St. George Island: A Perfect Week on the Beach

About 9AM on Sunday morning.  You'll notice the beach is fairly deserted throughout this post.  This was taken from the boardwalk going to the beach.

This month I enjoyed one of the best vacations I've had in a long time. Jennifer, her brother Jeff, and I packed up and made the long drive down to Saint George Island, a somewhat hidden gem off Florida's panhandle coast. As a first-timer to this wonderful beach resort, I discovered why several of my other 'Dillo friends had already fallen in love with the place on previous visits. It is in many ways Florida the way it used to be, before developers transformed so much of the coastline into commercial tourist traps.

St. George Island features (comparatively) low-density residential development. Only a few condos exist, clustered around the lighthouse museum on the north end of the island along with a few tourist shops and the lone express grocery store. The rest of the island is dotted with B&Bs and private homes, many of which remained empty during our off-season stay, adding to the sense of blissful exclusiveness and laid-back atmosphere that permeated the island. It reminded me of how Destin, my usual Florida vacation spot, must have been half a century ago, still fairly pristine and peaceful. At times, it felt like we had to the whole island to ourselves.

Our home for the week was a basic, comfortable four-bedroom house originally built in 1961. It featured a partial view of the gulf, an easy walk to the beach, a small swimming pool, outdoor shower and a generously large screened-in porch where we enjoyed our group meals and spent a good deal of our time socializing. As we arrived that Saturday, the wind was whipping across the practically deserted beach. It was almost chilly. By coincidence, something magical happened that evening, we watched a full Moon rise over the ocean, a first for Jennifer, Jeff, and me.

As I left the beach that first night I couldn't help commenting to a local mom who happened to be photographing the event as her children played all around, "I've never seen that before." She smiled and replied as someone who'd witnessed this spectacle numerous times: "Yes, it is always so wonderful."

After catching the Moon, Brian had hurried back to our nearby beach house to work his magic on the grill, and soon we were feasting on the most exquisite skewered shrimp I've ever tasted. The grilled oysters that preceded them needed absolutely nothing, just a saltine cracker as their throne before disappearing into our delighted mouths.

Watching this full Moon rise over the ocean was the coolest space experience I've had in a very long time.  It was windy and very cool out there as it happened.

It was the closest I have come to genuine Awe in a while.  So inspiring.

Jennifer did some research and learned that the full Moon would be at its maximum illumination at 8:22PM that Saturday evening.  We waited out on the cold, windy beach and I took this shot at that moment with a wave cresting just right to catch the reflection.  Awe.

The same angle the next morning.  It was just astonishing to have so much beach basically all to ourselves and a few fisherman that dotted the shore later in the morning.

The gulf water was so clear and still on Monday that you could clearly see the swirling sand bar naturally, gradually, moving through the months by the constant change in the tide.  It was actually much clearer to see than in this photo but I never saw a photo taken of it that showed it as I saw it.  I think I needed some sort of filter for my iPhone to capture it.  Still, you can see the contrast in the pristine, almost lake-like water.

In all my years of vacationing, I can't recall a single week where the weather cooperated so completely. Clear blue skies with temperatures hovering in that sweet spot between cool and warm dominated the week, with just enough breeze to keep things comfortable. The consistency was as though we'd stumbled into some meteorological paradise where bad weather simply wasn't permitted.

Sunday morning, I awoke early, as is my habit. After coffee I ventured just a short walk away out to the boardwalk to catch the sunrise and, as it happened, the setting of the full Moon we saw rise the night before. Throughout the week, I fell into a delightful rhythm. Early mornings were my sanctuary, strong black coffee, sunrise painting the sky, and turning pages in the books I read as the rest of the gang slept in. I'd just finished Proust before the trip, so I took something lighter for the beach, an old Robert Heinlein paperback from my college years. As is my usual custom, however, I had some other books going as well. Napoleonic history in this case. Diverse interests as always.

Sunday and Monday were carbon copies of perfection with brilliant blue skies, gentle breezes, temperatures hovering around 69°, and beaches were so empty you'd think we had rented the entire coastline. I walked a mile and half along the shore one day with Jeff, our footprints the only evidence of human presence for stretches at a time. We passed perhaps a dozen or so people during our trek.

Brian, our culinary hero, continued to outdo himself with seafood. His mastery was evident in the grilled oysters those first two nights. Each evening during our week's stay brought new oceanic treasures: scallops so tender they barely needed chewing, fresh red fish, pompano, and whiting that made its way to us in just a few hours. The shrimp, skewered and grilled to perfection, may have ruined all future shrimp for me, setting a high standard. Jeff contributed to a lot of this as well. Especially noteworthy was his grilled tuna one evening which was truly as delectable as prime rib, only healthier.

Our abode for the week.  The small pool is inside the white fence.  The wide front porch was a highlight of the trip.  It was less than a 5-minute walk to the beach from here.  Wonderful.

