After Mobile, Alabama, and NOLA, the shock of two cities in a row was enough to send us reeling back into no-man’s land. Many countries in Europe, along with certain US states were becoming more locked down by the day. We’d moved on to Texas, actually one of the more open US states, but we thought we’d do a solidarity lockdown for all you girls and boys out there experiencing the same.

True self-isolation for us was at a beach house on the Bolivar Peninsular. Sounds like an exotic elusive Russian hideout but it’s actually on the Gulf Coast. The closest city is Galveston, Texas but that’s so far away we might as well be in Russia.

We’d stocked up with food for the week and with the nearest store about an hour away, we were going nowhere. Anything we forgot, well we’d just have to make do. You’d think milk would be one of those things you wouldn’t forget but sure enough, by day two we were on black coffee.

We experimented throughout the week with almond milk, non-dairy creamer (thoughtfully left in the kitchen cupboard by another visitor who’d no doubt befallen the same fate) and even condensed milk. Which was the outright winner – if you haven’t tried condensed milk in your coffee, do yourself a favor.

The beach house itself was mere steps away from the ocean. The large outside deck with seaview was perfect for working. Well, a bit chilly for me actually, it is December you know.

Even inside, there was no forgetting we were at the beach. Beach house theming on steroids. Generally tastefully done, but this is a mere selection of some of the ocean-themed decor.

The morning walk pictures might feel a bit deja vu. There’s only so many different sunrise shots you can get from walking along a beach very similar to another one a few hundred miles away on the same coast. So after Ocracoke, Hilton Head Island and the Florida pan handle, sorry this is just more of the same.

Breaking it up with some photos from beach walks a little later in the morning.

And then there’s the sunset shots.

Ooh and then it started to get stormy towards the end of the week.

Oh the monotony of lonesome days of beach walks and sunrises, interspersed with work days on video calls, rounded off with home-cooking. Actually, maybe this self-isolating thing isn’t so bad after all.

Tick tock, tick tock. We hit December to find ourselves still over 2,000 miles from home. (Yes, we do have one!). From Mobile, Alabama, we zipped through Mississippi – blinked and almost missed it – to spend a few days in New Orleans, Louisiana. Pronounced with a southern drawl as Nyawlins, or NOLA for short.

The Airbnb we were staying in excelled in eclectic decor and drug-induced Barbie art. Yes really. Darren got some funny looks on Zoom calls where people were trying to read the neon sign behind his head saying “Don’t do coke in the bathroom”. Meanwhile I blurred my background to avoid any questions about Barbie snorting coke or pole dancing. Those exaggerated model facial features, irregular body proportions and pliable limbs were not what you’d call work-appropriate.

Oh and did I mention donuts? Yup, got them here too. Even though New Orleans is famous for beignets, we found a donut shop that was out of this world.

You can’t do Nyawlins without hitting up Bourbon street in the French Quarter. With neon lights, thumping music, and people wandering around with “to go” cups of fluorescent cocktails, it embodies the life and soul of a party city. Here, the raucous revelry never stops. Although I have to say it was somewhat muted by COVID, a little quieter than normal.

That was until we came across the wedding party. While many a wedding has been impacted by COVID this year, it wasn’t going to stop this couple, drinks in hand and brass band procession behind. We wished them well and gave them a wide berth.

We skirted the indoor bars in favor of patios, courtyards and balconies. Which made for a chilly date night!

Gotta love the cute houses here, complemented by tasteful Christmas decor.

But there’s nothing that captures the feel of a place more than wandering around the local neighborhoods. Election fever and all that nonsense was over… but Trump still wasn’t budging.

So a local resident went in a different direction. My hero.

If you told me a year ago I’d be camping in Alabama right now, after expressing a scoff of disbelief, I might have said, so where’s Alabama? Well some of Alabama skirts the Gulf coast to the west of Florida, with no noticeable difference as we transitioned states, lots of beach and swampy forest. Mind you, didn’t see any bears.

We overnighted at Gulf State Park on the coast and squeezed a bike ride in along their impressive miles of bike paths. Saw alligator number two but it didn’t do much, like a waxwork version.

