After the Flood, a Rainbow…

We managed to get the RV dried out after the Gypsy-induced flood. Water had cascaded over the cook top for an indefinite amount of time, so winding up with only one inoperable propane burner was a blessing. Everything else was soggy but salvageable.

The ‘rainbow’ is a euphemism for of our relaxing stay on Tybee Island. The weather has been perfect. I have managed to run several miles each morning, exploring the entire region on foot. That sounds impressive, but trust me, the island is small. I don’t run marathons. This barrier isle, known as Savannah’s Beach, does not reflect the genteel nature of the charming, historic district of Georgia’s oldest city. It has some grit. It has a downtown strip with bars and bikers and beach bums. It has hotels, condos and a campground. Yet, most of the island is residential with everything from cottages to castles. There are historic sites. Palm trees, pine trees and southern magnolias, covered with Spanish moss, line the streets.

From the North Beach area you can watch large, ocean-going ships enter and exit the Savannah River. I’m not sure why I find this so fascinating, but I could watch these container ships come and go all day.

The beaches are not dog friendly, but thankfully, there is a dog park at the campground. The locals like to congregate there and discuss Tybee politics and the ”code enforcement gestapo” that patrol the island from golf carts. We learned about the local “dirt” while Gypsy made a bunch of new friends. She was even invited to a dog-birthday-party. Although, it would appear in the photos that she is being viciously attacked, she is truly having a wonderful time romping with Luna, Cesar, Rip and the gang.

During this morning’s run, I stumbled upon a very moving ceremony, commemorating the 20th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. A huge, American flag was slowly unfurled from the top of the historic lighthouse, while a bagpiper, atop the 144 foot tall structure, hauntingly played Amazing Grace and Danny Boy. I paused to reflect and remember the lives lost on that fateful day.

“You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.” — John Kabat-Zinn

We spent the rest of the day watching a surfing competition. The air smelled like Hawaiian Tropic. The emcee was blasting beach music and announcing winners of various divisions. There were finned, long-boards, short boards and body boards. Kids with sun-kissed, bleached blonde hair were catching waves and wiping out. It was like being in a 1960’s beach movie. I expected Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello to wander by singing Beach Blanket Bingo.