Having started a slow cadence of travel when we could arrange child care and time off from work, we approached the end of 2011 and started checking calendars. Schedules being what they were, it turned out that children would be cared for during the New Year’s holiday., and we considered the possibility to get out of town for a few days. So, where to? The West Coast would involve a lengthy flights, the Midwest at the time didn’t seem particularly interesting (at least the parts within driving distance), and we’d already been to Arkansas, New Mexico and chunks of east Texas. Scanning the maps of the east coast, we spotted Savannah, tucked into the tall pines trees and coastal swamps and fields of southeast Georgia. The city itself is not directly on the coast, but its proximity to the Atlantic would allow for some time on the beach, the city history looked interesting, and neither of us had ever been there. Savannah it was.

Friday 2011 12 30

Being new to the logistics of airplane travel, finding and reserving properties (this was still back in the days when VRBO and HomeAway were taking over the random bed-and-breakfast websites of the 2000’s), sorting out rental cars, and keeping all that in order were new. After a couple of tries, we found a house out on Wilmington Island, halfway between downtown Savannah and Tybee Island. This seemed like an acceptable compromise, and was going to be significantly cheaper than plopping ourselves down in the middle of the city.

Airline tickets acquired, we had to catch a late flight out of DFW on a 4-seat-wide regional jet, which put us on the ground in Savannah well into the evening. Rental car acquired and no luggage misplaced, we looked at the map and determined it would be entirely reasonable to stop in downtown Savannah for the first order of business: drinks. Parking was surprisingly easy for a popular urban area, and we were glad to be in a historic downtown that looked walkable. Even in December, the weather was warm, which meant an enjoyable evening out.

Finding a promising restaurant, we sat down for drinks and dinner. Somehow (despite our generally antisocial tendencies) we happened to get caught up in a casual conversation with two twenty-somethings next to us. Conversation led to the “where are you from?” theme, to which we responded we’d flown in from Dallas for New Years in Savannah. The confused deer-in-the-headlights expressions were amusing. “You could have flown anywhere.” one said slowly, still processing the information. “And you came HERE? To Savannah?” Well into our beverages, we nodded a bit slowly and went back to our evening. We guessed that their cohort might be the type to believe a “vacation” would involve somewhere exotic like Cancun, where drinking, dancing at Senor Frog’s and dinner at Chili’s would be on the agenda. Keeping our judgmental opinions to ourselves, we wrapped up our meal and drinks, left the confused locals at the bar, and resumed our walk through the city.

While the twenty-something locals might be unimpressed with their historic location in the south, we were intrigued. Savannah is the filming location for parts of Forrest Gump, providing a perfect backdrop for Mr. Hanks and his box of chocolate to chat with strangers on a bench. There were several other notable movies filmed in the area, including Glory and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. The city is one of the oldest in the south, full of historic buildings and cemeteries, and being a port city, a feel in spots almost like New Orleans. The center of the city is laid out around a succession of squares, with cobbled brick streets lined with residences and businesses alike, immense trees providing shade for monuments and park benches and homeless people, and that weirdly Southern reminder that most of the fading wealth and opulence on display was built on the back of a slave labor economy.

Having discovered that Savannah (unlike Texas) allows customers to take beverages from bars into the street (freedom?), we took advantage of that while snapping pictures of historic churches, random knicknack shops, pizza boxes, and fountains. Finally, in the early hours of Saturday morning, we decided it was time to sleep off travel and booze. Fortunately, the drive to Wilmington Island was short – we successfully navigated to our HomeAway rental, and finding way more space than we actually needed, collapsed into bed.

Saturday 2011 12 31

Blinking and yawning as we explored our rental in the daylight, the choice of a suburb on an island seemed pretty solid. Minimal traffic noise, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood – coffee on the back porch and a short walk outside perked us up a bit. Daylight showed a much more familiar view of the town – streets lined with with moss-draped oaks and magnolias, palm trees interspersed, their branches hanging lazily over minimal traffic and pedestrians.

While there’s traffic in Savannah proper, the city and area as a whole are very pedestrian-friendly. That and the moderate climate were a nice change from the jam and panic of DFW.

After a late and relaxing start, we looked at the map and saw a short drive to the beach. Navigating towards Tybee Island across the maze of coastal wetlands, we looked up some history while noting restaurants and trails scattered along the road. The island and the river channels to the north have a long history of military battles. Originally held by the British, the island was taken when French and US troops removed them in 1779. During the War of 1812, the Tybee Island Lighthouse was used to signal pending attacks by the British. In the Civil War, nearby Fort Pulaski proved ineffective against long-range cannon fire and fell to the Union army in 1862.

