The weatherman said rain today, but he's wrong. The day has dawned bright and sunny. The Alabamans, who are heading back home this morning, are still having fun at breakfast. yesterday's most incredibly helpful member of staff, Destenee, has been replaced by Estella, who's also very much a 'can do' lady. When I say how pleased I am at everyone's incredible helpfulness, she replies that 'it's what the hospitality industry is all about'. I couldn't agree more!
Anita arrives to take me on a really carefully planned day of events. While the sun is out, she is keen that I should see the St. George Island State Park. We have to cross the four mile long John Gorrie Bridge. I have already discovered that there are an awful lot of bridges linking Florida's islands. The man after whom the bridge is named invented the forerunner of modern air conditioning, the original need being to control the temperature in bedrooms of people suffering from yellow fever.
The island is lovely, totally trapped in a time warp and almost completely spared the ravages of modern development. What is there is tasteful, low rise and in keeping with the delightful environment.
The island is 22 miles long and a maximum of a mile wide. Nine miles is taken up by the State Park, which is just exactly the sort of place I'd hoped to discover. Mile after mile of carefully protected vegetation, sand dunes and dazzlingly white sandy beaches. Its' lighthouse was transported, brick by brick, when it fell down a few miles away.
I ask Anita how house prices have been affected by the current economy, so we pop in to see Mary Seymour at a local estate agent (www.beachesbyjeff.com). Mary shows me one beachfront property, over 3000 square feet, which was once on sale for $1.8 million and can be bought now for under 800K.
The Orman House is very much a jewel in the town's crown. Occupied by the same family for 156 years until 1994, when the then owner, Mrs. Andrews was stabling her horse in the dining room.
Now under State control, park ranger Mike Kinnett proudly shows me around, despite the fact that the house is actually closed. I envy him his job, which involves living in provided accommodation within the St. George Island state Park. I enjoy his enthusiasm for the house, of which he is justifiably and clearly very proud.
Bev Hewitt kindly entertains me to lunch at the Apalachicola Seafood Grill, which has been in operation since 1903. I ask Bev if she was the owner back then, but she puts that down to my British sense of humour. Like almost everyone I have met so far, Bev has moved into the area. I enjoy both her company and the quality of the food in what is clearly a very popular local meeting place.
The weather has held sufficiently to go on a river trip with Steve Bartlett, another interloper, but at least he is Floridian. I see my first osprey ever, not once, but several times. There are at least five pairs of eagles, otters, bears, snakes and almost any wildlife imaginable. The Apalachicola River is almost totally unspoilt and it is a real treat to have been given the opportunity to travel on it. Despite the fact that the outboard is pushing us along at a very bracing 24 knots, a turkey vulture hovers expectantly above.
We pass under a rusty railway swing bridge, which Steve tells me is still in use a few times a week to take goods to and from the Arizona Chemical plant. The Apalachicola Northern Rail Road apparently which, sadly, like so many of north America's railways, carries only freight.
There's just time to meet Seth Blitch at the National Estuariane Research Reserve. Seth is generous with his time, explaining just why the area is, ecologically, quite so special. I learn about local snakes, poisonous of course, one of which enjoys spending time draped around Seth's 10 year old daughter's neck.
The charming little Dixie Theatre has a current production, but I just don't have the time to fit it in. But it's lovely just to be able to soak up the atmosphere.
Back at the Coombs House Inn, owner Bill Spohrer pops by to invite me out to dinner. His interior designer wife, Lynn Wilson, will hopefully join us later. Although I have a bag to pack, I hop on one of the hotel's bright yellow bikes for another tour around the town.
There are few places where I have been in over 30 years of international travel writing which have absolutely knocked me out. It's not that the history in Apalachicola is especially wonderful, well not to a European, as Anita Grove, my most welcoming and generous host from the town's Chamber of Commerce keeps pointing out.
I have just had one of the most splendid days I have ever had in travel journalism. Anita has totally understood my mission and has bent over backwards to make sure that the townsfolk have responded. Which they have, magnificently.
Apalachicola has set an incredibly high standard. Anita has even presented me with a jar of the very special Tupelo Honey, about the best there is.
Tomorrow, a three and a half hour drive back to Pensacola to see the King and Queen of Spain.
As you do.
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