has been to see Thomas Edison and Henry Ford's winter residences and is seeing how the other half live in Naples, Florida. Blog at http://ping.fm/HOrnQ
pictures at http://ping.fm/TbsFv
Saturday 28 February 2009
Ford, Edison and seeing how the other half live in Naples
Saturday night, 28th February
I hope Curt is alright. He's nowhere in sight this morning and I know he was setting off on a mercy mission last night to rescue a friend who, I think, had imbibed too much and couldn't drive home.
So I write him a hastily scribbled note and set off for Fort Myers.
The Edison and Ford Winter Estate opens at 9am and I am keen, with Katie's recommendation from last night, to fit it into my schedule.
The early start means that I am one of the very first visitors so, armed with a map and an audio guide, I set off into the 13-acre estate that Thomas Edison and his close friend Henry Ford, acquired and in which they built their winter residences.
I have the place entirely to myself. The caretaker's house is itself impressive, but of course the two main residences and a very impressive guest house in between reflect the status and wealth of these two great industrial pioneers. Edison used his little office in his later years, the original laboratory having been shipped to the Ford Museum in Deerborn, Michigan, where I have also visited.
The location is to die for, with their own private pier, built so that most of the construction materials and contents for the homes could be shipped directly to Florida from further north.
The gardens are especially impressive, with all sorts of trees brought for various Edison-esque experiments, ranging from bamboo for light bulb filaments and rubber trees, a project in association with tyre magnate Harvey Firestone.
I potter happily around the grounds for an hour and a half, admiring the peace and the fresh air. As the day heats up, the groups start to arrive, so I set off to join a tour round the impressive laboratory and then to the museum, filled with an extraordinary array of Edison's triumphs. Light bulbs, phonographs, cement, film projectors, ticker tape machines, in all he filed well over 1000 patents.
Not bad for a former newsboy on the Grand Trunk Rail Road!
The drive to Naples on the Interstate is thankfully only an hour or so. With bumper to bumper cars weaving in and out, it's not a particularly pleasant drive.
The approaches to Naples reflect the wealth that abounds in this part of Florida. Immaculately coiffured lawns sweep up to gated entrances to places like Moon Lake, Fox Fire and Glen Eagle Golf and Country Club (I imagine if they had added the plural bird, a lawsuit would have ensued).
I check in at the very upscale boutique hotel, the Inn on Fifth, my home for the next three nights. I am very glad Mr. Hertz has provided me with an especially smart motor car. Everybody else seems to have Bentleys and Porsches. I have a lovely suite with everything you could ever want but, surprisingly, no fridge. One is delivered to my room within minutes, so my orange juice and milk will survive!
I am booked on a boat trip and, with the car having been whisked away by a parking valet to some unknown location, I walk the half dozen blocks to Naples City Dock. But the place is massive and, when I ask, everybody points me in opposite directions for the Sweet Liberty berth.
I am slightly flustered as time to sailing is getting short, when realise that a US Coastguard helicopter is doing a demonstration right next to a mast emblazoned with the yacht's name. Hurrah!
We set sail and Mitchell, the skipper, points out some astonishingly high-end properties. One is a mere $8.5 million. But were it on the opposite bank, in the prestigious Port Royal, it would be double that. There's a few in the high teens bracket, but the most expensive one belongs to New Yorker, Alan Geary. It's 50,000 square feet and worth an estimated $145 million. Gulp.
Sweet Liberty has got a 53' mast and an impressive 1000 square feet of sail. So, when we get out into the Gulf of Mexico, wind power takes over. Despite 38 years in the Royal Navy and Reserve, it's still a real thrill to be on a boat. Thankfully, as one of only two indigenous Floridians I have met so far, he's been a water baby almost since birth and knows what he is doing. The channel out to the Gulf is like the motorway down from Fort Myers, with the driving just as erratic. And of course, unlike Mitch, these guys have no licences. Scary.
I enjoy a cup of tea in my suite before heading downstairs to McCabe's Irish Pub and Grill. The hotel owner, Bostonian Philip McCabe, had a complete 4,200 square foot pub designed and built in Donnybrook, north of Dublin and shipped in containers to Naples.