It wasn’t until the years following the Civil War that the island began to attract summer tourists. Vacation homes and the businesses supporting vacation life grew up along the beaches, turning the island from a military outpost to a popular destination over the years.

Miles of clean beaches and swimmer-friendly (although pretty damn cold in December) water surround a cute little town with cottages and a variety of dining establishments and shops. Combined with the historical interests, it was easy to see why this would be a popular destination.

Skipping the coastal fort for the moment, we parked and walked over to the lighthouse and historical park surrounding it. Given a holiday weekend, the crowds were not terrible, so we lined up for the view from the top.

While we waited in the small anteroom at the base, we read that this was the oldest lighthouse in Georgia, having been built in the early 1700’s. A challenging (for slightly hungover Texas tourists) spiral staircase took us up the dimly lit tower, past variably well-behaved fellow tourists, finally stepping out on a creaky, questionably sound catwalk at the top.

The views from the top were definitely worth the wait, crowds, and climb. Working our way back down, we took a short turn around the historic village, and determined it was time to cure our hangovers. A beach-side grill near the Tybee Island Museum provided grilled fish sandwiches and beverages, equipping us for our first walk on the beach.

This was the first time seeing the Atlantic for one of us, and there’s always a thrill being at land’s end – the sheer scope and scale of the ocean requires some internal calibration. The Atlantic off Tybee is not the dynamic monster that we’d see years later in California, but knowing the next land to the east was Africa was enough to impress.

Stripping off our shoes and putting bare feet into the frigid water, we figured out that a December swim was not in the cards for these adults. A nearby wooden swing in the warm sunshine sounded a lot better so we parked our woozy selves there to watch the crowds. We were not disappointed – a short time after sitting down, we watched a troop of college students on break go stomping over the dunes, body boards and towels in hand. Evidently, someone was going to test that water out. The screams that emerged shortly after confirmed that youth and bravado don’t necessarily block the shock of 55F seawater on skin.

Having soaked up some sunshine, we decided to explore further down the coast into Tybee. Sadly, American tourist culture seems to have little appreciation for coastal places that aren’t covered in cramped resort rooms, lined with bars, and patrolled by cars, motorcycles, and thudding stereos. Having seen that southern Tybee matches that description, we decided to head back into Savannah for the afternoon and evening.

On the way home, we spotted the sign for Fort Pulaski National Monument, which we’d read about back at the lighthouse on Tybee. Going over a short bridge over the Savannah River channel, we arrived just in time to see the rangers lock the doors. Dodging a few deer on the way out, we marked the fort for a future visit, and continued on our search for food and beverage.

A short break at the house gave us time to formulate plan to watch New Years arrive on the beach at Tybee, but that left us with several hours to fill. The evening led us to a fun dive bar sitting out in the swamp off US 80 – The Crab Shack . Surrounded by alligator ponds, covered in Spanish moss and beach decor, it has a definite coastal southern vibe. We worked our way inside and were seated at a table with hole in the middle for tossing leftover crawfish and crab parts and corn cobs into. We opted for food that required less disassembly and some bottles of beer that we did feed to the trash bin. Having burned an hour or two, it was time to hit the beach.

Having scouted the beach earlier in the day, we were able to park and find our way back to our porch swing. Given the large number of bars further down Tybee and in downtown Savannah, the beach was deserted, quiet, and amazingly peaceful. We were treated to a few random sparklers and bottle rockets launched off a porch further down the beach, but otherwise it was us, the sand, waves, and a mild breeze. Looking back inland, an orange half moon was descending through drifting fog and the Tybee Lighthouse. Our first New Years Eve together wrapped up as 2011 turned into 2012. An uneventful drive home was the right way to start the year.

Sunday 2012 01 01

We suspected Saturday’s activities would possibly impair our ability to function on Sunday morning, and we were at least partly right. Having committed to watch the sun rise on the beach, we wrenched our hungover selves out of bed to stop the alarm. Dressed and equipped with strong coffee, we set off toward the coast. Without a doubt, it was worth the trouble. The nearly empty beach welcomed us back to our swing chair, and we sat quietly to observe nature doing its thing.

It was the perfect way to start the year. After the sun was fully in the sky and our cups of coffee empty, we hoped to find food to alleviate pounding heads and get the day moving. We’re fairly certain we ended up at the Sunrise Restaurant and this picture of a mountain of bacon is about as focused as our eyes were capable of:

Having accomplished sunrise and fat + caffeine intake, it was time to explore. Working our way back over the marshland between Tybee and Savannah, we determined parking near downtown and walking would be the best way to see the city. This led us down the hill to River Street, a recently refurbished part of the city that borders on the Savannah River. The area has been modernized recently, with converted cotton warehouses, art galleries, and bars. For years the city depended on the port along the river to export and import goods, mainly cotton, and there are buildings here first constructed as early as the 1700’s.