There were signs informing that in addition to Not Feeding the alligators, you should also Not Aggravate them. I wondered who in their right mind would aggravate an alligator. Until I’d stood watching and waiting for it to do something for what felt like an age. To do something, anything – open its eyes, move a bit, twitch. Nothing. Even I was kind of tempted to toss a little pebble in the creek to get some sort of reaction. I reluctantly figured that could be counted as aggravation and restrained myself. I guess they do need that sign after all.

Overnight and all through the next day came the forewarned deluge of rain. You’ve gotta remember, the BaseCamp is a SoCal girl through and through, barely even knows what rain is. So she panicked and wet herself. Well, we had a couple of minor leakage issues. Nothing that couldn’t be sorted with some carefully placed tape.

Worse still, we had to relocate to our next campsite, luckily only a few hours away in Mobile, but not a lot of fun in heavy rain – windscreen wipers going ten to the dozen, slick roads and puddles galore.

Let’s get one thing straight about Mobile, Alabama. It’s not pronounced ‘MO-byle’ (per the Brits) or ‘MO-bull’ (per the Americans), like when talking about a cellphone. Those in the know go with ‘mo-BEEL’, emphasis firmly placed on the second syllable. Who knew?

I’m sure by now you don’t need me to go into this, but Mobile had a co-working space and a brewery.

Not only did Mobile serve as a reminder as to how good donuts can be, it is also the home of the USS Alabama, a retired yet still very imposing World War II battleship. I’m not an expert. My takeaway: it’s grey and full of guns. But it was also way cooler than I thought. Especially after being inside its neighboring sidekick, the USS Drum submarine. I’m not even claustrophobic but how could being in a submarine at war not be one of the most terrifying things ever? Bet they didn’t get donuts either.

So we went all the way to Florida and didn’t even see Mickey Mouse. Ah, not really the year for it. But way better than Mickey, we got to meet up with our long time friends Jim and Sam who live in Florida. They drove 450 miles all the way up from Fort Lauderdale to spend a few pre-Thanksgiving days with us in the Florida pan handle. And what a few days it was 🙂

Let’s set the scene… a waterfront location middle of nowhereville, an Airbnb beach house on stilts, and toys to play with – aka a two person canoe and a couple of single kayaks.

We started the proceedings with a leisurely morning jaunt out into the waters of the Gulf and into the meandering swampy canals. Lots of fish and even hermit crabs, very cool; luckily no alligators.

I was in a single kayak and although I started out strong, the longer we carried on, I became abashed at my skills to be able control the damn thing. Round and round in circles, ramming into the banks, my headstrong kayak had a mind of its own. Embarrassed nay appalled, I had to resort to begging Darren & Sam, smug and dry in the canoe, for a tow on the way back. My tail between my legs, I was thinking all this time I never did pull my weight on our double kayak adventures over the years. Back in my box.

Still, we ate and drank ourselves through the next few days. Such good food, all home cooked. Not to mention the brunches punching above their weight, bonus points for Bloody Marys. Speaking of the drink situation… Ya know, different people have different tastes. That’s ok. The fridge speaks for itself.

Thanksgiving to us is Friendsgiving. We did our best to pull in the rest of the wolf pack over the weekend. We love you guys!

And then Darren introduced me to the sunset boat experience. He took me out in the canoe, so leisurely and relaxed, a beer and a sunset to die for! OK, need to persuade the others for a repeat the next evening.

The next evening came around and there was a bit of shuffling and decision-making about who would go in which water craft. A bit miffed after my very poor morning kayak endeavor, I reluctantly agreed to try the other kayak. So yay, all four of us headed out on the water.

These are the moments you remember :-). Apologies for the number of pictures but actually no, I’m not sorry, we had such a ball this has gotta be remembered, commemorated, set in stone. We took a few beers along and we embraced the elements… the calm waters, the setting sun, and a sense of tranquility and freedom that comes from being alone yet together, not another soul around.

As we started the return paddle from the Gulf waters back to base, the fading light gave rise to a building sense of urgency. We hadn’t really intended to be out so long, certainly not after dark. But this time it wasn’t me going round in circles, it was Jim in the other kayak. C’mon Jim, keep up!

