Want to learn more about this special stretch of land on the Gulf of Mexico, start with:
The Rise and Decline of the Redneck Riviera, Dr. Harvey Jackson III, Eminent Scholar in History at Jacksonville State University, writes fondly of the area, looking at the area during its boom times in the 1950s and 1960s, its devastation from storms during the '60s and '70s, its takeover by high rises in the '80s, and the area as it is today.
According to Ray Hartwell in his May 2012 article, Where Redneckery Thrives,
"Whether or not you have an attachment to the Gulf Coast, you'll find much that is interesting and entertaining in The Rise and Decline of the Redneck Riviera. Mr. Jackson takes us from the prewar days of the 1920s and 1930s through World War II and the region's rise as a middle-class vacation destination and on across decades of development and hurricane-wrought devastation to the aftermath of the Deepwater Horizon oil spill."
In her article, Heaven is a Picket Fence written in 2006, Brit Fiona Barton tells of her road trip across the
Fl Panhandle. Here are as few of her excerpts:
" St Joseph's Peninsula State Park where its wild beach, blindingly white sand and aquamarine sea are all ours. Named America's top beach in 2002, it is living up to its title. There are no concessions, no sun loungers, no frills. Just us, bobbing in the clear waters.
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The Panhandle - a sliver of coastline sandwiched between Alabama, Georgia and the Gulf of Mexico - is nicknamed the Redneck Riviera by some and the Emerald Coast by others.
In the fishing port of Apalachicola, the authorities have just installed the first traffic light.
'It's got three colours,' says Shelley, barmaid at the Gibson Inn, a wonderfully restored Victorian hotel with a tin roof and claw-foot baths.
'Only, no one knows what to do, so they all run right through it.' By day, we lounge on the stunning St George's Island, a barrier island surrounded by green, glassy sea and patrolled by two dolphins.
First stop is Steinhatchee on the Big Bend, the sweep of coast that joins the Florida peninsula to the Panhandle. It is, some say, the last fishing village in Florida.
The slow pace of the small resort - Victorian- style cottages with shaded porches - suits our jetlag and we spend two days drifting about before setting off in earnest.
WE MAKE for Wakulla Springs, one of the world's oldest and deepest natural springs, developed in the 1930s and used as a film set by Johnny Weissmuller in his Tarzan days.
But we decide against taking the plunge ourselves. Chief among the objections is the freezing temperature of the water - and lurking alligators.
Instead, we cruise on a flatbottomed-boat, spotting blue herons, osprey, egrets and coiled snakes in the branches of overhanging trees. The boat suddenly slews to a halt as a vast manatee emerges from underneath us with her calf."
For a deeper look into Steinhatchee, let's share a bit of Chris Sherman's 2011 article No Stein Unturned in Florida Trend.
"Most visitors come to Florida for the sun, but when summer comes shining down, we Floridians crave the shade, skipping the ocean and the gulf and heading instead for riverbanks, lakefronts, bayous and springs, where curtains of Spanish moss provide the sunscreen. The farther away from sun-seekers and the deeper into old Florida, the better.
Few places are as far and deep as Steinhatchee (pronounced "Steenhatchee") in the Big Bend, midway between Apalachicola and old Suwannee River herself, a couple of hours from anywhere and decades closer to the Cracker past of lazy rivers and lazier days. Happily, it's still a largely secret destination, hidden in the shade of the old moss-draped oaks.
Other than fishing, Steinhatchee is made for no-hurry recreation, slow nature walks, sunset watches, canoeing and curled-up reading--and seafood-eating, of the perfectly fried variety, but you won't complain with catch this fresh. Fishing is easy, too, for there are ample fish but rarely too many boats, offshore or in the flats for trout, redfish, grouper and mullet.
Or dipping for scallops--"so easy a child can do it, senior citizens, too," says Capt. Tommy Thompson.
Capt. Tommy is one of Steinhatchee's veteran guides working his skiff, an 18-foot Shipoke flats boat, out of the Sea Hag Marina. "It's a lonesome kind of place," a good thing, good enough that's he's lived here for 15 years. He prefers the skinny water in the back country, although Dead Man's Bay at the mouth of the Steinhatchee River attracts all manner of fish and anglers."
- A watercolor by John White of Monacan Dance