Ryan, my server is young, but like so many, only comes to Florida in the winter. He is a graduate of Michigan State University and normally runs a fine dining restaurant, the Yankee Rebel Tavern, on Mackinac Island on the northern Michigan peninsula. I went there once and reclaimed it, and the nearby Sleeping Bear Dunes, for the Queen!
The meal is great and Ryan is really good at stopping the kitchen sending out the food as soon as it ready, averting the horrid American habit of delivering it to your table before you are half way through your previous course.
A live musician sets to with a menu of Irish standards such as 'Wild Rover' and 'Whisky in the Jar'. The audience joins in lustily. As I write this, three floors above, I can hear strains of 'Cracklin' Rosie' and Folsom Prison. Neil Diamond and Johnny Cash clearly have Irish connections! But I hope the revelry doesn't keep me awake. Tonight I am in so much need of a full night's rest.
Quirky Matlacha
10pm Friday 27 February
The Sun and Moon B and B in Matlacha is an adorable spot, undoubtedly the best located accommodation I have had so far. The wildlife around here is astonishing. But the road to Pine Island is very close and it's been busy since 0530 with boat trailers and motorbikes on the move.
I'm due to go on a boat trip today, but it would have tied me up for six hours and I really want some time to explore quirky Matlacha and nearby Pine Island. Curt, my extraordinarily hospitable host, suggests that I instead head out to the Randell Research Centre which documents the history of the area and then he'll take me out in his boat to get a really local slant on the area.
I miss the turning to Randell Research and find myself in Bokeelia, in the far north of the island. I have passed a load of tropical groves filled with palm trees and exotic fruit, so it feels absolutely right that my Sirius Satellite Radio provided by Mr. Hertz, has a Merengue Station called Caliente, Spanish for hot, playing away for that section of the journey. Somehow BBC World Service doesn't seem right at this moment!
Bokeelia is very laid back, loads of people fishing from a couple of piers and going out in boats. I ask for directions and head for Pineland, where I pass a lovely little wooden post office.
The rather uninspiringly-named Randell Research Centre turns out to be an absolute delight. In association with the Natural History Department of the University of Florida, the RRC interprets the remains of the settlement of Calusa Indians, dating back some 2000 years. There are vast 30 feet high 'middens', mainly of discarded shells, which give archaeologists a remarkable insight into the lifestyle of the Native Americans, two millennia ago. One interpretation is fascinating, suggesting that the chief would have his house on the highest mound, 'height suggesting power, authority and wealth'. I have never thought of it like that, but it is so true. These cultured people lived around these parts until 1821, when, like so many other native Americans and Cuban fishermen, they were made not welcome.
I ask Michael Wylde, the manager of the shop and the laboratory coordinator, why many American people seem to ignore the wealth of history prior to Columbus. The answer is fascinating. 'Schools in any part of the world don't generally teach about the bad things in their history. The enslavement of African Americans is well documented but people do not realise that 10,000 Florida Indians were sold at Charlestown before 1750.' Michael suggests that I read a book on the subject, 'Bury my heart at Wounded Knee' by Dee Brown.
I could have stayed at the Centre for Hours, I even saw a couple of pairs of nesting Ospreys, about which I am getting rather blasé now!
On my return to the Sun and Moon Inn, the irrepressible Curt has his boat all fired up and ready to go. He tells me all about the effects of Hurricane Charlie in 2004, whose eye was just 6 miles from Matlacha. The locals were of course all evacuated, but Curt describes the very scary effects of being in the eye of a storm, the peace, then all hell breaking loose. I's a sobering thought that, despite the natural beauty of a lot of Florida, nature has a way of saying who is boss.
We meet several shop owners, running their businesses in former fishermens' shacks, now brightly painted. Leoma Lovegrove lets me take pictures, despite signs telling me not. She says it's to stop people stealing her ideas, but I think tourists showing the pictures of her extraordinary collections to their friends would do her more good than harm. Curt introduces me to several colleagues in the local Chamber of Commerce, including B J Hickey, who runs the Great Licks Ice Cream Shop. Everybody has the same view. While the national economy is struggling, Matlacha has found a a little niche and is doing very nicely thank you.
Curt is keen to take me to Pampered Pets, who make his dogs' coats pink and purple. Well, it's America.
