivery. I figure if you can't cope with a large vehicle drive something smaller- penis size be damned! 
One reason I keep trundling along with my blog is because taking pictures forces me to look, really look at stuff that comes into view in my life day after day. Then I have to, by my nature, add words and opinions. Too often when one lives in a remarkable place familiarity as they say breeds contempt. I wonder if locals walk past this house and barely notice it on their way to work.
The main drag is full of tourist shops, all in good taste I might add, no bongs or titty t-shirts, and it made for quite a pleasant stroll in the late morning sun. 
Many of the streets are closed to cars and skateboards and the like. I don't think skateboards are very compatible with cobblestoned streets. 
No pets, no food, no ice cream (which isn't food in some people's minds, apparently), no strollers blah blah blah. 
For people who fear the heat it's worth noting this town at the top of Florida was sensibly cooler than the Florida Keys, particularly after the sun went down. By day it still got up close to 80 degrees but I found the weather to be perfect. So did lots of others judging by these pictures. 
And of course the pirate nonsense is promulgated here as it is in Key west. However St Augustine did actually get ravaged by pirates unlike the Southernmost City. In 1688 Robert Searle, a British privateer (a chartered pirate essentially) did a number on the city raping and pillaging all he could see.
And then Cheyenne and I crossed the street and took in the beauty of St Mark's Fort. The British occupied St Augustine from 1763 to 1783, a period when Caribbean colonies were swapping hands at a dizzying rate between France, Britain, the Netherlands and Spain, and the Spanish San Marcos was renamed by the new occupiers, who also left their mark by building a bakery in town. Such was the measure of progress in the 18th century.
Pets are not allowed inside the Castillo de San Marcos but we took our ease together outside. This is a good spot for contemplation.
The city provides lots of moorings for boat visitors.
And of course what would a city be without a pretty waterfront? I suppose it might be an inland city...Cheyenne was ready to do some people watching in the shade of the outer wall of the fort.Not everyone found the view of the old fort completely absorbing. The fort is built to a Spanish design that is familiar to anyone that has travelled the former colonies of Spain in the new world. I have a print photo somewhere of me standing with my previous dog in a sentry turret just like the one shown below. Except it was in the former colonial harbor of Portobello on Panama's Caribbean coast.
Estuarine views.
And there goes one of those trolleys so beloved in Key West. We thought about taking a tour but time was short. The key West tours last 90 minutes cost $22 as I recall and are extremely informative. That they drive residents nuts is an unfortunate by-product. 
"And this is the end the used hay comes out from..." City kids meeting their grandparent's wheels.And then it was time to go home, but this time we zipped straight down the East Coast on I-95. I love the little white Sunpass box on my windshield which gives easy access to Florida's Turnpike, which is the direct route to Homestead and the start of the Florida Keys.
But before we got to Homestead we stopped at Flakowitz's Jewish Deli in Boynton Beach so my wife could reconnect with her people through liver and pastrami and potato pancakes and pickles while I had a monumental grilled meatloaf and cheese sandwich with some really crispy fries.
It looked for a while like summer might be coming to south Florida but the cloudy skies prodcued no torrential downpours and we arrived home with no drama to round out our brief jaunt Up North.
Homestead always looks lovely, small town America is the fading sunlight.
12 comments:
Oregon's constitution guarantees Oregonians (and tourists, I'm guessing) unfettered access to the state's 300-someodd miles of coastal beaches. Most beaches in Washington are covered with rocks and dirt, but you have an inalienable right to drive on the one sandy beach in Long Beach.
That meatloaf and cheese sandwich is to die for. I'll have to try to make one in my RV-sized kitchen. The fries look wonderful, too.
__Orin
Scootin' Where There Are No Restaurants Serving Grilled Meatloaf and Cheese Sandwiches
Dear Uncle Muggins:
Now this was a nice interpretation of a delightful little adventure. It gave me the desire to actualy visit St. Augustine on my next visit to the hellishly temperate state of Florida. Yet I must thank you for the close in shot of the wares of the Flakowitz Jewish Deli. There is nothing like a Jewish deli for lunch. We have one 15 miles east of here, and you have inspired me to head that way for lunch. I want a hot tongue sandwich, with spicy mustard and a blueberry blintz for dessert.
By the way, I will be contacting you for technical data about Key Wes for my latest spec project.
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads
Last week my wife and I booked a house in a "community" in Davenport, packed the two little kids into the car, hit the 401 and then I75 bound for Florida. We did it in two days both ways, stopping in Kentucky overnight both ways. As commercial as our journey was (disney, cocao beach, etc) with two kids it was kind of inevitable, having only ever driven down to Naples eight years ago pre kids. I found people Kentucky and South to be very friendly. It was refreshing. I'm told these folks can be very judgemental, but we found fellow travellers and locals to be very nice. Not that I was looking for interaction but nice nonetheless. People would smile and say hello, older southern women would squeeze my little four year olds cheeks. It was very hard to leave. This I'm sure is a sentiment of many Canadians. When I got back, I looked into what it would take to live there. Wife would have to take a 45% haircut in teaching salary without much job security. Healthcare, education, blah blah blah. Out of reach for us even though reasonable housing prices are plentiful. We will have to resign ourselves to the usual Canadian treks south when time permits. I'm not gonna lie to you though, being somewhere summer has begun at a pool everyday, and coming back two days later to this, sucks large. I think back to when I owned my black lab for six years and I could see myself enjoying many of the simple things you enjoy. Allowing the rest of the world to rant on about their right wing beliefs and delusions of self entitlement and just enjoy being outside a lot. Cheers.
