After departing the free dock early the next morning, we set our course up Sister Creek toward Amelia Island. Snagging a mooring at Fernandina Harbor Marina a few hours later, we launched Baby Belle and took off to shore to explore the old seafaring town. The inner harbor was situated right along the ICW and we meandered up and down the streets marveling at the Victorian architecture. Once a smuggler’s den and overrun by bandits, the island had transformed over the many decades with cafes, boutiques and galleries now lining the streets. The Captain was excited to visit the Palace Salon which was the oldest bar in Florida and we ordered two Pirate’s Punch which was customary once you stepped foot into the establishment. The deep mahogany wood and not so polished decor suggested this was surely the place where pirates came to tie one on after a long haul at sea and where nefarious dealings took place in the dark corners.
Our next stop was the Salty Pelican which was more of a beach bar than outlaw hangout. Here we indulged in the best Tuna Nachos we have had in a long time, if ever, while ordering a little taste of home…two Narragansett Lagers to quench our thirst. Once Happy Hour was in full swing, a live band took to the stage and we hung around listening to them belt out Jimmy Buffet until the sun started to set. Back on the boat, I opened a bottle of wine and we lounged on the bow before dinner. We were chatting about tomorrow’s adventure and how we were going to get the bikes ashore without mishap, when a swarm of mosquitoes were unleashed upon us. The Captain almost knocked me over the side rail trying to escape into the cabin and hunker down. Closing up every port hole, hatch and window to help ward off further attack, I started to spray a concoction of dish washing liquid, citrus mouthwash and vinegar on all the possible breaches. I may have overdid the vinegar portion as the whole boat smelt like a salad for the rest of the evening. It was an extremely hot night and, since the generator was not powerful enough to run the A/C, I strategically placed our fans for optimal cooling in the V-berth now that we were completely sealed inside and it was sweltering.
Waking up early the next morning, I hurried to open up the cabin and air the boat out. After taking a nice cold shower, we carefully loaded the bikes following the Captain’s strategic plan onto Baby Belle and went ashore to ride up to Fort Clinch. Biking down the famous Canopy Road, where the tree limbs connected forming a natural tunnel, we emerged at the entrance to the fort. We had visited the fort 4 years ago and reminisced along the paths as we were not able to enter the structures due to Covid restrictions. It was a gorgeous day…hot and humid, but the wind in our faces as we bike was refreshing. Back in town, Duane suggested we swing by the Salty Pelican for Shrimp Poutine which he was eyeing on the menu the day before. How could I resist…our 6 mile bike ride burned 300 calories and the poutine was most likely 1,300 calories. Glad we got some exercise in.
Later that afternoon Duane’s childhood friend, Alan, his wife, Kim, and their daughters, Lindel and Mia, met us at the Amelia Tavern. Alan was working in the area and we had a few hours to catch up before his shift began. As Duane spun tails about our time on the high seas, the girls filled us in on what was new in the teenage world and we all prayed that the Covid pandemic would subside quickly. Before they departed we made plans for them to visit us in Brunswick, GA, where we were meeting up with Rhonda and Rob who had been there on their boat for a few weeks now. Waving goodbye, we hopped on the bikes and took a leisurely ride over to the Crap Trap for a nice seafood dinner.
Anticipating the wrath of the mosquitoes, we sprayed down with repellent before we locked up the bikes and headed back out onto the water. Not only were the mosquitoes unbearable, but the mooring field was in full view of the Pulp Plant, which was not only unpleasant aesthetically, but the smell was horrific at times. Another hot night preceded the beginning of another scorcher of a day. Morning cold showers were now the norm before embarking on our day ashore. As the train whistle sounded and the cars rumbled through the area, we made our way to the Island Hopper Trolley to head to the beach for lunch. We strolled along the shore before we grabbed lunch as the waves crashed at Sliders Beach Bar and Grill. This is where the Captain and I struck up a deal…if he would agree to bike and spend an actual day on the beach with me, we could take the trolley back to town and venture to the Maritime Museum. In the end, our compromise was a win win for both of us.
The museum was absolutely amazing and the tour we received was top notch. We first met an older gentlemen who painstakingly reconstructed down to the most minute details replicas of old ships. The stories of his endeavors were so fascinating we listened for almost an hour as he took us through the construction of his flawless works. Moving on to our tour, one of the actual artifact salvagers was the caretaker of the museum and guided us around as we watched videos of the treasure hunts and what prizes were brought up to the surface. Everything from coins to pirate bounties to ancient relics that sunk generations ago were on display as was part of an actual ship located in a recent expedition lost long ago. This was truly the Treasure Coast in more ways than one. Heading to the Crab Trap for some tropical daiquiris, we discussed how impressed we were by the museum and the dedication that these gentlemen possessed to preserving the history of the coast.
