Day Six: Fort Clinch to Pensacola (Barely)

Let’s start with the good news: Wednesday morning began with the most peaceful and idyllic 5-mile run through Fort Clinch State Park, a little slice of “The Real Florida” at the far northeast corner of the state. The tree canopies hanging with Spanish moss conjured a fairy tale vibe that was “very Disney World,” as Charlotte said, but with real honest-to-God Bambi.

Before saying goodbye, we trekked over to Fort Clinch, a pentagon-shaped fortification built directly on the beach in 1847 and occupied by Confederates during the Civil War. This place was simply incredible: A series of hidden staircases, secret passages, sweeping ocean views, and snapshots of soldier life in the mid-1800s. Mack insisted that we snap photos of the bunks, the quartermaster’s rooms, the latrine, the kitchen and more to share with Mr. Yetter’s class back in Mystic. None of us wanted to leave, but we had a swimming pool waiting for us on a beach near Pensacola, so we circled the horses and headed West.

We made it about 45 minutes down under-construction roads full of potholes and gravel bits before finding our way back to 95. We ramped up the Suburban to 70 mph, and promptly noticed another car honking and waving wildly at us. So we pulled over at the side of an onramp to 295 – cars and trucks whizzing by at 85 mph – and discovered that our rear driver’s side camper tire was totally obliterated. Long story short, we found a local service station to come help us change the tire before making our way to a Jacksonville Tire King for a new spare.

Back on the road 3 hours later, we hoped to make it to Pensacola by 7 pm. Then, around 6:15 on a very dark and desolate stretch of I-10, it happened again. This time the rear passenger tire on the trailer was in tatters. We pulled over and found a local service station, but the wait would be more than an hour. So, with me waving one flashlight like a mad woman and training the other one on our destroyed tire, Jonathan jacked up the trailer, changed the tire, and saved the day. Standing by the side of that busy highway in the dark with a disabled vehicle, two kids, and a dog was one of the more terrifying 45 minutes of my life.

We were all dead tired when we finally pulled in to the Santa Rosa RV Resort at 8:45 pm – nearly 5 hours behind schedule and just after the pool closed, of course. We ate microwaved soup and cookies at our picnic table, admired the dazzling views of the Pensacola skyline across the water, and then dropped our dead-tired bones into bed, hopeful we would make it out of Florida alive the next day.

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