Date: Tue, 16 Aug 1994 16:32:03 -1000 From: pbc@ufl.edu (Philip Chase) Message-Id: Organization: CIRCA, University of Florida Subject: Buggies on the road Well life is good again. I got to have another buggy adventure. It all started when my trip to the Outer Banks (of North Carolina, USA) fizzled. Both Susan and I decided that the amount of driving was just way out of hand for a four day trip. So what to do? I suggested Jekyll Island (Georgia, USA for the non-locals) because I heard that it had big, wide beaches at low tide. It is but a stone's throw from one of *my* favorite buggy sites, Cumberland Island, GA, so I have every reason to believe this. Susan, well, she's not yet converted. I haven't gotten her into the buggy yet and even then, it's not like I have a second one or enough kites to keep two buggys going in any wind conditions. She's pushing for a trip to the mountains and a bit of kayaking. Fun certainly, but there's no flat ground and the trees are everywhere. I've flown kites there and it is a challenge. But Susan knows there is no escaping from my need to buggy. So we resolved to turn towards the other coast which in Florida means the Gulf of Mexico. The plan was to visit some of the inland Florida parks tour and then hit the beach. Three days later, we did just that. The appointed site was St. George Island in the Florida Panhandle. It's about an hour east of Panama City near the mouth of the Appalachicola River. The place is, in my purely objective opinion, beautiful. The park is about 6 miles of barrier island with low dunes at the Gulf and high dunes or pine forest on the bay side. Sea oats abound. Stunted pines and magnolia grow as bonsai on the windward side of the back dunes. I narrow road runs the length of the island. There's a darkside to this area though. Tides are not always your friend. In some places, they are never your friend. I knew that this was probably one of those places. Many months ago, I visited the federal documents section the University of Florida library and found some interesting documents. The National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Association (NOAA) puts out some books that would be of interest to any coastal buggier. They are tide tables for the US, South America and anywhere else you'd like. In them you will discover some dark truths. Truths about tide ranges. You see, there are some places where the tide moves a lot and other places where it moves little more then the height of a toilet flush. The Northern Gulf of Mexico is in the latter category. Suffice to say I was disappointed when I witnessed what I knew I would find. I had been in denial about this problem since the site was proposed, but it was the best solution we could come up with. But I am not easily discouraged and I found a spot that was just maybe wide enough, just maybe hard enough. Maybe the wind was in the right direction for this part of the beach. Yeah right! Not even the mighty 10 meter Peel could move me eastward into the wind. It had been 6 weeks since my last buggy adventure and my heart sank. I was not about to give up. I figure that if you have a big kite and enough wind to lean against, there has to be some way to have fun. So I sacrificed my upwind ground and drug myself and my fat tire buggy back to the trail that lead me through the dunes then through the dunes themselves to the decrepit parking lot where I had launched the Peel and then buggied back to the one buggiable surface on the entire island--the road. I was fortunate to be out at the end of this very long island. I was also fortunate that we were there on a weekday when the locals are working and only the vacationers such as ourselves are free to play at the beach. So there weren't many cars there and those that were there were in no particlar hurry to go anywhere. So with a bit of trepidation I pulled out into the west bound lane and headed west with the wind on my tail. It's a strange feeling to buggy in lanes. I have done it at the drive-on beaches, putting along in traffic like one of the cars observing the posted 10mph speed limit, but this was different. There were stripes and shoulders to the road--shoulders with substantial brush and grasses that I didn't want to hit. There were curves, blind curves that might conceal a car. You really have to stay in your lane or risk getting run over by a would-be sun worshipper headed for her favorite spot on the beach. When the road curves, you follow it--if you can. When the road bends too far up wind, you give up, jibe, and move into the opposing lane as you return to your lane. Of course there were the cars. Though there weren't many, they did came. Without exception the drivers were polite, curious and patient. Most of them liked to follow me slowly for awhile and then pass me. The upwind passing was fairly tame, but I didn't always have the luxury of the downwind lane. When the cars passed on my eastward runs I lifted the Peel and hugged the shoulder. Nobody even came close to the lines, but as I sat there straining to keep in the seat and in my lane there was that unnerving feeling that the wind might gust at the just the wrong moment. It didn't happen. I even cleared the man who stopped his car in the road and got out his video camera to capture the sight of this strange contraption coming at him. It was a great experience to feel like one was traveling. I like doing distance and this gave a new nuance to the experience. It's a challenge to have to do things when you don't want to, to have to turn into the wind when can barely handle the load even before the turn begins. It's a thrill to pass and be passed and to round a turn that is obscured by the dunes and grasses. Once again I had gotten my buggy fix and was happy. The experienced buggier knows how this story ends. I explained to the park ranger that I had been obeying the speed limit, staying in my lane, and had traveled without incident for 4 miles, but to him it had no meaning. I landed my kite and packed it for the walk back to the car. I had been chatting with a family from North Carolina just before the the ranger arrived and they offered me and my buggy a ride back to my car. I accepted and on the way back we laughed about people in authority, protection of the tourism dollars and the fear of the unknown. I always neet nice people when I go buggying. Philip = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =