We are technically one whole quarter into 2026 and our 3rd season of Faux Birding, but we are really only kicking off the nomading portion of our adventures now. We wanted to spend the first part of this year exploring more of Florida, and for the most part we were able to see and do a lot over weekends in January, February, and March (see earlier posts). As a fond farewell to our adopted, seasonal home, we wanted to dig our toes a little deeper into the sugar sands of the Panhandle. We loaded up Louie and spent two days making our way along the gulf coast, through small towns and hamlets, through beach towns and sprawling insanity, through a time zone change and a sea change.

As we hugged the folks goodbye and departed Barefoot Bay, the weather was still variable, very windy and rainy. Heavy, gray skies accompanied us most of the way. While the winds made sure we kept two hands on the wheel, the days of rains preceding our departure allowed for an explosion of wildflowers on our route. In a state that is primarily tropical green it was really lovely to see such brilliantly purple and pink signs of spring along the roads. Our route took us through rolling hills (another feature not usually associated with Florida) and sprawling horse farms. We passed many gorgeous, gated ranch estates, with manicured lawns and mature live oaks draped with Spanish moss. I squealed at romping calves and sleek horses. We listened to music and podcasts; we talked and laughed and both expressed how happy we were to be back “home” in Louie. We rolled through small downtowns that felt quaint and stereotypical American. Clapboard, faded signs, neon. We passed pockets of charming neighborhoods and communities that have seen better days.

In due time we came to the Gulf of Mexico (fight me). The skies were still gray and spitting. It made everything look saturated and surreal. The sea oats and grasses swayed in the marshlands. The scenery became even more interesting as the palms and pines gave way to the scrub and brush leading to the sea. The elevated homes. The fishing boats. The waves on the water. It was all quite picturesque and romantic. We kept driving. We crossed many bridges of varying spans. Eventually we arrived on St. George’s Island. At the T intersection we had the bridge to our back and the lighthouse to our front. We took a left, past colorful beach homes, and we arrived at our campsite in the state park before sunset. Yet again, I found myself so happy to be camping in Louie, and not a tent as the wind and rain continued to do its thing through the night.

By morning, the rain had moved out, swiftly encouraged by the gale force winds. We enjoyed our coffee and quiet in our snug little van. Then we spent a couple hours walking the deserted beach on the island. Wind-swept and shell-covered, with mountainous dunes and countless sifting moguls. It was otherworldly and euphoric. The wind was quite intense for the hour walk down but joyfully at our backs for the 45 minute return. Waved were whipped to foam by the winds. Everywhere there were shards of bivalves of immense size. I wondered if they were usually whole but the recent storms were too violent. Against the sugar white sands there were rivers of crushed red shell sand. More coarse and colorful. The morning light, the lingering clouds, the sea offered a monochrome palate. If you paid close attention, you could hear the sands shift; you could watch the grains blow. It was so interesting how the various shards of shells would shape the beach, protecting a slight swath and causing such interesting patterns. We observed eagles, terns, gulls, sandpipers, plovers, oystercatchers. I saw remnants of sand dollars, clams, cockles, welks, baby’s ears, oysters, scallops, and coral. We even saw a large sponge. We also saw beached jellyfish (my new-found nemesis). The sun was breaking through the clouds and warming us while the wind continued fiercely. We laughed as we were carried away by gusts, we marveled at it all. Sometimes we talked, shared observations, pointed out something cool. Sometimes we just walked without speaking out loud, listening to the wind, the surf, the sand, the birds. By the time we got back to the van, we were sandblasted on our exposed skin and positively giddy from so much fresh air and sea. We had to move on to our next Florida destination.

