My "month" in Florida

My take on Florida

where I went this "month"

Though it took me a lot of extra days plus the one month, you can see I managed to make it to most of the state.  And though Florida is by no means among the largest states - it ranks 22nd out of the 50 - it's much more spread out than most.

I've been having a hard time putting my finger on how I feel about Florida, so I'll go through my usual categories and see if things become clearer.

Florida's land

I was surprised about many of the features of Florida's geography, some of which I mentioned in the daily posts, but I'll recap here.  I absolutely did not expect all the forests, and the state says its forestlands encompass 50% of the total land in the state.  Fifty percent!  I had no idea.

Also surprising to me was the amount of farmland I saw.  I've never thought of Florida as an agricultural state, except for citrus groves of course, but it definitely is.  Florida ranks 15th among the 50 states for number of farms and 30th in the amount of land used for them.  So not exactly Kansas, but nowhere near the last either.  I could see for sure cotton, oranges, cows, sugar cane, pecans, pine plantations (and logging), and plant nurseries.  There were also those sponges (remember Tarpon Springs, "The Sponge Capital of the World").  And FL ranks 13th among the states for number of cattle, which I definitely didn't expect.  And don't forget the horses (as in Ocala, "The Horse Capital of the World") - I saw a lot of them.

And I was surprised about all the lakes and rivers and numerous other bodies of water here.  Florida says it has almost 8,000 lakes and 1,700 streams/rivers/springs and I can't find anybody who wants to tell me what percentage of the state these bodies of water cover (but I'm guessing it's a lot).  It seemed like I was always crossing a river or a creek or passing a lake.

With all the people living and visiting here, I was distracted from realizing how much wildlife - especially unusual wildlife - is here.  Southern Florida is now very nearly the only place in the US where panthers still live, though they once lived all over the southeast US.  The Florida Black Bear is its own subspecies of American black bear, and it lives only in Florida (duh).  Bobcats are found in most of the US, but I was still surprised they'd be so common here (they live in every county of the state).

I expected birds - even exotic birds - and I mostly found them.  I wasn't lucky enough this trip to see flamingos or spoonbills, but I have been lucky enough to see them some years ago so didn't feel deprived.  They're here, though.  As are more than 500 other species.

And speaking of exotic wildlife, it seemed almost exotic to see bougainvillea and azaleas and oleanders blooming in January and February.  The flowers themselves aren't uncommon, but for this time of year?  Amazing.

Something else I hadn't connected with Florida and that was the Mound Builders.  There are still several sites in Florida that have been protected, but scientists estimate there are others on private land that haven't been identified yet.  I guess it makes sense, because they mostly lived in the southeastern US, which Florida is.  But I just hadn't put the 2 together before.

Florida's people

I found a real mixed bag here.  I'd say this is a state in flux. 

Some folks were really nice and some folks just plain weren't.  What I didn't find that I expected was much Southern hospitality.  And I'm guessing it's at least partly because of the stunning influx of retirees.  Between 2010 and 2021, Florida's population of people 65 and older grew by more than 40%.  Forty percent in 11 years!  (It's a cinch most of these retirees aren't moving from other Southern states, so Southern traditions are waning.)  And the only other age group that didn't decrease in that period were those 50-64 - and they grew by a miniscule .4%.  All other age groups actually decreased in size during that period.

What I've been learning from a mix of sources is that the retirees aren't thinking about adjusting to the ways of a new place; many seem to be thinking only of the conditions of their retirement life.  So for instance, they vote for more pickleball courts and don't vote for better schools (a fact).  At some point, this lack of vision may come back to haunt them, because the folks they want to do their landscaping and wait tables in their favorite restaurants and provide health care (as examples) will have trouble finding a decent life for them and their kids, and may take their portable skills with them to another state.  In fact, that seems to be happening already, based on those population numbers.

Driving in Florida

Once again I found a mixed bag.  I was a witness to (or near victim of) quite a few instances of reckless driving.  In general, people here don't see the need to signal a turn, until they're actually turning, if at all.  Drivers here just didn't seem at all safety conscious.  The only place I ran into a lot of horn-honking was Miami; the first time I heard someone honking I jumped - and realized it had been a while since I'd run across that.  Miami drivers seemed enthusiastic about it.

But on the other hand, I never once had trouble merging onto a highway because people routinely let me in, which is definitely not something I've found in every state.

As I complained of almost nonstop all month, the price of gasoline seemed high to me, compared to every other state I'd been in recently.  Actually, the prices I reported when I was in Iowa and Nebraska and Kansas, for instance, were back last fall before the price of gas started coming down.  And remember?  The price came down and then down and then down - it was noticeable.  When I got here, it was as if the prices were stuck last fall, and Floridians haven't been able to benefit as those in other states have.

In most states where gas prices are higher than their neighbors', it's because they're using that money to improve their roads - and it shows in the road quality.  If that's Florida's excuse, I don't think it works very well.  Their roads were generally okay, but many were hard to drive on and I found myself apologizing to my critters for the very bumpy ride.  To me, that didn't comport with the higher gas prices.  In general, though, I thought Florida had pretty good signage on their roads, and when I got lost it was rarely their fault.

Florida's license plate

Florida only issues one plate per vehicle.  Even these standard ones can come in 3 different iterations: saying "Sunshine State" as this one does, saying "In God We Trust" and saying the county name (only some counties allow this).  

And Florida also offers more than 100 specialty plates, which surely must be the record among the states.  If I were in law enforcement here in Florida, I'd hate that law - having been a criminal defense attorney for a while, I know how much many police depend on making traffic stops based on license plates (having expired and so forth).  Whereas here, it's really hard to tell where a license plate is from when you're driving down the street.  I guess that shows all the individuality of Floridians?

What I wanted to see that I missed

I think I detailed most of that in the individual posts, though there were still more places I haven't mentioned:

Singing Tower

   Bok Tower Gardens in Lake Wales.  The gardens sit on Iron Mountain which, at 295', is one of Florida's highest points.  The gardens are a bird sanctuary as well as a garden (designed by Frederick Law Olmstead, Jr.), and one of the most prominent features is a tower built on the top of the hill.  The Singing Tower, which replaced a water tower (and still has water storage tanks inside it), is a beautiful tower topped by a 60-bell carillon.

   There's a Salvador Dali museum in St. Petersburg and a Louis Comfort Tiffany collection in the Morse Museum in Orlando.  I've visited the Tiffany museum before but would love to go back.  And I'd really like to see the Dali works.

   I missed all of Florida's east coast from St. Lucie down to South Beach.  This area includes places like Palm Beach, Coral Springs and Fort Lauderdale - places I've heard of but never seen.

   Generally in the Tallahassee area are Lake Jackson Mounds (largest mounds in FL, built around 1000 AD), Wakulla Springs (one of the world's deepest and largest freshwater springs), and Fort Gadsden Historic Site (with a fascinating history including a fort occupied largely by fugitive slaves).

