So This is Where I've Been . . Part 2

I’m going to set aside Part 2 for a moment to say a little about how glorious life is here on The Island during this fall season. Despite a nor’easter that rattled the trees for days and whipped around to come out of the northwest, bringing with it cooler temperatures, the weather is splendid. Skies so bright they shine like blue mirrors fill up with sparkling stars at night. Sitting on my deck, which is something I spend a great deal of time doing this time of year, even writing out here, the backyard birds are a distraction. The smaller birds—Carolina Chickadees, Titmice, Carolina Wrens and House Finches, even Downy Woodpeckers—flit around the seed feeder, diving in for a sunflower seed and taking it away to peck it open on a tree limb or the branch of a sturdy shrub. A Brown Thrasher, who has lately taken to perching on the suet cage for long periods, trying to claim it for himself, is regularly run off my Red-bellied Woodpeckers. It’s hard to concentrate on much else, and I am grateful anew I get to live here. This is the trade-off for sweltering hot summers and hoards of tourists during summer months. The occasional roar of the Sea Island Air Force slices into the quiet, but the birds don’t see to mind.

As for Part 2, in February I drove to Steinhatchee, Florida, population south of 1500, to visit with Kristy and her family and attend the annual Fiddler Crab Festival. We had Friday to ourselves and she drove me around to the beautiful beaches where the family goes out in kayaks and dives for scallops during season, which runs roughly for the months of July, August and September, bagging their limit every time they go out. That night, we were joined by Shannon and Joey and their two teenage sons, Noah and Jacob, and the twins, Abby and Drew, eight at the time. I hadn’t seen the entire crew since Hurricane Matthew ran Gretchen and me off The Island in October of last year and sent us scurrying to Kristy’s Pine Mountain house. The kids were in school as we waited to return home, and I didn’t have much time with them, so I was glad to have a weekend with the family.

 I had been warned Steinhatchee, which means “Dead Man’s River” or “Dead Man’s Bay,” is a little on the rustic side and right-leaning politically. I wasn’t disappointed. There are about 10 restaurants but no grocery store. One convenience store stocks staples like eggs and milk and a limited amount of produce, but if you want a real supermarket, you have to drive 38 miles north to Perry. There are three marinas, several restaurants and, of course, the ubiquitous Dollar General. The ACE Hardware sports a life-size cutout of Donald Trump just inside the entrance, and on our drive Friday afternoon, we encountered what I can only describe as a crude roadside sign with this message: “Jesus said: Be Fishers of Men. - Matt. 4:19 - YOU CATCH ‘EM AND HE WILL CLEAN ‘EM,” flanked on either side by a single red Christian cross. 

There’s a little glimpse of the Steinhatchee River from the Burkhalter house, which is situated half a block from the main drag, not surprisingly called Riverside Drive. A few food trucks were set up along the street, and at sundown we wandered down to find dinner. I was on the cusp of my decision to become a vegetarian and had already eschewed meat, but seafood abounded. Before the others arrived, the bandstand across the street came to life with some of the most awful rock music I can ever remember hearing. I made my ears hurt. Kristy and I sat on the deck, drinking cocktails and smoking cigarettes and tried to tune it out. Mercifully, it ended early. The weather was cool but not cold, and we were happy to be together.

The two day festival, which included a fiddler crab race, fishing tournament, car show and The Swamp Water Cook-off, among other events, was kicked off at ten o’clock Saturday morning by a parade. It consisted of a procession of mostly golf carts, four-wheelers and pickup trucks, many of which had shotguns hanging from racks in their rear windows. Some pulled what I suppose could pass for floats. Most were decorated with all things crab: the official flag of The Festival, crab baskets and traps, and plastic crabs tied to rope netting sprinkled with colorful buoys. Kids of all ages, some sporting crab costumes, others dressed as pirates, rode in the backs of the trucks and on the floats and threw gaudy Mardi Gras beads, purple and gold, silver and green and pink, to the spectators along the route. A golf cart draped with burlap “moss” was driven by a pirate complete with gold tooth, his female mate dressed all in black and standing on the rear bumper.

The light rain didn’t stop the kids from going down to catch their share of beads. The various vehicles sported huge American flags, the occasional disappointing Confederate battle flag, and of course, Fiddler Crab Festival flags. It was a raggedy little display but fun nonetheless. By the time the kids got back to the house, the rain was coming down in earnest, but at mid afternoon, the sun was out, and so were we.

Riverside Drive was lined with food trucks and stalls with names like Red Neck Seafood and Bubba’s Bar-B-Q. No festival is complete without kettle corn and funnel cakes, and the hard core fair lovers weren’t disappointed. We missed the Swamp Water Challenge, but Kristy more than made up for that when, that night, she had a fish fry for all of us. 

The street running parallel behind Riverside was where the real arts and crafts and just plain junk booths were located. We wandered about, checking out the wares and stopping in to see the work of local artists as well as that of those who had come from afar. I ended up buying a wind chime made from channel whelk shells that was made in Shellman Bluff, a fishing village about 40 miles north of my house. Who knew? We purchased handmade soaps and a few little things the twins were interested in, but all-in-all, it wasn’t a banner shopping experience. 

It wasn’t about the shopping. It was about Joey cooking on the grill and friends dropping by to visit. It was about sweet, gooey, sticky s’mores. It was about Shannon getting a haircut from one of her friends right there on the porch. It was about Abby and Drew growing right before my eyes, about Jacob and Noah, no longer boys but young men. It was about eight people sleeping in a two bedroom house with one bathroom without squabbling. It was about leaving the bathroom door cracked while in shower so others could use the toilet, number one only. It was about sleeping with Kristy on her bed, which is hard as a concrete slab, and not waking with a backache.

I’m looking forward to next year. 

© 2017 cj Schlottman