Dear Jeff,
It's always hardest to give up what you can't have and you can't live in the US, but take heart- fabulous beauty and glorious weather are only part of the story.
The US system thrives on creating fear and insecurity. The whole focus of the national dialogue frames every issue as one of personal threat. And supposedly opportunity.
For some of us the opportunity really is there and those are the stories you see on television. For the vast majority of the population opportunity is a chimera devoutly to be believed in but as unattainable as the Arc of the Covenant. 99.9% of trailer park residents will never earn a million bucks in a million lifetimes but the Orwellian self promotion machine persuades them that maybe, just maybe one day they will and then they will be "free."
Constantly promoting the unattainable at the expense of the real creates the daily "life rage" (dysfunctional road rage of daily living) that makes everyone fear their neighbors.
In civilised states you may never escape your social stratum, but nor will you be thrown to the trash heap of life as superfluous to social needs either.
This madness works for me, child free and grounded in my native cultures, but leaves me living the good life surrounded by angry dysfunctional people self medicating. My choice to live here at age 23 was a Faustian bargain it turns out.
As boring and cold as Canada may be thank the gods for regulated banks and health care and a decent education that your soundly based nation state offers you against the daily vicissitudes of Dark Angel land to the south.
Wish us luck, because when your economic bubble bursts you will retain one hopes some measure of social cohesion to hang on to, something we completely lack as we tear each other apart in our downward spiral. Budget cuts will rip the poor and the mad to pieces, just watch the next few years until we reach bottom and struggle to pull it back together. By my calculations we are closing in on 1933 about now. Wayne keeps telling me we are lucky to live in interesting times, because he grew up in boring times. I grew up in Italy in the 1970s and shudder to think what comes next. 45 million on food stamps, millions falling off welfare rolls, 47 million officially without access to health care. One in four children on pitiful public assistance. Denmark we are not.
Your post today brought back alot of memories for me. I have spent alot of time in St Augustine beofre I met my wife and after.Its a lovely place and reminds me of what Key West could be but isnt.Your comment about not seeing and bong-atoriums and crude t-shirt shops did not get lost on me.Well done as always..!!!
Buffalo Bill
Hope you visit--or visted--Sopchoppy along the way.
Dear Conchscooter:
Your weather looks entirely too sunny and warm. All that brilliant sunlight must be bad for your health and/or eyesight.
Please send some of that sunshine to the pacific northwest to fortify our constitutions and take the moss off our shady damp twisties.
Sincerely Trobairitz
Signor Bella Giornada-
There are medications for your condition, you know.
Interesting to see what your respondents thought of your post against your reflection of it.
It's not 1933 - it's a world where technology no longer creates wealth, as the resources required for conversion are scarce. the New Age is one of cometition for increasingly scarce resources - and we haven't quite figured that out just yet.
I have a spare supply of Pauline's happy pills, BTW.
Bemused on Fleming,
Chuck.
I did not visit sopchoppy or anywhere much else. it was a lightning tour.Trobaritz summer will come and sooner than you think.Then we will wish we had twisties.
Dear Chuck. World War Two was a war for scarce resources. Germans had no energy and drove to the Caucausus. Japan had no resources and created the Southeast Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere to rape their neighbors. Italy tried to create an empire to suck oil and food out of Africa. Mayhem ensued. I believe we are on the brink of more of the same making allowances for modern technology and old desires.I feel fortunate to be where I am and how I am, here and now. I look around and expect a great deal of misery in the years ahead. Our leaders have mad eit clear they couldn't care less about the harm they inflict at home or abroad. The receipe for conflagration is written all around us. I propose to swin in the Keys and watch from a distance.People prefer that I think less and think less gloomy. It is my way of staving off Alzheimers.
we could live beside the ocean
watch the world go by
swim out past the breakers
and watch the world die
yeah
watch the world die.
I forget the artist, it's the refrain of a pop song from about 15 years back.
And if you want an argument, you'd have to pick a different subject. We're currently shooting in three countries - none of which attacked us; all of which have resources we're intrested in.
Ahh, the magnificent defence of freedom!
My neighbor is an anarchist - he makes more sense these days.
Fatalistic on Fleming,
Chuck.
We are doomed to repeat our history because none of our neighbors know our history. Georges Santayana was aforeigner but he had it right.
I will be proud to sacrifice my retirement so we can buy more Tomahwaks to blow up more foreigners in pursuit of more oil. Where do I sign?
Mind you, without the oil we'd end up dying with a hoe in our hands like medieval pesants did. What a choice...
The corporate media trains "some people" to be afraid. Fearful people are easy to control. It's an old trick and works really well. Divide and conquer. One day it's the communists attacking through Mexico, the next day it's illegal immigrants stealing our jobs and living off free welfare, and now it's Shariah law taking over America... I could go on. Lions and Tigers and Bears... Oh My!
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