   And of course, there are the Florida Keys, that I'd've liked to visit but found the idea of traveling through them with my RV intimidating, and needing more time than I had.

It was easy to see, though, that Florida has enough interesting places to visit and sites to see that a visitor could stay a long time in the state without getting bored.

My conclusion

I think the reason I'm still having trouble pinning down my opinion of this state is that the influence of this extraordinary number of new residents that are mostly retirees is completely changing Florida.

There aren't many states that are as subject to weather damage as Florida which, after all, sticks out into an ocean and a gulf and a sea like a sore thumb - almost like it's begging to be hit by weather events.  Florida leads the other states in hurricanes, tornadoes per area, and lightning strikes.  It has one of the highest precipitation averages in the country.  Yes, it gets a lot of sunshine and yes, the temperatures are generally very mild.  But it's not a safe place to live weather-wise.  

Despite these easy-to-find facts, retirees continue to invest all their savings in homes here.  Homes that stand a good chance of flooding (nowhere in Florida is far from water and almost all of Florida sits at or near sea level).  Or damage from hail or tropical storms or any of those other disastrous weather events I listed.  

I saw enormous numbers of at least nice-looking if not downright fancy houses during my visit and know that they represent a whole lot more of an investment than I can make.  And yet, many thousands of people keep making that investment every year.

So what I saw was a degree of short-sightedness that was absolutely staggering.  I'm not saying anywhere's safe, because people lose their houses every day in forest fires and flooding and bad weather all over the country.  But Florida's level of risk is pretty special.  I can't even imagine what these folks are paying in home insurance.

To me, this is a strange, risky and expensive level of disconnect.

There were some cities/towns I really liked here.  St. Augustine, of course, and Fernandina Beach rank near the top of the list.  But I also liked Miami and if I were younger or wealthier, I'd want to make an extended visit there to explore all that town and area have to offer.  Some of the beach towns too - like Panama City and Apalachicola - seemed like they might be comfortable places to live in times of no hurricanes.

But I saw quite a few Confederate flags and an official state holiday called Confederate Memorial Day.  I know for a fact (because I have the old family photo to prove it) that at least one of my forebears fought for the Confederacy.  But that doesn't mean I can't think for myself, and it doesn't mean the best way to honor this relative is to revere a ghastly cause just because he fought for it.  But that seems to be what a lot of Floridians think.  A bill working its way through the Florida legislature right now would prohibit removing any of the 75 monuments to the Confederacy still standing in the state.  And if a local government wanted to add a plaque nearby providing context for the monument - e.g. to explain the Confederates' support for slavery - even that would have to be approved in writing by the FL secretary of state.

Many states (and countries) have a hard time coming to grips with mistakes in judgment, with historical atrocities, even with simple injustices (like the Scottsboro Boys case in Alabama) made by previous generations.  Florida's situation isn't unique.  But what I'm seeing - including in the state legislature - is a retrograde clinging to the notion of white supremacy.  That may be left over from the days of slavery, but also Florida is rapidly becoming a more racially diverse state: in 1970, white people made up 84% of the population, while in 2020 they clocked in at 58%.  That's a huge change in a fairly short time.  Many whites may be fearing they'll lose power when they become a minority-majority state, and that might be triggering some of these actions.

I also saw another trend in the legislature that disturbed me.  Until recently, Florida was a purple state.  Remember the 2000 election (Bush v. Gore) and hanging chads and a razor-thin election result?  But now both the governor and both houses of the legislature are controlled by the same political party, and the leg is showing unquestioning agreement with any proposal the governor makes.  Some might say this is to be expected with one-party rule.  But I grew up in Texas where it's the norm, and I know that doesn't explain what I saw.  Here, I saw almost no debate on issues and proposals, except anything raised by the few Democrats in the legislature.  That's not the way Texas operated and it's not what I've seen in other states with heavy majorities for one party or another.  

Instead, I think Florida is showing the same impulse the US saw during the first 2 years of Pres. Trump's term: Congress doing almost anything he wanted because he was so incredibly popular with what they saw as the Republican voting base.  It's the same in Florida where Gov. DeSantis won a second term by an almost 19% margin.  I think the legislature is willing to rubber-stamp his proposals because they believe that's how they stay in power. 

DeSantis is quite clearly planning to run for president, and many people think these very far right proposals of his are aimed at winning over Trump supporters.  It happens, and I saw plenty of that when Sen. Ted Cruz was first planning a run for president, and when Gov. Greg Abbott was ditto (until DeSantis and Trump between them sucked all the oxygen out of the room).  That's not what concerns me.  

What I am concerned about is the effects on real people that these new laws are having and will have.  Investment banks and pension funds and other financial institutions are now being told instead of making financial decisions based on what will make the most money they aren't allowed to invest money in projects that minimize the effects of climate change, for instance, regardless of the financial sense of the investment.  A proposed bill would prohibit girls who start menstruating younger than 6th grade from talking about it at school.  Teachers and school district personnel are so worried about losing their jobs if they guess wrong about legislative intent that they've made hundreds of books unavailable to students until one of the few authorized people in the state checks them out.  The new laws are so poorly or so generally written that schools don't know what they're allowed to teach about racial history in the US.

Honestly, the longer I stayed in Florida the more depressed I got.  If this is the kind of place Floridians want to live, then that's their choice - but my depression concerns the upcoming presidential election.  Because the Florida legislature rubber-stamps all DeSantis's ideas (some of which are being overturned by courts), I'm afraid no one's hearing a robust debate about their advisability.  And even when there's pushback - well, on that menstruation bill, that was actually about teaching sex education (abstinence only except in monogamous marriages).  When another legislator (a Democrat) raised this point about unintended consequences, the bill's author agreed but so far hasn't changed the wording to avoid the problem.  This lack of debate at the ground level worries me about the upcoming presidential campaign.

Anyway, politics aside, I still found Florida to be a mixed bag.  It's an amazing place - historically, culturally, and especially naturally.  But as I wrote in one of my daily posts, while I was here I felt disconnected with the rest of the country.  Here the weather's different, the politics are different, the schools are suddenly different, and I can see how some residents might think secession is a reasonable option.  Florida just feels separate.  And that's not a feeling I'd want to live with.

Florida - Day 35 - in the Starke campground

Starke/Gainesville NE KOA, Starke

Monday, 20 through Tuesday, 28 February 2023

The first morning, by 5:30 Bucky had vomited twice on the floor and once on the bedspread.  Jimmy had been such a pest that I was ready to throw him across the room I was so frustrated (but I refrained).

