Leg 12 – Henderson Beach to Grayton Beach State Park, Florida

I slept that night in a campsite in Henderson Beach State Park, Florida.  It is basically in the town of Destin.  It was a green campsite surrounded by trees and shrubs and each campsite is separated from the others, so you feel completely private.  The beach is in walking distance.   

I wanted to stay another night at this campsite, but didn’t see any availability online, so I decided to walk to the ranger station and inquire if there were any last-minute cancellations.  I thought I remembered it being a bit of a long way, but I like to walk, so figured it would be good for me. 

It had rained off and on all night, and the rain was accompanied by thunder and lightning.  I was up and writing first thing in the morning and it wasn’t raining, so I set off in shorts, a tank top and flip flops.  It was warm, something like 78°.  It started raining when I was about halfway to the ranger station.  Oh well, I thought - I was thinking I might go for a swim anyway, so this is kind of the same idea – full immersion in water.  I finally got to the ranger station - no, they didn’t have any cancellations.  They told me about a nature walk over the dunes just down the road.  I thought that was a great idea, so I headed that way.  About 5 minutes into my walk, the rain started coming down really hard.  There was lightning and thunder and the lightning was getting brighter, and the thunder was getting closer.  I was a little nervous.  The rain got so heavy that I tried taking cover under a scrub oak tree.  Those oak leaves don’t provide much cover in the rain.  The nature walk was longer than I expected, so at some point, I was completely drenched in rain and the rain was pounding my head and back and I was now starting to shiver, so I conceded and started walking back to shelter.  I could literally feel the rain coming through my hat onto my head.  Remember that I am in a tank top.  Even though it was probably still in the mid-70s, I was starting to get cold.  The rain and wind on my bare skin was making me cold.  There was a pavilion at the end of the nature walk that had a roof with no walls.  I thought that would be a great place to take cover.  I would just wait the rain out there, then walk back to my campsite.

I was there for about 20 minutes with the rain still pounding when I figured out that it wasn’t going to let up anytime soon.  I grabbed my beach towel out of my backpack, wrapped it around me and headed back.  At first, the beach towel was nice and warm and kept me protected in the relentless downpour.  Eventually, even though it got soaked as well, I was still warmer than I was without it, so that was what saved me on the long walk back to my campsite.  I kept thinking I should ask someone for a ride, but I was too proud.

I got back to the campsite eventually.  My clothes were dripping wet, the beach towel was dripping wet, then the rug I first stood on when I climbed into the van was dripping wet.  Luckily, there was a dryer at the campsite.  Shout out to Florida State Parks for amenities!

Lesson learned – check the weather forecast before heading out on a long walk in shorts and a tank top.

Once I had everything dried out, I drove from that campsite to my next one, which was Grayton Beach State Park.  It was only 17 miles east of Henderson.

When I got there and was checking in, I asked how to walk to the beach from the campsite.  The ranger said it wasn’t possible right now.  Since 6am that morning, they had received THIRTEEN INCHES of rain.  It was now 2pm.  The path to the beach was underwater and unstable.  As I was driving around the campground looking for my spot, I saw that many of the campsites were also under water.  One tent was still sitting in about 6 inches of water, and one camper trailer had an outside rug and chairs that were sitting in about 6 inches of water.

This must be what they mean by a “gulley washer”!

My human-interest story for this day was Erin.  As I was exploring the area, I saw a little area along Grayton Beach that had a few restaurants and bars.  I investigated the beach first.  It was exactly not what I was looking for.  Too many people planted in chairs with their beers and pink bikinis and loud music.  Plus, the water was dirty looking again.  I don’t know if that was just because the storm had stirred up the water.  How could the gulf be clear 17 miles west and muddy there?  More exploring needed.

So I went to a restaurant, as it was 5:00, and I was hungry.  (Did you catch that – “it’s 5:00 somewhere” 😊)

I sat down at the bar where a woman and a man were working.  Just out of karma, I got the woman.  “Hi, hon, what can I get you?” she started with.  I ordered one of my favorite drinks – gin and soda with a splash of St. Germaine.  She smiled at me and said “can I muddle some cucumber in it?” 