I take a much needed shower and report downstairs to meet Katie Meckley, from Lee County Convention and Vistor Bureau (www.fortmyers-sanibel.com). She's never met Curt face to face and is being shown a TV fishing programme where fur from the dogs is being used to catch the much-valued Snook from the river just yards away from the house.
Katie takes me to the Tarpon Lodge restaurant where we have the best meal I have had in Florida, after watching the most incredible sunset I have seen so far. The moon and a planet, dazzlingly bright above the setting sun. Astounding.
I have a very tasty starter of blackened, locally caught fish bites, a wonderful salad with crumbled blue cheese and an excellent filet mignon steak. I am surprised to discover red wine from Portland Oregon, Duck Pond by name. It is so nice I have to have another.
The setting is idyllic and while I understand that the area we are in is used for more casual dining during the day, it deserves rather better than cheap plastic picnic chairs and tables without even tablecloths in the evening. The place is much too classy for that.
Back at Curt's, Katie and I go with mine host to watch Snook at the boat dock. The Sun and Moon really is a magical place.
Thursday 26 February 2009
History, art, manatees, hot springs and baseball
Thursday 26 February
I have planned quite a few visits today during my drive south, so I am packed up nice and early and am on the road by 0930. I have carefully pre programmed the Hertz 'Never Get Lost', press the button and set off. I've planned to go to the Warm Mineral Springs first, and, depending on time available, will try and fit in a placed called Historic Spanish Point in the appropriately named Osprey.
So it's a huge surprise to me to be told by Mr. Hertz' GPS that I have arrived at Historic Spanish Point. Please blame the operator and not the technology!
The elderly volunteer at reception takes some persuading what to do with my Sarasota VIP Visitor card, but relents. It is only as I am sitting watching the introductory video, that I realise that she has confiscated my valuable card.
My pass safely retrieved, I head off into Spanish Point itself.
It's a gorgeous day, the place is delightfully peaceful and I have a thoroughly enjoyable walk for a couple of miles through the 30 acre site. Most folk seem to be using the courtesy golf carts to move about. There are historic buildings, carefully reconstructed evidence of people living in the area 4000 years ago and beautiful gardens. The utterly charming butterfly garden has been built with funds from the May family in memory of their grandmother Louine McCuaig, a former museum volunteer. I see enormous Monarch butterflies and several other species flitting about. The whole place is delightful.
I have noticed several artists at work. I have taken pictures of several, including local North Port artist, Ron Sanders. Later I meet another, Heather McCullough, who tells me that all the paintings will be on show at the Venice Art Gallery tomorrow evening.
I love the atmosphere and the tranquillity of Spanish Point (www.historicspanishpoint.org). It is utterly charming and I wish I could have stayed a lot longer.
But there's an opportunity to visit my first ever mineral spa at North Port. The publicity blurb claims it is the original fountain of youth sought by Ponce de Leon almost 500 years ago.
My Sarasota VIP card again goes down a storm. The lady reads it, makes a phone call, then offers me the standard AAA $2 discount on the $20 entrance fee. I point out the small print which says clearly, 'Complimentary admission for two', and manage to negotiate the entry, loan of a towel and a locker key. The changing facilities are badly in need of upgrading and I joke with my neighbour, a gentleman from Minnesota, that we will have all our ills repaired in the spring, only to catch some lethal disease from the accumulated grime on the floor. Not at all nice. He also discovers that his key will open my locker and several others.
The spa itself is an impressive 1.4 acres and is fed by a spring which delivers 9 million gallons a day of 87 degree warm water. The mineral content is said to be higher than that in Vichy, Aix les Bains and Baden Baden. Bizarrely it is full of Russian ladies with hats on and all sorts of other eastern European visitors. I do one circuit of the rather sulphurous smelling water, brush against a turtle or two, and decide to brave the changing rooms again before setting off for Fort Myers.
Beside the road are lots of classy looking housing developments with names like 'Heron's Glen' and 'Eagles Rise'. I make sure my car doors are locked when roadside signs announce that State Prisoners are working at the roadside.
I am shocked by the standard of driving on the Interstate. People are texting while hurtling along at 65 miles an hour, undertaking seems to be the norm, as is chatting on a mobile phone., I am astonished to discover later that all of this is perfectly legal.