Having said that, this is going to sound like a revenge move, but I swear it's for their health: since I was going to be in town for a while, I decided to go ahead and get the kittens neutered.  They're 5½ months old, and vets have been telling me for more than a month that they were mature enough for it.  I found one here in Starke that was willing to take them this week, but it was going to cost a lot more money than I'd expected.  They insisted on a preliminary exam to be sure they were healthy enough to take the anesthetic, which they'd charge for, plus the operation and all its costs, times 2.  I've been paying for vet visits for them for shots and things all along, even though it was adding up to some real money, but I figured that's what I'd taken on when I chose to keep them.  But this - the projected total nearly stopped my heart.

In a panic I got in touch with my wonderful friends in Olympia, Kate and Bob, who'd offered financial help way back there when I first took in the kittens.  And boy did they come through for us.  I gave them the contact info for the vet and they sent some money that ended up covering almost all the costs.  It was such a wonderful gift, and such a relief.

So on Tuesday the 21st, I took in not only the kittens but also Lily - since we had to go there anyway I wanted to get the claws clipped on all of them (they'd been starting to shred me, as a reminder that it was time for a clip job).  And the vet folks agreed the kittens were roaringly healthy and should be able to come through the operation just fine.

We left the campground at 8:00 the next morning for their early appointment, and after dropping them off I went to do some errands.  One of those was to drive around Starke, which I hadn't really done on our first visit.  Starke was mostly started as a railroad town in the 1850s, and the local architecture shows that this is a historical community - lots of Queen Anne type houses.

I heard on the radio that there's heavy snow and ice across the US, even including southern California, but here it's up into the 80s.  In a way, being in Florida has felt a little like when I lived in Alaska: certainly part of the US but feeling remote from it.  Florida just seems to have its own culture and its own weather and its own focus (entirely on itself) and barely seems to notice the rest of the country.  Very odd.

At a business in town, I saw a Confederate flag flying, and on the flag was written: "Heritage Not Hate."  A nice sentiment, but I wonder if they understand just what that "heritage" consisted of - including insurrection, treason, and enslavement.

I'd just come out of the grocery store when the vet's office called saying the kittens were done.  I'd thought it would take much longer and had more errands planned that I'd wanted to do while I didn't have to babysit.

I went back to the campground and solved the problem of too much distance from my campsite by parking near the cleaning facilities, taking up a couple of the spaces meant for cars.  So I got my shower and my laundry done, and had just enough time to get back for the kittens before the vets' lunch break at 1:00.

I'd hoped for at least a 12-hour respite from kitty energy while they recovered, but I barely got a half hour.  The vet was clear that because their incisions had been glued back together, they shouldn't run or jump or wrestle for 2 weeks.  Two weeks!  I was almost in tears trying to explain how completely impossible that was with our living situation.  They said well, confine them to a single room.  My only "room" is the bathroom which has so little floor space they'd be certain to spend all their time jumping up and down from floor to toilet to countertop and back.  I finally decided all I could do was the best I could.  Here's what happened as soon as we were back in our campsite:

The next-to-highest point they could jump to.
Oh yeah, and they weren't supposed to lick the incisions either.

And by bedtime:

The Zombie Marauders

I tried - I really did try - to keep them from jumping and licking and all of that.  And I finally decided they were kittens and this is what kittens do, and if they come unglued (before I do) then I'll take them back and get them glued again.

One day Lily alerted me to a bluebird sitting on a decorative light at our campsite.  Always a welcome sight.

The azaleas are blooming like crazy, and it's really nice.  There are a bunch of azalea bushes near the office, and Dext and I walk by at least once a day.  So cheerful to see them.

One day I got the RV's waste tanks cleaned out.  An ad in the campground's brochure said this service was available, and I'd been thinking for some time that I should get that done.  So since I was going to be here and the service was here, I went ahead and called.  I didn't watch (though he suggested I pull up a lawn chair to see what he was doing), but when he was done he claimed the discharge from those waste tanks now looked like drinking water.

Scene from the campground:

When we were here before, I'd noticed signs pointing to a "nature trail" and this time I decided to take Dext to check it out.  Unfortunately, recent rains had made parts of the trail impassible without rubber boots, which of course I hadn't worn.  Thinking the first soggy section was the only one, I led Dext through the woods to get around it.  That worked fine - until the 2nd soggy section, where we couldn't go through the underbrush but were able to get around it using grassy ground at the edge of the trail.  That worked fine - until the 3rd soggy section where we couldn't get through the underbrush and there was no edge to the trail.  Luckily, the 3rd section had the least amount of water - it was only really really muddy - so we squished our way through it.  Later I mentioned to the camp staff that they might want to post a warning sign to folks to wear rubber boots before trying the trail; apparently none of them had been down the trail recently and didn't know it was in that kind of shape.

My knee is still pretty swollen, but at least it's not quite as painful as it was.  Of course, now my left knee is feeling some pain too, likely from having to take up the slack.

One day the kittens tore up the edging around the back window.  Like this:

This is the left side,
showing what it's supposed
to look like.

This is what the right side
looks like now.

a closer view of those staples sticking out

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what on earth to do now.  The exposed staples weren't safe for any of the cats - or for me, since they're sticking out near where my pillows go at night.  My knee was still hurting enough to keep me from being able to kneel on a protracted basis.  This decoration sits not much more than an inch or so from the window, so I could barely get my hand back there.

When in doubt, consult Anna - so I sent her these photos via email and then called her and said what do I do?  Unfortunately, I couldn't follow any of her suggestions.  I didn't have any glue at all, let alone the kind that she thought would do a quick fix on it.  I tried to find the staple holes with my fingers, as she suggested, to stick the staples back in, but I couldn't feel them and that 1" clearance kept my eyes from swiveling far enough around to see them.  I tried to just wrench that dark brown piece all the way out, but it turned out to be firmly attached all the way at the top behind the window shade that this stuff hides.  Finally I used clear packing tape (it was that or duct tape, which I didn't want to look at on a constant basis) to tape it mostly back in place.  An inexpert job but the best I could figure out to make it safe.  Crummy cats.

Speaking of which, I've been wondering how the kittens learned to speak cat language.  They were only with their mom for the first month; Lily almost never says anything.  So how did they learn it?  I mean, maybe they've just made up their own language that only the 2 of them can understand, but they've clearly got a language going on between them.  I can't tell if Lily understands them or not, since she mostly acts like she'd rather they didn't exist.

One camper here had a bumper sticker showing an odd shape colored like the US flag and the phrase: "American by choice - Yooper by the Grace of God."  That made no sense to me until I saw the Michigan license plates and, suddenly, I remembered my time on the Upper Peninsula.  Yoopers, they call themselves (for UP - Upper Peninsula).  And I realized that odd shape was the UP.

