Amelia Island: Sweet home, Florida ... but not quite as I know it

My God, I've missed Florida.

I consider it my home state almost as much as Missouri.  My grandparents had a house in Ft. Lauderdale and I spent all my childhood summers there, switching to the Christmas holidays after university.  Occasionally we diverted to Sanibel, Orlando or St. Augustine, popped down to Miami or did road trips to Key West ... but the Sunshine State was a constant.  Body surfing the Atlantic waves, picking stone crabs and wrapping a palm trunk in Christmas lights are as "native" to me as going to a Cardinals game, drinking Budweiser or ascending the Gateway Arch.

So how is it that, in the eight years since this blog started, Florida's only featured once?*  Life got in the way.  But now, gloriously, I was back.  Rolling the windows down on a late night drive from the airport after 23 hours en route.  Feeling the warm, moist air.  Smelling the salt tang of the sea.  Passing roadside orange stands closed for the night.  I've been on some exquisite beach holidays in recent years.  But none felt like coming home.

The irony is that I'm here on our annual girls' trip, which usually involves extended weekends on our own side of the pond, in exotic locations rich with culture, food and wine.  But Hillary's parents live here, and we thought we'd take advantage of their hospitality.

Amelia offers a stereotype of affluent American retirement.  On an island 13 miles long and four
wide, you'll find seven golf courses.  They're anchored by two luxury resorts, an Omni and a Ritz, and the main road through (the A1A) is dotted with upscale shopping villages offering resort wear, luxury delis, cigar shops and wine stores.  Most of the southern half of the island is filled with gated communities, with housing ranging from modest condominiums for the downsizers to rambling manses for those with big families who are always dropping in.  Some overlook the ocean, but most are nestled along winding lanes shaded by live oak trees and tendrils of Spanish moss.   Our home base for the visit looked to the west, out over broad salt marshes to the Intercostal waterway and the mainland.  In between golf rounds or visits to the beach, you can sit on your rocking chair on the deck, using binoculars to check out a vast variety of bird life.  Or simply pour yourself a cocktail and take in a magnificent sunset in the pristine quiet.

Amelia isn't just about retirees and holiday-makers, however.  It had a population, industry and history long before Florida was discovered by tourism, giving it distinct differences from the South Florida of my youth.

The mangrove swamps, featureless coastline and brackish, gator-filled marshes around what's now Miami and Lauderdale had little to offer the Europeans.  Here, up against what's now the Georgia border, were forests and arable land.  Abundant rivers flowing from the interior offered both fresh water and deltas that gave safe anchorage.  Amelia is the southernmost of the great range of barrier islands that runs down the Carolina and Georgia coast and, as such, limits the damage caused by hurricanes.

The Spanish were the first Europeans here, but the area bounced back and forth between them and the English throughout the colonial period.  The evidence is in the names.  Amelia, for English King George II's daughter.  Its main town, Fernandina Beach, named for Spanish King Ferdinand VII.  Recurring waves of settlers put down roots, then were ousted by the next change in regime.  Pirates took advantage of the political uncertainty and the safe anchorage in the river network; there's a rich history of buccaneering here that's now merrily exploited by the tourist trade.  Things started to quiet down when Florida finally joined the USA in 1819, but there were a few more volleys in the ownership match during the Civil War, when Fort Clinch on the island's northern tip bounced between Confederate and Union.

Once that war ended, stability finally reigned.  By the second half of the 19th century, paper milling had begun; a logical industry given the local pine forests providing raw materials and the new train lines that would take the finished materials north.  The mills are still there today, as are many of the ornate Victorian homes that came with that prosperity.  A thriving shrimping industry ran out of the small harbour.  Rising prices have pushed many of the workers to the mainland, but the existence of industry, history and a working class gives Amelia a very different feel from much of the rest of Florida.  It's much more like the Deep South.

Fernandina Beach these days is a charming place to wander and ... if you can't crash with a friend's parents or afford the luxury resorts ... offers a range of attractive B&Bs and small hotels.  The main street is filled with independent retailers.  A cozy, proper bookstore.  An old fashioned beach "5-and-dime" selling souvenirs and all the bits you need for your holiday.  Quirky clothes shops and gift boutiques demand a browse.  And then there's the oldest bar in Florida.  The Palace welcomes you with a life-sized statue of a pirate and encourages you to stay with an ornate Victorian interior and a great range of boutique brewery beers.  There are, of course, plenty of restaurants, many overlooking the Amelia River.  (Fernandina Beach is on the west side of the island, taking advantage of those protected waterways.)  If you're lucky enough to have a kitchen, you can hit the fish shack in the morning to pick up some of the day's catch.  Though the shrimping industry has declined in the face of the big, industrial Asian fleets, a few boats still bring in the sweet, local treasures.

For the best introduction to the area, try an Amelia Island River Cruise.  The company ... fronted by the creatively named and appropriately dressed "Pajama Dave" ... does a variety of tours, but the locals know that the adult's only BYOB cruise is the one to take.  On our evening, passengers were mostly comprised of small groups who'd brought not just drinks, but snacking buffets.  We had room to spread out and the congenial atmosphere of the beach bum prevailed, swapping supplies (can I trade you a tequila shot for a few slices of lime?) to a soundtrack of Jimmy Buffet and the Zac Brown Band.  Once you're underway, you'll get live music from talented local musicians the likes of Yancy Clegg (who you can check out here).

The cruise heads up the river to the Georgia border, where a channel between Fort Clinch and Cumberland Island flows into the Atlantic.  Cumberland, a part of Georgia, is the largest of all the barrier islands.  Once the private holiday retreat of the Carnegies, it's now a national park and known for its wild horses, which you'll probably see grazing as you pass by.  The cruise is timed to take in the glorious sunsets of this part of the world, and gets you back to the dock in time for a late dinner at one of Fernandina Beach's many options.

It was a great way to start the annual girls' trip.  Lying ahead:  time in the sun, shopping, fine dining and road trips to St. Augustine and Savannah.  Read on.

Follow these links to stories from my last Floridian trip
Even Disney feels recession, to benefit of guests
Change is subtle, but inevitable, across Disney attractions
Disney dining plan offers great value and holiday cost control