Port, Eh?

Thank you for your responses to my question about change.  I am grateful, and awed by your stories.  If you feel inclined to add a reply, I hope you'll give in to the urge.

Meet Toni and Scott:



They're living full-time in their Honda Element with their two substantial dogs, Walter and George. Both are swim coaches (the humans; the dogs swim avocationally). Toni describes her work with young kids as helping them relate to people better, speak more effectively with adults - a set of life skills - and almost incidentally she helps them become better swimmers. Scott works with older kids and young adults, superior swimmers who are headed for watery greatness. His work is more focused on the mechanics of swimming, and helping kids reach their scholarship and Olympic goals.

They have given themselves a year to find their own Utopia. A place that feeds their soul and jobs that feed their food habits. They've been offered jobs, but not in places where they want to live. Toni says she'd settle in a heartbeat if there were only a swimming pool in the Escalante Wilderness.



When we met them, they had snuggled in tightly against the Duck to shelter from the punishing winds we'd been enduring on Bird Island Basin. Which was fine, except that their too-cute rig was also snuggling the exhaust on our generator, so we got a little depleted waiting for them to move. Annie eventually took our rig for a drink and potty break and pulled back in a little further away.

They don't have a toilet or any refrigeration. I asked them about stealthing, but their handy pop-up makes them conspicuous, and without it they're sharing the bed with George and Walter.

They had some solar equipment that I covet:

 The Powerfilm line of solar chargers is especially rugged and remarkably thin, as you'll notice because I'm remarking on it.  The 30 watt charger folded up to be about the size of a spiral notebook (that's an iPad you can rip pages out of).  If a panel should become damaged, it doesn't take the array out of the game.

We rode our bikes to dinner.

  

Bring mine with a chainsaw and an artichoke.

We each enjoyed an adult frozen beverage. Annie asked for the butchest thing they served.

This was a bit too much alcohol for Annie, and she had to walk her bike home.  I mocked her from the sidewalk where I was resting;  I don't remember the details, but the officer was nice.





Where are we going next!  The giant car wash!  Where then!  I don't know!  It's a mystery to all of us!  As soon as I know, I'll tell someone!

The stuff I promised you. Not a travelogue!

Micanopy

Bailey White wrote about Micanopy, and that's why I looked for it on the internet.  It's a sleepy drive from Lake City;  even while we were driving through Gainesville it was not especially stressful.  It was one of those 110° heat-index days that you're tired of reading about, and we cracked the car windows and got out. You can walk the length of the business district in five minutes, if you stop and browse a little.

We spent some time at the Shady Oak Gallery where local artists display and sell their work. The place is air conditioned and the pieces were great. They offer week-long stained glass classes, if you're interested. They also rent suites long- and short-term, in case the place charms the pants off you. And, if you're not charmed out of your pants, well, you must not be wearing any.

I had some serious business on my mind as we walked into the gallery: the only public restrooms in Micanopy.

After that, I could enjoy the wares. Beverly (an artist there) told us the town's name is pronounced "Mik uh NOPE ee" and that it used to be a company town. Everyone worked at a crate factory, and all the stores were company stores. She came for a visit years ago, stayed to work on her art, then took a part-time job in the gallery.  She's living the dream.  Seriously.

The clouds waited too long for the public restroom. We took refuge here:

I was going to take a picture here


and then I saw that he was selling postcards of the same picture, and I imagined me asking if it was okay for me to shoot, and him pointing at the postcard rack, so I took this picture instead:


To add poo to the potato salad, I can't remember the shop's name. "Robe__t_____"?  He sold some interesting memorabilia, including some ancient stuff.  It's a museum where you can touch and buy the exhibits.

Museum of Natural History at the University of Florida, where you cannot touch and buy the exhibits


The picture is fine. I was fuzzy that day.

RAWR!  Mosey away - I am a Giant Sloth.

"Does this mammoth make me look fat?"  Alternate caption: "The Mammoth, and some elephant-thing."  Vote now.  [You KNOW I did not suggest the elephant remark.]

Ichetucknee Springs

This shot is no better than the ones I posted before, but I really took this one.

The spring is the deeper-blue area in the southwest quadrant of the picture

It was 100° that day, and it still took 20 minutes of self-talk to get me in.

At the Blue Hole (a different spring in the same system). Mary offered me her mask, and swam out with me to calm my jitters.

Again with Annie.  Annie would have swim swam swum out with a mask, but says she wouldn't have gone right over the spring's mouth like she did with Mary.

Thanks, Mary! You made our visit 10X better.

Mary and Jack L., originally from Long Island, NY.  It was fun meeting you!

This river was NOT closed. Once I got beyond the sign, I could see it was running just like before. They mean that it was too late to start down the river in a tube - they close that down at 3:30 PM.

The CUTE was not closed!