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Fernandina Beach – a tourist trap bookended by two giant papermills. It’s really someone’s idea of hell on earth or a poorly executed site gag. Hurricane Irma had raged through here at the end of 2017 and caused a good deal of chaos with the marinas, including pouring a bunch of silt into the slip area. Our option was to either anchor in the swift currents or take a mooring. We took a mooring, the first of the trip. And at $20 plus tax the price was right. We had a clear, smelly view of the paper mill at the south end of town belching plumes of steam across the marsh.
Our primary goal was a chartkit for the east coast of Florida from the local West Marine, with secondary goals of a walk and a little look into what makes Fernandina Beach tick. We manhandled Teddy, our hard dingy, off the cabin top pretty quickly. We kind of have a system now that minimizes risk to the boat crew and Aleta. And after drifting downriver for a bit, I finally managed to get her outboard running. Nothing like turning the fuel line on to get an engine running.
Eddie looks a little like Geraldo Rivera and drives a 2001 Honda Odyssey, just like me. He not only drove us to where we needed to be, but was a fount of local knowledge. Last week was the coldest he’d known in 33 years of living in Fernandina, Irma didn’t do that much damage, some downed trees and stuff, and Hammerhead on the beach is his favorite bar.
Once our shopping was done and the panhandlers fended off, we wandered in search of an ATM, but mostly to stretch our legs. Google maps sometimes gets things spectacularly wrong. As a public service announcement, we recommend that you avoid banking at the Container Mutual Credit Union. Why? Well here’s a photo of its offices.
We walked back through Fernandina’s historic district, lined with enough designer clothes and jewelry stores to make you think that money comes regularly enough to keep them solvent. We zeroed in on the Salty Pelican for a half order of Ahi Tuna nachos and some savagely indifferent crab cakes (more cake than crab) for dinner. ‘Two Dudes from Texas’ plucked their way through an entire catalogue of 1970’s hits as we ate and people-watched. The guitar dude had quite a pleasant voice. His sidekick on bass was capable enough playing, but should have left the singing to his buddy. They both had enough tats, hats and hair to star in a Wayne’s World remake. At some point near the middle of ‘Fire on the Mountain’ we called it a night and headed back to Aleta.
