By GEORGE FJELD
Cortez, Florida is a former Portuguese fishing village that I’ve been visiting for 50 years originally to see my grandparents and, now, my mom. Although Bradenton is where Mom lives now, Cortez is my connection to the area. My grandparents ran a small motel on the main road here back in the 1960s. It led to the bridge over to the now-famous vacation spot, Anna Maria Island. Cortez was a sleepy place with a lot of little houses with boats in the yard. The docks were a few blocks away with many commercial fishing boats coming and going from the wharf I visited with my grandfather back in the day. Presently, we’ve been going to an amazing seafood restaurant called Star Fish Company at the site of one of those docks. Set on the waterside of an old warehouse, it is an open-air restaurant where you order at the bar and sit at a dockside picnic table until they bring your fresh-caught and cooked meal out to you in a box. Grouper, shrimp, clams, oysters, and scallops highlight the menu with hush puppies, french fries, and coleslaw on the side. You share the space with plenty of pelicans hoping for a handout. On this visit, Mom, Carol, and I shared a great meal there again.
Carol and I, with Bean in tow, left Cortez the next day, headed for more adventures along the Gulf coast. “The Redneck Riviera” is what they call the coast of the Florida panhandle along the Gulf of Mexico. It’s the closest saltwater to a lot of the southern states from Kentucky and Tennessee to Arkansas and Missouri. Right on that water we found the Ho-Hum RV Park which had all we needed: quiet, water, and a view. And nothing else. I mean nothing else. Unless you count the tiny clubroom with a TV and a card table. We did have a full hookup with water, sewer, and electricity which made this one of the more comfortable stops in our long trip. There was some entertainment as well. A woman from Vermont was working there managing the campground, and she was a blur of activity. Buzzing around in a golf cart, she never stopped working or talking. We quickly found out she had spent her career in the military and now travels about with her partner, pulling 3-6 month stints managing private campgrounds. I have to admit the place was really clean. Even after the bear raided the dumpster! We didn’t see him, but I had been walking in that area the night he made his visit.
But I digress. It was the view that had us. Sitting at the camper with the Gulf shore 50 feet away was truly special. It was warm but not hot. There was a light breeze off the water. And there was fishing! Most folks walked out the 250-foot pier and soaked bait. It wasn’t exactly productive, mostly because of the 5-foot blacktip shark that was circling around and around and around. He kept close to the pier and did manage to snatch a couple of fish that anglers were able to hook. The shark, I’m sure, enjoyed the free meal. I decided to wet my ankles and headed down to the beach, fishing rod in hand and a bag of plugs on my hip. You must understand that I’m not much of a bait fisherman. I really like fooling a fish with an imitation. Soon, I noticed a few mullet leaping clear of the water, as is their habit. But it wasn’t because they were being chased by bigger fish. At least not that afternoon. I surprisingly caught one skate but returned empty-handed. Well, maybe they’ll be biting after dinner.
While I was fishing, Carol decided to go for a hike. She was going to see if there was an overlook to get a bigger view of the water and coast. However the “ridge” that she hiked was barely 15’ above sea level. The trees were 20-30 feet tall. Disappointingly, there was NO VIEW from there. But there were warnings about snakes! Carol kept Milo on the leash and in the middle of the trail. No serpentine encounters were reported thankfully.
This stretch of the Gulf Coast is sparsely populated and has a few small towns. One of them is called Apalachicola (apa-lacha-cola), the pearl of Apalachicola Bay. There, we were hunting for the Hole in the Wall Seafood company but found the Oyster City Brewing Company. Luckily we didn’t end up at the Up to No Good Tavern. After a couple of local IPA’s, we ate dinner at The Station Raw Bar, coincidentally set in an old gas station. The beer was good and the seafood fresh, and no, they didn’t pour the beer from the old gas pumps.
Back at the Ho-Hum RV Park, the sun was setting and the fish were calling. I waded down to the beach again and after multitudinous casts, I got a bite. A lively battle ensued and I landed a large weakfish, also known as a speckled sea trout. Now I knew which fresh seafood was on the menu for the next night. I cleaned the fish on the pier and fed the guts to the shark, or the crabs, whoever got to it first.
Time to hear from Bean: This is GREAT! Lovely traveling, fabulous campground, and no dirt! Well, some sand but it was dry and firm. It was great to have neighbors and a fresh breeze. I love being by the water even more than the jungle we were in a few days ago. Things are going smoothly with plenty of sunshine to charge my batteries and full hookups to clean me out if you know what I mean! I heard some loud noises and grunting over by the dumpsters last night. I don’t know what it was but it never came over here. I tell you, this is so much fun, I hope we can do it forever.