We zigzagged slowly back. Safe and sound, warm and dry back at base, we inspected the suspect kayak. Turns out there was a loose plug letting in water affecting its buoyancy and directional ability. Both Jim and I are officially redeemed!

Quite honestly, the rest of our week’s vacation could not quite match up to those first few days. We had to recover for a start.

We spent out the rest of our week’s holiday camping and relaxing by the beach, thankful for some time out.

As we mooched along the Gulf coast slowly working our way westward, there we were driving along the highway… and a BEAR ran across the road in front of us. I kid you not. A big hairy black bear. Stunned doesn’t quite cut it, I was gobsmacked. I literally thought it must have escaped from a zoo. I mean a bear in Florida? You don’t get wild bears in Florida. You know nothing Heather Hamilton. I googled it and sure enough, you do. So no Mickey Mouse for us in Florida, but I’ll make do with a Baloo!

Missing the ocean already after just a week inland, so after Savannah Georgia, we popped back to the east coast for a week. This time Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. No ferry required for this one, the island has been accessible by bridge since the 1950s.

Hilton Head is known for its incredible beaches, world class golf courses and mile upon mile of bike paths. It regularly ranks amongst the top spots for Best Island in the US, right up there with the Hawaii big boys. (I could be biased but think the voters might not have been to Ocracoke.)

First thing we did after setting up camp was to explore the island. We pointed at what looked to be a good spot on the map and headed there. With still five miles to go to drive to Harbour Town, we rounded a corner and came upon a gated entrance spanning the entire road. I got a raised eyebrow look from Darren and I pointed ineffectually at the iPhone which in its wisdom had directed us this way. All I could think was thank god we weren’t towing the Basecamp, it doesn’t excel at u-turns.

We really had no option other than to approach the barrier and mumble our apologies. Terribly sorry, we explained we were lost trying to find the lighthouse. With a self-assured grin, the lascivious gatekeeper advised us that indeed we were on the correct road and it would cost a mere $9 to enter Sea Pines Plantation. Ker-ching! Turns out the whole south western tip of the island, which encompasses more than 5,000 acres including Harbour Town is behind this facade. With a bit more research, we learned approximately 70% of the island is located inside gated communities.

Having parked up, we mooched around the marina to the candy striped lighthouse in Harbour Town. Only to learn it has never even been a proper functioning lighthouse – it was built as a tourist attraction and gift shop. WTF, it’s more smoke and mirrors than the Wizard of Oz.

One of the highlights of Hilton Head for us had to be our waterfront camp spot. Blanketed by lush vegetation giving us privacy from neighboring sites, it overlooked a marina and even had a little wooden deck, a perfect spot for BBQing. And wildlife watching. Even working.

But our main office for the week was the rather grand sounding Executive Suites, in which we both had our own offices. Going up in the world you might say 🙂 Ah, not so much. The offices might have been grand in the seventies… but there they had stayed. Proper old school.

Our pre-work morning recreation included rather blustery walks along the beach, in addition to checking out Pinkney refuge national wildlife reserve.

We didn’t get chance to check out those many miles of bike paths during the week, so we extended our stay on Hilton Head an extra night and out came the bikes.

We ignored the ‘Exclusive use of residents and guests’ signs and cheekily tailgated another couple riding on the bike path into a gated community. We cruised through the perfectly manicured and very posh Shipyard golf estate with a shameless grin borne from a misplaced sense of achievement. Nice of them to lay on the Disney features… a turtle strategically placed for photos by the lake. And an alligator (albeit a small one) lazily traversing the deeper waters.

All the best routes lead to the beach. We emerged from the rolling emerald expanse of fairytale telly tubby land to the golden white sand of Forest beach. Sand so hard packed you could ride on it. Admittedly, not the easiest of rides but so exhilarating to feel the wind in your hair, the sun on your back and the waves crashing alongside you.

And then like an oasis appearing in the desert, we spied a tiki style bar. All colorful wood, palm trees and a laid back reggae vibe. I heard the rewarding pfschhhh sound of a can of beer opening. And with my can of tropical lager in hand and view of the beach, it was then I remembered we’d taken the following week off work. What a perfect way to start the holiday.