The Florida Panhandle stretches along the Gulf of Mexico for nearly 200 miles east of Pensacola, encompassing some of the most popular as well as some of the most unknown beaches in Florida. The section from Pensacola Beach to Mexico Beach, famous for glittering white sand beaches, is lovingly labeled the “Redneck Riviera” by locals, recognizing that many of the crowds that flock to the stunning white beaches come from the Lower South stretching from Louisiana to Georgia. The region continuing past Mexico Beach around to Carabelle is called the Forgotten Coast, a region where, with one glaring exception, the white sand beaches of the Redneck Riveria transition to waves of sawgrass where the gulf merges with the land.
The “Redneck Riviera”
The Redneck Riviera begins south of Pensacola on Santa Rosa Island just east of Fort Pickens. Most of Santa Rosa is contained in the Gulf Islands National Seashore with the exception of the town of Pensacola Beach, a small cluster of condominium towers, beach homes and a small commercial center.
Here is my first glance at an “Alvin’s Island”, which turns out to be a chain of clothing and souvenir stores that dot the Redneck Riviera, always quick to be noticed because the buildings are painted in bright tropical colors.
East of the village center the road is lined with beach homes, many still showing the impact of the direct hit by Hurricane Sally last fall.
My original plan was to drive east the entire length of Santa Rosa Island and cross over the bridge to Navarre but the road is closed due to hurricane damage so I have to backtrack and cross over to the mainland at Pensacola Beach before continuing east along Hwy 98, the main arterial along the Redneck Riviera. Traffic is heavy as we head towards the twin cities of Fort Walton Beach and Destin, nine miles apart at the entrance to Choctawhatchee Bay.
The area around Fort Walton Beach is dominated by the presence of the military, primary at Elgin Airforce Base north of the city. At Fort Walton Beach the highway crosses over to another barrier island, Oskaloosa Island, where the beach is lined with condominium towers and another Alvin’s Island.
To the north views across the bay show homes lining the bay shore.
At the end of Oskaloosa Island another bridge crosses over to the mainland, here represented by a long peninsula that runs west/east between the bay to the north and the Gulf of Mexico to the south. Here is the crown jewel of the Redneck Riveria, Destin.
The tip of the peninsula mirrors the shape of a lobster claw with Destin Harbor nestled between the claws. From atop the bridge the view of the harbor is framed by the condominium towers lining the Gulf of Mexico.
The north side of the harbor is home to HarborWalk, a string of restaurants, bars and shops catering to tourists that stretches along the edge of the marina.
Climbing up to a higher vantage point, the view north is across the bridge towards Elgin Airforce Base on the north side of the bay and south into the “claw” of the lobster, the harbor and condo’s lining the beach between the harbor and the Gulf of Mexico.
Back on Hwy 98, now six lanes of traffic, the drive through Destin takes one through prime tourist country, lined with stores, attractions, and hotels.
Destin is the upscale destination on the Redneck Riviera and even the highway reflects that, landscaped and lined with resorts hiding behind walls and trees. This picture was taken early on a Sunday morning as I ventured out into the more populous areas at a time when traffic might be more manageable.
Why, one might ask, are all these people attracted to this area? After all, despite the impression left by these pictures, the entire time that I was in the Destin area (nearly a week) the temperatures averaged in the low to mid 40’s, rain and drizzle punctuated the days, and the wind blew incessantly. It was COLD out there! Just two blocks south of Hwy 98 behind the wall of condo’s the reason unfolds. It’s all about the beach….
My rv park is only two blocks off the beach, so I bundle up and head out to see what all the excitement is about. Of course, right across from the line of condo towers walling off the beach I pass by another of the ubiquitous Alvin’s Islands.
I walk across the street and look for a way to get to the beach, most of which is hidden behind the resorts. However, every now and then there is a narrow opening in the condo wall allowing public access to the beach.
Once through the gap the beach and the Gulf of Mexico unfold before me. Mind you, it was 41 degrees and the wind was howling so needless to say my Speedo stayed tucked away! Despite the weather, spectacular views unfold in all directions.
The more sophisticated label for the Redneck Riviera is the “Emerald Coast”, named for the stunning color of the ocean as it washes ashore over the crystal white sand. The unique white sand is the result of quartzite rock found far to the north in the Appalachian Mountains which has eroded over eons and flowed south into the Gulf of Mexico. There it meets ocean currents and tides which push the sand back towards the mainland. The result are stunning white sand beaches. The condominium towers tend to be clustered near the harbor, much more typical along the beach is this view showing Scenic Gulf Drive lined with beach homes and small scale condominium complexes.
