In which trees come in handy.

 

And it was a magical place. A shady grove just a field away from the main drag, green with a dark canopy of coolness. A perfect picnic oasis in an increasingly arid land.

After the rest came the beach. And on the beach swarmed the umbrellas, tilting hotly and with more spots and stripes than in the entire animal kingdom. Or was it the people who were swarming? Not really spotted nor striped, but browning in their sandy coats, some caked and some crispy. Wee ones burying themselves in the sand only to emerge like mummies from ancient tombs, shrieking joyous in their new found freedom, crashing and splashing into the front lines of the mighty Atlantic. It was people-watching at its best, my favorite watch of which was a woman spinning her delighted daughter in circles as the waves swooped in around them, hot on the trail of the setting sun.

 

Perched fluorescently above the sands was a snack bar, ACAPULCO, where the four sizes of ice cream offered were petite, moyenne, grande, and américaine. Na ja. We'll leave it at that. (I'm suddenly at a loss for snark.)

As we drove away from the beach in the sinking dusk, we kept our eyes open for hidden places down little side roads where we might put up our feet that night. However, none seemed as optimal as the idyllic grove from that lunchtime passed, so we took our chances and found our way back, crossing fingers and pressing thumbs that its magic would not run out at midnight like Aschenpüttel's pumpkin carriage. As had been immediately noted earlier in the day, the tree layout was superb for stringing up beds. Fellow Roadtrippers thus performed an advanced feat of triple hammock hangage and, feet successfully put up, we fell asleep to the twinkling of stars through the treetops and the cricketing of crickets. (Actually sub-optimal for sleeping, but that's all part of the adventure, I suppose.) I awoke the next morning to a big, red, juicy snail slurping on my birkenstock. Mmmmhmhmhmhmm.

The continuation of our journey south the next day (crossing through much wine country and passed rapidly changing church architecture) significantly smooshed all my expectations by leading us out of Florida and into a completely new landscape of hills rolling with tall, trunk-barren trees with piney hairdos and softly needled forest floors. It smelled wonderful. We found our way to and through Mimizan and, with the knowledge that all winding roads eventually lead to the ocean, eventually wound up again at the coast.

This was yet another beautiful sand beach, but different from the others in that its waves were giant and reflected a silvery turquoise against the sky as they slammed the shore with all their wavey umph. We all jumped in, of course, and upon realizing that the undertow was far more powerful than my swimming muscles, I considered myself refreshed and jumped right back out again. The Fellow Roadtrippers spend a good long time splashing in the crashing and emerged later with headaches and water that you could hear slooshing about in noggins for 24 hours afterward.

 

After the wild adventures of the last nights, we decided to veer back toward civilization and rented a plot on the outskirts of a campground in the area. A lovely place. Pretty full, but quiet and shaded. Our neighbors across the way were German and had a beautiful golden retriever that I wasn't quite brave enough to go play with, but spend a good long time observing/longing to pet. I don't know why I didn't. There we pitched the tent again and carefully strung the hammocks between cork trees (!), padding the lines so as not to damage the bark, er, cork. The beach wasn't far by car, we were all tuckered, and decided to stay an extra day to recuperate, recharge our batteries (literally & figuratively), and refresh our adventurelusting. And shower repeatedly. (I'm also not going to pretend that the free wifi -- the first free network we'd encountered -- didn't play a role in my support of this decision.) Lovely. Lovely, sweet civilization. The best campground experience of the trip.

On our way out of town a couple days later, we finally stopped at one of the churches alongside the road and had a peek inside. As always, it was cool and quiet. The sun was shining directly through the stained glass windows at the front alter, throwing colorful light onto the already dazzling bouquets surrounding it. It really made me wish we'd taken the time to peek inside more churches along our route. Their spaces are so soft and so cool on the lungs.

 

 

 

Coming up next: le Pays basque. (And a whole lot of it.)