Oysterland, January, 2003

After the Saturn dealer in Tallahassee finished with my car on Wednesday afternoon, I drove south to the Gulf coast. I reached the coast and Panacea, FL just after sunset. To the west of Panacea, the Gulf starts to appear from the road, and it was mirroring a deep crimson western sky. This time of year, highway 98 is almost empty, so I rolled along in a cool but pleasant breeze in peace, with the deepening colors of the sky and the gathering moonlight, watching the lights offshore, unsure whether they were boats, or islands. Indeed, as the night took over, it was almost magical in the light of the nearly full moon, with the frequent glimpses of the water, the long stretches of pine trees, and the little restaurants and clumps of houses. It was almost possible to pretend that this coast is indeed "The Forgotten Coast", as it bills itself. The developments that are present weren't visible (they were the next day in daylight on my return). Certainly, this is not your honky-tonk gold coast of south or central Florida.

Around Carabelle, the density picks up, and you start to see RV parks. Those were full! The retirees are out in force, cruising this highway. I respect that lifestyle, even though I know they live in tight quarters. In exchange, they have the closest thing to total freedom you find on land and I suspect the constant changes make up for a lot of inconvenience. After all, I've certainly done my share of road travelling in the past 15 months!

I detoured briefly onto St. George Island, but it looked rather lonely, with the old St. George Inn locked up and looking empty. So I drove back to the mainland, and into Apalachicola. There's another old inn there, but I drove on to the west side of town for a motel room. In retrospect, this was a good move, because the manager there recommended "Papa Joe's" for supper. If I had stayed at the inn, I'd have also eaten at it.

Now Papa Joe's is a restaurant right at the back of a main town marina. They get their catch right off the boats, and they specialize in oysters. I suppose those don't fit my new diet, but I said to heck with that. I hadn't had fresh raw oysters since 1986, and Apalachicola is world famous for its catch.

Inside, it looked like I was the only tourist. There were several local guys at the bar in a fishing discussion, and a few of the tables were occupied by what appeared to be local couples. This looked like one of those outstanding little spots you can still find tucked away in small towns in America, the kind of place that some millionaire will eventually buy out once the "Gold Coast" fever gets full hold here. Then it'll probably remain a good restaurant, but the prices will double or triple.

I ordered a half dozen oysters with a Miller Light. They brought seven, not six, of the juiciest, sweetest raw oysters I've ever had. I followed that with Chicken Primivera, and it was also oustanding. This was a real find!

As I reached the end of the meal, one of the guys at the bar piped up, "Our President is a war bug. He WANTS to go to war! Listen to him talk. Every word is, "I", "I", "I" ..."

I paid the bill and prepared to leave. As I was about to go, another guy at the bar drawled, "Waall, if we're goin' to war, we'd better get another bottle of whiskey ..."