Escape Tybee, CHOMP! THEnd

"I was constructing a lighthouse while all others were making ships." wrote Charles Simic, famous poet.  The construction of this lighthouse entailed 178 steps to the top!  To the top of Tybee Island's Lighthouse we went.  It was easy, uncomplicated, yet strenuous.  Not a few times did we have to stop to catch our breath, and to look out the metal casement windows like birds perched in a treetop.

On the gallery deck, the walk around the watch room, we could gaze west over the residences.  In other directions, our eyes took in nothing but sandy beaches, azure waters, and dots here and there of red and yellow umbrellas and beach balls.

To be God's angel must be something like this...airborne, unseen, and far-seeing...freedom of spirit.

The Lighthouse was a place that was easy to take steps down, than it was to climb up.

Some places weren't easy to get into, like the North Beach Grill.   Nestled between sand mounds near the black and white Lighthouse, was the North Beach Grill.  It was so popular we never found a parking place.

Some places we didn't want to get into, like the Inferno Hot Sauce Emporium!   Skull and Crossbones five feet tall drawn on the timber wood fenced wall served as a warning along with the colored chalked words Spices, Salts, Wild & Hot Sauces, Salsas.  Words to deter the weak.

One place we couldn't get out!  It was The Peanut Shop where every selection had an open can for us to sample.  We sampled sweet chocolates for half an hour, ha, ha.  Due to sating our appetites, lunch was delayed.  But, oh, the chocolate covered cashews, the barbecue redskins, the peanut brittle, the peanut butter, the Georgia pecans, the bacon cheddar nuts!  Spencer loves bacon, I love chocolate, Mary loves nuts, John loves redskins; we were nuts in love.

One place we didn't want out -- at least not until we knew who murdered Elizabeth.  That was the Savannah Coffee Roasters cafe where we dined and the employees sleuthed.  An aromatic deep roasted coffee smell mixed with caramel and amaretto enveloped us at the door.  The comedic actor group called Odd Lot took scene settings and character trait suggestions from the diners to create an impromptu murder mystery.   It was fun to interact with the investigator and the suspects while cheesecake we ate.  Spencer took big bites.  That's because when Spencer unrolled his napkin and silverware and held it up next to John's he obviously had a meat platter fork!

The one place we wished we could've gotten out was the 80 East Gastropub.  Ghastly for gastro!  It had bad service, weird service, and non-remarkable food.   Instead of coming to our table, the waiter would lean over the pony wall.  Our many tiered hamburgers were skewered with a large butcher knife!

Now as for its sister restaurant, we got in, we wanted to stay.  And we returned.  The Sundae Cafe, a very small restaurant tacked onto the end of an established strip mall, was cozy.  The mirrored wall behind the black bar revealed black tables and curtains with romantic lighting, even at the noon hour!

After the first time eating there, (Spencer loved their grouper) we returned with Sis another day,  "Our usual table, please", laughingly I told the hostess it was the one in the far corner tucked beyond the window.  The final time we went, that request drew a laugh from the waitress, "Our usual table, please", disheartenly it was occupied by jolly, round bellied men.  Durn.

Well, it's time to Escape before turning back home.  And I'm talking about Tybee Island's Escape Room, where participants get locked in a room like prisoners on a pirate ship, who have to examine their surroundings for clues to escape.  The skeleton in the barred prison hold held the first key, shhhhhh.  After finding the final clue, the ship's wheel revealing coordinates, we had to board the dingy before Blackbeard and his motley crew returned to catch us going overboard.  60 minutes was all we had, and though it usually takes 8 people, the 4 of us escaped Blackbeard just in time, "Blow me down! Yo-ho-ho! And off we go!"

Like driftwood escaping the waves, out of Tybee we went.  Homeward bound.  But Tybee, "lights the corners of my mind with misty water-colored memories" and we shall return.
Not wanting to construct lighthouses or make ships, we do want more adventure!  And some of those adventures were left behind -- Skidaway Island, Duck Donuts, Diamond Causeway, and Walking Alligators.

Hummm, walking alligators?  Wonder if alligators tolerate leashes?  Maybe these walk on two feet heeling at your side looking you in the eye thinking you look tasty?
CHOMP!  THEnd.

THE FUN, THE FEEL, THE FUNKY

                       

"Thoughts drifting to a sunny getaway?" YES!  One vacation reviewer says, “Tybee Island has a laid-back atmosphere, small-community feel and funky vibe.” 

                   Ha, ha, funky vibe.

You could say that.  Remember the dinosaur statue with Christmas tinsel hanging from his gaping mouth?  It was July!  

