My intention was to bypass Florida, mainly because I don’t think it has much to offer that we don’t have at home. Beaches, Retirees, Drunk Frat boys and Sorority Girls, and oh did I mention – beaches.
I originally thought if I had time I might make my way down to the Florida Keys, and perhaps the southern most point of America, but slow travelling has a way of catching up with you, and I decided not to spend the week it would have taken to drive from North Florida to South Florida and back.
Plus I’ve seen enough episodes of Miami Vice, CSI Miami and various films to have formed a subjective expectation which may or not be warranted.
Anyhoo.
My plan was somewhat thwarted by the word of mouth I received from everyone I met, that I HAD to visit St. Augustine.
Every one raved about how beautiful it was, nestled in North Florida on the Atlantic Coast. So I was swayed.
From Panama Beach I made the longish drive via Tallahasee, FL simply because the name is sort of cool. Though there is not much to be said about Talahassee, it’s another big provincial city, albeit with unusually wide ring roads, reminiscent of Canberra.
Continuing along, Garmin once again provided an unexpected delight – it took me directly past the Clay County Fair. There was no way I was going to let this opportunity pass. Joining the mile long queue, I eventually managed to enter the grounds, park, and walk into some true County Fair activities.
To say the place was busy is an understatement. The car park was busier than the SCG on a night where NRL, A-League and AFL are all on at the same time, and the crowd was huge.
First stop was the agricultural section, where all sort of animal was on show. Turkeys, chickens, ducks, geese, hamsters, rabbits. Most caged individually, all proudly showing names and owners, some displaying winner’s ribbons.
Then off to the bigger beasts – cattle, pigs and the like. Best cow in show was Esmerelda, best pig, Bubbles. I’m hoping the kids named them.
From there is was off to the non animal part of the fair.
Let’s face it, it’s nothing much more that we have all experienced at Luna Park – long lines for rides, sideshow alley attractions, even a clown dunking attraction (for kids only of course) but the fare on choice is a little different.
Fried everything (mainly on a stick), corn dogs, BBQ, saltwater taffy, home made lemonade (lemons, water, too much sugar) abounded. I tried very hard to savour every thing I had heard of and never eaten but it was an impossible task.
And unlike Luna Park, the place was packed – I figure everyone in at least a 20 mile radius had come to participate – which tells you something of the entertainment on offer in small town America.
The main arena promised much, but failed to deliver – the usual treats of men on horses accompanied with other animals were not scheduled for the time I was there.
I had had my fill by then anyway. Loaded down with a bag of taffy, my body in combat mode between the lemonade sugar high and the food overkill lethargy, I made my way back to Charlotte. If I was to get to St. Augustine before dark, I had to bid a fond farewell to my one (and probably only) county fair. One more item happily ticked of the “I want to see” checklist.
By the time I reached St. Augustine the sun was just setting. I got a glimpse of the history and beauty of the place which whet my appetite for the next day.
On a side note, over the years I have managed to imbibe at least one beverage from each of the original breweries allowed to use the “Trappist” name. In the last 3 or 4 years, new breweries have been formally accredited, and I had managed to imbibe from each one other than the one trappist brewer in the US – Spencer – brewed by the monks of St. Joseph.
Now you can’t buy beer direct from the abbey, and in nearly 5 months, despite visiting such illuminaries as World of Beer, Sergio’s Beer World and the like, I had yet to encounter anyone carrying a bottle of what was becoming a personal Holy Grail.
It was here, in St. Augustine, at the very innocuously named JP Henleys, that my quest was fulfilled. I didn’t even think to look for it on the menu, St. Augustine being a smallish place, but in conversation with the bar tender, the topic popped up.
When he told me they had it available, I was elated. Not even the fact that it was only a bottle, even coupled with the fact that they had just finished a keg of it the previous week could diminish my joy.
Of all the places etc.
Whilst it will live in my memory for many reasons, St. Augustine will always live in my heart as the place where I found Trappist Shangri-La.
