A corner of Florida, part 2

It has been raining all day here in Manchester and we're due for some freezing fog tonight, so it's not surprising how my mind has turned to that balmy holiday in Florida...

Between Fort Clinch and Fernandina Beach in the far northeast corner of Florida, trails cut through several miles of thick forests and swamps in Fort Clinch State Park. Venturing under this canopy is like undertaking a jungle trek, especially on seeing the sign gently reminding hikers to be aware of alligators.

This being Florida, there are no mountains to tackle or chasms to navigate and on this particular trail about the only feature were two long shallow pools shaded by the trees.

It's only after walking between these pools that I saw spotted a sign from behind. Poking my head around, I was informed I had just walked down an ALLIGATOR CROSSING! According to the trail guide, 'Wildlife observation is very good on these trails.' I wonder if this is a polite way for park rangers to say 'Watch your step, alligator bait!'

A bench nearby invited us to sit a spell within lunging distance of the water. No thanks.

Racing back to the car, it was time to calm down somewhere tranquil and relaxing, like the beach. Alligators can't swim in the sea, right? Right??

Sticking to Florida State Highway 1A means being able to follow the coastline, cruising along the dunes and breathing in the sea air. A bit better than following I-95 into downtown Jacksonville. The highway links Amelia Island to the next set of islands to the south, Big Talbot and Little Talbot. Both of these are state parks in their entirety.

These islands must be particularly popular in summer judging by the number of car parking spaces and picnic shelters, but on our weekday visit in early March there was hardly another visitor to be seen. After parking up at Little Talbot State Park, we followed the boardwalk through the dunes and out onto the shore.

What a gorgeous sight.

Waves crashed in off the Atlantic, salting the air.

Thousands of sea shells crunched underneath our feet as birds dived in the stiff breeze.

And best of all, there was not a single 'alligator crossing' sign in sight!

A corner of Florida

This afternoon after fast-forwarding through a DVD of The Wizard of Oz (what a crap film), I began reading again Bill Bryson's The Lost Continent: Travels in Small-town America.

Bryson is quite famous here in Britain for his humourous travelogues, ever since he wrote Notes From a Small Island about his travels around the UK. The Lost Continent though has his most famous opening line: 'I come from Des Moines. Somebody had to.'

He covers quite a lot of ground in The Lost Continent, most of it along back roads and quiet by-ways. It reminded me of my first ever visit to the American South earlier this year. In two weeks I drove well over 1500 miles largely on 2-lane highways deep in the heart of Dixie: Georgia, South Carolina, Florida and Alabama.

One of the out-of-the-way places I visited was Fernandina Beach, Florida on an island lying off the furthest northeast corner of the Sunshine State.

This gorgeous little town of about 10,000 people has a postcard-perfect downtown with a grand city hall (pictured above), a stately post office and a number of gleaming churches punctuating the sturdy line of old business premises that march along the brick streets.

The streets are either numbered or named after trees, except for Centre Street. The spelling must date back to when the town was British territory, as the island was named for the daughter of King George II.

Centre Street ends at the waterfront, where I spotted these shrimp boats.

North of town, after driving through miles of thick forest, the road ends at Fort Clinch, its handsome barracks and office quarters sheltered inside a huge brick enclosure.

On top of the walls a series of cannon face out over the open water, aimed over the sand dunes towards Georgia. The fort reminds visitors that despite being a sandspit off the coast off a swamp, Amelia Island has had no less than 8 flags fly over its shores, making it the only place in the USA to have changed hands as many times. Construction of the fort began in 1847.

Today an old-fashioned Stars & Stripes flies over the parade ground, where you might spot Civil War re-enactors marching in formation.

Despite all the to-ing and fro-ing, the officers must still have had time to sit down with a nice hot cup of tea!