In Memoriam

When I rolled into Florida three months ago, I had a brief stop in Sebastian. Much to my dismay, I had to choose a room because my favorite place to camp was closed and I was unable to reach a soul by phone. Naturally, on my first day, I biked to the nearby State Park to inquire, then left optimistic that I'd return to my home-away-from-home on the Inlet.

As the story goes, the contractor managing the Marina and other related properties, simply walked away. New proposals were in hand and yes, the campground would reopen, too. In January, I tried to get a spot but “this number is not in service” was still the only response. So, once again, I booked a room in the town of Sebastian, then spoke with a Ranger by phone:

R: We are going to open the campground again at the Marina but I don’t think it will be before April or May.
Me: Oh, I’m sorry to say that I’ll miss this wonderful place this year. I’ve been visiting for about a dozen years and I just love it.
R: Well, we hope you’ll be back. We’re changing things up a bit and offering Glamping.
Me: What? No. No. No. (in a whiny voice)
R: Oh, let me tell you about it.
Me: No. (Click.)

If we’ve connected during the past decade, you’re aware of how happy I've been to live in my tent on Sebastian Inlet with the sunrise oceanside and the sunset on the bay. I have hundreds of photos and tales to tell of this special place. It’s where I fell in love with living outdoors.

Honestly, I will be going through the five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance – and I’m holding on to the second stage as long as possible. You’ve now been forewarned.

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