Then there was the cat.  Spencer said it was "the laziest cat I ever saw" living at the Beachview Bed and Breakfast.  We walked up from the breezy beach, took a turn to go between the patron's cars to the outdoor shower, and walked right upon this mature, well-fed, mostly black cat.  It had a white vest chest and was laying in the shade in the same place in the same parking spot under the same car every day.

If ever there was an un-curious cat, this was it!  Never did we see him eating from a dish, chasing a bird, or browsing through the bushes.  All his nine lives were safely in tact.

Sometimes he would rouse himself to raise his head to boringly gaze at us.  Most times he'd just lay there calm and convinced we'd know our place and step around him!

The Royal Palm Motel, too, had an outside shower.  The bed and breakfast had an enclosed one, looked much like an outhouse of the mid-west.  The one at the motel was just a drain in the ground, and a pipe for sending water up to the rain showerhead. 

Homeowners of Tybee didn't want sand in their carpets, or on their hardwood floors, or in the plumbing.  It was a real problem.  

So was the carpet in our Royal Palm Motel room.  I asked the motel owner about it.   I wondered if they'd used some strong chemical to clean it.  He said, "No, it's just all the sand.  In the fall we're going to replace all the rooms' [carpet] with linoleum-like flooring."  

I told him, "Sorry about all the linens."  "We had to wash our feet multiple times and the white washrags and towels are not so white."  One evening Sis laughingly went to each of us as we were relaxing, after a good meal of seafood, and while watching TV, to wash our feet.  It didn't matter.  A walk back and forth through the room on that awful carpet and we again had feet that were black as that lazy cat!

Speaking of feet, we went to the Crab Shack "Where the elite eat with their bare feet."  Too funny.  We didn't eat with bare feet, but there were plenty of other oddities.

The place had outdoor seating, amongst 100 year old live oaks, on a planked deck, right on the bank of Chimney Creek.  The original menu on 4x8 sheet of plywood still hangs nearby. A large upright faux alligator greeted us.  Dotted throughout the tables were water stations -- each with a sink and towels.   

And, oh, the tables, ha, ha, I laugh thinking about them.  They were about the size of a card table, with a raised section in the middle that held condiments and needs like napkins, but mostly the raised section covered a large hole in the middle - easy access to your own personal trashcan!

To add to this quirkiness, after eating crabs, crawdads, shrimp, potatoes, and sausage, you could walk-off your lethargy by touring the live baby gator lagoon!

The gators were inert.   We wanted pictures.  So, I leaned over the railing, let out a holler and clapped my hands.   They reacted.  We got our pictures.  John reacted too, "Don't do that!  They're alligators!"

Well, sheesh, what's to fear?  They were babies, 5 feet beneath us, and caged -- the best kind of alligators.

Oh, and don't forget Crab Shack cats. Though one Crab Shack sign says, "It's illegal to feed the alligators,”  the other sign says "Crab Shack cats are not feral, they are family.  Don't feed the cats."

And this was my kind of getaway:  sunny, funny, and funky.  

Trip To Tybee High Jinks

The trip down.
The trip down to Tybee Island.
The trip down to Tybee Island was...high jinks!

In the background of my mind I hear muddled song lyrics "Do you know the way to Sand Tybee?"  "I'm going to find some peace of mind."  "There's a great big freeway."

Dad, born and raised in Indiana, was in the medevac unit during the tail-end of the Korean War.  There he learned to read a map.  Then he married Mom -- born and raised in Kentucky.  He had to travel between the two states and this BEFORE INTERSTATES!

Along came kids, 6 of us, and as we each reached that age we were put in the front seat and taught to read a map.  When we reached that other certain age, we got to sit up front due to car sickness, unless brother was the sicker, or sister was the sickest yet.  Anyway, back to the subject, I could read a map.

On this trip?  Not necessary.  Spencer commandeered the steering wheel and used his cellphone GPS propped; propped right up there in the gadget dash hiding the speedometer.  What a difference in the times!  From zig-zagging back roads up and down the mountain with a paper map to straight shot interstates with a cellphone!

As I said HE commandeered and we went to Chattanooga before we knew it.  HE said you couldn't go through Chattanooga without checking out the trains.  HE drove us straight there.  So, we took a train ride, on the Tennessee Valley Railroad.

Three things stick out about that train ride.  One, the tracks had to be built up because of a flood that marked the trees higher than three men stacked.  Two, it used to take days to repair a train car, today due to materials and labor it takes a decade.  Three, there's nothing more interesting that watching a steam engine on a turn key making a 360 degree maneuver.  "Stand back the cow catcher might catch a leg!"

A long trip begs entertainment and, of course, we used our cellphones.  Out came one-liners, memes, funny quotes, and laughable photos.  One photo was an island when viewed from a helicopter looked like an elephant on it's side, complete with spine as mountain ridge and extended trunk slurping water.  Spencer quoted the caption, "God has a sense of humor."

