Friday, August 24, 2018
We have been itching to get on the road. It has been far too long. I had no idea how bad Al’s eyesight had gotten until after he had cataract surgery. This trip is going to be a short one, but we truly NEED it. Originally, we were going to share it with friends Steve and Penny, but that didn’t work out. Maybe some other time.
We brought the Roo up to the house yesterday to get the refrigerator cooled down. It took very little time to pack because we don’t need to take much for such a short trip. Our friend Helen stopped by when we were hitching up the toad to wish us a safe trip. She will pick up our mail and newspapers while we are gone. It was 85°, very muggy, and the sun was shining with big puffy clouds when we drove through the gate at 10:30.
We headed west on CR-484 to Dunnellon, a quaint little town we always enjoy visiting with antiques shops and various art galleries. The population is about 1700. We took a short side trip to their new Winn Dixie, looking for some items we cannot find now that the Winn Dixie beside our front gate has closed. It’s always an adventure going to a new grocery store. Where to find bread crumbs? In the bread aisle? Naw. Too simple. Look in the peanut butter aisle.
We passed a sign for the Dunnellon Memorial Gardens and Cemetery, which were originally separate entities but so many people considered them the same that today they have been combined. The most famous person buried here is Max Lanier, (1915-2007), a left-handed Major League Baseball player for the St. Louis Cardinals. He led the National League in earned run average in 1943, and was the winning pitcher of the clinching game in the 1944 World Series against the crosstown St. Louis Browns.
The back roads we drove on are pretty natural with tall pines and low ground cover and in some places, swamp water.
We drove through part of the 53,398-acre Goethe State Forest. The main trail usage is equestrian, both riders and carts. Goethe is known for its population of red cockaded woodpeckers, a rare bird endemic to the longleaf pine forests of the southeastern coastal plain. I guess I should also mention the gopher tortoise, Sherman’s fox squirrel and bald eagle. Gopher tortoises are considered a “keystone species” because it is the backbone of the plant and wildlife community in which it lives. Without the tortoise, the populations of more than 350 wildlife species that seek refuge or live in the burrows would be greatly reduced, if not eliminated. It is against the law to damage, destroy, harass or kill gopher tortoises, their burrows or their eggs.
Old-style telephone poles line this very straight road, which is both easy driving and very boring. We picked up Rte 19/98 – another long, straight, boring road for about thirteen miles. It is double-barreled and lined with yellow wildflowers. Each side has two lanes but the land on both sides has been cleared enough to double the width of the road sometime in the future.
For those of you not familiar with Florida happenings, this was recently in the news and is a very, VERY big deal. The Florida Department of Transportation (FDOT) proffered a Coastal Connector turnpike to run between the seaports of Tampa on the west coast to Jacksonville on the east coast. Part of the reasoning was to ease the traffic on I-75 during hurricane evacuations. The problem is, the roadway would run right through the heart of Ocala’s horse country, a 3-billion-dollar industry which provides Marion County with almost 27,000 jobs. The uproar was so loud and so vicious that it may have been heard in outer space. From the governor to the horse community and beyond, everyone was horrified. The proposal has now been scrapped by FDOT…or rather, “tabled”. A suggested alternative is to have 19/98 widened and extended to I-10. This alternative is not only favored but completely plausible. If and when this project ever comes to fruition the affected towns will be forever changed.
We turned off 19/98 in the 1.5-square-mile Otter Creek, population about 134. On the corner is Hershel’s Quick Stop, offering bait, beer, smoked mullet and, apparently, clean bathrooms along with hunting and fishing supplies. In the 1930s and 1940s Otter Creek was the second largest community in Levy County with a population approaching 1,000. The loss of a lumber mill that made cypress “flitches” for citrus crates and the discontinuation of two railroads which bisected the town led to a steady population decline.
We passed a few older mobile homes and a lone egret standing sentinel in a swampy area beside the road. Supposedly, we drove through the town of Ellzey, but I guess we missed it. The community is named for Robert M. Ellzey, a Methodist Circuit rider who settled there after Civil War.
We passed a small, private air strip. Last time we came this way, in 2010, a nearby sign was offering 1-acre runway lots for $49,500. Today the sign is gone and I wonder if all the lots sold…or not. We passed a sign, “United by our Diversity”, and the ever-present Dollar General. We finally arrived at Angler’s RV. We know this is the campground we stayed at years ago, but the name has changed. The office door was locked but a man walking by said to call the office number because the owner was out mowing the grass. While we waited for him, a couple came onto the porch and we had a brief conversation. They are from Alaska, recently bought a nearby campground and were here to meet their neighbors. From Fairbanks, Alaska, to Cedar Key, Florida. Wow.