Another family here is traveling with a very sweet Bassett Hound named Beatrice (I swear) and a pig about the size of Beatrice.  They keep the pig in a large dog crate that they kept partly covered with a rug.  I didn't ask what the pig's name was.  We stopped by their campsite because Beatrice was very excited about seeing Dexter and wanted to bounce around with him.  Which Dext was fine with, but then he could smell the pig.  The people said the pig was friendly, so I took Dext over to meet it.  And Dext and the pig sniffed each other through the grills on the dog crate - and then one of them started growling - and I truly don't know which one.  It was a little weird and I couldn't tell what Dext was going to do, so I dragged him away from there.  And from then on, all he wanted to do was go see the pig again.  If we were anywhere in the vicinity he tried to drag me over there.  He couldn't even walk straight because he kept looking back over his shoulder and trying to get back there.  It was just weird.

We did get to move into one of the sites I'd wanted on Saturday - not too many days before the end of our stay, but still it was enough to make trips for cleanliness much easier.

While I was here in the campground, I wrote and posted entries for 11 days in Florida.  I still have 17 more posts to do for the time I spent here, and this situation is because once I got on the road last month, I didn't post at all the whole time I was here.  This is clearly not a good way to handle this situation.  I'll have to find some cheap campground in Georgia to spend extra time playing catch-up.

The day before we left, I did a bunch of chores: drove back past Waldo to dump my recycling; stopped to get groceries; stopped to fill up with propane.  I dumped the trash, dumped the waste tanks, filled the water tank.  I cleaned the bathroom, swept the whole RV, aired the dog beds, cleaned the filters on the AC, did laundry, put clean sheets on the bed, and took a shower.  I was plumb tuckered out (as we say down here in the Deep South) after all that.

That day started out cool and cloudy but ended quite warm.  It was when I noticed that all the critters were lying in front of one fan or another that I finally turned on the AC, and everybody relaxed.  A bunch of delicate flowers I'm raising here.

But they're sweet.  Here's one of the kittens' calm moments:

Jimmy on the left, Bucky on the right

Florida - Day 34 - back to Starke

Starke/Gainesville NE KOA, Starke

Sunday, 19 February 2023

today's route -
from south to north

Google said it wouldn't take longer than 2 hours for today's drive, so I didn't get on the road until after 10:00.  Some of the route was through places we'd been earlier, such as The Villages, "World's Friendliest Hometown."  I missed that nickname when I visited before, but my impression then would make this characterization doubtful.

We stopped at a Winn-Dixie Grocery in Ocala and continued north.  I don't care for the store's name: it was formed in 1925 (and weren't those the enlightened days), at a location on the Dixie Highway, and operates entirely in Deep South states.  But in Florida the only real alternative is Publix, which has great stores but I really don't want to be contributing to the owner's choice of politics (e.g. she was a big donor to the infamous Jan. 6th rally).  Just a personal preference of mine.

Alachua County says it's "Where Nature and Culture Meet."  This county includes Gainesville, though I bypassed it today.  I passed through lots of small towns: Lochloosa, Hawthorne, Campville, Waldo.  I think the county's population must almost all be in Gainesville.

I heard an interview on the radio of a survivor of one of the Nazi concentration camps, who said it wasn't enough just to want to survive.  It turned out it was more important to want to survive for a specific purpose.  A sense of purpose is like a superpower.  

Words that help inspire, like these, are themselves a superpower.

We were in our campsite by 3:00.  I had made the reservation online and asked for a specific type of campsite.  When I checked in, I found they'd given me a completely different one.  Nothing wrong with it, except it was a long way from the office/showers/laundry, so I couldn't realistically walk there as I had been able from my previous campsite.  They said the campground was actually full - some kind of rally or something somewhere in the area - and I'd gotten the last site available.  But I asked them to keep me in mind if one of those I preferred opened up.

Florida - Day 33 - in Lake Griffin State Park

Lake Griffin State Park, Fruitland Park

Saturday, 18 February 2023

This state park is home to a very old oak tree.  It's down a short trail near the park's entrance, so today Dext and I walked over there.

I was trying, and not quite succeeding, to get the whole tree in the frame.

A little closer view of not quite all of the tree.

This sign is near the base.
I liked that it was put there by a Boy Scouts troop.

A view of the base.

And an even closer view.

I'm always fascinated with old trees.  Especially so in places like Florida where strong hurricane winds and flooding are a frequent part of life.

This tree, at about 300-400 years old, is called the 2nd oldest oak tree in Florida, but that's according to a website where people can register old trees they know about.  That site doesn't include a Live Oak in St. Augustine, called The Old Senator, that's supposed to be well over 600 years old.  The oldest oak registered on the website - around 400-600 years old - is in Volusia County which I passed through yesterday.  And then the Treaty Oak that I saw in Jacksonville with David and Anna comes after these, per the website.

But these are practically youngsters compared to Florida's oldest tree of any species.  That honor goes to a Bald Cypress named Lady Liberty that's estimated at about 2,000 years old.  It's not very far north of Orlando.  I'd love to see it.

But in the meantime, I'm content to enjoy the age of this one.  Old trees seem so solid and dependable.

While we were there, a couple who'd recently come south from Quebec joined us.  The husband's command of English was pretty good; his wife was much more hesitant, but I tried to speak clearly and use fewer idioms, and she and I had a good conversation about trees and traveling and so forth.  Nice folks.

As I said yesterday, this is a small campground with only 40 campsites, but it's located on a hilly section of land, and the campsites were separated into small enclaves.  So taking a walk around the campground gave Dext and me some decent exercise for a change.  The sun was shining and our site was pretty level, so we were comfortable.

Florida - Day 32 - to Lake Griffin

Lake Griffin State Park, Fruitland Park

Friday, 17 February 2023

today's route

Google said it would take less than 2 hours to do today's drive (in reality, it took me 4 hours), so it was going on 10:00 when I left Tomoka State Park.  We stopped in Ormond Beach, the nearest town, for gas at $3.19/gallon.

I passed a historical marker labeled "Old Kings Road" and I was curious enough to look it up.  The inscription is short and says this was a north/south road that ran from St. Augustine, an hour or two north of here, down to New Smyrna not far south.  It was originally an Indian trail, improved by the Spanish, rebuilt as a road by the British (hence the name), and improved by the US Army in 1827.  A sort of Four Flags Over Florida road.

A couple of weeks ago, when I was trying to thread our way through the farmers market/petting zoo traffic at the Bradenton KOA, the radio was playing a Crosby Stills Nash song in memory of David Crosby's death a couple of weeks before.  The song was "Wasted on the Way."  I'd forgotten that song and almost melted when I heard that familiar harmony, and it gave me a new sense of tolerance for the crowd causing me driving problems.  A couple of weeks later and I still can't get that song out of my mind.  And I've found I can't even sing it because I can't pick the melody out of it.  All I can hear is the harmony and, try as I might, I can't sing several parts at once.  It's a wonderful song in its own right and a wonderful piece of nostalgia for those of us who are old enough to remember it from 1982.

