Georgia's Golden Isles

“Georgia’s Golden Isles.”

Sun. May 13,2007- Ft. Myers, Fl.

We were up early, at 5 A.M. We finished packing the car, made a last straightening of the condo, then closed and locked the doors for another six months. It was still dark out as we sailed North on Rte. #75, and then east onto Rte. #80, Palm Beach Blvd. We had decided to run up the east coast of Florida, because the central highway of Rtes. 75/275 were closed near the Georgia border, due to dense smoke from huge forest fires.

As we neared La Belle, and the Rte #27 turn off, we were enveloped in a thick dense fog. The cooler ground was reacting to the dry and heated air above it. The countryside here is rural. The fog made for an eerie glide through silent shadows and few noises. Similarly, Rte. 29 North was a visual cloud of hazy light, as the rising sun tried to pierce the veil of mist around us. At Rte. #70, we turned east, for the 90 mile run to Interstate #95 North, our escape from the burning state. The clouds of “love bugs” here are thick. In great swarms, they smash into your windshield and radiator grating. It became a game, to draft behind a large truck, and let the semi “plow the field” of bugs. Ugh! The countryside, along Rte. #70, is “old Florida.” Orange groves, cattle farms and sod farms occupy most of the fields. Names like the “Yoder” farms, “Sylke” agribusiness and others, of florida families, still hold off the tourist invasion.

We stopped at FT. Pierce, on the east coast, for gas ($3.03 gal- reg) and to scrape off a layer of the encrusted love bugs from our windshield and grill. The next four hours were a steady progression of passing beach towns along the east coast of Florida. Cocoa Beach, Cape Canaveral, St. Augustine flashed by and then finally we came to Jacksonville. We saw a large plume of smoke, to the northeast of Jacksonville, as we sailed through the lighter Sunday traffic. It was a another forest fire in the making. We were to find out later that Rte. #95 was shut down an hour or so after we passed through, due to the thick smoke. The whole state was temporarily closed to escapees, until the smoke or flames dissipated.

About 90 miles north of Jacksonville, we got off exit #29 and followed Rte. #17, for 10 miles, to the tidal causeway that leads to Jekyl Island. It had taken us about 7 hours to make the 430 mile run from Ft. Myers. The lowlands around the causeway flood at high tide. They are rich with shrimp larvae and nutrients for the ocean. It is a very green and attractive entrance into the rustic wilds of Jekyl island. Twin portals,on either side of the road, announced our arrival onto the island. This place had once been the Winter enclave of the super rich in America. The monied had sailed their yachts, into the small island harbor, to Winter in attractive villas alongside of the Jekyl Island Club. We paid our $3 entrance fee (daily) and drove to the small historic district that surrounds the storied Jekyl Island club. We parked and walked through the area, admiring the flowered grounds, the small boutiques and the aura of charm and opulence that surrounds the area. A small pier leads out into a harbor on the Inter coastal waterway. Some fast food restaurants, a small chandlery and a pricier seafood restaurant line the pier. It was sunny and warm out. A steady stream of visitors walked along the pier, once the strolling place of the monied.

We were tiring, but loathe to pack it in for the day. We drove around the island’s ring road, admiring the neat homes, small hotels and businesses tucked into forested areas along the shore. A nine hole golf course looked attractive. Much of the island is a Georgia state park and left wild forever. We stopped by a small restaurant (Oceanfront Grille) and had fish sandwiches and fries. Down this way, they fry everything that doesn’t move.

After lunch, we drove back, along the ring road, admiring the visage of blue sea and sky, framed against the bright tan of the beach. We found the “Beachcomber” hotel, on the shore, and checked in. For #107 a night, we had a place right on the beach. The air smelled of sea salt and brine. It was nice to be here. We unpacked and then set out for an hour walk along the beach. The large dunes, that stood 20 feet high and spanned 30- 50 yards, were speckled with tall sea oats and sea grapes. The trees and plants, all with deep root systems, stabilized the dunes from erosion caused by the ever present waves. The surf was rough today, with the freshening wind. The sea air felt good on our tired faces. We strolled along the dunes, admiring the avian life that flew along side and above us. A few small sea shells caught our attention, as we waded in the surf. The graceful pelicans, from high above, dive bombed into the waves, coming up with a fish every time. Flights of cormorants looked almost military, in their perfect vee formations, gliding into the wind. It was 85 degrees out, hot and sunny, with a nice breeze.

Back at the hotel, we strolled by the pool and then the through the grounds. The grand hotel was in decline now, but it must have been a first class resort at one time. Like an old, painted dowager now, she is struggling to make do. A “martini,” in a plastic glass, accompanied me onto the wooden deck, that spanned the dunes to the ocean, just outside of our first floor room. I sat for a time, on the deck, admiring the sea and sky scapes and enjoying the seaside tableau around me. The only sounds That I heard were the rhythmic crashing of the waves, the breeze in the trees and the occasional squawk of a bird over head. It was rough and wild and beautiful. We were glad that we had stopped here.