John quickly agreed, "Anybody that can make hair come out of my ears has a sense of humor!"  And, it's true.  He has one wild hair that in a good breeze could wave at you!

Driving through Georgia a sign said, "Dublin Exit 1 Mile".  Dublin, reminiscent of my trip in Ireland, made me think of the song "On the Road to Killarney" so I asked Spencer to find it on the internet.  At this point he's NOT driving.  This time I am, and he's in the backseat.

Even though I insisted he find a song version with words, he only found an instrumental version.  After the instrumental version played through, he said he was in the mood for Irish music, so ... what did I hear wafting my way?  CHRISTMAS IN KILLARNEY!

"Christmas in Killarney????"  I squeeked.  "Christmas in JUNE!"
"Christmas in June and on FATHERS DAY????"
How Spencer-typical!

He loves Christmas at all times of the year.  Every family member, every friend every where on Facebook knows this.  The day after December 25 we get a notice, "364 days until Christmas!"

I hear from the backseat a question I know exactly how to answer, "Does that mean you don't want to hear "Bells Over Belfast?"

Now, I know you agree with me.  The trip down to Tybee was a trip...with high jinks.

Spanky's Pirate Mermaid

Well, that title makes the mind whirl, doesn't it? Spanky's Pirate Mermaid?

Don't know if I can connect these three or not but I shall give it the old college try, as the saying goes.

Scene setting -- weather is warm, not hot; sky is mid-blue, calming; passer-bys are happily smiling, dressed in shorts and t-shirts of colors light yellow and whites and greens;  sounds of lapping water and splashes, muffled crunch of sand underfoot.

It's early morning, the stores are just opening.  These are gift shops with beach chairs, sandals of all sizes, sea shell collections and strings, beach umbrellas, and turquoise swimsuits, novelty gifts of rock bands made of rocks, and specialty coffee mugs and miniature tins filled with colored glass chips, and tweezers with pen lights.

Blackbeard!  Blackbeard came out as the shops opened their doors!  He was as black as the day was sunny in his broad-brimmed pirate hat!  And he was big!  Muscular!  Tall!  Imposing!  Had the dour look!  Then we laughed out loud...he was on wheels!

Just walk up, put your head in his arm pit and you have a souvenir photo.  "I was here."  So funny we laughed out loud.

Late that night, we knew the stores were closing, cause ol' Blackbeard was rolling home.   Pushed and pulled by young girls in summer wear,  he was.  Sure he was winking with the knowing look of a plundering black pirate's heart enjoying his spoils.

Wonder if Blackbeard ever saw mermaids?  They were everywhere -- swimming on men's shirts, sported on girls tops, adorning gift items, made into ornaments, even gracing doorways and engraved on signage.

John and Spencer were following me through one place after another at the Tybee Oaks Shops -- Shell Cut Etc, Swizzle And Shake, Latitude 32, and Island Gypseas.  The shops were built up two to four feet (in case of hurricanes) and lined up next to each other in salt washed colors of blues, greens, and soft orange.  I was going along the wooden planked walk looking into each one for ballerina trinkets.  Forget that.  You're better off looking for floatsy mermaid finds.

They went into a girly frilly dainty shop thinking I was in there, but the shopkeeper had a confused look on her face -- two men, no women in a mermaid shop?  "Obviously my wife is not in here!" John clarified.  He also said the place was full of sirens and mermaid figurines and beads and starfish and glitter.  One sign in there read  "Be your own mermaid".  Spencer was intrigued.  He misread it as "build you a mermaid"!

Spanky is a nickname lovingly given Spencer when he was a toddler.  Sometimes your birth name isn't enough, you get tagged with a nickname.  And some names just lend themselves to numerous nicknames, especially if you are of a certain character.   Spencer, in fun tender adoration, has been called Spencil, 'pencil, St'encil, Spen, Spence, and Spanky.

So when we were touring along the River Walk in Savannah, there was no question, we had to eat at Spanky's.  Spanky's River Street that claims "Original Chicken Finger, where the finger lickin' all began."

Spencer just had to wear a paper Spanky's hat sporting a large white chicken.  We insisted.  Photos followed.

Inside left, a red popcorn machine, straight ahead a ship bow shaped bar, to the right all kinds of happy eaters with fingers to lips.  There were cobble stone walls, wood beams, greenery filled hanging baskets and overhead a large elk head!  Why not a chicken?  I don't know, but the food was finger lickin' good.

Thinking of Spanky building himself a mermaid maybe ol' Blackbeard will upturn a cracked smiling lip.