Near the riverwalk you’ll find this series of concrete and iron walkways, which connect the buildings to the bluff. These walkways are actually are part of both Factors Row and the Factors Walk. A bizarre name, but not without meaning. In the 1700s, the folks who set prices for cotton and many other exports spent a lot of time around this port, and at some point they were called “Factors”. For their important work back then, their profession is honored with walkways, websites, and we’re sure somewhere, a bumper sticker. Seems fair. We wondered if there would be a bridge two hundred years in the future referred to as “System Engineer” …

Exercise achieved, and tired of walking and photographing, we settled down with drinks at a second floor balcony table (reached by climbing a dark and skinny stair) in one of the former cotton warehouses. Now we could just work on drinking and photographing, which seemed a lot less tiring …

New Year’s Day is evidently a popular day to visit the riverwalk, so there was a lot of crowd to watch. “See, twenty-something locals?” we thought, “Other people make this a destination point, too!”

The hand-laid cobblestone that lines the road next to the river is a collection of stones from all over the place. When ships would stop to unload their goods into the harbor, they would deposit the ballast stones from their ship’s holds along the riverfront. When it was time to pave the roads, voila! The perfect material was readily available.

After a few more beverages and being noticed by too many pedestrians, we paid the bill and directed ourselves towards those historic squares in the center of town. Having seen multiple nerds out and about on Segways, we thought that rather than join them, we should get bikes to roll around on. Either a Google search or an old-school “look around the area” approach got us to Sekka Bikes. Lack of planning here would eventually get back to us, but for now, we had wheels! Freed from the limitations of hoofing it like hoboes, we were able to accelerate travel from park to drinking spot to park to drinking spot to ….

The evening slowly faded into night and a fuzzy blur that thankfully did not end up with arrests, accidents, or other untoward incidents. We of course had to find food, so at some point we visited The Mellow Mushroom. The interior decor perfectly aligned with our mental state, and the food was probably a good idea having possibly lost count of the mixed beverages consumed since midday. Further riding and wandering back and forth across the Savannah historic district led us to The Sixpence Pub, which based on the crowd and wide selection of flags, promised a relaxed and accepting stop for intoxicated Texans.

Remembering that unlike Texas, Savannahans (I believe that is a made-up word) are allowed to carry their beverages out of doors, between bars, and wherever else they want to. One of us took this to the next level, hopping back on the bikes with portable beer in hand, only to be advised that was “driving while intoxicated” by locals who were still amused by Texan antics. Only losing half of the beverage in question, we rode off into the night as a cold rain started splashing through the trees on us. Evidently God had decided we’d had enough, so we hurried to Sekka Bikes, arriving to find (of course) that 11PM was probably too late to check them in. Given a tiny sedan for a rental car, 10 miles to get back to our rental house, and no bike rack, we were left with the questionably wise option of chaining the bikes to what we hoped was a firmly attached post out front. This effort, followed by a short and terse call to the shop owner (remember, 11PM on New Years Day), wrapped up the day. Getting to the house, it was time for much-needed sleep.

Monday 2012 01 02

As the sun rose over Wilmington, we realized our trip was almost over. While we forced ourselves to wake up and brew coffee, we attempted to recall the previous night’s adventures. Beer on bikes, riding over cobblestone roads, through a graveyard, in the dark, and the rain? Something like that. After packing and locking up our house, we got back to Broughton Street to find (thankfully) our rented bikes weren’t stolen in the night. Returning them to some moderately aggravated shop attendants, we slunk out the door to get carbohydrates and fat to buffer our dehydrated brains.

Checking the clock and still not 100% on the ball in terms of scheduling, one of us thought we’d have time to tour a last graveyard. Brain finally engaged, we realized it was (past) time to get to airport. Risking conversation with a Georgia state trooper, we arrived in time to fuel our rental car and sprint to the terminal. Breathing a sigh of relief at clearing security, we ran to the gate, watching the last passengers board. Feeling lighter than expected, one of us realized he’d left his bag at the security checkpoint. Sprint back to security, grab bag, wave boarding pass at gate attendant, and we somehow had avoided missing our afternoon flight home (with the bonus of being that annoying person who holds up the whole flight by being the last one on board).

Despite the chaotic dash to catch the flight home, and the excessive alcohol intake which required (as usual) days of recovery time, Savannah turned out be an excellent choice for a getaway. A model for our future trips together, we explored a new area of the country, saw the Atlantic, watched a New Year roll in, comported ourselves like the intoxicated Texans we were, and combined great food, history, and bicycling with some pretty amazing photos which would hang on our walls for years to come. The locals were wrong. Very, very wrong.