Today was Beach Day! You would think while living on a boat that sandy beaches would be abundant, but traveling inland on the ICW and through rivers paints a whole new landscape in your head which is a lot more rocky and green. Biking down to Fernandina Beach was an easy trip with the cooler strapped to my back and Duane clutching his wake board (compliments of a recent roadside salvage mission). There was not a cloud in the sky and the breeze kicked up the waves and cooled down the incessant heat that had been baking us for days now. As Duane rode wave after wave trying to catch the ultimate ride, I relaxed in the sunshine making sure he didn’t injure himself. The water was clear for East Coast standards as we could see nearly to our knees, but the sand was somewhat rocky which made us miss the Bahamas even more. After a few hours, the Captain was tired, salty and waterlogged and our beach day came to a close. We biked toward the boat passing St. Michael’s Church along the way and decided to make a pit stop to light a few candles and say a prayer in honor of Father’s Day. We were sure our dads (and my mom) were looking down on us smiling at the adventure we were having even though we may have left a sandy wet trail walking through the front door. Our next stop was to Marina Seafood Restaurant for a late lunch, then we loaded the bikes onto the boat, took showers and we were off to our next destination – Cumberland Island.
Idling by the West Rock Paper Mill, we anchored off Cumberland Island a little over an hour later. As the colors of the sky turned magnificent shades of orange and red, we settled in for a quiet night and were relieved to not hear the buzzing of the flying pests that had invaded us the last few days.
In the morning we loaded the bikes on Baby Belle once more and went ashore in search of the wild horses indigenous to the island. The trails were lined with canopy trees and we made our way to the Dungeness ruins. The original seaside mansion was abandoned during the Civil War, later burned, and was resurrected by the Carnegies before it was burned down once more. It was at the ruins I had the first glimpse of the horses. I guess I had high expectations thinking I would see the Black Stallion galloping through the fields, as the horses we saw were rather scrawny, dirty and left stinky land mines everywhere. In five hours we biked to three beaches — Dungeness, Sea Camp and Little Greyfield. It was only when we reached the latter were we actually able to make it to see the ocean as the first two beaches were located high up the dunes and it was like walking through a desert to get even remotely close. On both attempts, after panting for a few yards, we retreated with our tails between our legs. Looking for a place to have a picnic lunch away from the smell of horse manure baking in the sun and the mosquitoes, we stumbled upon an old laundry facility which housed public bathrooms on one end and had a welcoming picnic table on the other. The island was as picturesque as you could imagine and you were definitely one with nature across every inch of the land. With that, we understood why people may spend an exorbitant amount of money to stay at the single establishment on the island, the Greyfield Inn, an all-inclusive, high-end resort constructed from the remnants of a hundred year old estate.
Our last island stop on the agenda was long awaited Jekyll Island. After cranking up the anchor, I sat on the bow for awhile taking in some fresh air as we traveled along the Cumberland Sound. A few miles before the marina a nasty thunderstorm passed over us and we had to use the lights from a fishing boat working on the water to guide the way. The Jekyll Harbor Marina was small, but a pleasant stop. We borrowed the courtesy golf cart and took a ride to Driftwood Beach in the 45 minutes we were allotted to use the cart for. I had never seen anything like the beach before. It was like the driftwood came to life and formed magnificent works of art some 5 and 6 feet high and even wider. It was a natural wonder that captivated the mind and made you truly appreciate the beauty of the world. Rushing back to drop off the cart, we hopped on the courtesy bikes and went to the Beach Village for dinner at the Sunset Grill. The food was delicious and was only rivaled by the view.
Fully rested for the day’s outing, we mounted the bikes in the morning and found the path along the water to the Historic District. It was here we were wowed by historic cottage after cottage built by the elite to serve as their summer residencies. The island had been the exclusive playground for the likes of the Vanderbilts, Rockefellers, Morgans and Pulitzers to name a few. It was these elitists who came to the island to escape the cold winters up North. They eventually had the Jekyll Island Club erected which was more elegant than any private cottage and it was here that all the members dined and congregated on a daily basis. Today the property is an exclusive hotel where guests decked out all in white were partaking in a game of croquet and others were being chauffeured around to various activities. Due to Covid, there were no tours to view the replicated interior of the cottage homes, but the exteriors painted a picture of high society and wealth. And the landscaping was as impeccable as the structures it adorned.
We stopped at the Beach House for lunch on our trip back to the marina and chatted about how life in high society back in the day afforded those fortunate enough with so much more opportunity to see the world. We knew how fortunate we were for the opportunity to have this experience we were living right now. There were two beaches at the end of the island we had yet to explore and were a little tired and not that motivated to bike the rest of the way. We called the marina and, since the golf cart was available, we changed up our mode of transportation and went off to St. Andrew and Glory Beach. Taking a quick walk along the sand while enjoying the solitude, we were soon back on the boat relaxing on the couch with our feet up after a few long days of playing tourists. For insurance purposes, Bella Donna was required to be north of Brunswick, GA by the first of the month. Brunswick Landing Marina was our destination tomorrow and we were a few days shy of our deadline which put the Captain’s mind at ease. We will definitely sleep soundly tonight.
