All That I Needed to Know

"Yuck," said Andy, when he opened the motel door at 6:30 a.m. Shrouded in fog, Pensacola suddenly lost its appeal.
"It's better than the 24 inches of snow predicted for Chicago or the -69 degree wind chill in Montana or the sleet and freezing rain destined for Connecticut," I told him. The Weather Channel called the storm The Beast and Stormtorious B.I.G. and said it could affect 30 states, dumping 16 or more inches of snow in 14 of them. "So I guess we should consider ourselves lucky," I added.
Naval Live Oaks Visitor Center across Pensacola Bay on Gulf Breeze Island told the story of ship building with live oak trees that form a natural wind barrier in hurricanes and are so hard that cannon balls bounce off hulls of ships framed with live oak boards.
"You want me to collect some acorns?" I teased.
"They won't grow in Connecticut; it's too cold," he answered, not amused.
On Santa Rosa Island, hundreds of small two- and three-story condos lined the Fort Pickens Road. Painted colorful pastel shades, they all had garages underneath the raised living quarters.
"Let's hope we can avoid rain until at least noon," said Andy, as we checked through the entry station at the National Seashore, Fort Pickens Area. " Too bad," said Andy. "The toll bridge over the causeway, the white sand beach just a couple feet above the water, the small bunches of sea grass, this must be gorgeous on a sunny day."
Instead, the white sand and grey salt-sprayed oak and pine melded into grey water and lighter grey sky, stretching in a horizontal plain of muted colorlessness.
The self-guided tour of Fort Pickens walked us a couple miles through ruins around the western end of Santa Rosa Island. Ironically, even though the fort enlisted servicemen through World War II in 1947, the only real action it endured occurred in October and November of 1861, when Confederate and Union forces bombarded each other across Pensacola Bay. Constructed with 21.5 million bricks by skilled African-American slaves between 1829 and 1834, Fort Pickens, the largest of the four forts on Pensacola Bay, was the Union's choice when conscription for the threatening Civil War demanded consolidation of services.

"I wouldn't want to be at Fort McRee or at the Navy Yard on the receiving end of this," said Andy, patting the barrel of the 32-inch cannon on top of the parapet. "It weighs 50,000 pounds and could shoot three miles."
Up and down the stairs we climbed, through 180-year old tunnels that soldiers used nearly two centuries ago.

"Can you imagine being a soldier here?" I asked Andy. "Clear the sallyport! Secure the draw bridge!"

He laughed. "There would not be a much safer place in a tornado though. Now in a hurricane, you'd be under water," he said.
Adjoining plaster-lined rooms, intended as officers quarters, housed Apache prisoners, including Geronimo in 1887.

A few casements still contained big cast iron guns. Most just showed the granite semicircles in the floor where cannons pivoted. Vents over the windows allowed smoke from black powder ammunition to disperse. A tunnel system led to chambers of gunpowder, 1,000 pounds each, to be exploded as a final defense, and to the three wood-lined magazines that stored 250,000 pounds of black powder to last through a two-week attack. The only significant damage to the fort occurred when a fire started near the corner powder magazine in 1899. The resulting explosion of 8,000 pounds of powder killed one soldier and obliterated Bastion D. Bricks landed a mile and a half away, and the hole it blew in the fort remains there today.
The drive around Gulf Islands National Seashore included stops at gun battery 234, gun battery Cooper and the nature tower observation platform; Dune Nature Trail and a mile walk along the sea wall; battery Payne and battery Van Swearingen, with its modern World War II retreating cannon; and the mile of Blackbird Marsh Nature Trail and campground loop.
The sun popped out as we identified slash pine, not salt tolerant, and gallberry, with ink black berries eaten by birds. Nearly every space in the campground nearby was claimed by trailers and giant RV's.

The Green-Simmons Company crew occupied one beach area. "That's oil clean-up," said Andy. "See all those plastic bags? They are going to be here for a long time."

Four miles of pure white sand beach stretched back to the entry station and privately owned beachfront properties. Even under cloudy skies with thunderstorms moving in and the potential for tornadoes, this barrier island is a gem.

"We're going to take one more trail," said Andy, pulling into the Andrew Jackson Trail parking lot of Naval Live Oaks, a part of the Gulf Islands National Seashore.

Thank goodness he has a sense of direction, I thought. We followed five different trails for about two miles before returning a third mile on the Andrew Jackson Trail. Poorly marked, the sandy paths twisted through slash pines and underbrush of gallberry and palmetto palms. We even learned about yaupon holly, used by early peoples to induce vomiting. Just what I needed to know.

"I can't believe we have made it all day without rain," said Andy. Clouds hung low and the wind picked up. "If it pours before we get back, we'll just..."

"Run?" I interjected. "No, we'll probably just get wet." But it didn't rain. Considering the predictions, someone up there likes us!