We checked in, found our site and set up. The temperature was 85° when we left home. However, the temperature here when we arrived was down to 75°, but still quite humid. We headed into town and noticed that several things had changed but several things were just the same as we remembered. Hurricanes had changed the landscape, but Cedar Key continues to be strong and productive. 95% of all farm-raised clams in the U.S. are harvested right here in Cedar Key.
We drove out to Dock Street, on the outer side of the keys facing the Gulf. We were fortunate to find a parking space. The buildings here are literally built on the water. Walking along the sidewalk, you can look directly down between the buildings and see the water. It is very touristy with restaurants and gift shops. Signs: “Where the elite meet to eat in bare feet”, and “Cedar Key Hurricane evacuation plan: 1. Grab beer. 2. Run like Hell”.
Several places decorate their shops with brightly painted handrail posts that look like indoor stair rails.
Because I am not a seafood lover, it was up to Al to pick a place to eat lunch in this seafood haven. He chose Tony’s, where their clam chowder had won at the Newport, Rhode Island, chowder cook-off three years in a row, 2009, 2010 and 2011. The recipe was then retired. Other than the chowder, Tony’s is small, diner-like with average food.
Back at the Roo, Al got to talking with the man whose rig is parked next to ours. His site is really nice, tucked in next to some bushes and cooled by the shade of trees. He and his wife are originally from Michigan but have recently retired from Louisiana.
When we were here in 2010, there was a ramshackle factory-made building across the side street that sold fish bait. We learned that they sold pizza and that was the first time we ever ate — or even heard of — Hunt Brothers Pizza. Quote: “Hunt Brothers Pizza is an American food chain located in convenience stores, gas stations, country markets, sports arenas, and schools. It has more than 7,300 locations in 28 states as well as some international United States military bases.” We have since eaten their pizzas many times in several locations. The price is always the same with no extra charge for toppings.
Today, the original building is long gone and in its place is a sizable building (up on stilts, like many buildings in this flood-prone area), with gas pumps (for both vehicles and marine), and sells beer and wine along with Hunt Brothers pizza. The big tub with fresh bait shrimp is still out front. Pizza for supper was delicious and a walk down memory lane.
The rain held off until late in the evening and cooled everything down until bedtime. This is a very, very quiet campground.
Total miles for the day: 56.8.
Saturday, August 25, 2018
We were able to sleep with the windows open most of the night until the humidity got to us. This morning the sun is shining, there isn’t a cloud in the sky and the humidity is way down. We enjoyed a slow morning then drove into town for lunch. Out on Dock Street, all the parking spaces seemed to be taken. We finally found one at the very end of the street. We climbed the outside stairs to the Steamers Clam Bar and Grill. We were seated at a table beside a window with an incredible view of the Gulf of Mexico. Here we were in a place well-known for their spectacular fresh fish and Al ordered a burger. Oh well…
Two men were playing guitars and singing songs we both knew the words to. That’s unusual these days. They both look retirement-age and their music included “Save the last dance for me” (1960), Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” (1969), and “First Rate Romance, Low Rent Rendezvous”. Al and I enjoyed their music very much. Most of the diners were younger and there were several families with young children. We can only guess if they recognized these oldies.
The food was reasonably priced and surprisingly tasty. Al’s burger came with Ghost Pepper Jack cheese and my pulled pork came with BBQ sauce made with Sweet Baby Ray’s and dark rum. These subtle differences really elevated their flavors and made our taste buds stand at attention.
We skipped the souvenir shops and stopped in at the Welcome Center. A welcoming water dish for dogs sits by the bottom step.
Al asked where the locals eat and her response was that with such a small town and so few restaurants, the locals eat at all of them, rather than get bored with just one place. She said all the prices are pretty much comparable. She was amazed that many tourists think the only way to eat fish is to fry it. However, she did mention a special place, the Island Room, that is only open Saturday nights and Sundays for brunch. It is the only restaurant in town that refuses to own a fry-o-lator. The owner is a trained chef but by day he is a fourth generation fisherman.
The Cedar Keys are a “cluster” of small islands that stick out into the Gulf of Mexico. Some are named and some are not, but I haven’t yet learned how many islands there actually are. Some are within the Cedar Keys National Wildlife Refuge and are taboo for us mere mortals.
