TheTraveler

 

Rafts and Alligators - A true tale of “roughing it” in Gulf Shores, Alabama…
By Kathryn D’Imperio

Sometimes it’s funny how a movie can completely change your impression of a location. After countless calls to unwilling hotels and rental properties in Florida, South Carolina and Georgia, our trio of under-25s relented and opted for a completely random and spontaneous decision to the long-awaited Spring Break vacation debate. The movie Sweet Home Alabama inspired us to go where the skies are so blue. And they really are.

In the front passenger seat I sat, for hours, armed with our road-trip-survival-kit—the United States road atlas, a flashlight with fresh batteries, three cases of CDs to entertain us on our lengthy drive, and enough snacks and candy to keep the dentist in business till he retires. It was just after dinnertime as we set out on our great adventure. Pennsylvania flew by in the blink of an eye, as did Maryland and Virginia. The initial portion of the journey was rather uneventful, but we did hit a few bumps in the road as the wee hours of the morning approached.

Few vehicles accompanied us on the highway except for tractor-trailers laboring away with their shipments. It was one of these trucks that my roommate Rachel decided to pass—around a curve. As she floored it alongside the truck, I caught sight of a sign alerting us to the sharp bend in the road. I tried to warn her, but it seemed too late. Our vehicles were vying for the same road space and everything became a slow-motion blur.

A near miss with the speeding truck caused a frantic scramble and slamming of breaks to avoid collision, which caused a heaping paper bag containing groceries and snacks to tumble to the front. Whap! It landed topsy-turvy right in between Rachel and me. In its course forward, the bag actually flung the shifter into neutral, sending the two of us into a panic so loud that it startled our friend “Coop” wide-awake.

A few miles of shaky driving inched by and we finally located a rest stop and gas station that we gladly visited. Coop took over the driving so Rachel could relax and regain her composure after the big scare. Somehow I was still navigator. We drove, and drove and drove. The eternal road trip dragged on… oh, what I wouldn’t have done for a good cheeseburger and a shower. We finally made it past Carolina, Georgia and a little corner of Tennessee. The journey through Alabama itself proved to be a quest for the golden mile. Windy, deserted roads, lone trailers parked amidst barren fields and an occasional brimming dumpster – we stared bleakly out the windows, wondering what we had gotten ourselves into for the week.

Just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, we found ourselves nearing civilization. Keeping occupied and entertained in the daylight hours of our road trip was a chore in itself. Funny how, in guessing the time of the sunrise, we did not find it at all intriguing that the sun actually rose an hour later than it would at home – we did not realize the hour time difference until we settled into our campsite!

Our seemingly endless 17-hour trek landed us smack in the middle of a happening hotspot. Gulf Shores seemed to be the hidden gem of the south. Beach shops lined the avenues, young men and women in beachwear carelessly sauntered across the streets, and restaurants and specialty dining facilities spanned as far as the eye could see. We had hit the jackpot!

A few more moments of driving brought us to the edge of town where our campsite awaited. We had survived road troubles and an eternal drive only to be confronted with one final challenge…deciphering the southern drawl! We found ourselves nearly lost in conversation with our campsite rental lady, who pleasantly acquainted herself with us before filling out our bill and paperwork.

“OK, now what is your address?” she asked the three of us while she scrawled on a tablet.

“L-V…,” Rachel began the second line of our mailing address.

“Wait, what was that? ‘Al’?” the lady asked.

Patiently, Rachel tried again, enunciating in a more exaggerated manner. “Ell, vee…”

“What’s ‘Al’? Can you say that one more time?”

Help me, Rachel implored with a helpless gaze in my direction. I tried to think fast… “Um... L, as in… lemon!” I said. All those years of grade school spelling and phonics had paid off.

“Oh, Ayy-uhl!” she exclaimed, suddenly catching onto our dialect disparities. From that moment on, we learned the trick to understanding the southern drawl is to slow your thinking down a bit. The lazy, slower-paced speaking patterns fit perfectly with our desired vacation motto – relaxation and laziness!

Once we settled into our week’s living quarters, we set off to try our luck as beach bums on the glowing sands. Volleyball and rugby on the beach, collecting seashells and even donning a new haircut quickly made us feel right at home in Gulf Shores. The casual sports, shopping and friendly people proved that Gulf Shores could withstand its northern coastal competition hands-down. The sparkling Gulf of Mexico rendered stunning seashells in forms we had never before seen. Their smooth and glossy outsides inspired some newfound friends of ours to design their own jewelry with hemp cord and shells with tiny holes.

Though the daytime was fine, every night just before hitting the hay, my brother’s final conversation with me crept into my head. “Kate, don’t go to Alabama. Alligators will eat you!”

I found myself surprised enough that Alabama had beaches let alone alligators. Nevertheless, every time I was alone, every time I heard a strange sound and every night when I crawled into my sleeping bag I wondered aloud, “What if alligators get hungry for a midnight snack and come chomp on our tent?”

My friends thought me ridiculous, but to humor me, they happily concurred that we must go on an alligator hunt before leaving Alabama. We found a swamp tour at the Mobile Tensaw Delta-Swamp, which was less than an hour’s drive away, and joined Captain Gene on the “Gator Bait” for an alligator adventure. As we puttered around on the murky water, our captain lured alligators right up to the boat with a honk of the horn and a good toss of a few marshmallows.

No sooner did the white puff make a soft plot in the stream than a distinct “v” could be seen parting the water in our direction. Then – Snap! A gator happily helped himself to the floating sweet treat. It was a sight we would never forget.

During our stay in Gulf Shores, Alabama, our group of three learned how to live most comfortably in a tent for a week. Discovering the value of a cheap inflatable air mat as an instant mattress proved to be a priceless lesson. The mat softened the ground below us, ensuring hours of peaceful repost, and at the end of a week of sleeping soundly, it was the best dollar-fifty we’d each ever spent! Not to mention – those rafts also kept us dry when one night’s torrential downpour caused our tent floor to spring a minor leak.

By the time we were to return to our drab college town in Pennsylvania, we had already procured a wealth of life-enlightening information thanks to our week in Alabama. From alligators on a swamp tour swimming right up to our boat and capturing floating marshmallows in their traps to new tricks of the trade for camping comfortably, we had also grown as people when we returned to our home state. Our fortune of happening upon Gulf Shores completely at random in our search for a spring break location and the memories and experiences we took with us upon our departure will not soon be forgotten. Sadly, though, we must admit our Alabamian accents have gotten a bit rusty!

Back to TheTraveler.