I replied “does it taste good?” because that drink is my favorite just the way it is.  She smiled and said “Oh, yeah!”  She seemed like the trustworthy type, so I took a leap of faith and ordered the muddled cucumber.  She made my drink and I asked what food she would recommend.  She said the fish tacos were really good.  I took my drink and said I wasn’t quite ready to order food just yet, so I was going to take my drink out on the patio and sit for a bit first.

I wasn’t too far into the drink when she came out to me and asked if I liked the muddled cucumber addition.  I said that I did, and we started chatting.  I told her my story about selling everything and traveling solo across the US.  It gets more abbreviated every time I tell it.  I am also starting to put a different spin on it.  Instead of it being about my grief now, it is about not letting life pass you by.  At the end I put a little asterisk on the story – “my husband died, and that is what prompted this trip”.  Then she told me of how she was in the process of a divorce, and her husband was abusive.  Two broken bones before she decided it was time to get out.  I asked her – “what makes you happy?”  She opened her mouth, then paused for a moment.  “I don’t really know.  I’m trying to find that out now.”  Then she went on to tell me how this wasn’t home, and she thought she needed to go home.  Her family was there.  She had a niece and a nephew who were six and four, and she didn’t know them very well.  They made her happy.  She would like to know them better.

There is a lot of pain in this world.  There are a lot of people living through pain and trying to make the best life that they can, given their pain.

Erin told me that there is a whole community out there of abused women.  She said “you wouldn’t believe how many”.  It disturbs me to think of those women who live through that private hell. 

I’m still trying to figure out where I am going to live when I get back to the Bay Area.  I think about it every day.  I know I don’t need to think about it now, but it is like sticking your tongue in the open hole in your gums after losing a tooth.  You just can’t help it, even though it hurts.  Erin said she had a friend who lived the van life and had for six years and loved it.  Maybe I will just live in my van.  When I bought it, that was what I told myself I was going to do.  I’m grappling with the idea.

One of the things that is happening on this trip, and I wouldn’t say I started out with this goal, but it has developed as the miles tick away under my wheels, is that I am adamant about not asking for help.  I refuse to ask men how the solar works, even when I read the manual and it is like reading Greek.  I refuse to ask the man in the neighboring campground to help me unhook the water hose when it is stuck.  Two pliers, and it is now unstuck.  I refuse to ask people for their opinions about living the van life. 

To that end…I have decided that every time I drop something, or misplace something, or knock my shin on something that I SWEAR WASN’T THERE A MINUTE AGO, it is the pixies.  It isn’t me.  I can’t be held responsible.  And they cover their mouths and giggle after they perform their mischief on me.  It makes me laugh after this thing happens, rather than making me angry. (Of course I am responsible, but I like to find reasons to laugh at my misfortune.)

Oh, and a very important note about last night:  As I was sitting at the table sipping my drink, I looked down at the menu, and some words in the middle of the menu drew my eye:  YOLO – You Only Live Once burger.  Then…I lifted my gaze, and there was a bike rack with about seven bikes in it.  One – this is the important part – only one bike was tilted so that I could see the side of the front tire.  Know what was written on that front tire?  YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE.  I kid you not.  Someone or something was sending me a message.

Another thought from yesterday – vanlife is hard.  I think most people who are following my van trip think this is all daisies and butterflies and fun and enviable, but it isn’t.  More often than not I don’t sleep well because I don’t feel safe at night.  I worry constantly about what will happen if the van breaks down.  I have to dismantle every night and pack up every morning.  I have to plan my route every day (my choice, I know, but this method seems to work best for me.) which can take hours.  My hair is a mess because it is hard to wash in the van shower.  I smell like a homeless person because I can’t/don’t wash my clothes often enough to wear clean clothes every day.  Yesterday in the grocery store, the bagger boy wrinkled his nose at me and was rude.  I suspect he thought I was homeless.  Many times…almost every time, I can’t unscrew the water hose from the van spout because it gets stuck.

I know, I know…first world problems.  I have enough to eat, I have a roof over my head, and I have a bed to sleep in.  Hell, I have a camper van, for pity’s sake!  But my point is, this takes work.  There is a lot about it that is hard.  Sometimes I want to lay my head down and cry, or I want to turn around and point her back west and head home.  But I think it is important that I do this.  It doesn’t have to be a heroic agenda, but I need to make this trip.  Something is driving me on.

So onward I go.