Skip to main content

Summer Road Trip2014_Day One

'You better be ready to leave at Oh-Dark-Thirty Paul,that's just how Mom rolls,' said my daughter at dinner last night. She is a seasoned traveler with Mom.  But I declined to leave at my customary Oh-Dark-Thirty out of respect for the fact I have a travel partner on this trip! I compromised with 6am...there is something about watching the sun come up from the saddle that gives me such a rush, but I stood in our driveway and had my moment of quiet while my partner finished his coffee.  Learning to travel with a partner, literally and figuratively, is something I am wiling to get used to.

Kissed my daughter good-bye, assured her we would be okay and will see her in Denver in a week...then headed west.  It was a gorgeous morning with no rain on the horizon; I headed over to SR19 North. Love the secondary roads when I travel and 19 is one of those strips of asphalt that runs through sleepy little southern towns like Weekie Watchee, Homasassa, Otter Creek, and Cross City. Stopped in Chiefland for breakfast ....I always look for the local restaurant with the most cars in the parking lot. This morning it was Betts Big T Restaurant; not sure what the T stands for...it was one of those good 'ole southern eateries where the sweet tea is really sweet, the biscuits are homemade, and the waitress calls everyone 'Hon.'  I fortified myself with scrambled eggs, plenty of hot sauce, grits, and a biscuit. The interior of Betts was ancient knotty pine covering the walls with intricate trim molding along the ceiling...I wondered how many butts had to slide across the booth seats over the years to get that shiny patina on the worn wood.  There is also a great little eatery, the Dixie Diner, on up the road at Cross City.

Before I-75, there was SR19 & 27 to carry tourists from north to south in Florida: they had a variety of Mom & Pop motels to choose from for overnight lodging. Sadly, those places stand in decay; some abandoned, some apparently home to crack addicts, and some, renovated and still beckoning travelers with the softly glowing neon sign. 

Outside of Perry, we take 98 west that runs through the oaks, pines, and an occassional swamp. Wildlie is abundant ...not something you see off the interstate! I stop at Sopchoppy....home of the Annual Sopchoppy Worm Gruntin' Festival. That's right...worm grunting. It is like snake charming...sorta.  A type of fiddle or bow is used to send vibrations through the ground, coaxing earthworms to come to the surface....then they are plucked from the ground and sold as bait! Check it out on YouTube!  Out of Sopchoppy, 319 cuts south to the coast. The North Coast of FLorida - or the Redneck Riviera as its called - is gorgeous. We stop in Appalachacola to hydrate; its not exactly oyster season, but when the oysters are fat and juicey (months with an 'R'), Boss Oyster is one of the best places to enjoy the salty mollusks. Sitting along the river enoying the breeze, a tiredness hits me....I give Paul the iPad and ask him to find a hotel near Panama CIty. The sun has been hot, the breeze off the Gulf cool, the road has been smooth, but when I hit that 'wall,' its time to seek lodgings. We had hoped to stay in Ft. Walton Beach this eve, but Panama City will do!

Stopping several times to check the 'blue dot' on my iPhone map....we miss the hotel at least once and double back. Panama City will never be designated the Crown Jewel of FLorida, its just downright tacky. I've been up here a few times and haven't found an area of the town that ISNT tacky. The hotel is surrounded by drugstores, tire shops, and a pawn shop....food, we need food. Not willing to hop back on the bikes after a shower, we set out on foot...well, flip flops for me..to find food. After what seems like several blocks, an Applebee's appears on the horizon...yes, that will do!  Sat down in time to watch the Belmont Stakes....what a shame for California Chrome!

Florida's diversity of geography always amazes me; we logged 477 (and only a half pack of Twizzlers) miles today and haven't left the state yet! Tomorrow is another day; plan to ride 90 west to Houston, across the bayou and snag some genuine cajun cuisine on the way.

Thank you God for safe travel today.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Waning Light

  There are times I dread the waning light of day, That golden hour which precedes the night. The night brings sad memories. The night brings old terrors. The night brings lonely hours, Sleepless hours, Blackness filled with sorrow. The darkness carries the quiet, the quiet commands the truth. The night accentuates my aloneness; it echoes my fears. The darkness makes me yearn for my children and for my loved ones long gone. The night plays a melancholy tune in my head. The night makes me yearn for the light of day when everything is new once again.                                                                                                     ~ Author: Debi Tolbert Duggar   As a...

My Hawaiian Vacay: the Big Island Hawai'i

The first rigorous challenge of the day? Finding coffee. The island doesn't exactly wake up when we do; the complimentary coffee in the room barely fills two micro cups and tastes like someone passed a coffee bean over hot water. Kona is just a little strip along the rocky coast with an assortment of shops and restaurants, so choices are limited. We head out for what turns into our first hike of the day...about a mile and a half until one little coffee shop opens. We sit across from the ocean, gulping our cup of rich Kona blend like the coffee addicts we are. The tour guide picks us up promptly at 715a; Wasabi Tours. If you only have one day to see the island, this is the way to do it. Only 12 tourists and our guide was Aileen, 24, adventuresome, and very knowledgable about her adopted home. She came to Hawai'i on a work exchange while in college then returned to live. She is a computer teacher at one of the elementary schools and part time tour guide. We started on the westwar...

#Scattered_TheBox

     Bree sat silent in the passenger seat of Della’s Range Rover as they drove away from the city towards Bree’s farmhouse. Della respected her friends silence, glancing furtively towards Bree, checking for what? Della didn’t know; was there a protocol for ‘how to act when your friend is told she has a few months to live?’ Della wasn’t sure and at this moment her heart hurt as if it were being squeezed by a giant hand intent on crushing the organ in her chest.       Della met Bree Maxwell at the registrar’s office in 1974 at the University of Chicago. Just two long-haired hippie chicks in bell bottom denims and crop tops among thousands, struggling to look cool while simultaneously overwhelmed by the process of registering for classes. The two became fast friends and shortly thereafter they met Tish and Ann, also freshman. The foursome became inseparable and forged a bond that has endured four decades.         Bree is the...