Cedar Key was so named because they were originally covered with a full forest of eastern red cedar, Juniperus virginiana. By the mid 1800’s, harvesting had begun. Pencil manufactures began using the cedar trees to make pencils to be used in schools all over the country. As the desire for these trees increased, a procession of lumber ships visited the island to pick up the valuable cargo. The shipping increased so much that the Lighthouse Board decided to build a lighthouse to guide these ships around the islands and mark the port of Cedar Key.
In 1854, George Meade, who later became a general in the Civil War, oversaw the construction on Seahorse Key, which is the largest of the various islands. The lighthouse, costing $12,000 to complete, was a simple one-story dwelling with a short tower perched on its roof. Although the building stood only twenty-eight feet in height, it was constructed at the highest point on the island, giving the light a focal plane of seventy-five feet above the water. The lantern could be seen up to fifteen miles into the gulf.
When the Civil War broke out, the lighthouse was darkened, and its lens and fuel supply was removed. The island was protected by a small group of Confederate soldiers until they were captured by Union forces. Once the Civil War came to an end, the light was put back into service in 1866. It was darkened for good in 1915. Today, it is leased by the University of Florida and part of the Seahorse Key Marine Laboratory. It is forbidden to land on Seahorse Key but once a year, in the fall, a tour is available. That tour sounds exactly like the kind of thing Al and I would enjoy.
Several hurricanes over the years have destroyed many buildings. Several very old buildings on the main street are closed up, but we don’t know if they are permanently closed up or just for the season. To my knowledge, every enterprise in town is a mom-and-pop operation. The boat tour we had wanted to take is closed for the month of August and even the art gallery is a co-op. Just a little over 700 people live in Cedar Key fulltime. The biggest change we saw was the inundation of golf carts. When we were here years ago, there were none. Today they seemed to be everywhere. Some had lodge names and carried 6-8 people, but most were ordinary 2-4 person golf carts and can be rented at several locations, including hotels. Many are personally decorated but the one that caught our eye was this one decorated with skulls on every item.
As we drove back to the campground, we passed the trailhead access to the 5,000-acre Cedar Key Scrub State Reserve. From their website: “Salt marshes on the Gulf of Mexico give way to a succession of swamps, hardwood forests, pine flatwoods and scrub, providing splendid opportunities for nature study and wildlife observation.” Nope. Not us. Not now. Well…maybe…many years ago…
We arrived back at the Roo just as the skies opened up. Maddy was very happy to see us, especially when the rain roared down so hard on our roof that we had trouble hearing each other speak. Apart from our little feline travel buddy, we also brought with us fifteen basil plants. They need daily attention and are just about ready to be harvested. Yes, I have traveled with basil plants before and probably will again. Our home life changes little whether we are in our home with the lanai or in our home on wheels.
Sunday, August 26, 2018
Another beautiful morning. The temperature is in the 70s, humidity is down, the sky is blue and cloudless. Everything looks washed and cleaned from the rain. Although when we checked in we only paid for two nights, we just KNEW we would be staying another day. We did not even have to discuss it — two nights is just not enough. We reupped for another night.
We decided to try the brunch at the Island Room. It is not a buffet, which we prefer, but it had piqued our interest. It was not easy to find. We had to drive all the way down the main street to the end (water). We passed a previously unknown (to us) park and a basketball court. There was a sign, but where was the restaurant? I got out of the car and walked past the swimming pool and into the motel office. That’s where I was told to walk past and behind the swimming pool to the restaurant’s door. Wow. We really had to know it was there and really wanted to eat there.
IT WAS WORTH IT!!!
Al had Amaretto French Toast and I had the very best vegetarian omelet I have ever eaten. Usually, the eggs are the stars of the day and the veggies are an afterthought, but this one was different: there was an abundance of tomatoes, onions, spinach and mushrooms. Oh, yeah, they were held in a thin wrapping of eggs.
Sitting at a table next to a window, we watched two small pre-school children and their parents walk the beach and every few steps, stop, kneel down and peer into tidal pools. Then, two women with two small girls about 4-5-years-old, walked the beach as well. What lucky children! What they learn today about nature will stay with them for the rest of their lives. Both little girls looked full of joy as they picked up shells and drew figures in the sand. I wish that exuberance and happiness — that look of sheer joy could be on the face of every child on earth.
This is the view from our table.
We drove around to see how the locals live. There are expensive high-rises built on stilts and decrepit shacks.
We saw this very unusual headstone in the local cemetery. There has to be an interesting story here.
Cedar Key is also known for its artists. I guess art is in the eye of the beholder.
Make art wherever and with whatever is available. Cement and bottle art.