It's spring training season for America's professional baseball players and, in late February and March, they are busy in Florida getting ready for the forthcoming season. I am helped to find a parking space right in front of the ground by three very friendly local policemen who each pass me to their colleague by radio. I rather doubt if the same courtesy would be extended in Britain to an American visiting a Premiership football ground!
The Boston Red Sox are based in Fort Myers and today they are playing the Pittsburgh Pirates. I am sitting right behind the action, in one of the best seats in the house, protected from stray balls by a very solid looking net. Two Sox fans, one a retired cop from the north end in Boston, where I have stayed, explain to me the intricacies of the action. At the end of the seventh inning, they join in enthusiastically with a fans' version of Neil Diamond's 'Sweet Caroline'. It's apparently what always happens at Fenway Park, their home ground, now sold out completely for the forthcoming season, as it has been for several years.
After the game, in roasting hot temperatures, I head for Matlacha (pronounced Matla shay), to check in to the Sun and Moon Inn. This turns out to be an absolutely lovely little bed and breakfast inn, right overlooking the water. There's a Fed Ex parcel full of goodies from Katie at the visitor centre. It feels like Christmas!
I'm not in the place for half an hour before Curt, the owner, comes to tell me about the 30 or 40 manatees that will be passing by on the outgoing tide. Incredible, I hadn't seen one till a couple of days ago and now there are dozens swimming past my bedroom. Shortly afterwards, there's another lovely sunset.
I'm delighted with how things are going. Florida is, at last, revealing some of her secrets.
Wednesday 25 February 2009
Sandcastles, Sarasota and Segway
Wednesday 25 February
Early morning domesticity, with an opportunity to use the excellent washer and drier in the apartment. It's bizarre. So much in my luxurious pad is clearly top of the range, while there are bits and pieces which are relatively cheap and nasty. As an example, there's a state of the art surround sound music system, but a tacky little set of iPod speakers.
The owners have clearly locked away the iron that works with the 'Built in Ironing Center', so you have to drape a cable from a pretty poor quality iron across the laundry room to the only available socket. While perhaps not illegal, the set up is certainly unsafe and the local safety people would not be at all impressed.
I still haven't worked out which button to press to get the toaster to do both sides of the bread. In fact the information on how to do things in this apartment is sadly lacking and I am still illicitly using a wifi connection from another property because the agents have not come back to me to give me the wireless code. I am also still waiting for a call to tell me the time I have to leave the property tomorrow.
In fact Anna Maria Vacations have been altogether pretty slapdash and, while I can certainly recommend the property, I do not think much of the service offered by the agents who were unimpressive in their organisation of my entry arrangements and haven't bothered to call to see if everything is fine.
For the first time since I got here, I find a few minutes to visit Holmes Beach, which must be all of 30 metres from the house. There's an impressive sandcastle about to be devoured by the incoming tide, but I record it for posterity. It is, indeed, a lovely beach, but I think I will stop visiting beaches, because I am told they are all like this from now on.
I am slightly confused quite why most of my arrangements for Sarasota are actually being handled by Jessica and Michelle in Bradenton. But their colleagues down south are not being very communicative, to put it mildly.
I set off for the 45 minute drive to the John and Mable Ringling Estate. There's a slight hiatus at the entrance, when none of the willing but somewhat aged volunteers can quite work out what to do with the Sarasota VIP card with which I have been equipped. Rather than just sell tickets, the ladies seem to spend an age with each guest, explaining the intricacies of the vast 155 acre estate in minute detail. While the queue gets longer and longer.
I have a whistlestop tour of the incredible collection amassed by the Ringlings, who wintered their famous circus and that of Barnum and Bailey in Sarasota. The museum even has the Ringling's personal 'Wisconsin' luxurious railway wagon, a former Pullman car, currently being painstakingly restored.
A typical season on tour involved some 1300 workers, 800 animals and journeys totalling 15,000 miles. My former BBC colleague and circus loving friend Tony Mallion and his son Tom, would absolutely adore the circus museum with its' incredible collection of old vehicles and memorabilia. The Howard Brothers model circus, covering an astounding 3,800 square feet, would also be loved by Peter and Christine Jay at the Hippodrome Circus in Great Yarmouth.