A sign told me FL-40 that I was on is Florida's Black Bear Scenic Highway.  I was sorry not to have seen any of them, though I did see a highway sign warning me of bears for the "next 33 miles," which seemed both specific and general (not 30 miles, you understand, but 33 miles).

Coming into the town of Volusia, I passed the Volusia Speedway, per their sign, "World's Fastest Half Mile."  I don't know about that but I can say there was a lot of traffic on this 1-lane-each-side road.  For some reason, this town doesn't even appear on the AAA map - but it's between Barberville and Astor, on the St. John's River.

This area is home to the Ocala National Forest.

At Astor Park, we turned southwest to go around some lakes on a scenic route to the campground.  

Florida has a town called Altoona.

At Umatilla I saw a very large, very tall sign that said "Trump 2020 - Keep America Great!"

We stopped at a Burger King in Eustis.  On the way in, I passed a guy with his 2 dogs sitting in the sun.  He smiled and said hi and didn't try to panhandle in any way.  When I walked back by with my Whopper Jr and separate meat patty, his dogs were interested but polite.  In the past I'd split that patty between Dexter and Gracie, with a little bit for Lily, who doesn't really like it much.  Now, I didn't want to give the kittens much more than a crumb apiece, because of them still being kittens, and I gave Lily her usual couple of tiny bites.  But I didn't want to give Dext the whole rest of that patty, so I gave him his usual half, cut the rest in 2 pieces, and took it back out and asked the guy if I could give it to his dogs.  It made everybody happy, including me.

We drove through Fruitland Park, "The Friendly City," and found tonight's state park pretty much in the city limits.  Sadly, that didn't mean I could pick up an internet signal on my hotspot.  But I did get the tanks dumped.  This was another very small campground,  but it was laid out in a way that allowed a little walking room for Dext and me.  A good thing since I'd planned to stay here 2 nights.

Florida - Day 31 - in Tomoka park campground

Tomoka State Park, Ormond Beach

Thursday, 16 February 2023

On our first walk this morning, Dext found 2 critters, each at a different campsite.  I could almost but not quite see one of them in the light from my flashlight and thought it was fairly tall.

We walked over to the ranger station later and asked what wildlife they have here.  He said they do have bobcats in the park, but it was most likely a raccoon because bobcats tend to avoid occupied campsites.  It may have seemed tall to me if the raccoon was standing on the bench at a picnic table.  Lots of people are dumb enough (my opinion) to leave food out overnight.  People don't seem to realize that even leaving it in boxes or cans - if they're not stored away somewhere animal-proof - might as well be leaving it sitting out on the table.

It was really warm today - nearly 80° - a big change from the highs in the 50s and 60s we've been having this past week.  Nonetheless, none of this seems like real winter weather.  I understand the attraction for folks who've come down here after months of shoveling snow in Ohio or somewhere, but I'd prefer to live somewhere where it's still cold in February.

Our campsite didn't get any more comfortable after staying here for a night.  I'd spent a lot of time yesterday trying to find any way to locate the RV that would be level, so I knew there was no point in trying again today.  But I do get tired of living life at an angle.  Sometimes I even have trouble keeping my balance when I'm trying to navigate a floor with 2 small rapidly moving bodies, the toys and various equipment the 4 critters need (water bowl, for instance) all while on a slope.  It sometimes makes me remember with longing a house where I didn't have to hold the frig door open with my shoulder to keep it from slamming shut while I tried to take out/put in more than one thing out at a time.

But the good thing about this campground is that it's big enough that Dext and I had plenty of room to walk.  So we did.

Florida - Day 30 - back down to Tomoka State Park

Tomoka State Park, Ormond Beach

Wednesday, 15 February 2023

today's route

On the way to the campground yesterday, I'd noticed what looked like a public park on the beach, so today I made that our first stop.  It was a public park and it was right on the beach.  Several people were sitting in the sun on benches at the beach's edge, reading or watching the surf.  Seems like a nice way to start a day.  

I didn't see any signs saying no dogs, so Dext and I walked a little on the beach.  I'd hoped it would perk him up, because he and Gracie used to go crazy with delight when they got on a beach.  But either he's lost that with age or he needs someone like Gracie to share it with, because today he enjoyed it but was very sedate about it.  

I drove back through Fernandina Beach, passing the St. Peters Episcopal Church that looked like a castle.  Really.  It had a historical marker, and if you want to check this link, you can see a couple of photos of the church.   https://www.hmdb.org/st-peters-church

I was sorry I couldn't spend more time in this area.  I understand there are some good museums in the town, which has had what you might call a colorful past.  Pirates - real ones - were frequent visitors here because the port is accessible even at low tide, and even by deep-keeled vessels.  Among them were Jean LaFitte, Blackbeard and Captain Kidd.  Apparently that's a fact.

Amelia Island itself is known for, among other things, being a prime place to watch birds.  It's on the Eastern Migratory Flyway and offers a variety of habitats to attract birds.  It's the most southerly of the Sea Islands chain that runs from South Carolina down to here.  It just sounds like there's a lot to see around here, and it's a place I'd like to come back to sometime.

I crossed back over the Amelia River and worked my way around the outskirts of Jacksonville to get to its beaches.  I was heading to Neptune Beach (both a beach and a town) because I think that's where Anna picked up some amazing sea shells at Christmas, and I drove in the area by the sea.  There were plenty of places for beach access, but these roads were narrow and in a residential neighborhood (albeit one right by the beach), so I couldn't find anywhere to park.

I did stop in Jacksonville Beach, the town immediately next door, because I needed groceries, plus it was lunchtime when we got there.  Driving around the area, I saw a store with a sign that said, "My stomach is flat.  The 'L' is just silent."

Eventually, I got on I-95 heading south and intentionally revved the engine up as I was accelerating to highway speed.  I thought that might make the check-engine light go away - and, it did.

And after a while, I got back on the Old Dixie Highway, which I remembered as being very bumpy from the last time I was over here.  Either it helped to be mentally prepared for that, or it wasn't as bad as I'd thought, because it didn't seem as bad today.

Remember the "Ride Quietly Please!" signs?

We went back in the campground we'd stayed at a month ago.  This time I didn't have my choice of campsites, even on a Wednesday, and ended up with one of the only ones not already reserved.  The ground in that site was packed with tree roots, making it almost impossible to find a level area.  Because we planned to be here for 2 nights, I tried hard to find the most comfortable location I could but was only partially successful.

Anna reminded me that today is the 5th anniversary of starting this trip.  In some ways it feels like it's been longer than that, and in other ways it feels like it hasn't been nearly long enough because I've missed so many sights I wanted to see on the way.  And there'll be more to come, I'm sure.

