Just as we got really underway this morning, I got surprised by this load of treasure as it passed.
Then into Florida, the SUNSHINE STATE.
I missed this, but Sherry caught the back end of a little antique Fiat (methinks) looks like the car above is hoping it will hatch.
So we made it to Northern Florida. We will only be here a day, but time enough to pick up 75 pounds of PEE-CANS. Sherry’s Cousin (an old guy, Ralph Hawes 86) gets Sherry pecans every year. We spend a lot of time picking them out. It passes the time and makes good gifts to friends.
We are at the Suwannee River State Park. We were scheduled to be at the Stephen Foster Cultural Center Park, but our reservations became confused. This park is on the Suwannee River, and you cannot help but sing the Stephen Foster song:
Way down upon the Swanee River,
Far, far away,
There's where my heart is turning ever,
There's where the old folks stay.
All up and down the whole creation,
Sadly I roam,
Still longing for the old plantation,
And for the old folks at home.
All the world is sad and dreary
Everywhere I roam.
O brothers, how my heart grows weary,
Far from the old folks at home.
We are a strange couple of old folk, Sherry and I. We still think of going to the head waters of the Suwannee and canoeing the river to the Gulf of Mexico. I think that would be another adventure of a life time. A little over 200 miles in about 14 days, and you drift about 15+ miles a day. The current is about 2mph. It seems quite an adventure. The only time Sherry and I were in a canoe together was in Florida and my friend Von Dale, who hates not ‘doing something’, got us in one down the Blue Springs River methinks.
Potty time on the river, Watch for gators girls.
We are silly enough to think we could do it. But there is still other things to do, like finish the Appalachian Trail.
So that is it for the Gypsies today, on the Suwannee in north Florida dreaming.
When you are as old as we are, at least you can dream…
Bonnie? Is that you? I forgot I do know a real canoe’er.
Especially rigged for FDR to drive without the use of his legs. Sherry and I saw this one in Warm Springs (260 miles north of here)