Back to Florida

We flew to Seattle from Panama City, Florida for 3 weeks with Family over the holidays. It felt strange to not be returning to a "home". However, we had a great time with friends and family and I completed 95% of our tax work.

While waiting for our flight out of Panama City we were entertained by this 2-legged dog (I guess this little guy was recently on TV). He was incredibly talented as he could get himself up from the ground and walk better than many of the other anthropoids in the airport. Our flight was the first flight out of this small airport that day, as all other flights had been cancelled due to fog. Luck stayed with us as our flight into Sea Tac was one of the last flights before that airport was closed due to the high winds.

When we returned to the panhandle of Florida we headed to Port St. Joe, and a little park called Indian Pass. This place is 20 miles west of Apalachicola, at the end of a dead end road, on a sand spit which is protected from the gulf by an island called St Vincent. St Vincent island is a park that was sold to the state by a wealthy individual who imported exotic animals onto the island and used it as a private hunting preserve (sounds like Spieden island in the San Juans). I guess most of the animals are gone with the exception of wild boars. This island was also a favorite camping spot for the local Indians in the 1800's and many of the beaches are littered with pottery fragments.

This picture is from our camp-site, looking east up Apalachicola bay. The land on the left is the mainland, and that on the right is St. Vincent island.

My Mom spends 2-3 months in the winter time here in a little house she rents by the beach. Mommy encouraged us to come and spend a few days, fishing and enjoying this area. It was so great we stayed for a week and a half. The beaches are almost perfect. You can cast a line in from almost anywhere and catch your dinner. The shore is littered with shells that you would want to keep. The climate (at least at this time of year) has very little humidity, and the temperature averaged 70-75 degrees.

At 6:30 every morning the Oyster hunters would launch their boats and head out into the bay. The water is only 1-4 feet deep out here. The hunters had 2 rakes attached together like a pair of scissors, and they would scrape (rake) the bottom of the bay and haul up oysters. On the front of their scows they had a 4X8 piece of plywood nailed down where they would deposit their catch. Another hunter would break the oysters apart, throwing the small ones overboard. I was told that 2 hunters could amass a fortune of $200 each on a good day "raking it in".

Every day Grandma Jane would show up about 11:00, and tell us it was time to go fishing. She would have a lunch packed, and fresh shrimp for bait. We would spend a couple of hours playing until it was time to return to our school-work before dinner. Grandma would fix her incredible meals at her little house by the beach, or we would go out to eat at the local "Bars". Just up the road is the Oyster Bar; a small shack with a BBQ out front. The menu is a reader board on the wall, and drinks are in a wall cooler. You ordered what you want (1-dozen oysters for $6.00, and a pitcher of beer), and when you were ready to leave you went up to the counter and they would ask you what you had. No receipts, checks, or tickets. This place is more laid back then Lopez Island!

On our fourth day grandma shows up and says we are going fishing again. We walk down to the boat launch (100 yards from our camp-site) and a boat is waiting with our guide, Skipper William. While the fishing was not too good, both the kids did haul in breakfast.We also got a close up of a flock of migratory Snow Pelican. While there are pelicans everywhere in Florida, this white guy is pretty rare I guess.

We were sad to leave this place, and understand why Grandma Jane enjoys it so much. This is a place we would like to visit again. Thank you Grandma Jane.