Florida - Day 29 - to Florida's farthest northeast point

Ft. Clinch State Park, Fernandina Beach

Tuesday, 14 February 2023

At breakfast this morning, I finished the last of the maple syrup I bought in Minnesota - the Hamel family brand.  It was good syrup and I was sorry to see it end.

today's route
(plus other days' routes)

These route maps were already getting a little confusing because I've been traveling more than once in various parts of the state (like in the Panhandle).  But for the next few days they might be even more confusing, because I've only just realized that, though I usually take a photo each evening of the route I'd traveled that day, I didn't do that for the next 4 days.  So now I'm having to backtrack a little bit.

So today's route started at the Mike Roess Gold Head Branch State Park in the lower left of the photo, jogged east, then went almost due north right through Jacksonville, then heading east again not far before the Georgia border. 

Driving north from the Gold Head Branch, I passed through several state forests.  And a warning sign for bears.

I passed that (J. C.) Penney Farms Retirement Community again, heading toward Green Cove Springs.  There I turned north, again passed the NAS JAX with its Blue Angels plane at the entrance.  Main Street, which I took through town, runs through the Springfield neighborhood (a sign told me that's where I was), and it looks like what it is: Jacksonville's oldest neighborhood.  At noon, we took a break in the parking lot of a megachurch, figuring it was so big we were unlikely to bother them on a Tuesday.

We continued north and were only 7 miles from Georgia when we turned east toward the ocean.  I had a hard time figuring out where we were, geographically, because I didn't realize then that the town of Fernandina Beach is on Amelia Island.  It was especially confusing because after we crossed the Amelia River, I saw a sign pointing me to turn for Amelia Island.  Now that I know I was already on it, that sign makes no sense to me.  Amelia River cuts Amelia Island off from the mainland, and Fernandina Beach is the only town on the island. 

I also didn't realize at first that the word "beach" is part of the town's name and not a sandy area separate from the town.  But the town is Fernandina Beach, and we got there early enough in the day that I drove around a bit to take a look.  It's a charming place, clearly oriented to beach-type living, though in a more old-fashioned way than I saw in the beach towns near Daytona Beach, for instance, or the Panama City Beach area.  The town faces west and mostly sits on the river, rather than on the ocean.

The town has gone to a lot of trouble to preserve its historic appearance and now has more than 400 structures on the National Historic Register.  If you'd like to get a feel for what this place looks like, I found one of their websites that's both accurate and makes you want to go there (which of course is their goal).   https://ameliaislandliving.com/fernandina-beach-historic-district

The state park sits at the northern tip of Amelia Island, and I had to drive along a narrow road to get to the campground where I had a reservation.  This is a popular state park and I was surprised I was able to get even one night here.  Partly I think it's because my RV is so small, it fits into campsites that most campers are too big for.  And my campsite was perfect: almost right on the beach - sand dunes were all that stood between the RV and the Atlantic Ocean.

Next to our site was a boardwalk crossing the dunes to get to the beach.  Sadly, they didn't allow dogs on the beach, so we didn't go.  Actually, I'm certain I went part way across the boardwalk to take a photo of the beach, but I've just spent 20 minutes trying to find it somewhere in my computer's storage and had no luck.  So, take my word for it - nice beach.

My next door neighbor was a single woman traveling alone, and we talked for a little bit.  She said she lives in The Villages and volunteered the information that she has a hard time with the politics of most of the residents (sturdy Republicans, mostly) but is living there because her mom is living there and is getting older.  Happens to a lot of us, if we're lucky.

This was a nice campground, though really tiny.  Almost nowhere for Dext and me to walk, other than back down that really narrow road and that seemed too dangerous to try.  But we were only here one night.  It was nice to hear the ocean again.

Florida - Day 28 - back down into central Florida

Mike Roess Gold Head Branch State Park, Keystone Heights

Monday, 13 February 2023

My knee continues to be very swollen and sore.  It seems like this has been going on for a couple of weeks, though it's actually only been 5 days.  Still, it seems to me it's time to find a clinic to take a look at this thing, just in case.

today's route, some of this (see below)

From the Suwannee River, I drove down to Lake City, and then cut down to Starke and Waldo, because I was getting desperate for a place to dump my recycling.  And from there I took as direct a route as I could back up to tonight's campground.

Starting in the Live Oak area, I passed pine plantations here and there.  And I found the county courthouse here.

Suwannee County Courthouse
Live Oak

Impressive, isn't it?  It was built in 1904 and was unusual for the time because courthouses in other counties were built of wood, not brick.  And the clock tower was visible throughout the town's limits (as they were at that time).  To me that unusual top looked like stained glass or copper, but I couldn't find anything online that mentioned it - even the county's website devoted to this building.

Near the town of Houston, I passed a blueberry farm.

Farther along, I thought I might be seeing a tree nursery because it was a very large area that had been planted with different types of trees, but kept together by species and planted in rows.

I got gasoline ($3.29/gallon), then at Lake Butler I came to the Union County Courthouse.  I'm not bothering to post a photo of that one, because though it too is built of brick, it looks so ordinary it could be a school building from that time.

And I passed a large solar field, making me realize I hadn't seen many at all in Florida, "The Sunshine State."  Surely the governor's so-called "anti-woke" focus that insists companies and banks and retirement funds shouldn't be allowed to consider climate change and alternate energy impacts in their investment strategies is not also allowing that to deny themselves almost free energy from the sunshine they're so proud of.

I bypassed Starke, crossed the Santa Fe River, and in Waldo stopped at the Veterans Park for a break.  That turned out not to be the best place to park, though I didn't know of a better one and it was right on the road, so I couldn't get lost.  But it was very small, and most of it was fenced off for a playground, so there wasn't much of anywhere for Dext and me to walk.  But we managed, and everybody got some lunch.

From Waldo, we went down the road toward Gainesville to drop a load of stuff at the recycling place I'd used before.  Always a relief to get rid of it.  Ahead of me in line was a woman in a small Honda with a sunroof.  While I waited, a Great Dane poked its head through the sunroof and stared at us, and it really looked funny.

We went through a series of small towns such as Grove Park, Hawthorne, Melrose, and then through Keystone Heights, which sits on Lake Brooklyn.  Along the road I saw some bird of prey - either a hawk or a falcon - that showed a lot of yellow as it was taking off.  I found several birds that fit that description, almost all of which never come to Florida.  My best guess is a juvenile Peregrine Falcon, that have buff-colored breasts at that age.  They spend winters in Florida.

I was curious where the town got its name, because Keystone Heights seemed a little more high-falutin' than other Florida place names.  Turns out the town was originally called Brooklyn.  A developer from Pennsylvania came to the area and liked it enough to move his family here.  He laid out and developed an area near the town, named it Keystone Heights (Pennsylvania is "The Keystone State"), and over time the 2 areas merged.  (Maybe the Brooklyn name came originally from a settler from New York?)

