Changes have been made. New high-rise hotels in Biloxi include breezeways; trees, stripped to the trunks and petrified by salt water, have been carved into statues; nature preservationists set aside tern nesting areas of the beach and planted sea grass in manmade sand dunes. It's a beginning.
A heavyset man in a business suit walked around and around the Biloxi Lighthouse, built in 1866 and in operation well into the 1900's. Probably the lighthouse tourist guide, he apparently had found a way to combine gainful employment and exercise as he waited for customers at $5.00 a head.
On a sunny day Mobile must be impressive. Modern glass skyscrapers towered high over Route #10 bridges that arced above the water. Unfortunately, the grey skies offered little contrast.
We exited at Battleship Memorial Park for an outdoor look at the U.S.S. Alabama, anchored in the sandy shallows of Mobile Bay, along with the World War II submarine U.S.S. Drum. Skies looked heavier to the east, and predictions warned of rain storms ahead, due in part to the 64 degree temperatures at 11 a.m. Twenty miles from Pensacola, a fine mist dappled the windshield.
At the Florida Welcome Station, we put on sweatshirts. The greeter offered us cups of fresh ice cold orange juice. "It's nice to have you in Florida," she said. "Welcome to the Sunshine State." Only, there wasn't any sun. The GPS successfully guided us to Gulf Islands National Seashore, where we proved identity with driver's licenses for the Navy guard. "Go only to the four spots listed on your ticket," he demanded, "and keep the ticket visible on the dashboard."
"So, do you know anything about Fort Barrancas?" I asked Andy, as he parked Little Red. Volunteer Guide Jeanne started the video and educated both of us.
Situated on the bluffs overlooking Pensacola Bay, Fort Barrancas locked the gate by sea on potential foreign invaders in colonial times and long after. Spain built the first fort nearby in 1698. Then in 1781, during the American Revolution, the Spaniards created Bateria de San Antonio, a water battery, that could bounce cannon balls off the water to hit the lower hull of a ship. When Florida became part of the United States in 1821, the U.S. Navy selected Pensacola Bay as the site for Warrington Navy Yard. Sixty slaves, contracted by the U.S. Army, improved the Spanish Water Battery and in five years built Fort Barrancas, one of the most impregnable bastions of its time. The only real action though was when Union and Confederate forces bombarded each other across the bay in the weeks before the Civil War.
"I never heard of it before. Did you?" I asked Andy.
"No," he answered, "And the guidebook says that Fort Barrancas was integral to our coastal defense system until 1947."
We exited at Battleship Memorial Park for an outdoor look at the U.S.S. Alabama, anchored in the sandy shallows of Mobile Bay, along with the World War II submarine U.S.S. Drum. Skies looked heavier to the east, and predictions warned of rain storms ahead, due in part to the 64 degree temperatures at 11 a.m. Twenty miles from Pensacola, a fine mist dappled the windshield.
At the Florida Welcome Station, we put on sweatshirts. The greeter offered us cups of fresh ice cold orange juice. "It's nice to have you in Florida," she said. "Welcome to the Sunshine State." Only, there wasn't any sun. The GPS successfully guided us to Gulf Islands National Seashore, where we proved identity with driver's licenses for the Navy guard. "Go only to the four spots listed on your ticket," he demanded, "and keep the ticket visible on the dashboard."
"Yes, sir," answered Andy politely.
"So, do you know anything about Fort Barrancas?" I asked Andy, as he parked Little Red. Volunteer Guide Jeanne started the video and educated both of us.
Situated on the bluffs overlooking Pensacola Bay, Fort Barrancas locked the gate by sea on potential foreign invaders in colonial times and long after. Spain built the first fort nearby in 1698. Then in 1781, during the American Revolution, the Spaniards created Bateria de San Antonio, a water battery, that could bounce cannon balls off the water to hit the lower hull of a ship. When Florida became part of the United States in 1821, the U.S. Navy selected Pensacola Bay as the site for Warrington Navy Yard. Sixty slaves, contracted by the U.S. Army, improved the Spanish Water Battery and in five years built Fort Barrancas, one of the most impregnable bastions of its time. The only real action though was when Union and Confederate forces bombarded each other across the bay in the weeks before the Civil War."I never heard of it before. Did you?" I asked Andy.
"No," he answered, "And the guidebook says that Fort Barrancas was integral to our coastal defense system until 1947."
We walked through the scarp and the counterscarp. A drawbridge stretched across the dry moat with gun placements on each side and cannons at each end. An underground tunnel led to the Spanish Water Battery closer to the bay.
"This is an amazing piece of engineering," said Andy.
"What fascinates me is the history," I told him. "A Confederate ghost is said to haunt the scarp, and a harmless shot fired by a guard on the drawbridge on the night of January 8, 1861, is sometimes considered the first shot in the Civil War."