Jennifer and Jeff start a walk on the beach.  An amazing spaciousness! 

Brain and I hung out of the beach several times.  Just talking.

Brian, Jennifer, Avery and Carter on the beach.

I was not bothered by the development along the beach front.  It is very modest, for the most part.  The variation in smallish homes seemed like a long row of large tents to me.

Keith does the beach 2025.

Tuesday brought warmer temperatures and stronger winds. My daughter Avery arrived bearing gifts of dolmas and veggies. Between the seafood feasts and the grilling prowess of Brian and Jeff, we ate like royalty.

Wednesday morning started out with a bit of a coffee catastrophe. Being someone who prefers to begin the day before dawn (the middle of the night, according to Brian), I flipped the preset coffee to brew and stepped away to the bathroom. The sound that greeted me upon return wasn't the comforting gurgle of brewing coffee but the distinct patter of liquid hitting counter and sizzling on the carafe warmer. In the darkness, was my caffeinated crime scene, coffee and grounds streaming rebelliously across the kitchen counter, having bypassed the misaligned filter.

It was not the way I wanted this to day to begin. After switching on the kitchen light, I discovered the incident was due to the coffee filter not being properly aligned during the prior night's set up. After cleanup and realignment which required more investigative power than I was wanting to muster at that early hour, I had a proper brewing, coffee in hand, I read a little on my kindle app before catching another cloudless sunrise.

The seated guy is fishing.  This is like a Rothko painting to me.  It is meant to be compared with...

...this pre-dawn light and wonderfully muted coloration.

Cloudless sunrises look the same, but there are some nuances.  On the morning of another spectacularly cool and calm day.  The stillness of the gulf perfectly reflects the pre-dawn sky.

Here comes the Sun.

Cloudless sunrises all look mostly the same but they are never mundane.  It’s something instinctual in me, I think.

One thing about all the cloudless days is that the sunrise pretty much always looks the same. There are the marvelous muted tones of sand, surf and sky with the orange glow in the east growing stronger. This sameness was more glorious than monotonous. The beach remained practically private, that morning's sunrise came without another soul visible in either direction. I was literally alone out there on the boardwalk. Which made me forget about the coffee mishap. Later, Will arrived and, after he finished some work, he decided to go out for lunch. I rode with him to Paddy's, one of the few local dives on the island. Though the food was decent, it couldn't compare to our grilled creations. Carter, Avery's boyfriend, arrived mid-afternoon, completing our 'Dillo gathering.

Later that afternoon we broke out Codenames. I attempted to assist Avery and Carter in teaching the game to Will and Jeff (though I play it more luckily than masterfully, Avery and Carter are the real veterans), which resulted in plenty of laughter as we fumbled through clues and guesses. The friendly competitive spirit of the 'Dillos was on full display, with good-natured ribbing and increasingly outlandish word associations. This was followed by another incredible meal of sensational skewered shrimp and another favorite of mine, fantastic crab cakes. Hard to beat.

Thursday was fishing day for most of the gang – Jeff, Will, Avery, Carter and Jennifer headed out to the bay while Brian and I enjoyed a more relaxed schedule. I visited the St. George Lighthouse, absorbing some local history in the small museum and gift shop while taking in views that, while not quite as spectacular as I'd hoped, were certainly worth the trip.

The fishing expedition returned triumphant, with tales of shark encounters. Both Jennifer and Will had hooked good-sized sharks while Avery, Carter, and Jeff landed smaller ones. All were released. The true bounty came in the form of pompano, whiting, and sea trout. These, combined with shrimp gifted by the boat captain, made for yet another unforgettable feast. It doesn't come any fresher or tastier.

While I didn't join the serious Codenames session that took place on the porch late that afternoon between Jeff, Will, Carter, and Avery, their competitive shouts and laughter provided a perfect soundtrack as I lounged with my book down by the house's small pool, determinedly doing as little as possible, though I did faithfully empty the dishwasher daily, my main contribution to household order.

The pool itself was probably the smallest swimming pool I've ever been in, more like an oversized hot tub. The water temperature was bracing. It took you to the edge of breathlessness but it was soon adjusted to. It felt very cool, even cold, while you were in it. But coming out of it into the brilliant Florida sun was really a nice experience. I finished reading Heinlein down there in between a couple of dips that day. The funny thing is I practically ignored the pool the first several days we were there. It was a refreshing late vacation find. One advantage of having so much time.

By Friday, our last full day, I had settled into a mindless rhythm. Like all the mornings of our stay, it began with coffee, reading and catching another cloudless sunrise over the gulf waters. Scrambled eggs and hash browns were served for breakfast that day. Having finished my Heinlein novel the day before, I delved into some Napoleonic history. The day was cool, sunny, and windy, perfect for alternating between the small pool and beach visits. Dinner featured tacos with multiple fixings, including generous portions of the previous day's catch of whiting.