If it had been 30 degrees warmer I might have lingered longer. Back on Hwy 98 we continue east towards the next larger town, Panama City. The highway cuts inland through the great forests of the south before meeting the ocean again.
Panama City Beach is often featured in stories about college students on spring break and while I see the condo towers above the trees to the south I pass it by and continue east. Panama City, across the bay, is not a tourist destination but rather a working man’s town. As I cross the bay bridge the port at Panama City comes into view to the south.
The highway quickly becomes a rather long mundane stretch of strip malls and dated buildings.
In the hopes of something more interesting I detour into the old downtown area, and find two blocks that preserve some of the historic character that once must have existed.
In fairness to Panama City there may have been more but it seems to me that the pizzazz is probably all back across the bay at Panama City Beach. Leaving Panama City we cross an arm of the bay and descend into Tyndall Airforce Base.
Security is obviously very tight and every exit from the highway is gated. Most of the installation is out of sight but what is glaring apparent is the extent of the base as the forest has been clear-cut in all directions.
Once the forest resumes we quickly come into the town recognized as the east end of the Redneck Riviera, Mexico Beach, or at least what once was Mexico Beach. The town was virtually destroyed by Hurricane Michael in 2018 and has not yet recovered. I really didn’t see any significant sign of any commercial or retail activity, just a couple of small restaurants. Instead what I did see was miles of devastation amidst the hope of reconstruction. The beach, of course, continues to unfold to the south.
East of Mexico Beach the white sand disappears and is replaced by sawgrass and marsh along the shore. The highway skirts Saint Joseph Bay, a large body of water separated from the Gulf of Mexico by a long narrow peninsula which traps the sand off shore. This marks the beginning of the Forgotten Coast.
The Forgotten Coast
The lighthouse at Port St. Joe rises above the forests as they meet the water of Saint Joseph Bay.
Another community extensively damaged by Hurricane Michael in 2018, Port St. Joe began in 1835 as a settlement named Saint Joseph. It was largely abandonded after a serious yellow fever outbreak in 1841 followed by hurricanes in 1843 and 1851 but was reborn in 1909 when the railroad came to the area. A new town was founded and named Port St. Joe. Benefiting from proximity to the vast forests of Northwest Florida, Port St. Joe developed into a paper mill town. Times were good until the mill closed in 1999, half of the town’s population left the area. A symbol of hope and rejuvenation is the Cape San Blas Lighthouse. The first Cape San Blas Lighthouse was built in 1849 out on Cape San Blas on the shore of the Gulf of Mexico. Eroding shorelines and the impact of hurricanes over the years lead to building and rebuilding the lighthouse. The current tower was built in 1885 and moved several times over the years until finding a “permanent” site in 1919. However, erosion continued its’ attack and a storm in 2012 reclaimed the shore forcing the lighthouse to close. In 2014 the lighthouse was moved to a permanent site in Port St. Joe and is now a visitor attraction.
East of Port St. Joe the highway skirts the edges of the tidal marsh bordering Saint Joseph Bay. The narrow peninsula (that eventually will probably erode into a barrier island) that marks the border between the bay and the Gulf of Mexico, is barely visible in the distance.
After the road leaves the shore of the bay we plunge into the dense forest that blankets the land. Traffic has dwindled considerably because this road isn’t on the way to anywhere, you have to want to be going to the Forgotten Coast to be here. It cuts across the point of the “arrow head” that points into the Gulf of Mexico and emerges at the town of Apalachicola.
Apalachicola is nestled on the western bank of the Apalachicola River, which itself forms the western edge of an enormous estuary that spreads to the east. After the Spanish explorer Panfildo de Narvaez first visited the area in 1528 this remote area was seldom visited until 1824 when the small village of Cottonton was founded in the area (primarily as the home of the federal tax collector), later named West Point and finally in 1831 given the name of Apalachicola. Due to the northern reach of the Apalachicola River system deep into Georgia Apalachicola quickly grew into a major port for the interior South. The 1830’s were prosperous times and Apalachicola became the third largest port (after Mobile and New Orleans) along the gulf coast, especially for the shipping of cotton. However the 1840’s were devasting to the town. A series of hurricanes swept through the area, a major fire burned most of the city center to the ground, and the advent of the railroads across the south reduced Apalachicola’s importance as a shipping outlet. The Civil War and Reconstruction period further diminished the town’s economic importance. Today the Apalachicola is a major fishing port, known for oysters and shrimp in particular. The fishing industry, combined with tourism based on the neighboring island of St. George, brings a bit of prosperity to Apalachicola. The bustling small town core features buildings mostly constructed out of brick and many have outlasted fire and hurricanes.
