Last week, Bob, Grant, and I took a trip to St. Augustine. Each winter, Bob and I try to get away for a little bit “by ourselves” (Grant was with us internally last year in Savannah, and externally this year). We like to go somewhere warm, and since St. Augustine has been on our list for awhile, we marked our calendars and made it happen. This is typically our big Christmas gift to each other.

We flew out Sunday morning (early) and (after a layover in Atlanta) got to Daytona Beach in the early afternoon. It was a short hour drive along the coast to St. Augustine – the nation’s oldest town populated by Europeans. There are a lot of caveats in there, but everyone is quick to point out it’s the oldest city in America (populated-by-Europeans alloneword). It was, of course, a Native American village for far longer (the Timucuas). St. Augustine was founded partly as a pissing match between France and Spain, as so many things have been. Anyway, Europeans landed and set up camp in 1565, which if you are counting, is 211 years prior to the Declaration of Independence.

We settled into our place, which was on St. George Street. It was sort of perfect, as it was right in the heart of the old city. We could see the old city gates at one end of the street, and we could almost see the Castillo de San Marco (we could see the green space around it). We stayed above a place called Fudge Buckets, which meant I have now heard the phrase “Fudge Buckets” more than I ever expected to in my entire life, as most people who passed beneath the sign, felt compelled to read the sign aloud (and I can’t blame them, it’s a funny thing to say).

On our first evening, we got a glass of wine with some locals at the local wine shop, then had dinner at an outdoor pub – which closed the next day for refurbishment.

The next day, we bought passes for a hop on/off trolley that goes all over the place with narration – the passes were good for 3 days, so the first day, we just rode the entire line, so we could decide what we wanted to see the next day. The only thing I didn’t get photos of was the distillery and winery. We ended up bringing back gin and strong tonic.

Grant looking out the plane window

A private nursing station in the ATL airport

Two pals, on a flight.

Looking out at our balcony

Looking onto St. George Street

Walking around to breakfast

Maple Stree Biscuit Company – I have the mug now

Little tourist

Walking to the Castillo. We saw dolphins in the bay! The bay had been named Dolphin Bay by the natives, until the Spanish slaughtered a bunch of people, and then they renamed it “murder bay”

My boys, by murder bay

The Castillo – it was ordered built by the Spanish queen regent after 9 successive wooden forts were burned to the ground.

Cannons and such

Palms, bay, walls.

A mortar

A lookout

I loved the curve under the stairs

The old city gates

A replica of the Statue of David at Ripley’s

At the Fountain of Youth

I loved the light – outside the springhouse for the Fountain of Youth

That’s it. The fountain.

We drank the gross water.

The Fountain of Youth was lousy with peacocks.

There was a planetarium – we watched the show about how the Spanish used the stars to navigate.

A couple of these pals were roosting.

We couldn’t get nearer this entrance because they were re-pouring the cement.

Ponce de Leon.

My sweetses.

Grant sound asleep after nursing.

The flight home.