The day was waning and we were tiring from our drive. We walked back to our room, to write up our notes read our books. Then, we drifted off into the arms of Morpheus. I could hear the crash of the surf as I nodded off. It is a rhythmic lullaby, well suited to fall asleep to.

Monday, May 14th, 2007- Jekyl Island, Georgia

We arose early and watched the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean at 6:40 A.M.. The surf was smoother and the wind had eased. We had coffee in the room, dressed and set off early for our excursion to St. Simon’s Island. We followed the causeway back to Rte. #17 and then drove over the large, “sail winged” bridge, passing through the outskirts of Brunswick,Ga.. It is a substantial seaport in the Southeast.

We followed the King’s Way to “downtown” St. Simon’s Island, parking at the “May 4th” restaurant. The place is small, comfortable and neighborly. We tucked into some exquisite seafood omelets and enjoyed the eclectic parade of customers who came and went. The musical drawl of Southerners is one of the more pleasant auditory experiences you can have.

The car was parked safely, by the large town pier, as we set out for a walk through this attractive waterfront area. A one-story, red-brick visitors center also serves as a community theater, meeting hall and library. The sky was a brilliant blue, the sun was shining and a pleasant breeze was drifting in from the ocean. We walked along the waterfront, enjoying the flights of graceful Pelicans diving into the sea for food. A brace of dolphins cavorted just off shore, feeding on a school of fish. The area is eye pleasing! A large, old, lighthouse completes the attractive visage of this area of the oceanfront.

An 11 A.M. trolley tour( $20 ea.) found us sitting ion worn wooden benches on an old trolley. A huge group of high school students had just finished their tour and were meandering around the waterfront. Mercifully, we soon escaped their chattering effervescence. The narrated tour informed us the Island’s provenance. The British has inhabited the island in the 1740’s, fighting with the nearby Spanish in Florida for decades. A pitched battle, in a small swampy glade called “Bloody Marsh,” had led to a massacre of the Spaniards and English dominance in the area. You could almost picture the sweating Highlanders, of the Black Watch, drawing down their rifles on the advancing Spaniards, mowing them down in the swamp before they could organize an assault. The shrouded mists of history draw up these images for me while traveling.

The trolley showed us the new prosperity that had settled in on the island. The famous Sea island Golf Course, home of Davis Love III and his dad, whisked by. It is emerald green, fully treed and beautiful. A Weslyan Meeting center and church stand out near a modern equestrian center. A few small plantation houses remain, reminders of another era. The guide talked of local slave owners and how they had treated their slaves kindly. It is a mind set that still remains here. Slavery is regarded, not as a horrible evil, but rather a quaint old institution where munificent owners shepherded the simple folks through life. As guests, we kept our own thoughts to ourselves.

We stopped to visit the old Anglican Church, at the far end of the island. The surrounding graveyard was peopled with family names like King, McKee, Fitzgerald,Aiken, and Gould. Later, I was to see many of these names still involved in local businesses. Tradition dies hard here amidst the cloister of the island. The guide related horror stories of Union depredations during the civil war. Renegade Union soldiers had indeed despoiled the church and dug graves looking for valuables. They still remember these events and talk about these “insults” here today. It is a very real look into the psyche of the modern Southerner.

Back at the pier, the retreating tide had exposed several hundred yards of beach along the shore line. We walked along the tidal flats, admiring the eclectic mansions that lined the shore. They are a curious mix of Italianate, Georgian and Queen Anne style homes, built at various periods over the last hundred years and reflecting the wealth of the area. We looked for shells, noted the rich marine life left behind by the retreating ocean and felt the iodine smell of brine in our noses. It is sea side at its best. We walked out to the ocean side, of the Sea Island Golf Course, and admired the huge, stone club house that dominates the area across the grassy tidal flats.

The sun was high at 2.P.M., as we walked back to town. We sought and found one of the more famous eateries in the area, “Barbara Jean’s.” It is famous for its crab cakes. We sat in air conditioned comfort and perused the menu. All manner of crab cakes and seafood are offered. We selected some she crab soup, 9” and crab cakes. They were exquisite, if filling. A delicious corn bread, more like a cake than bread, came with the meal. It is mouth watering. We had been conservative with calories, but were still stuffed. It is a place well worth returning to.

We picked up the chariot and drove out Frederica Rd. towards the old Anglican Church for another and closer look see. It is open for tours after 2 P.M. The small, one-story and attractive church was built in the Queen Anne style with many brightly colored stained glass windows, depicting scenes from local history. George Bush Sr. had once worshipped here while visiting the island. A small bevy of women inside were talking animatedly. We beat a hasty retreat. We walked amidst the tomb stones, drinking in the history of the place, imagining the currents of history that had washed over the area, leaving behind these stone and slate reminders of the sons and daughters on many nations.