Tonight's campground ranked among the oddest we've found yet.  Most of Florida's state parks are pretty nice - usually dirt roads and very low tech shower facilities - but well laid out with comfortable campsites.  This one wasn't like the others.  The map they gave me at check-in didn't show the roads in the campground; it showed the campsites and left it to the imagination how to get there.  

When I got to my area, I saw the obvious road to my campsite said "do not enter" - "one way."  Then after driving around on a hilly, rocky road I found what seemed to be the correct way in, but I wasn't willing to risk it.  It was a steep incline, narrow because of tree trunks alongside the road, with the tree roots growing out into the road and making it look almost impassible.  I started to go that way and then chickened out of that steep incline.  Instead, I went around and went in the do-not-enter entrance.  Later I saw another camper come in the way I didn't take, and it didn't look like they had any trouble, but I've done that before in other campgrounds (seems like there was a bad one in Michigan) and it was never a pleasant experience.  Especially since, one way or not, I could clearly and easily see that absolutely nobody was moving in that area, let alone racing to cut me off at the exit.

My campsite was in the Lakeview area of the campground, and my site was supposed to be right near the lake.  Neither of those things was true.  Well, we did have a view of the lake if we made our way through some tall thick grass to get to the lake's edge.  But nothing from the site itself.  Oh well.  I wasn't counting on it.

Of course, my hotspot couldn't get an internet signal so I couldn't get any work done as I'd hoped to do.  Dext and I tried to walk, but there wasn't really much of anywhere to go, other than wading through the grass (but I was afraid of ticks, even in February).  Strange place.

Florida - Day 27 - to the Suwannee River

Suwannee River State Park, Live Oak

Sunday, 12 February 2023

Lake Seminole, that last night's campground sat on, is mostly in Georgia, as you can see on the map below.

The kittens continued to enjoy playing with the Milk-Bone box, so I hope it continues.

The lake marks the boundary for the time zones, so I went ahead and moved forward from Central to Eastern time, which meant we left the campground at about 9:00.

today's route
(the line that isn't on the interstate)

I still hadn't been to the state capital, so I planned today's route to dip down and take a look at the main buildings there.  But first there was more rural countryside to see.

Traveling through the small town of Sneads after leaving the state park, we passed a prison.  It turned out to be just one of quite a few we passed today; not sure why they have so many in this part of Florida.

Not long after crossing the Apalachicola River, we came to the town of Chattahoochee.  At a large grassy area in town, I saw 4 stopped ambulances with their lights flashing, and a helicopter just taking off as we drove up.  Clearly somebody was having some real trouble.  When I see scenes like this - or even hear sirens from an emergency vehicle - I think of the advice in For Whom The Bell Tolls.

We passed through various small/smallish towns in this relatively rural area.  At Quincy, we came to the Gadsden County Courthouse, which I thought looked pretty elegant.

Gadsden County Courthouse

And eventually I realized that I'd never seen a sign saying we'd crossed into the Eastern Time Zone.  Good thing I knew it on my own, because Florida didn't bother helping me.

Driving into Tallahassee, we crossed the Ochlockonee River, and I started trying to find someplace that would sell me propane.  I went to a U-Haul that I'd called ahead to be sure they had propane, but they told me I'd been given wrong information.  Instead, they sent me to another U-Haul farther down the street, but these second people told me they not only didn't have any propane but were in the process of closing down that location entirely.  I was really low on propane (which fuels my stove and frig and especially my heater), and the forecast low for tonight was 36°, so I felt some pressure to fill my tank somewhere today.

But I was mainly in Tallahassee to see the state capitol, which was actually hard to miss.

Florida's new capitol

Florida's old capitol

Both these photos are from the internet, because traffic made it impossible for me to stop, let alone park anywhere.  It's actually hard to find a photo of either building that doesn't include the other, as you can see in the photo of the old capitol.  That new building looms prominently behind the old one in almost every photo, and this photo here of the new one is the only one I found online that didn't also have the old one in shot.

The old building began use in 1845, which was actually a while ago, and it's been restored to the way it looked in 1902.  That dome is stained glass.  The new building, described in its own website as a "plush skyscraper," began use in 1977 and has 22 stories.  I'm sure the newer building is much easier to work in but to me there's no question which one looks more like a state capitol, let alone which one is more attractive (and less like a phallic symbol).

Florida is one of several states that has a tower as its capitol instead of something more traditional - Louisiana and North Dakota spring to mind.  Interesting, really, how a state's individuality is shown in its capitol building.

At a Tallahassee vet's office I saw a sign that I can't say I understand:

     "Buy your own flowers and

      Adopt your own cat."

Still staying off the interstate I turned northeast toward Monticello; I'd spent a night in an odd campground not far from there when driving toward Jacksonville in December.  

On the way I passed a sign for the Letchenworth-Love Mounds Archaeological State Park.  I'd never heard of these, and it turns out the primary mound here is the tallest in Florida at 46'.  Experts believe it was built by the Weedon Island Culture, which I've never heard of, and they lived during the period 200-800 CE (aka AD, I don't know why they bothered to make this change because both say the same thing).  Anyway, scientists believe people lived in this area for 10,000 years - an incredible period of time.

Driving in this area, I reached the conclusion that there are lots of horses and horse farms around here, though I only saw a few horses.  I based this idea on the masses of white-railed fences around big grassy fields that just looked like the classical horse farm scene.  And then there was the sign for Tally-Ho Estates.

It was noon by the time we got to Monticello, and I looked hard for a park but couldn't find one, so we just parked on the street in a neighborhood that had sidewalks.  We had lunch and Dext and I walked around the area a bit.  I saw a propane business, but it was a) closed on Sunday and b) not apparently set up for filling RV tanks.

The main roads in Monticello meet at a traffic circle, in the middle of which is the Jefferson County Courthouse.

Jefferson County Courthouse

They say they modeled it on Thomas Jefferson's home Monticello, and both the town and the county were named in his honor.

Leaving town about 1:00, along the road I saw a sign at a church that read: "Drive Thru Prayer Line."  Would that have been left over from COVID practices?  I didn't see anyone around.

Farther along we passed the Madison County Courthouse in Madison, and I showed a photo of that in my December post when we came through here then.  On our drive then, we didn't stop until Jacksonville, but today we had a different goal - the Suwannee River.

By the time we reached the state park, I still hadn't found any propane, so I asked when I checked in if they knew of anyone.  They didn't, but I got on the internet and found a Tractor Supply in the town of Live Oak, about 20 miles away, called, and they assured me they could fill my tank.  Google decided I couldn't turn left into their parking lot and insisted I drive a mile out of the way to make a u-turn.  I knew they were lying, and they were.  And the Tractor Supply people were telling the truth and did indeed fill my tank with much less drama than Google wanted.

