Hey-hey (!) and a well, well, well, also...the 6th day on the road, sitting around in Nashville, Tennessee, and what the heck has happened that's made me relish the lounging and reprieve from the outside? Let's begin.
We left Saint Augustine around noon on Tuesday the 3rd, with all guns blazing, after a great couple of days sight seeing the oldest city in this continent (although the Chamber of Commerce and city signs want me to believe otherwise, however, this area wasn't a nation until the late 1700s!). Bread should be had at the Spanish Bakery for $1.50 (unlike the promised $1.00 per loaf some tour guides will guarantee you to be the correct price) at 10:45AM every morning (also unlike the promised 8:00AM “sharp!” baking of previously mentioned goods). These loaves lasted until Thursday, and tasted mother-loving fantastic with guava butter sold at the sweets store located in one of those many, many historic buildings. The town drips with History's wet presence, crushing the inevitably crashing tide of a Starbucks/ McDonalds weight with a firm “Preservation Ethic and Practice” (Kudos to the National Historic Preservation Act(s) of the 20th Century! Now rich folks get killer views with ancient plumbing!). Seriously, the city's oldest house is beautiful (coquina walls and square architecture) and the Ponce de Leon Hotel (Flagler College now) is vast and filled with spires and brick. The Old Spanish Fort is a prime location to catch swimming dolphin playing around (I started making high-pitched squeaking noises towards them, and they then started jumping higher, offering glimpses of their faces. They love the attention.) and, during the witching hours, a good spot for ghost watching (so saith the Ghost Store proprietor). Other highlight: the vortex of “Ripley's...Believe it or don't believe things you don't want too, because they probably aren't true?!®” was a lit phantasmagoria, however, had we traveled into the tragedy filled parallel dimension out of complete ignorance?
CHAPTER 2: Tragedy Strikes! Signs of a future yet to come? Ripley's® Revenge?!
So we're on the road to Savannah, we sleep in a church parking lot outside of Skidaway Island State Park at 11:30 PM due to exorbitant camping fees, and head out the next morning. Sounds fairly innocuous, right? We head off to the intracoastal waterway, kayak over to CRAB ISLAND, where I promptly and decisively slice my right foot, from ball/ instep up to the space between my large toe and first toe, as I am steering the kayak into the shallow waters to eventually board. My progress was, indeed, halted. First aid occurred, water was purified (thanks to the water purification apparatus from Melissa's Dad, Mike!) and Melissa then succumbed to the tortures of heat exhaustion. She tried to stomach a double quarter pounder, but could only make it through half (Hey, we all have standards, right? There's only so much a person can take in one day. Everyone has their breaking point.) of the terrible “sandwich”. Well, as soon as both parties felt up to the task of continuing onwards, the front right caliper seizes, resulting in another night in the lovely city of Savannah, where a Master Cylinder, rotors (right and left! Hooray!) and brake pads apparently do not come without a steep price tag.
Savannah is a lovely city, with a sweet historic district (check out Tomo Chi-Chi's burial site! Nice park, nice statue.) and it's interesting to watch Chinese freight come in by the mega-ton. It was great to get back on the road, that's all I'm saying. Crossing that Tennessee border into Chattanooga yesterday evening was comforting, cutting through the mountain roads was stunning, and meeting new friends that very night in Nashville has felt destined from the start. More to come in the following nights, weeks, whatever, I'm sure...