This may not be what others do when they travel, but we enjoy seeing how local people live. These cats represent the laid-back attitude many who live here possess.
Monday, August 27, 2018
OK, this is it. We really have to go home today. It was 85° with clear skies and very sunny when we waved goodbye to John and Debbie. John is a HAM radio operator and Al hopes to keep in contact with him via radio when we get home. We drove across the side street and gassed up the Roo. This picture is of the building where we bought the Hunt Brothers Pizza.
We started out and soon passed the Historical Marker for Rosewood. When we came this way years ago, I read quite a bit about what happened in Rosewood. The name and circumstances of what happened are burned into my memory. Rather than rewrite everything, the following is what I wrote back then.
I have read different accounts of the Rosewood massacre and all are horrible. I have also read that there were more lynchings in FL than in any other state, but it is difficult to document because the numbers were never officially kept – newspapers ignored the subject. During the WW I years, governors Park Trammell (1913-1917) and his successor Signey Catts (1917-1921) essentially ignored the growing tensions between blacks and whites and no lynchings were ever prosecuted during their terms. The following is the word-for-word “official” record.
“Racial violence erupted in the small and quiet Rosewood community January 1-7, 1923. Rosewood, a predominantly colored community, was home to the Bradley, Carrier, Carter, Goins and Hall families, among others. Residents supported a school taught by Mahulda “Gussie” Brown Carrier, three churches and a Masonic lodge. Many of them owned their homes, some were business owners and others worked in nearby Sumner and at the Cummer Lumber Mill. This quiet life came to an end on January 1, 1923, when a white Sumner woman accused a black man of assaulting her. In the search for her alleged attacker, whites terrorized and killed Rosewood residents. In the days of fear and violence that followed, many Rosewood citizens sought refuge in the nearby woods. White merchant John M. Wright and other courageous whites sheltered some of the fleeing men, women and children. Whites burned Rosewood and looted livestock and property; two were killed while attacking a home. Five blacks also lost their lives: Sam Carter, who was tortured for information and shot to death on January 1; Sarah Carrier; Lexie Gordon; James Carrier and Mingo Williams. Those who survived were forever scarred.
Haunted by what had happened, Rosewood residents took a vow of silence, lived in fear and never returned to claim their property. That silence was broken seventy-one years later. In 1994, survivors including Minnie Lee Langley, Arnett Turner Goins, and Wilson Hall, filed a claims bill in the Florida Legislature. A Special Master, an expert appointed by the Speaker of the House, ruled that the state had a “moral obligation” to compensate survivors for the loss of property, violation of constitutional rights and mental anguish. On May 4, 1994, Governor Lawton Chiles signed a $2.1 million compensation bill. Nine survivors received $150,000 each for mental anguish and a state university scholarship fund was established for the families of Rosewood and their descendants. A fund was also established to compensate those Rosewood families who could demonstrate property loss.”
It sounds like it is all tied up in a neat little bundle, but there were accounts on both sides of mass graves and lynchings. The married white woman had frequently been seen in the company of another white man and on the day in question they apparently had an altercation. She covered it up by claiming it had been an unknown black man. Today, there are only a few crumbling buildings left of what was once a thriving community. All the survivors spoke of the roses that grew in every yard and gave the community its name.
We stopped by the campground in Otter Creek that we had heard about the day we checked in at Angler’s RV. That day, the new owners were visiting the owners of Angler’s RV to get to know their new neighbors. These are the people from Alaska I mentioned in Friday’s blog. They just bought the campground and have a lot of work to bring it up to par. A LOT of work. The interior road is circular, muddy, rutty and with overhead branches hanging very low, scraping the roof and sides of the Roo. We had no choice — there was no other way to turn around. Right now all the residents are permanent. A large woman seemed to stare at nothing in particular as she and two small girls sat in ratty lawn chairs next to an old pop-up trailer. The roof of the popup was covered with leaves and there were holes in the canvas. I can’t imagine living there year-round.
Back on the road…We retraced the route the same way we had come a few days ago. The road was still very straight and very boring, but it seemed a lot longer. Maddy showed her great happiness to be home by leaping from the Roo’s doorway over the steps to the driveway, and prancing up the walkway to the front door. No going through the garage for her!
Total miles for the day: 61.8
Total miles for the trip: 118.6
NOTICE: My apologies for this being so posted late. Wifi at the campground was spotty at best — we were told their antenna had recently been hit by lightening. So we decided to post this update when we got home. However, in the changeover from the Roo’s computer to my home computer, the entire writeup was lost and had to be rewritten.