Between Live Oak and the state park, I passed a feed mill for Pilgrims (est. 1878), and the feed mill supplies food for their chicken facility I passed on the way here.

After all this activity, we were in our campsite by 3:00, and I was tired.  But the camping area was very near a picnic area by the river, and Dext and I walked down there.

the Suwannee River

Looks peaceful, doesn't it?  And it also looked like a lot of water was flowing along there.

Florida - Day 26 - driving east along the Alabama border

Three Rivers State Park, Sneads

Saturday, 11 February 2023

Late last night I emptied a box of Milk Bones (for Dexter) and had the bright idea of offering it to the kittens for a playhouse.  It was a success.

I think that's Jimmy in the box, though I can't quite tell.

The rain we got yesterday afternoon continued during the night, but it stopped during our first walk of the day, so I decided to go ahead and get a load of laundry done.  At which point it started raining again and kept on raining until well after we were on the road.

today's route - this is confusing because I drove on the interstate through the panhandle before Christmas but today I took the parallel US-90 to DeFuniak Springs,
and then went north nearly to Alabama, and then east toward Georgia

I heard on the radio that the legislature in New Mexico is considering adding a new state symbol - this one the official state aroma.  And it will be . . (drum roll, please) . . the smell of roasting chiles, specifically Hatch chiles.  I'm pretty sure they'll be the only state with an official aroma.

I stopped at Crestview for gas ($3.16/gallon, which I think might be the least I've paid in FL), and heard on the radio about a possible superbloom of poppies this year near Lake Elsinore, CA.  I hadn't heard of either the town or the presence of poppies during my month in California, but the town leaders sounded desperate.  They said the mess caused by tourists during the poppy superbloom in 2019 had taught them to shut tourism down altogether until the bloom was over.  Here's an article about it (with pictures) I found online.   https://www.washingtonpost.com/poppy-superbloom-lake-elsinore-ca-closed

My check engine light came back on.  To the extent it's an occasional light on my display, and especially when it's flashing as it does sometimes, I can't help but notice it.  But after all the time and expense it took me in Montana trying only somewhat successfully to make it go away, I've gotten to the point where I don't care any more.  I think it's an unfixable quirk of my engine/fuel injectors, and I can't fix something unfixable.

I wanted to travel through DeFuniak Springs because I'd heard of it somewhere and was curious.  As so often happened during the railroad era when the town was founded, this town was named for a railroad official and for the natural springs - specifically the one feeding Lake DeFuniak that the town's built around.  This lake is almost perfectly round and is one of only 2 lakes in the world that are both spring-fed and nearly round.  (I'm continually amazed at the number of unique or almost unique features our country has been blessed with.)  What I especially noticed, though, wasn't the lake but instead the monsters here and there around the town that had been made of scrap metal.  I thought they looked pretty neat and am sorry I didn't get a photo of at least one of them.

It rained all morning, so sightseeing wasn't easy.  I drove north from DeFuniak Springs because I was intrigued with some of the town names on the map.  But any actual towns I came along were few and far between.  Mostly it seemed that the towns were either hidden from the road or no longer existed.  

Anyway, after driving for a long time and not finding much, I grabbed the first chance we came to to stop for a break, which was at Hurricane Creek Community Park.  That's what the sign said.  It was vaguely a park, with a picnic table and half a basketball court and a swing set.  No grass and just one tree - but it was a Tulip Magnolia in full bloom - very pretty.  Dext and I took a short walk around and we all had lunch.

I couldn't get an NPR station up here and for a while listened to an interview with someone who claimed the Luciferians were taking over the world.  This person said that about 100 years ago a woman wrote 10,000 pages that she self-printed so they could be distributed.  They explained how those who believed in the Devil, as she did, could take over the world by 2025.  That date has since been changed to 2030 (though I didn't understand who changed it), and now we're seeing the UN and WHO (World Health Organization?) and the US are all part of a movement to attain all one government and all one religion unified around the world.

What I never heard was an explanation of why anyone would pay attention to an obvious whacko from 100 years ago who couldn't get anyone reputable to publish her writings and had to do it herself via the Lucifer Publishing Co. which she and her husband created.  Or an explanation of why 10,000 pages out of the uncountable pages written before or since by everybody else would be the basis for a worldwide movement that managed to co-opt all the diverse governments that belong to the United Nations.  Although I guess you could compare that to the 1,200 or so pages in the standard Bible which has itself been the basis for a worldwide movement.  Maybe these folks on the radio were afraid the Luciferians had a more compelling message than the folks in the Bible.

I especially wanted to come this way because of the town named Sweet Gum Head.  I didn't find a town but instead only a cemetery and a Church of Christ.  However, it was obvious the church is still in use so people must live somewhere in the vicinity, just not on the state "highway" that supposedly went through the town.  As far as I could tell, the name refers to sweetgum trees, which are native to Florida.  I couldn't tell you if there were any in the area, though, because I'd have had to stop for a closer look, not being very good on the various tree species.

Near the town of New Hope, marginally more of a town than others along the road, I crossed the Choctawhatchee River.

All day we drove through rural areas.  Farms for plants, farmhouses - scattered or in clumps, towns that barely existed, some cows and horses, orchards without leaves (so they might be pecans), cotton fields, a large flock of sheep with lots of lambs.

I came to Mariana, "The City of Southern Charm," and in fact that was my impression.  It's an elegant-looking town, founded in 1828 on the Chipola River.

Continuing east, I saw a flag that had both Trump's and DeSantis's names on it.  But I can't see either of them wanting the other as a running mate.

For some reason, someone on the radio was talking about ways so-called winter vegetables can be interesting to cook/eat.  For turnips, as an example, they suggested to cut them up and saute with butter, salt and garlic.  You can do that with potatoes, so I guess any root vegetable can be cooked that way.  I said these were so-called winter vegies because winter as much of the rest of the country understands it seems almost a foreign concept down here in Florida.

Passing through the town of Sneads (est. 1894), we came to tonight's campground.  During check-in, I asked what three rivers the park's name referred to, and they gave me a brochure.  It says that the Flint and Chattahoochie Rivers combine to form Lake Seminole, and then the Apalachicola River (which I saw at the river's other end at the Gulf of Mexico) flows from the dam that created the lake.

I dumped my waste tanks when we got to the park, so of course the rain - which had let up in the afternoon - started up again and I got pretty wet before I got done.  I'd driven over 300 miles today, mostly on fairly rural roads, and I was tired, even though it was only 2:00 when we got in our campsite.

This was a tiny campground of 30 campsites arranged in a rough circle on the edge of Lake Seminole.  It was pleasant, but there wasn't much of anywhere for Dext and me to walk, which was a shame for us both.  Still, it was comfortable for the night.