I met Jerry Mader about two hours after pulling into Yellow Jacket some three weeks ago. He drove up with his wife Barb, they introduced themselves and declared we should hop in his dually. He knew we were tired from traveling and setting up, stating we were in no mood to cook dinner. The offer was extended to join them for dinner at the Salt Creek Resturant. What a welcome. Since that day, I’ve dubbed Jerry– The Mayor. That’s due to the fact that he knows everyone in and everything about the campground. He’s a one man welcoming committee. Yesterday, he and Barb offered us a day on their boat. It’s a 22 foot, center console Aquasport with a bimini top. Nice ride. We left the dock at 10 and headed south down the Suwanee RIver. It’s a twenty-two mile trip from the campground to open saltwater. An hour and a half later we pulled into the Suwanee marina to gas up and then it was out to the Gulf of Mexico. The weather cooperated as if it were ordered. The scenery was sublime. I’ll let the slideshow speak for itself. We returned late in the afternoon and after dropping us off, these two friends invited us over for a little barbecue. At five o”clock we had sauntered the whopping hundred yards to their site. Jerry had two-inch thick ribeyes grilling on his Traeger along with some potatoes baking. I put together a salad and Robin pitched in with an Oreo cream pie. We wined and dined until until we left the comfort level and sat around a fire reminiscing on the past several hours. What a grand day to wind up a lovely day on the water.
Horseshoe Beach
I love sleepy, little harbor towns. Checking the map, I spotted a day trip to one of these that was put on the day’s agenda. I remembered seeing a segment on HGTV featuring a home constructed on stilts made of corrugated metal feed bins. That house was located on Horseshoe Beach. Exactly the spot I pointed to on the map. It wouldn’t be more than a forty minute drive. We headed west to Cross Keys, the county seat. I’m still in awe of the slow pace of life here, a throwback to the 50’s and towns that are not much more than a few intersections. It’s as if the rest of the United States exists outside and separate from this world. Driving through miles of protected national bird sanctuaries the first thing we viewed upon entering Horseshoe Beach was an old Nash Metropolitan Police car slowing traffic in front of the Dari-Delite. This was better than Mayberry. We tooled around the town, dipping our feet in the Gulf of Mexico, saw some upscale vacation homes, and the local marina. Finally, there it was, perched high above the Gulf. The home I had recognized from HGTV. The driveway was a huge, inclined boardwalk leading to a set of three huge corrugated storage bins. I noticed it was FOR SALE. I got out and picked up a circular. The home could be virtually toured via the internet. What a lucky find. The price had been reduced to a mere $1.5 million. It’s sad what the economic downturn has done. If only we had a few bucks more. Imagine waking up and looking down on the Gulf of Mexico every morning. Upon our return later in the day Jerry stopped by to see if we had any dinner plans. He informed us that he and Barb were going to dinner that night with Jim and Diane. Would we like to join them? We topped the evening off with a visit into Suwanee and the Salt Creek Resturant. They do well with the seafood but they may have the best burgers I’ve tasted since the Gnome burger at the cafe of the same name. It seems as if almost everyday I find some nuance, some link back to Lake in Wood. As the sun set on the eating deck of the resturant I snapped a shot of the setting sun. It seemed a good ending to another wonderful day.
This Is The Swamp
I have done almost all of my Christmas shopping online this season. I am concerned, however, that all of my purchases will make it to their point of retrieval by Christmas eve in order for me to wrap them for distribution. But I did find that one sacred item was sold out via the internet. I would have to make a trip to a mall and hope that purchasing the old fashioned way would prove a viable alternative. Off to Gainsville. No, Brutus, you have to stay here this time. No road trip for you.
I had a hidden agenda for the reason to drive all the way over to Gainesville. Allow me to digress. I am a junkie for visiting football stadiums and baseball parks. Not just any or all of them. They have to be special to me. Fenway Park in Boston, PNC Park in Pittsburgh, Notre Dame Stadium in South Bend, Oriole Park at Camden Yards are such examples. A few years ago we even drove to Iowa to view the baseball field built specifically for the movie, “Field of Dreams”. Robin will never understand my penchant to viisit and view these places and just ‘be there’. So my ulterior motive was to drive by the home of the University of Florida Gators, also known as “The Swamp“, recognized as one of the most, if not the toughest, environments for a visiting team in all of college football.
Driving down Newberry Ave. you come upon the stadium smack in the middle of campus. I turned into a parking lot and noticed that the gates under the ramps were open. I’ve never been one to be shy of going where I’m not allowed. Pulling Robin along we entered the tunnels and I again found gates open to the bleachers. Nope, not enough to satisfy me. I had to get down on that field where legends have played.
It may well be said that boys never grow up. They just turn into men and their toys become a bit bigger, more expensive, or completely misunderstood by the fairer sex. So be it. I relished in the fact that not only was “the Swamp” was made available to see but to climb over the wall and onto the field made the trip worthwhile.
Robin was a great sport, waiting patiently in the stands while I did my thing. We made it back to the Oaks Mall, found what we needed to find, and did some additional shopping. It can’t get much better than this.
GypsyLarry
