Eric and I drove down to Florida for a mini-vacation/camping trip last weekend.
We lunched in Savannah, got eaten alive by "No-see-ums," drove past Disney World and Dinosaur World (!!!), went to an airshow, danced at a REAL club (like the kind you see in the movies with confetti raining from the ceiling), saw Eric's friend Josh in Gainsville and picked strawberries, among other things.
On the first night, we stayed in Cape Canaveral National Park. Our campsite was located on an island in a lagoon and the only way to get to it was by canoe. We were to only people we saw. We had the island to ourselves. It was sick.
On our way to the island, a man in a kayak paddled up to us and said "Hey, do you want a fresh fish for dinner?" and then he handed us over a decent size trout.
Major Score. Direct Hit.
We were thrilled to have a fish.
But then we had to call Eric's sister Christine, and ask her to google "How to gut a fish" for us. We're fish n00bs. It didn't go well.
But Eric ate it any way.
Not really. We abandoned the fish as dusk arrived and with it, approximately 100,000,000 little gnats biting the snot out of us and infiltrating our eyes and noses. I'm still scratching those dang bites.
It is a reeeeaaaalllly sweet spot though, and apparently the bugs aren't bad from October to March. During the summer, however, it's name is Mosquito Lagoon. I shudder to think of it.
The best part of this post? your shirt.
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