Throughout the week, a running joke emerged around bags of Nacho Cheese Doritos, one of the half dozen or so things in the world to which I am absolutely addicted. I had purchased a bag from the island's lone grocery store on our first day, only to find it depleted by day two, thanks in part to Brian sharing my addiction. Knowing my weakness all too well, he bought a replacement bag on day three. When Carter arrived, he joined our Doritos demolition crew, and soon a third bag was necessary, much to everyone's amusement. By vacation's end, we had consumed three full bags, well beyond my usual yearly quota, but vacation rules applied! I do not buy those things when I am home. Not having them around is the only way I can avoid being a glutton with them.

Of course, no 'Dillo gathering would be complete without plentiful humor and wide-ranging discussions on history, fiction, philosophy, current events and nature, all the hallmarks of the many decades of our friendship, even as our actual partying has mellowed with time.

I took two contrasting driving tours with Will and Brian during the week. Will arrived famished and I decided to go with him to Paddy's, as previously stated. On the way, he took his Subaru on the sandy back roads of the island, showing me other houses that he admired and the first house the 'Dillos stayed in a couple of years ago. Will was all about taking it slow and engaging in soft, heartfelt conversation. Brian, on the other hand, had come down in his Porsche. I wanted to ride in that on a grocery store run one day. He gunned it and stayed on the main drag. The acceleration and power was more than impressive. It was a fun little trip in his fantastic road car, a sharp, lively contrast in almost every way to my trip with Will.

Some shorebird shots.

Just started flapping.

A heron is hoping to get in on this guy's shore fishing action. 

Saturday brought our magical week to a close. I rode back with Avery, the journey transforming what could have been a tedious drive into quality father-daughter time. We listened to a fascinating Huberman Lab podcast featuring Dr. Mark Hyman, who discussed the evolving nature of medicine and how it's gradually becoming more holistic. It sparked a discussion between us, touching on everything from nutrition to the mind-body connection. Later, Avery napped as I took my turn at the wheel.

Upon arriving home, I was greeted by my dog Kudo. Though happy to see me there was little tail wagging. She was subdued. She is a very emotional animal and sort of sulked the rest of the day at me being away from her for so long. She was over it by the next day, of course. Seeing my property, bright green and blossoming in the early spring, made me glad to be home despite having just experienced a near-perfect vacation.

St. George Island, with its unspoiled natural beaches, uncrowded shores, and lack of commercial development, offered exactly what I needed, a reminder of old Florida and time spent with true friends was the greatest luxury of all.

One afternoon before we left, I struck up a conversation with a local fisherman who had just built a house on the bay side of the island. He'd relocated from a town not far from where Jennifer and I live. He was a fairly young guy and his face lit up as he told me how he gets to fish almost every day now.

"I hope they don't mess this place up," I told him, voicing my concern about the possibility of overdevelopment, the kind that had transformed so many other Florida coastal towns into condo-crammed tourist magnets.

He had a constant smile on his face and assured me that St. George Island would likely remain as it is, at least for the foreseeable future. The island seemed to have a built-in resistance to the kind of transformation that had claimed so many other beautiful coastal spots. There are so many small private lots that it becomes problematic for a commercial developer to acquire enough land to work with. Plus, the southern part of the island is an exclusive gated resort for wealthy folks complete with its own air strip. They certainly don't want to see anything change. I hope the fisherman is right. Developers should not rule the Earth, though it seems that they do sometimes.

It was one of the best vacations I have had in recent memory. Traditionally, I don't like to be gone for an entire week. Usually four days or so is my limit. But by the time the later days arrived I became as relaxed as I could possibly be. Jennifer, who planned the trip, was thrilled with how it all turned out. We all were. A week on St. George in the off-season, some 'Dillo friends, the full Moon rise, the nearly deserted beach, the grilled fresh seafood, the comfortable weather, and the companionship was definitely nourishment for the soul.

Will and I ate lunch at Paddy's one day.  It was worth experiencing but not in the same league with what we were preparing each evening at our beach house.

A look at the only bridge to Saint George as seen atop the island's lighthouse.  The sole express grocery store is on the left.  All around the lighthouse are tourist type areas and a series of cookie-cutter condos, the only ones on the island.

From the lighthouse looking south toward what I consider low-density residential development.

The lighthouse and it's museum, a historic home.

Jeff grilling and talking with Brain about fire, heat, techniques, timing, etc.  Jennifer prepares what's next.  Carter looks on with some impressive light-pink swim trunks with fish on them. It all ties together.

Oh my god!  Brain's shrimp were the top of the chart for me on this trip.  The crab cakes and Jeff's tuna were also top-tier experiences in a week that featured so much great food.  And way too many Doritos. 

Jennifer caught a shark!

Together on the beach with the full Moon rising.

(Assisted by Claude.)