The Gulf Coast - 24th and 25th April 2010

24-04-10

We had a great night’s sleep in the plush motel in Pascagoula, Mississippi and first thing in the morning we crossed the Alabama border on the I10. We passed into Mobile and the bridge across Mobile bay was very impressive.
At a Visitor’s Centre, we saw on the weather radar that Tornado Warnings had been issued for Louisiana and Alabama. It looked further to the north, though, and we were headed east, so we weren’t too concerned.

On the eastern side of the bay we turned to the south on US98 and ALT98, on our continued mission to taste America through its small towns and old roads.
This short southern leg leads through the small towns of Daphne, Montrose, Fairhope and Point Clear. They are postcard towns: Green, lush vegetation, big white homes, and an air of slow gracious decay. It was beautiful.

US98 led us along the coast eastward and soon led us across the border into Florida at the city of Pensacola. We drove south, across the Pensacola Bay Bridge and the $1 toll bridge to the famous Pensacola Beach. Being a grey, windy sort of a day, there weren’t too many people around. There are some very grand and quirky houses along this tiny strip of land. There is everything from old southern mansions to igloos, stilt-houses and UFO look-alikes.

Following the beach along the Florida Panhandle, we stopped in the early afternoon for a look around the town of Seaside. This planned and pretty town is most famous as the location where the movie, The Truman Show, with Jim Carrey was filmed. It is quite a small town and very lovely. The town of Seaside on the Sunshine Coast back home is modelled after this one.

As the afternoon wore on we continued to follow the beach through the towns of Laguna Beach, Panama City, Mexico Beach, Port Saint Joe, Apalachicola and finally, at about 8pm, we stopped for the night at a campground right on the beach at Eastpoint. The weather was miserable, the night was very dark and the wind was very strong.

I had a chat with the father and son camping out there and after a canned dinner warmed on the gas stove, we started to get ready for bed. Then the cell phone rang. It was my mother, Esther, just calling to let us know that a Tornado Warning had been issued for the whole Florida Panhandle, west of Tallahassee. We were on a beach in the middle of the area in question. We assured her that we would keep an eye on the weather and tried to get some sleep. It was about 10:30.

25-04-10

We lay awake in the rocking van trying in vain to fall asleep for a couple of hours. It was probably about 2:30 or 3am before we drifted off. Not long before 4am, we were awakened by very loud thunder and close lightning. Sitting up, we realized that the van was rocking a lot more, too. In the near distance there was a roaring of wind that sounded like a freight train. There was an onshore wind of about 50 knots with gusts that must have reached 80 knots. But it was the freight-train sound that worried us, though. Witnesses always say that tornadoes sound like freight trains, and we knew that the nearest railroad tracks were about 50 miles to the north, running along the I10. Tornadoes that form in the rain (they’re called ‘rain-wrapped’) are invisible until they hit you because the rain hides them, and they sometimes form over water here. We began to become concerned that there may be a rain-wrapped tornado or water-spout nearby.

We made the decision to bug out. We threw all the gear from the front into the back of the van, left some money and a thankyou note for the owner of the park and turned the key. No engine. Just a rapid solenoid clicking. Bugger, Murphy is a vindictive bastard sometimes. After 4000 trouble-free miles since LA, this wasn’t the time or place for a problem. I popped the hood and started the usual sorts of remedies. It was difficult to do by torchlight in the gale-force winds. Battery had charge. Terminals looked clean. Wiring had continuity. Starter motor is in a place you can only get to after a couple hours in a fully-equipped workshop. Bugger. I began to form the opinion than the battery was nearing the end of its life and although it had charge, it wasn’t enough to crank the starter, just enough to confuse the immobilizer and rapid-fire the solenoid. I wanted to try jumping it.

Pia came over and yelled in my ear that that the father and son I had spoken to the night before were trying to pack up and bug out, too. I went over and asked if they had jumper cables. Mike, handed me a battery-jumper and I offered to help him and his son break camp and pack up. They were struggling in the wind with a large tent, a large pergola, a full-size folding kitchen bench, a canoe and much fishing gear. The rain started hitting us sideways. The freight train was still there.

We weren’t packing it up pretty. We were folding it up and stuffing it into their truck, a full-size GMC pickup, and into the canoe, on its trailer. Still it took awhile to get it all stowed. Some of it was damaged.

Then we tried to start the van again. No dice. Even with the battery jumper. We brainstormed and came up dry. Then Mike said “maybe the terminals aren’t getting good enough contact”. I’d already tried rotating them and I’d inspected them and they looked clean. But just to be thorough, I took a knife and scraped the inside surfaces and, what do you know, a bunch of scaling came off. It had been almost invisible, but when I reconnected, it fired right up. Sigh of relief.

We shook hands and bade a grateful farewell. Mike gave us a business card and told us to call him when we were passing by his place in Georgia. We probably will. We hit the road at 5:30am and while Mike ran north, we ran east. We drove pretty fast in the conditions but as time went by, we outran the edge of the storm.

After a couple of hours, we turned off US98 south onto ALT27 and US19, as the sun came up in a sky still grey. We cruised through thickly verdant landscapes, swamp and farmland, and sleepy southern towns. We were tired and wet and grimy from our adventures overnight and we drove quietly.

I whistled Dixie as we drove through Dixie, and we passed through the busy town of Weeki Wachee. The famous Springs there are now the sight of a Water Park. We didn’t stop, though.

The urban build-up for the Tampa / St Petersburg area began at Weeki Wachee. We had no detailed maps of the area, just a nation-wide trucker’s atlas. But nonetheless, we followed the beaches south to the city of Treasure Island, and drove straight to Aunt Edna’s condominium with no wrong turns.

We were very happy to see each other. We hugged and talked awhile. Then Pia and I washed up and we all went out to lunch at a local restaurant on the beach. It was a really nice place and I had a sloppy-joe. Much like Mom used to make.

Later, Pia and I went to the local grocery store and picked up some things. Then Pia made pasta for dinner. She was very happy to have a chance to cook again, and Edna and I were happy to help eat it.

Funny fact: Over the course of the previous afternoon, we saw road signs warning of bears crossing, and a sign by a river in Mexico Beach that read “Please don’t feed the Alligators”. Good advice, that, I reckon.

Pia and Edna

Mark loved this sign, it is really made from old licence plates. Notice the motto underneath.

Mark and Pia in the Town of Seaside, FL

The Town of Seaside, backstreet

UFO House in Pensacola Beach, FL

Road through Daphne, AL