St George Island, Part Two

Part one of this adventure is right here. I’m told it’s too long and there are too many pictures, but the kids love it, so it’s staying. Wink. We’ll start shortening up the posts for the rest of you…but not this one, since it was already written.

Here’s the thing about RVing. You don’t find many people that totally want to be left alone, that will pass by you without a smile and a nod and a hearty good morning! While we were camped on the St. George barrier island, our neighbors were these two South Carolinians.

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They were fossil collectors and came over to give us a little impromptu fossil lesson, which fit in perfectly with our current study of the skeletal system and, believe it or not, our ongoing studies of Creationism versus evolution.

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They carry a part of their extensive fossil collection around with them, including this fossilized horse leg bone, which doubles as a weapon. Here she is using it to keep her husband in line.

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They even gave us a fossilized shark tooth to keep. I know–wow!

They taught us how to distinguish between a fossil and a little ol’ bit o’ nothing, which made Elijah extremely anxious to hit the beach and go fossil hunting.

But first, good morning birds!  How about a little hug!

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No hugs from the birds.

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Leave us alone, people unless you have food.

Bean, our budding photographer. Do you see her beach attire? It was c-o-o-o-o-l-d.

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Today we were a bit more prepared for the water, with water shoes and shorts and the boy in a swimsuit. Still, it was much too cold to get wet, so throwing yourself in the water was out of the question.

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I don’t know why we bother with water shoes, really.

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Hannah found a crab. Hello Mr. Crabby!

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Why does everyone call me that? It makes me so…crabby!

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And when I’m crabby, I want to pinch toes. Grrrrrrr.

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Please forgive our new friend, Mr. Crabby Pants. He’s passive aggressive, heavy on the aggressive.

On this particular day, it was too cold to wade in the water, so we…

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waded in the water, naturally.

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We also combed the beach looking for shells.

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Do you see that man there. No, not Steve. The other one, way in the background. He’s fishing. Anyway, he was pretty much the only company we had at the beach. Why? Because it’s January in Florida, and the only people crazy enough to go to the beach in January—even in Florida—are people who have just escaped January in Wisconsin.

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Hey, Daddy, look at this cool shell. It almost looks like…

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Oh no! It is! It’s a…

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actually, I don’t know what this is.

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We had no desire to relive our Portuguese Man o’ War experience at Corpus Christi in Texas, so we treaded lightly.

Steve thought the kids would enjoy making wind chimes out of the shells. Everyone made sure they had the right kind and number of shells so we could…

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shove them in a bag and cram them under the seats in the van and forget about them.

You learned from part one of our St. George Island experience that where there are waves and sand, The Travel Bags must build.

There are the waves and sand.

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There are the builders.

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Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh.

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Steve set up this little pop-up cabana and beach umbrella to block the wind for his wimpy wife darling family.

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Not everyone got into the spirit of freezing their little ears and backsides off at the beach. Ellie was turning into a tasty little peach popsicle, so she warmed up now and then on Mama’s lap.

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Not much could lure Ellie away from the warm cabana where her mama the food was.

Come and play, Ellie-Bear!

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Okay, Boo-Boo Bear.

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Uh-oh…here come…

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the birds!

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I’m going to hug a bird!

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Come here for your hugs birdies.

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Come baaaack…

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They didn’t come back.

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I’m going to hug my Daddy.

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Plus Daddy has food.

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This is Clancy, the bird scout.

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Hey, Stan, did you hear that? These homo sapiens have food. Keep your eye on the male minor. He’s a dropper. Watch out, though. Bird hugger at 2 o’clock. Alert the troops.

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The bombers.

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The fighter pilot.

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Oooo, a potential catastrophe.

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The white angels in formation.

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Coming in for the attack.

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Mission accomplished!

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Let’s bring it home, boys.

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This is Roger.

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Roger is a sand castle inspector.

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He makes sure everything on this beach is up to code.

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These workers are non-union, and Roger’s getting a little uptight about the hours they’re keeping.

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You’re not getting overtime people, so hurry it up!

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Roger’s not too crazy about their methods either. They’re a little…unorthodox.

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The tide is rolling in on the castles.

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Nothing will take down my castle!

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The secret back entrance.

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The psycho birds:

We’ll be watching. Always watching.

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Better sleep with one eye open, Travel Bags.

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Elijah and Eliana tried a little frisbee playing.

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The wind had different ideas and sent the frisbee way on down the beach.

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We should have brought kites instead of frisbees.

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Come for a walk, Marissa.

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I said “walk,” not “jog.” Baby pudge doesn’t jog.

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Look at this! It’s a cute little jellyfish…

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bigger than that size-nine foot!

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Let’s tell everyone!

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Oh yeah, baby pudge doesn’t jog.

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Holy sea life, Batman! That thing’s huge!

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Did you know that if you touch a jellyfish, you die a painful and agonizing death?

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Apparently that’s a myth.

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We carefully turned Squishy over to check out his or her or its underbelly, and then returned him or her or it to his or her or its original position before we headed home.

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Bye, Squishy!

Bye, sand castles.

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See you, psycho birds.

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Adios, beach.

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Goodbye, villagers.

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Later, waves.

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So long, Roger!

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We like to pretend that we won’t be living with sand in every nook and cranny of the trailer and every crevice of our bodies for the next two weeks.

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This is what pretending looks like.

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Good night beach.

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These dunes were off limits, but that’s okay. We’ve been to dunes in Idaho and New Mexico, and we’re really just here for the beach.

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Look at the beautiful sky. If we weren’t freezing and hungry, we’d have stayed for a sunset. As it is, you’ll have to get out your watercolors and paint your computer screen if you want this sunset.

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I can almost see a Care Bear.

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Or is that a dragon?

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A lost duck, maybe?

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Check out the skinny houses in the village.

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Somebody feed those houses.

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We love lighthouses. No, we don’t want to marry it, thanks for asking.

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Goodbye, Lighthouse.

One more post about our little rescue effort at St. George, and then we’ll move on down the road.

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