I love the name of our location. It’s as if a group of people identified a body of water but just could not agree what it was — a pond, a lake, an ocean? Hey, let’s cover all the bases! We camped at Ocean Pond Campground in Osceola National Forest for a couple of weeks, enjoying a slow pace and the lovely, if not lively, campground.
We were as far deep in the south as you can get. The local culture in any lower latitudes is diffused by the influx of outsiders like ourselves. The campground was filled mostly with locals who unfailingly refer to us as “ma’am” and “sir”, a courtesy I keep forgetting to extend. There are other clear signs we are in the South. Most pieces of road structure, including highways, bridges, intersections and even one culvert, are dedicated to someone with 3-4 names strung together I would not want to be the local mapmaker, trying to squeeze onto the map “Gail Marie Tillergirl Klosterman Canal”.
The other favorite naming scheme here consists of any animal plus “Trot”. My favorite local street is “Possum Trot”, I’d like to live on Possum Trot. We’ve also seen some geographic features named after critters we can’t identify. After crossing “Cathead Creek”, I wondered if Cathead was a type of fish or a decapitated household pet.
We also see some food items advertised that we’ve never tasted, like “boiled p–nuts”, the “e” and the “a” always replaced by dashes. We need to stop and find out if they are boiled in the shell or out, served hot or cold. And my favorite indication we’re in the south? The local convenience store advertises GIZZARDS for sale far more prominently than PIZZA. Anyone remember eating Gizzards ala King as a child?
Hurricane Hermine passed through the campground in September, uprooting this large pine tree in the campsite across from us. The $30,000 boat that was sitting on the apron despite an evacuation order neatly prevented the pine tree from toppling all the way over. I wonder if the guy’s insurance paid for replacing the totaled boat.
Greg has become fascinated with the amount of firewood being consumed here. The locals acquire, split, and burn great quantities of firewood. “Farwood” I’m now saying, my brain already starting to acquire the local accent. Even though the temps have been near 80 every day we’ve been here, the campfires are started at dawn and kept burning after retiring for the night. Perhaps it keeps the alligators away.
Where Are GnG? 