I have an appointment for a tour in down town Sarasota, but discover I am an hour too early. So I repair to the nearby Lavanda Restaurant in the Adams Lane artists' quarter for a bite of lunch. There's a bit of translation difficulty with the Bosnian waitress, but the food turns out to be absolutely excellent in charming 'Old Florida' surroundings. Highly recommended.
Which is not my comment on 'Florida Everglide' Segway tours. I have ridden these stabilised upright devices on several occasions. But abrasive tour guide Phil is determined that, despite the fact he knows I am a guest of the tourist board, I can not go unless I put up a $500 deposit. Even worse, as I am without a credit card, neither he nor the owner, Tom Jacobson, is prepared to sort out the issue with the tourist board. When I protest, the diplomatic Phil says that, unless I leave the office, he will call the Police.
I can almost guarantee that these will be the very people that will whinge why they don't get PR coverage for their unimpressive little operation.
Their literature quotes a staff writer from the Washington Post, who sings their praises. I do wonder whether she's even aware she knows what she's said.
Sarasota's PR director has come up with what she sees as a highly appropriate alternative to fill my time to discover 'Hidden Sarasota'. I am to go out with the office intern on a jetski, then have a few beers. Words fail me. At least she exists in real life and not just on voicemail and email.
Gray, the 21 year old intern, went to High school locally and clearly has a much better grasp of what I need. He sweeps me up, points me in the direction of downtown and gives me a whistlestop tour.
Gray suggests I gather my thoughts at Sarasota News and Books, which has an excellent cafe. I enjoy a really good cup of tea and have a chocolate brownie to die for.
Refreshed and recharged, I set off to explore. Sarasota has a really lovely feel, which reminds me very much of Denver, one of my favourite US cities. There are loads of interesting buildings and architecture, a wealth of nice shops and restaurants plus a really attractive waterfront. I like it a lot and just wish that a bit more time end effort had gone into planning my trip and it being of greater benefit for the local Visitor Bureau.
It is perhaps symptomatic of Sarasota's somewhat lackadaisical attitude that my hosts for my last evening in the area are Jessica and Michelle from the Bradenton office, who treat me to a lovely dinner at Mattison's City Grille (not my spelling!). The ambience is lovely, food is really tasty, well prepared and presented. But why, oh why, does the waiter pour the dregs of one glass of wine into the new one? Jessica agrees it's not what should happen.
The two Bradenton ladies have been wonderful and have worked tirelessly to make my visit relevant to my quest.
I am running out of gold stars.
Tuesday 24 February 2009
MANATEES AND MALE MEMBERS
I realise with horror, that it's around 35 years since my first ever travel feature appeared in print. I remember it well. Although I was serving in the Royal Navy, I wrote up my experiences for my local newspaper, the Kirkintilloch Herald, now part off the giant Johnson Press Group. Things of course were very different then. Having to wait for photographs to be developed and printed, then posting the package off to the newspaper and seeing the results appear in print some weeks later.
Now, my photographs are being seen by the editorial people within hours of them being taken and people are commenting in some numbers about my blog. That's really useful because it means that I can correct any factual errors before they appear in print.
Over that time, I have encountered some wonderful people, many of whom have become lifelong friends. I have also met a lot of folk who have either been in the job for too long and become complacent or who clearly can't be bothered to find out what a journalist actually wants. It's lazy PR and it's completely counterproductive. No journalist is ever going to write about things which don't fit the brief.
Sometimes, you get teams which really impress. I have been blessed today with one of those. Sparky, responsive, intelligent, flexible. Jessica and Michelle from the Bradenton Convention and Visitor Bureau are absolute stars.
Jessica, who's pretty new to the area, was on the doorstep of my sumptuous accommodation bright and early this morning to really get to grips with what I was after. I took her on a tour of the apartment which, I have discovered is 2000 plus square feet with an additional 300 square feet of terrace. I measured 41 metres from my walk in wardrobe to the furthest extent of the spare room. Amazing! A week in this wonderful place (www.annamaria.com) for around $2500.
