Chamblee54

On Wednesday, April 7,PG got up early, went to the office for coffee, and made a fish sandwich from last night’s dinner. He had gotten the street address of the Mckinnon B&B, and planned to use that as ground zero for exploring the historic district.
935 am PG and Uzi are standing in front of the Mckinnon House. It was on a street with several squares ( in Brunswick, squares are well groomed vacant lots with live oaks, palms, and magnolias), and some big houses. The houses were divided between the restored and maintained, and those who have seen better days.
1018 Stop at Mcdonalds on hwy 17. There is a marsh on the other side of the road, and the causeway to Saint Simons.
1108 The Massengale park is where PG remembers it. It is nothing fancy, just a parking lot, and a ramshackle bathhouse. The slackmen change into beach ware, and walk over the boardwalk to the sand. It turns out to be too cold for swimming, but just right for a long walk on the beach.
On the return to the parking lot, an SUV has exercised it’s entitlement to park six inches away from the drivers door on the honda. PG enters through the passenger side, and contorts himself into the drivers seat.
Uzi is ready for lunch, but a choice is made to explore a bit before going back to the red roof refrigerator. The Sea Island road is found, and shared with lots of other vehicles. There is usually an SUV behind you, that thinks you are not driving fast enough. At the entrance to Sea Island is a guard house, and a lady speaking into a walky talky. She does not admit the slackmen to the island.
The Sea Island road leads to Frederica road, which leads to this place where three roads come together in a turnaround loop. The intended destination was Fort Frederica, but a fateful turn was made onto Lawrence road. The slackmen drove for uncharted miles, through an obscene abundance of live oaks and other flora. Several stops were made to take pictures of the glory. Finally, the road ended at a gated community, across from a fenced in yard with tabby ruins. It was time to turn around.
Arriving at the three way turnaround, lunch was calling louder, but Fort Frederica was only a mile away. The actual grounds had a three dollar admission, but a movie was playing at the center for free. It turns out that the fort was a British outpost, to guard South Carolina against the Spanish in Florida. There was a little war, with a bit of killing and a lot of confusion. The Spanish wound up going back to Florida.
After leaving the park, lunch was making announcements over a speaker hidden in the live oaks. While the intention to get back to the hotel and eat was sincere, there were some more side trips that were important. The Christ Church has a lovely cemetery, which was ablaze in azalea glory.
Across the street was a forest trail, that served as a memorial to the Wesley brothers. We can thank the Methodists for this, and wonder what the Baptists have ever done to compare. At the end of the raging azaleas was an eighteen foot tall cement cross. PG thinks this would not be a good place to execute a savior, unless you have some cement nails handy.
This was absolutely the last stop before lunch. No exceptions were to be made. The Red Roof was soon in the horizon, and the last leftovers from Tuesdays dinner were consumed. Uzi made peanut butter and banana sandwiches, while PG cooked some ramen noodles. A TV show about ghosts was playing. It became apparent that several things were on the to do list, but the afternoon was slipping away, and not all would be done. When in doubt, go to the beach.
445 pm The honda pulls into the coast guard parking lot. Sun goo is applied, the gear is assembled, and the slackmen walk across the boardwalk to the sand.
The air is warmer by now, and PG is determined to swim. At first the water is cold, but the feet adjust, then the lower legs, and when the thighs get wet the toes are having a darn good time. The next step is to jump into a wave, and get totally soaked. By now his body has adjusted to the lukewarm water, and PG thinks this is the high point of his year so far. Meanwhile, Uzi sits in the sun, and looks at the world.
Dinner this night was at Spanky’s, the restaurant on Hwy17 they had tried to find tuesday night. It was not the high point of the year. The slackmen were seated immediately, at an unfortunate next to the entrance, with families waiting to eat looking on. At the next table were six teenagers, in town for some kind of conference. There was a bus in the parking lot, that apparently had been full of these hungry children. The service at the facility crawled to a stop.
It took over a half hour for dinner to arrive after it was ordered. The meal was tasty, but not worth the aggravation. When the check finally arrived at 709 pm, the server was 5145 YANKEE.
The drive back to the hotel went through downtown, and some sketchy neighborhoods north of the business district. A few of the houses were maintained, a few were not, and the live oaks and magnolias were everywhere.
Back at the Red Roof, PG goes to sleep quickly. After a while, he wakes up, to hear the TV slowly getting louder and louder. Uzi is asleep, on top of the bed, with the remote control in his hands. PG gets up, and turns the sound on the TV all the way down. A minute later, the sound is back on again. Before long, Uzi wakes up long enough to see what is going on, turns the TV off, and goes to sleep.