The Apalachicola City Hall is housed in one of the two remaining 1838 cotton warehouses. At one time 43 of these buildings lined the street along the dock. Note the storm shutters.
Water Street stretches south along the river to the docks.
The 1912 Dixie Theater anchors the center of a block. Originally intended for live theater, it became a movie theater which eventually closed in 1967 and today is now a venue for live theater.
The harvesting of sponges was very important to the development of Apalachicola and this building was constructed in 1840 as a warehouse for storing sponges. By the late 1890’s around 100 men worked in the sponge trade.
Of course, the businessmen who profited from all of this trade needed homes and the blocks west of waterfront are lined with early Victorian homes and a few mansions. The Raney House was built in 1838 by David Raney, who made his fortune in the cotton trade.
A couple of blocks to the north on the same street is the Orman House, also built in 1838 by cotton merchant Thomas Orman.
West of the mansions are blocks of Victorian homes, big and small, side by side.
The 1901 First Methodist Church rises above the trees just west of the city center. The original 1846 church and 72 other downtown buildings were destroyed in the great fire of 1900.
Just a block to the west the Trinity Episcopal Church survived the fire. Built in 1838, the church was shipped in sections by boat from West Plains, New York, and assembled using wooden pegs. Nestled in the arms of a giant oak I couldn’t really get a clear picture!
Allegedly the oldest National Guard Armory in the United States, Fort Coombs was completed in 1905 a block west of the city center. The original building was destroyed in the fire of 1900.
Continuing east from Apalachicola the estuary and bay stretch out to the northeast.
Apalachicola was an interesting town to visit but, as is often on my wanderings, the crown jewel of this part of trip was unknowingly beckoning from across the water.
St George Island
A 4-mile long causeway and bridge links the mainland with St George Island, a barrier island that is 28 miles long and only one mile wide at its’ widest point.
The island is essentially divided into three sections: a small center of restaurants, beach homes and businesses; St. George Island State Park on the northern end; and an exclusive, private gated community containing some of the most expensive private homes along the Gulf of Mexico) with its’ own private airstrip (St George Plantation) on the southern end. A lighthouse was first constructed on the island in 1833 and was moved, built and rebuilt a number of times over the ensuing years. The current lighthouse is a reconstruction after the last version collapsed in 2005.
Clustered north of the lighthouse at the foot of the bridge from the mainland is the small commercial center.
A shortage of available land and strict zoning means that there are no highrise condominium developments. There are only two hotels on the island, otherwise the section between the private community and the state park is replete with individual beach houses.
West, between the lighthouse and the private community, the island slightly widens (about three blocks wide). This is clearly the older section of the island.
The beach is lined with private homes but there is lots of space and beach access.
Once on the beach the views are stunning in both directions. Note the lack of people, it was a 70 degree day in the middle of the week.
The road ends at the entrance to the private community (the gate and security guard station are tastefully just out of view around the curve) so we turn around and head northeast to the other end of the island, the state park.
Homes are generally newer this direction, there are more empty lots, and glimpses of the gulf to my right and the mainland to my left begin to occur.
Once in the state park sand begins to encroach upon the pavement and the white sand shimmers under the sunlight.
The road winds through sand dunes until ending at a gate. Access beyond is limited to non-mechanical vehicles.
Joey and I stop for lunch at the end of the road and then I hit the beach. It was a bit breezy but around 70 degrees.
Heading back towards the center of the island I can’t resist stopping one more time to linger on the beach. Dogs are forbidden on the beach so Joey just has to look longingly out the window.
The looming outline of beach houses marks the return to the center of the island and back to the mainland.
Once on the mainland our path again leads northeast as Hwy 98 hugs the coast to Carrabelle. There is no glorious white sandy beach here, all of the sand has been trapped by St George Island offshore.
The Crooked River Lighthouse near Carrabelle marks the end of the Forgotten Coast. It sits across the highway from one of the few sandy beaches I’ve seen since St George island.
This area is of note because during World War II Camp Gordon Johnson nearby was used as an amphibious training base for soldiers who would be disembarking from ships and fighting their way on shore. The base was decommissioned in 1946 and little physical evidence remains.
The Forgotten Coast is certainly memorable!
Next Up: Florida’s Big Bend
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