As Jessica comes up with ideas, back in the office, Michelle fixes things up, changes times, arranges new activities. It's a hugely impressive bit of team work
We start at the Island Creperie and plan the day in a most civilised manner over breakfast. Conservative me goes for scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage, wrapped up in a wholemeal pancake, but thin as a rake twenty something Jessica wades in for something disgracefully creamy, sweet and chocolaty. I just couldn't do it. Well not before nine in the morning.
Olivier, the chef/owner is originally from Paris and delights in telling me how the French are triumphing over the Scots and the English in the rugby six nations. It's the first place I have actually had a really decent cup of coffee since I came to the USA, not just some watery grey stuff.
Nearby to the creperie is the 720 feet long Bradenton Beach pier. We are amused by 'kamikaze' pelicans, who hurtle themselves into the water after their prey. I am highly amused when Jessica goes into a cafe to enquire when the pier was built, in response to a question from me, to find me pointing to a huge '1921' built into the structure.
I joke with an elderly couple that they are seating on the swing seat traditionally used for proposing marriage. After declaring that they are 44 years too late, they give up their spaces to allow Jessica and I to move in. For some inexplicable reason, she then heads off at a brisk trot in the opposite direction. Hmmm.
We head for the beaches, which are almost as nice as the ones at Fort de Soto. At one point, a notice encourages us to take our shoes off, so we don't 'dirty the sand'! Jessica gets back on the wedding track, telling me how nice it is to have the ceremony on the beach. This apparently gives the blushing bride the opportunity to wear flip flops under her wedding gown.
We head off to meet Jennifer Taylor, a Londoner from Bermondsey. She and her husband have lovingly restored a 1926 wooden house into a delightful six bedroom B and B. Jessica likes it because 'The Londoner' (www.thelondonerinn.com) also does a pretty mean traditional afternoon tea and, having spent six months working in the UK capital, she knows that Jennifer will always have a decent cup of tea on the go. Having had a really good breakfast, I turn down the chance of a freshly baked scone with home made lemon curd, only to be teasingly scolded by Jessica afterwards for doing so. My host loves lemon curd!
I must confess that, before my visit to Florida, I knew nothing about manatees, except that they are an extremely endangered species. But Michelle has fixed up for me to meet Snooty, a 61 year old, 1180 pound, West Indian Manatee who was born in captivity. Jeff Rogers of the South Florida Museum takes us 'back stage' at the aquarium, where Snooty, a real showman, delights Jessica and I with his enthusiasm for people. Marilyn, the aquarium director and Caitlin, who has just finished a public show, talk with some pride about their huge mammal. Snooty and two other younger manatees, which are being rehabilitated back to the wild, exist on a diet mainly of lettuce leaves with a mix of other vegetables and boy does their breath stink.
Bradenton is where the Tropicana orange juice is made, but they don't do trips any more, which is a pity. But Michelle has come up with a 'must see' in the town's 'Village of the Arts'. Now this is quirky. All sorts of artists have gathered together in one area and turned the area into a colourful, eclectic mix. The 'must see' is a tree sculpted out of stainless steel where male members (I am not sure how else to put this bit) hang down like leaves. I have no idea what the message might be!
We are now well into the afternoon, so Jessica asks me again if I regret turning down the scone with lemon curd. However, the Bonni Bakes cafe squeezes us in before the staff all go home. Guest chef Amy Scott has recruited her mother, Mary Jane and brother Christopher to recreate southern style cooking. So we have grits, corn pie and Mardi gras red beans. We are persuaded to wear strings of gaudily coloured beads around our necks to celebrate 'Fat Tuesday', which it is. The meal is rounded off by Mary Jane's absolutely yummy Key Lime pie, the recipe for which I just HAVE to have!
Jessica ends the day with another tour round Ana Maria island, pointing out places I might like to go on the bike which I'll have for the next couple of days. Ana Maria has wonderful beaches, is laid back and tranquil, with some seriously quirky folk. My quest to discover the 'Hidden Florida' is, in recent days, yielding some seriously good results.
Monday 23 February 2009
Amazing, awesome, incredible!
