Carabelle to Destin

Convival and easy-going as Ho-Hum was, after two days of the Gulf breeze we decided to move west a bit and try our luck in Destin, where the famous sand dunes might provide a little shelter.

We pulled out in glorious sunshine and for the first hour or so the 98 wound along the coast through sleepy little towns with crab shacks and scuba dive rentals on the Main St, and the odd art gallery chock full of the pent up creativity of the retirees living along the shore.

After Apiachicola, the road widened and we drove through a section of the usual North American strip mall awfulness. Mile after mile of car dealerships. Walmarts, KMarts, Targets, Taco Bell, Dunkin’ Donuts, interspersed with the odd low framed building offering discreet plastic surgery services or real estate opportunities.  Then the road narrowed again and we passed through some bedraggled looking scrub land.

Then the whole strip mall thing started in earnest. With no breaks. Every couple of miles a signpost to the left would remind us that the reason for all the commerce, the astonishingly beautiful beach that is the Gulf, lay six blocks to our south, completely hidden from view.

After we had passed the point of being completely inconsolable, we turned left at an enormous Walmart and drove down through some dunes and were suddenly in Destin State Park.  How this place has survived is a miracle and I am glad we stayed there if for no other reason.

It was nestled into what appear to be the last remaining two miles of sand dunes in Northern Florida. Presumably the Walmart will hold back the encroaching waters.

Each site was surrounded by a deep and high thicket of scrub pine, rosemary and other aromatics. It blocked the breeze but not the sound of the highway.  A boardwalk through the dunes took us onto the beach and there it was silent. The sand was perfectly white and crunched like icing sugar under our feet.  A pelican landed in the water and appeared to be studying us. Even here, nature finds a way.

We turned left and walked two miles down the beach. It was lined with concrete condominiums and Private Property Keep Off signs. We found an exit off the beach and wandered through the streets. Block after block of haciendas of various sizes, shapes and colours, all apparently boarded up for the winter. Occasionally we passed a couple of local women out walking. They were all dressed the same. Oversized college sweater, skinny yoga pants, Uggs.

We went back to the beach and walked two miles in the opposite direction. The same, but high rise. No restaurants, no bars, no little souvenir shops, no ice cream stalls.  They were all out on the highway.

We gave up and went back to our site and ate dinner outside and listened to the roar of the traffic and then went to bed, defeated by Florida.