So making reservations at campgrounds sight-unseen during the high season in Florida is dicey at best. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. We had stayed at several beautiful state parks in Georgia and Florida, some Spartan private RV parks and one ultra-planned community. But we had never pulled into our destination to find what looked like one of those trailer parks in Oklahoma you see on the news when a tornado hits. This place had rusted junky trailers, boats, a front-loader, two or three huge engines on blocks, four or five rusted and moldy-looking “houseboats” and a half dozen or so actual RV’s. And the owner/manager was a chain-smoking, foul-mouthed woman with half her teeth who would get into shouting matches with the tenants.
Speaking of the tenants, I have to admit they were generally very nice but had WAY more than their share of little yapping dogs and looked like this was the last stop on their way to….nowhere. This would have been the trailer park the Joads stopped at on their way to California during the 30s with a big sign that said “Migrant workers welcome—cold beer!”.
On the plus side, the Pelican Cay RV Resort and Marina was situated right on the water with a long dock and surrounded by very picturesque boats. We saw lots of white herons, pelicans and even a couple manatee swam right by us. We actually had a pretty good time there in spite of some of the surroundings and some questionable neighbors. The good thing about RVing is no matter where you are, you can just go into your trailer and you are HOME! And home in the Pelican Cay RV Resort and Marine had pretty nice views of the water and boats from our picture window. And our boys were coming to visit soon!
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