Holmes Beach, Ana Maria Island, Monday Night
I am sad to be leaving Pasa Tiempo. Just as I am getting settled, it is time to go. I am also sorry not to be able to say goodbye to Lotta, the manager. But Ivone, the owner is in the office and has kindly printed out a whole load of changes to my itinerary. I need someone to get a grip on things. I am being double booked all over the place and it's getting me pretty stressed. The trouble is that pieces of paper are flying through the ether to and from London and, by the time I get to see them, the decision makers across the pond are fast asleep. It's one of the frustrations of time zones, but it's also the first time in almost thirty years of travel writing that I have left home without every i dotted and t crossed.
I'm also a bit agitated because my American bank hasn't managed to get my ATM card to me and my cash dollars are running low. The US is proving to be pretty pricey, especially eating out. But I am cheered when I discover a branch of the Fifth Third Bank just a couple of miles from my hotel and Mark Christnacht, the manager, rings my branch in Michigan, arranges for me to get more cash without the required piece of plastic and for a card to be ordered for delivery when I get to Naples. Fingers crossed.
After yesterday's trip to a State Park, today I am visiting a park run by an individual county. Fort de Soto Park is in Pinellas County. The drive is, once again, pretty bloody awful and there's nothing to write home about at all. Just concrete, traffic and advertising signs.
As I approach the Park, things brighten up, with some VERY expensive looking properties on either side of the road.
I call at what looks like an impressive campsite to get directions to the main office, where I am to meet my host for the day, park supervisor, Jim Wilson.
He scoops me up in his four wheel drive and takes me on what he calls his 'Readers' Digest' tour.
Well, if I was impressed by Caladesi, I am absolutely and utterly overwhelmed by Fort de Soto. It truly has everything. Over 1100 acres of beautifully maintained park, 6 miles of beaches, a fort dating from 1898, with huge mortars to protect the entrance to Tampa Bay, and unlimited parking. It needs it. More than three million folk come here each year and I can see why.
Jim, who first came here in 1975, is justifiably proud of the improvements that have been done over the years. with just 32 staff, half of what used to be here, Fort de Soto has something for everyone. Nature, bike, canoe, cycle and wheelchair accessible trails, one of the biggest boat launching areas in the entire United States, where 30 craft can be launched simultaneously, and much more besides. So enormous is the place, that it's entirely possible to find your own little part of paradise, up to two miles from the nearest car park. Jim's got a great team of volunteers, without whom it wouldn't be able to operate. Amazingly, there is no entrance charge, something Jim is very keen to preserve. A local sales tax, 'A Penny for Pinellas', helps to fund special projects.
On holiday weekends, Jim is thinking more about the 40 tons of rubbish that will have to be removed, rather than the visitor numbers.
Incredibly, when the county bought the land for just 18,000 dollars in the 1930's, there were many who balked at the extravagance of it all. How farsighted they are now seen to be.
With 315 species of birds, Fort de Soto is one of the US's havens for twitchers. Jim even stands under a pine tree trying to show me a Great Horned Owl, but the enormous bird remains stubbornly hidden.
We have in Norfolk some outstanding caravan and camping grounds, but even my friend Michael Timewell at Kelling Heath would marvel at the facilities at Fort de Soto. Over 230 very spacious pitches, many with direct access to the shoreline, and all equipped with water and electric hook ups. People with tents can be pitched next door to a million dollar Provost recreational vehicle. From just over $33 per night, it's no surprise that people are not allowed to stay for more than two weeks at a time. It is, without doubt, the most incredible camp site I have ever seen. With a 72% year round occupancy, the camping area contributes $2.5 million annually, almost single handedly paying for the entire running costs of the park.
Jim shows me the 5.5 mile long Sunshine Skyway bridge, the world's longest bridge with a suspended central span. In 1980, 35 people were killed when the ship, Summit Venture, collided with the bridge, causing a bus and six cars to fall 150 feet. Most of the old bridge was demolished, but parts have been retained as a fishing pier.
An hour after leaving Fort de Soto, I cross the bridge heading south, again hating the traffic with a passion.
The final nine miles from Bradenton to Ana Maria Island is truly horrid. An endless line of motor vehicles and traffic lights. Absolutely ghastly.
