February 3, 2011 Four states in 200 miles - the causeway states - we reach Florida!

We have become somewhat feral in our five weeks of independent travel. We decide to leave New Orleans at our leisure, not joining the NorCal departure at 8:30 AM.

I arise about 7:30 AM, 37 degrees outside and 47 degrees inside – sounds cold, but it would have been close to 10 degrees lower without our trusty portable electric heater.  We have a propane furnace but it is noisy, windy, and expensive to operate.  I turn on the heat pump (which is noisy and windy but operates off the park’s electricity) and in half-an-hour the temperature inside reaches 65 degrees, allowing Marcia to get up with a minimum of moaning and groaning. 

We eat and with the outside temperature now up to 39 degrees I do my hook-up chores.  The NorCal group is gone, but we aren’t totally feral – we may run in to them later today so I attach the CB radio that has been in storage, but leave it turned off.

The campground has allowed us to see New Orleans on a reasonable budget and has done it in a nice way.  On the way out I stop at the office to compliment them – interrupting one employee in a head-down nap.   Her head pops up and with a neutral expression she asks what I want.  I give my compliments and receive a funny look in return then a slight smile, and a quick request that I complete a comment form.   I take one and with a wide grin she wishes me a safe trip.

We hit I-10 and as we pass all the landmarks from Katrina news coverage we notice again all the infrastructure work going on, but on the private side things aren’t looking so good.  The French Quarter is as we remember it (it didn’t seriously flood) but empty of tourists (this is January).  On the fringes of New Orleans we pass homes and apartments still missing shingles and siding, and large vacant retail centers, victims of a combination of Katrina and the bad economy.  Payday loan signs abound, as do television commercials for lawyers, a few Katrina related.

In short order we cross into Mississippi, the temperature locked on 39 degrees but the vegetation looking greener.  A nice black lady at the elegant visitor center tries to interest us in spending more time in the state, or at least visiting Jefferson Davis’ last house nearby.  A elderly white gentleman breaks in politely also encouraging us to visit the home, remarking that his great-grandfather (?) was confined to the home when it served as a hospital for Confederate soldiers.  It seems odd but nice listening to this black and white pair, with their dramatically different ancestral histories, trying to get us to visit the Jefferson Davis home.  With California now ranked so low in so many ways we no longer choose to be snooty about Mississippi; we will try to spend some time here on our return journey.  

Then comes Alabama and the temperatures creep into the low 40s.  A side excursion to a Panera Bread for lunch and internet goes awry by 45 minutes because we put too much trust in our new TomTom GPS – we are becoming increasingly disappointed with this TomTom because of problems at critical times, although it does have some nice features not available on the Garmen.  

As we drive through Mobile, it look like an interesting city.  A pair of  skyscrapers stand out, as does the retired battleship USS Alabama.  We will try to spend more time here, too, on our trip home.

Crossing into Florida we stop at a visitor center for complimentary OJ.  Both the Mississippi and Florida visitor centers are elegant, one displaying Mardi Gras costumes decorated with images of NASA rockets in sequins.  One center has a very welcome wood-burning fireplace fronted by comfortable chairs.

Florida is starting to look good.  The trees banding the freeway are greener and the weather not as cold.  We leave I-10 and head south toward the Gulf Islands National Seashore, our camp for the next two nights.  Soon we are crossing island to island, and ahead I see what looks like high waves breaking on distant beaches, but this is the gulf and the weather isn’t that bad.  As we near we realize we are seeing incredibly white sandy beaches.

Battery Langdon

Fort Pickens, a product of slave labor.

We enter the Seashore, owing nothing thanks to the generous taxpayers and my Golden Age Passport, which also cuts our camping fee in half to $10 (W & E).  The attendant informs us we are late, about five Airstreams checked in earlier.   We proceed to our campsite passing scattered overgrown ruins we later learn are Battery Langdon, site of Fort Pickens’ largest guns, capable of firing 17 miles to sea, and hitting it every time, when completed in the 1920s.    Fort Pickens itself dates to before the Civil War and once hosted/housed/imprisoned Geronimo.  We conclude the evening with three games of Joker with Larry and Kathy.