There is so much to see and do on this journey – as I told a Canuck fulltimer yesterday – we could stay on the road for the rest of our lives and never see the entire country. And if I don’t jot down some basic observations about where we’ve been soon after we arrive, I will forget if there is any reason to return when the time comes to plant some roots again.
In North Carolina, the Barbecue element seriously comes into play, and I only saw enough of South Carolina to catch American consumption rearing it’s ugly head for a few games of adventure golf along the The Redneck Riviera.
But it wasn’t until we reached Georgia where the accents really got thicker when I began to feel like I was truly in The South. After a few outings, I even realized it was actually the first time in my life where I felt like a minority.
Now that we have gone out of our way, to hang out in the middle of the Okefenoke swamp and go looking for crocs, I feel like we have even reached the Deep South. And while I may change my mind about that once we pass through Luisiana – where
I will hopefully not get get beat up for saying it – the accents here have proven we are there. Checking in at Stephen Foster State Park I heard the thickest southern twang I have ever heard, without the drawl I expect to hear in Texas.
- The people are indeed hospitable.
- The food is good. Damn good.
- The coastal forests and swamps have a majestic beauty all their own. Different from the Pacific Northwest tall trees I’m used to. But impressive nonetheless.
- Communities are either over developed and gated, or depressed. Or very depressed.
- Plantation homes and cemeteries prove the place has some serious history.
- Real estate and land are more affordable elsewhere. Much. Unless you’re interested in some swamp land.
- The bugs are really big down here. Though I think I would take them over Winsconsin mosquitoes. They might bite worse, but the scenery is prettier. (I can’t really say for sure, since we’re not here in summer. Thank God.)
So what brought us to Okefenokee? René had never heard of Walt Kelly’s Pogo. The long-running daily classic Pogo comic strip (1948-75) featured Pogo, one rather political possum, and his friends deep in the Georgia swamps. Besides, when would we ever come back here. And why?