Blessed are the Intrepid, Day 6:
Florida, Finally

Blog back-up makes me uneasy.  Each day is a million adventures, so just two days ago is a million miles away.  But Day 6, yes. 

Speaking to what I took pictures of is a helpful system, but it doesn’t indicate a lot of the important feelings I am having on the road, how moved I am by so many things I am experiencing. Though that’s mine whether I explain it or not, I do love explaining what I’m feeling.  It’s kind of a bad habit. This is the one if the wonders of traveling solo; you’re within the expanse of yourself, almost suspended. I feel grateful and fortunate that I love this place as so many can’t stand their own company, can’t stand themselves, can’t understand how I can travel on my own. This love is the most fruitful love, like Whitney said. Because it’s effortless to share. And it regenerates, easily allowing love in—in so many forms. Like via ocean.

The walkway to the beach is a favorite picture subject of mine. You’ll be seeing a lot. Here I am arriving on Honeymoon Island‘s beach in the early hours, along with the fisherman door-busting the gate.

I read there was good shelling here. So I booked out of New Port Richey early birdy style, sick of the strip mall Florida already. I needed scenic beauty. I needed palm trees not in a parking lot. And I needed to comb a beach…

Beach combing, though new to me, is definitely “a thing.” There were others on the shore shelling… and I learned a few pointers from them. Oh wait look, finally a slither of blue sky. Florida, Finally. The one I wanted.

Pretty shells were easy to find… like immediately. But I wanted to hunt. I had Bjork’s The Hunter in my head actually.

This guy taught me a shelling tidbit. Sometimes you have to go into the water to get what you need.

You’ll see my shelling haul at the end of this post. I had great success for my first go. And it was a relaxing and delightful activity. I was also presented with beautiful shells in separate incidents by two nice men. I thought it was like giving a lady a flower. Just a nice by-gone-ish gesture.

I needed a good lunch. And I was going to get while the getting was good. Gulfport’s Golden Dinosaur has a menu and Instagram account I’ve been drooling over for quite some time. And it is heading south as I would be the next 4 days.

What the pictures don’t show is the crowd, the hipsters’ pretentious histrionic performances/conversations with one another. Now wait. I’m exaggerating. There were plenty of pleasant individuals enjoying the delicious vegan food. I just happened to pick 2 unbearable seats before finding one I could possibly stand sitting in for more than 3 minutes. My introvert fantasy trip has created a very low tolerance for social annoyances.

Long story short, the food took a really long time to get to me as the order tickets got messed up. All was forgiven when my plate was finally in front of my face. The Nashville Hot Chx was amazing: deep-fried seitan dredged in housemade hot sauce, a slew of bread n butter pickles, lettuce, tomato and mayo on thee best vegan brioche bun.

Did I mention waffle fries? This was so damn good. Like all over my face and fingers good.

A glistening vegan brioche bun.

I moved from Gulfport to St. Petersburg’s bright and bustling neighborhood outside Tropicana Field, home of the Tampa Bay Rays. (That’s baseball.) It was cute and all, but, like Gulfport, way too people-y. But I was only there for a brief stop at Valhalla Bakery.

All-vegan again! You go, Florida!

So many goodies to choose from. I opted for a box of 4 items since I would be traveling to a more remote campsite for the evening.

My stash: a sweet potato fritter, a cookie sandwich with bourbon buttercream, a red velvet cupcake and…. (drool) a s’mores bar, which is like a double-decker blondie with lots of chocolate and soft marshmallows in the center.

In the car, the cupcake–because it was the easiest to eat and not get my steering wheel all sticky. I don’t think it tastes like a red velvet unless it has a cream cheese frosting. It missed that tang having just a standard buttercream.

Onward to off the beaten path, my campsite at Fort De Soto Park was a dream come true. My home for the night a shady little cove draped with palm trees on St. Christopher Key on the Mullet Key Bayou.

Though there was a lot of daytime activity, by night’s fall you wouldn’t know any other camper was within miles. But before night, I hiked to one of the park’s beaches along their nature trail.

The palm trees are doing it for me, unlike Daniel LaRusso. (If you get that movie quote, tally your score card.) Clearly, I enjoy seeing them, their refreshing form indicative of how far I’ve come–different climate, different trees, different everything–in my same old car.

I feel like they look like old British rockers or Fry Guys.

I made my way to East Beach as the more desirable North Beach was a few miles away and I had made a poor shoe choice. So I walked the shore watching the feeding birds (more different) so I didn’t have to wear the shoes. Losing daylight, I made it to the fishing pier when I had to head back.

The sky’s clouds parted for sunset and I was happy to get back to my campsite, take a shower, get in my pajamas, and watch the show. Such a simple pleasure.

But ok, more palm tree pictures on the trail back.

Visitors at my campsite.

Me and a palm tree. The first of three feet selfies.

Second, I wanted to share this car camping tip. Get a few belay hooks and use the hook that your seat back attaches to to hold your lantern, water bottle, etc.

Then you can use it to illuminate your s’mores bar. What a treat at the end of a wonderful day.

Lastly, my shell haul. Honeymoon Island treated me well. For a first timer, I felt like I was pretty skilled.

This would be only some of what I got… The full load is…

…right here, on my picnic table. Can’t wait to craft some new mermaid tops!

As I fall asleep to the palm tree rustle, resting for many journeys ahead, I hope you are having your own adventures wherever you are!