On the route back towards town center, we stopped at the Sea Island shops, browsing the pricey stores and admiring the chic clothing styles offered. We passed the gated entrance to nearby Sea Island. Tourists are not allowed to walk there any more. The wealthy, celebrities and the privileged have sole access to its pleasures.

The traffic was building in the late afternoon. We followed the King’s way back to rte # 17, across the “sail winged” bridge to the causeway and back onto Jekyl Island. We paid our $3 fee and reentered the island. We were tiring with the day and returned to our room to write up notes and chill out. I opened the room door, so we could enjoy the sound of the crashing surf and feel the cool sea breeze. A martini on the deck was relaxing. The wind had risen and the heavy surf was crashing upon the bright tan beach. We set out for an afternoon walk, enjoying the rough surf crashing about our legs and feeling the cool of the ocean on our feet. A high surf warning was in effect. When the tide comes in here, it smothers the entire beach and eats at the high dunes in an eternal movement of sand and water. It was in the 60’s, with a bright sun shining and a cool breeze washing over us. It was as good as it gets.

After our walk in the waning sun, we settled into our room to do some crossword puzzles, watch the t.v news and settle into read our books, until the sand man took us into the welcome night.

Tues. May 15, 2007- Jekyl Island, Georgia.

We were up early, at 6:30 A.M. We had coffee in the room while watching the news on the Today Show. Huge forest fires continued to ravage South Georgia and Northern Florida. The winds had eased as we walked along the deserted beach for an hour. We watched the squadron of diving Pelicans above, admiring their grace and agility in flight. The many sandpipers, with their curious “wind up toy motions,” amused us as we walked along. There are always new and interesting things to see on the beach.

After our walk, we showered, cleaned up and made off for the day. We took a ride on the island ring road, admiring the wild dunes, natural areas and well ordered scenes. It is “low country pretty” as they say in the Carolinas. We stopped, at a small marina and restaurant. We saw and noted a nearby oddity, a large water park, apparently closed for now.

Finishing our circumlocution of the island, we headed back to the Historic district. The Rockefellers, the Morgans and their friends had wintered here in the early 20th century. They left behind three story “cottages” that are now rented out to tourists. Their enormous yachts had once graced the pier and marina. The centerpiece of the area is the four story dowager that is the Jekyl Island Club. Built with two wings, the white and clapboard sided resort is reflective more of New England than the South. Two older couples were playing croquet on the emerald green lawn as we approached. A pool, on the sea side was half filled with guests sunning themselves. Several diverse groups were meeting and dining in the several formal and informal dining rooms. We chose the main dining room and entered for lunch. It is carpeted, elegant and well appointed. You could picture the monied enjoying their meals here in another era. We had she crab soup and salads with seafood. The meal was excellent and well served. We would return.

After lunch, we strolled over to the pier, enjoying the bright sun shine and the cool temperatures. A few busloads of tourists were already unloading their aging cargoes in the Historic district. We browsed the boutiques, buying an ornament in the Christmas shop. These small out building had once served as servant quarters for the wealthy guests in the cottages. The park like area, of the historic district, is idyllic and restful. We finished our walk and then drove back along the ring road, enjoying the uncrowded scenes of beach and surf. A short stop at the nearby Days Inn showed us an attractive two story hotel ($100 night). We would stay there when we come again. We were tiring and repaired to the room for a welcome one hour conversation with Ozzie Nelson. (nap)

By 5:30 P.M., the sun was beginning its decline, as we set out for another 3 mile walk along the beach. The wind had calmed and the waves lessened, as we walked along enjoying the many wonderful sights, sounds and smells of a beach walk. We had the entire beach to oursleves. It was almost eerie to see no one out on such a long stretch of beautiful beach.

After our walk, we enjoyed a glass of cabernet on the deck . You can sit and watch the ocean forever. We cleaned up and made ready for dinner. We were headed for “Blackbeard’s” an ocean front restaurant a few miles down the way. The place is rather large, with three dining areas and an outside patio for diners in waiting, or to enjoy after dinner drinks. We chose to sit inside and admire the crashing surf through large plate glass windows. We had wonderful seafood platters of shrimp, flounder, crab and scallops, topped off with a sinful slice of key lime pie. To hell with the calorie count, this kind of dining is worth the ingested carbs.

It was 8:30 P.M. as we returned from dinner. The light was fading and so were we. We read our books and slipped off into slumber land, glad that we had come to Georgia’s “Golden isles.” We resolved to come again!

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Joseph Xavier Martin

Amherst, N.Y.