We drove Louie to Route 30A which wends through many coastal towns. Definitely the scenic route. We drove through Water Color (I mean, could there be a cuter name?) and stopped to explore the influencer-famous Seaside. While it was … cute? quaint? It was more of an uncanny valley. The best way I can describe it is that it felt like someone was inspired by Disney but who had only seen European villages in cartoons decided to try and engineer a perfect vacation destination and make it appear to look like a town. Tidy streets, spiffy buildings, organized food trucks, picture perfect tiny post office in the center of it all. Adirondack chairs arranged around the small common space. Chipper identical signs announcing names and home cities on the condos. Small warning signs on every (flat) pathway warning of tripping hazards. The private developments had blocked public access to the (stunningly gorgeous) beach. Latticed and locked gates kept the haves and the have nots separated. It felt like they were manufacturing exclusivity. The “streets” leading through the neighborhoods had guards (think of a cross between mall security and parking lot attendant.) It was unclear if they were a regular fixture or if they were there because it was Easter week/high school spring break (the place felt like Neverland there were so many teenaged children, sunburnt and gleeful). The town had a posted curfew for 17 and under for 7pm. Larry made an interesting observation. In general most every one of all ages there looked to be in very good health. These kids were not fed sugar at home and probably all participated in at least one team sport. In this engineered town fast food was not as easy to get as Acai bowls, smoothies, gelato, and crepes. I don’t think there even was a McDonald’s there. So maybe there’s some positives to this so called “New Urbanism”? While I am a huge proponent of walkability and accessibility, I really feel like this is not the solution this country needs. So with a slightly sour taste in my mouth (not just from the $8.00 strawberry lemonade) we moved on, better informed from having seen Seaside in person.

As we continued down the road we went from one kind of engineered community to another, one just about as far from Seaside as you could get aesthetically. Welcome to Panama City Beach, designed by someone else inspired by Disney but who had only been able to attend local carnivals and freak shows, and who then decided to engineer a family vacation destination with a wall of high rise condos and an assault of fast food, chain stores, and over the top brightly shaped and colored attractions (like Ripley’s Believe it or Not, Goofy Golf, and Pirate’s Voyage dinner theater) all too far from each other to encourage walking, but too close to give your eyes or brain a chance to process. It was a lot to take in. If I hadn’t recently been to Gatlinburg, I may have been more shell shocked, but it was eerily familiar to that family destination in Tennessee. We inched along in traffic until we decided it was all a bit much. We selected an alternate route to Navarre Beach, which was our destination for the evening.

Once again we made our way over spans of bridges, crossing stunning vistas and gorgeous nature. The scenery was back to natural and lovely. There was no more wind. No more rain. Just gloriously bright blue skies and warm wonderful sea breezes. We arrived in Navarre in time to catch a sunset walk on yet another gorgeous sugar sand beach. This one with a really cool pier and with lots of families enjoying themselves in the sand and surf, some still playing in the fading warmth, some all dressed up for sunset photos. It just felt magical to watch the colorful water, the foamy waves, the snow white sand. It was a perfect way to end the day. After sunset we headed into a local neighborhood to stay in our Boondockers Welcome host’s yard. We parked under his oak trees and slept beautifully.

Our last day in Florida until December: we woke without an alarm, enjoyed two pots of coffee, ran a couple errands and then went to the local YMCA. From there we drove to the Gulf Islands National Seashore, a lovely stretch of sand, dunes, and gorgeous scenery on the last little spit of a barrier island before the state line. We followed our established pattern of picnicking with a view and then taking a nice long walk along the water. Thirty minutes later, we were at the iconic Flora-Bama Roadhouse on the state line, enjoying oysters and people watching. The beach here was a little different. More trash on the ground, less vibrant water, but still warm, sunny, and sugary. Then we were in Alabama. Our Florida explorations for this year officially at a close.

In Florida there is something for everyone. While I am mostly drawn to the flora, the fauna, and the seafood, I can appreciate the appeal of the honky-tonks, the tourist attractions, the smut, the sticky sweet temptations, the theme park approach, and the crowded destination beaches. I’ve loved the wide ranging experiences, the incredible natural beauty, and insane attractions. I’ve loved observing large families from out of state or country experiencing Florida and appreciating the warmth, the water, the over-the-topness. I’ve especially loved the small towns, talking with people in passing, and watching their world as we go by. It’s a surprisingly large state full of variety and I am so grateful we’ve been able to experience so much of it. And while I could go on about people, politics, position, and passions I think that’s a post for another day. I will end with a hopeful observation that in general it has been my experience that people are more similar than different, and that we all want to live, laugh, love, and spend our time and money in pursuit of happiness. Florida is a great place to do just that.