"What fascinates me is the history," I told him. "A Confederate ghost is said to haunt the scarp, and a harmless shot fired by a guard on the drawbridge on the night of January 8, 1861, is sometimes considered the first shot in the Civil War."
We walked the .4 mile overgrown trail to the Advanced Redoubt. Halfway there the trenches of U.S. Colored Troops of the 14th Regiment Corps d'Afrique were still visible in the sandy soil. Built between 1845 and 1870, the Advanced Redoubt was constructed to defend the northern side of the peninsula and the Navy Yard against a land attack. Incorporating 500 years of defensive engineering, this fort was built to last for centuries, but rifled cannons and ironclad warships rendered it obsolete even before it was finished. Completed anyway, Advanced Redoubt shows the challenges to defend a nation in the face of new technologies and potential threats from outside.
As we hiked the half mile back to Little Red, a contingent of new recruits jogged past, all facing forward and intent. "Hut, two, three, four," sang the officer who set the pace. Then overhead a plane roared, drowning out every sound. I covered my ears with my hands to curb the pain. When it was gone, a second one followed moments later.
"They're practicing Touch and Go," said Andy. "This is Navy training grounds,"
The National Naval Aviation Museum, an incredible place to get lost, included two hangars of vintage aircraft, artifacts and historical displays. For two hours we read about Navy and Coast Guard flight missions, marveled at Blue Angel jets, stepped gingerly under monstrous planes, like the Curtiss M Flying Boat from World War I, identified Sikorsky helicopters, strolled the wooden flight deck of World War II aircraft carrier replica U.S.S. Cabot, and tried the F-8 Crusader cockpit trainer. Hands-on exhibits made the displays more meaningful.
Knitting a sweater, Mary Jo sat on the porch outside her pretend home in the World War II display, chatting with visitors who passed by and sharing "war" news. The display, called Home Front U.S.A., included the local barber and captured life in a small town during World War II. I thought about my dad, who served in the Navy in Brazil, and I wondered if my mom felt like Mary Jo. The museum, a get-lost place, was only open to 5:00 p.m., or we could have wandered a lot longer.
"We can still make it to the lighthouse," said Andy, as we hurried out to the car. "It closes at 5:00 p.m., but I think we can walk around the outside."
He was right. Rising 191 feet, the Pensacola Light-house is visible for 27 miles out to sea in the Gulf of Mexico. Built in 1858, the building is said to be haunted by the ghost of the keeper, who was allegedly stabbed to death by his wife in the upstairs bedroom. We walked the grounds and strolled along the boardwalk out to the beach. The gate was already closed. No outside ghosts.
As we hiked the half mile back to Little Red, a contingent of new recruits jogged past, all facing forward and intent. "Hut, two, three, four," sang the officer who set the pace. Then overhead a plane roared, drowning out every sound. I covered my ears with my hands to curb the pain. When it was gone, a second one followed moments later."They're practicing Touch and Go," said Andy. "This is Navy training grounds,"
The National Naval Aviation Museum, an incredible place to get lost, included two hangars of vintage aircraft, artifacts and historical displays. For two hours we read about Navy and Coast Guard flight missions, marveled at Blue Angel jets, stepped gingerly under monstrous planes, like the Curtiss M Flying Boat from World War I, identified Sikorsky helicopters, strolled the wooden flight deck of World War II aircraft carrier replica U.S.S. Cabot, and tried the F-8 Crusader cockpit trainer. Hands-on exhibits made the displays more meaningful.
Knitting a sweater, Mary Jo sat on the porch outside her pretend home in the World War II display, chatting with visitors who passed by and sharing "war" news. The display, called Home Front U.S.A., included the local barber and captured life in a small town during World War II. I thought about my dad, who served in the Navy in Brazil, and I wondered if my mom felt like Mary Jo. The museum, a get-lost place, was only open to 5:00 p.m., or we could have wandered a lot longer."We can still make it to the lighthouse," said Andy, as we hurried out to the car. "It closes at 5:00 p.m., but I think we can walk around the outside."
He was right. Rising 191 feet, the Pensacola Light-house is visible for 27 miles out to sea in the Gulf of Mexico. Built in 1858, the building is said to be haunted by the ghost of the keeper, who was allegedly stabbed to death by his wife in the upstairs bedroom. We walked the grounds and strolled along the boardwalk out to the beach. The gate was already closed. No outside ghosts. 
"What a busy day! And we started and ended with a lighthouse," I said to Andy, when we found our way back to the motel.
"That's good," he answered. "With weather predictions for fog, strong winds, thunderstorms and rain, tomorrow may just be a washout. Nothing like a warning."
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