Last Beach

This morning the sky over the Florida panhandle is pale gray, and the barrier islands look like a frayed brown string on the horizon. It’s not raining, but it would be nice to be able to wring out the air. Everything feels clammy in the ePod. We’re going to the beach today and enjoy it in whatever state we find it. Wet, salt-sticky, doesn’t matter; just love the ocean beside us.

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The Emerald Beach RV Park, in Navarre, is so well laid out. The parking sites are portioned diagonally, like French bread, with nice level concrete pads for the trailers and picnic tables, a rectangle of crushed stone for the tow vehicles or cars that motor homes have towed along, and each is positioned to block the view of the neighbor’s hook-ups. From our dining windows and door we have a view of the water. Trees and palms dot every site, to the delight of leash-walked dogs and song-birds. Another mockingbird woke me this morning. What must go through his tiny, endlessly improvisational mind? As in most RV parks, the inhabitants are quiet, except for the rare bark of a dog. Many RVers have dogs, most of them small breeds, and all of them seem to have acquired traveling manners along the way (both the dogs and their owners).navarre-beach9.jpg

The county bans dog walking on beaches, but today we’d planned go to a national park beach on the barrier islands, where Sprocket would be welcome. Unfortunately, the National Seashore is still being rebuilt from Hurricane Dennis, and is closed! So, we left Sprocket in his silver kennel with music and air-conditioning and went to lunch at Cocodrie’s over on Navarre’s Emerald Beach. We split a sandwich of fresh-grilled grouper on sourdough, and an order of truly memorable crab cakes. The sun came out and formed a peculiar horizontal rainbow spectrum in some wispy clouds out the window and it lingered for most of our meal.

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Then, we left to sit on the white sands and listen to the emerald surf: our last day in Florida and last salt-water-beach day until California. Sigh. The sign at the beach parking area said ‘Leave nothing but your footprints’, but I shot a picture of them to take as a souvenir.

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We came ‘home’ and repacked both the cab and back of the truck, which were getting out of control. Sprocket helped. Tomorrow we hit the road again–headed west.

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One Comment on “Last Beach”

  1. Diane Gallo Says:

    Well, finally caught up with you two. Photos continue to be knockout good. Love the last one of the fence shadows on the ripply sand.


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