But I am much cheered by the astonishing Casa Costiera apartment, which is to be my home for the next three nights. When I tell you that the master bathroom has a his and hers shower, PLUS a enormous jacuzzi bath, you get the picture. The wardrobe is almost drive through, rather than walk in. The bedroom has, of course, full length patio doors onto an enormous terrace overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. This is unbelievable luxury in a location to die for and I suspect I will gasp when I hear the going rental rate. There's space for six but so far I have not persuaded anyone to join me. I am touched that Jessica and Michelle from the local tourist office have thought to welcome me. Michelle pops by with a little welcome goodie bag and Jessica calls to say hi and fix up a breakfast meeting tomorrow. Now that is how I expect a tourist board to be. Gold star!
An hour later, I stand on the terrace to watch the sun going down in a cloudless Floridian sky. The sunset is everything a Gulf of Mexico sunset is cracked up to be.
It really has been an amazing day.
Sunday 22 February 2009
Caladesi Island, possibly as hidden as I'll find in Florida
Caladesi Island State Park, Sunday
I have taken the opportunity to sort out my suitcases. A week into the trip and you can imagine that very few things are where they should be. Inside both, I discover little cards from the Transportation Security Administration. After scanning at Pensacola Airport, they had hand searched both items of my checked in luggage. Not surprising really, I carry more electronic gadgetry with me than Comet has! I had been advised to leave them unlocked. Just as well, because I am told they would simply break them otherwise!
I have an early start, before Sunday breakfast is normally ready for guests at the Pasa Tiempo. But lovely Lotta, the Swedish 'innkeeper' at Pasa Tiempo has prepared a really lovely meal tray for me.
I've been reading the manuals for my Hertz 'Never Lost' and my very upmarket Mercury Sable Car. All my destinations are now carried on a 'Tourism Malaysia' USB pen drive. Having copied them from my laptop. The pen drive just slots into the side of the GPS and, hey presto, it tells me where to go.
It's almost an hour's drive to the Caladesi Island State Park along some of the ghastliest roads I've ever seen. Imagine a twenty mile long tacky seafront, huge advertising hoardings at every angle and level, with a three lane motorway thundering past. One advert proclaims. Doug Stein MD. No scalpel. No needle. 16000 circumcisions completed. True!
The contrast between the vulgarity of the road and the tranquility of the Caladesi and Honeymoon State Parks could not be more acute.
The islands were once connected. Honeymoon is now driveable via a causeway and after paying the $5 entry charge, those people wanting to get to Caladesi, pay another $10 for a 15 minute boat trip. (A sand bar has actually built up in recent years between Clearwater and Caladesi, so you could actually walk to the island, but Americans much prefer a 20 mile road trip!)
My host for the day is Park Ranger Carl Calhoun, who came for a couple of years and stayed for 27. As such, he probably knows more about the State Park than anyone else. He's northern Irish by descent and quite a character. Outside his office, we meet one of the Park volunteers, a guy with a plaited beard, the like of which I have never seen. He's parked his boat at the dock for free and is working a few hours each week to pay off his rent.
Just before Carl takes me out in a kayak, he shows me a skin from a rattlesnake. an eight feet long diamond back, to be exact. And, yes, they, and various other very poisonous snakes hang out on the island. It's a historic place. There are native American burial mounds going back some two thousand years. American history post Columbus? A mere bagatelle!
The kayak trail takes us round the mangroves. No alligators, who only lurk in freshwater and, thankfully, no snakes. But it's a delightful trip and I feel privileged to have had Carl as my guide.
After an excellent lunch at the one simple cafe that is allowed to operate, Carl takes me on an absolutely amazing tour of the one mile square land part of Caledesi. We see a pair of Ospreys building a nest, wild bees nests, pelican, heron, an armadillo, sanderlings, enormous horseshoe crabs and the very British sounding Ruddy turn stone. Carl reckons that, over a year, you can see some 300 varieties of bird on the island. I can believe it.
He's been very generous with his time and I have had an absolutely brilliant day.
Caladesi, with its' 200,000 visitors a year (only a few hundred today) is a very special place indeed.
I am sure they wanted me to tell you that its' beach was voted 'Best Beach in America', 2008. The beach is certainly unspoilt, very charming and totally natural.
But best? I have seen better and I have only been in Florida for a week!
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