It took very little effort to achieve the intended goal for the day. Skies were clear, then stormy, then clear again; typical coastal weather for this time of year. It was still hot, but Gulf breezes began to push some of that away. The journey proved mostly uneventful through the billion acre forest of Mississippi, then Alabama to Mobile.
Mobile offered up the George Wallace Tunnel for amusement, diving 12 meters under the Mobile River, emerging nearly 1,000 meters on Blakeley Island. Opened in 1973, it is named after the infamous Democratic senator from Alabama, a staunch segregationist, populist politician and two time presidential contender. A new name has not yet been chosen for the tunnel, but given his record and the state of affairs, it is likely in the works.
Señor GoPro unknowingly went on break just before the Alabama/Florida line, likely out of boredom induced by the interstate monotony. Traffic crawled in west bound lanes, as the beaches emptied from the revelry of the 4th of July. East bound proved to be the usual interstate game of push or be pushed down the road.
Arriving in Pensacola in no time at all, Señor GoPro rose from his siesta in time to catch the Bay Bridge crossing and down to accommodations for the next several days and nights. Google completely mucked up the directions though, believing it more interesting to scale a 10 meter wall to access Gulf Coast Inn than to simply enter off the parkway. It all worked out, with a little meandering, and the little roadside spot proved an excellent find for this occasion.
Connecting with friends, sustenance became the first order of business and they quickly identified the ideal location. Shaggy's served up a delicious fare. Had there not been a hurricane a few years ago, the original location in Christian Pass might have been our first encounter, but this was just as well, and well worth the wait.
A full belly sent us further east along the beach in search of less populated areas. As luck would have it, the first stop proved to be the perfect location for lounging about and catching up further with friends. Toes were dipped, sand was put under construction and a good time had by all.
A need for relief led back to the parking lot, at some point. This led to the discovery of of something the Chinese first noted in the 9th century. Marco Polo also reference the phenomenon in his crossing of the Gobi Desert, indicating the dunes filled the air "with the sounds of all kinds of musical instruments ... ," In these times, the best label society can conjure is "squeaky sand."
The conversation continued from there, listening and watching the gentle surf along the eastern end of Pensacola Beach. The wind lightly made it s presence known every so often and the sun sank lower and lower on the horizon behind us.
The position of things, along with other necessities, prompted another visit to view that horizon on the other side of the dunes. One of our posse passed around between the dunes, to capture the view without interference, while the position among the tall grass seemed sufficient for this particular evening.
As if on queue, the wind kicked up a steady pace, and the surrounding world turned blue. Conversation continued on into the darkness for a moment or three. Weird tiny biting bugs came out to play on the beach, and earlier memories of random crabs popping out of holes encouraged departure before long.
The last moments of the day were s pent enjoying a fire. At first, it seemed a little ridiculous in the 32°C temperatures. Someone explained the effectiveness of its chasing away mosquitoes though, and suddenly, the proposition did not seem all that preposterous after all. It had been an eventful day, and their company stood undesirable.
. . .
Further Reading
Wikipedia
Penscaola Beach, FL
VisitPensacola.com
Scientific American
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