Saint Marys Subs and More

Leaving Tomoka in the rain we headed north again. Once we crossed the new bridge in Jacksonville, it wasn’t long before we left Florida and were ready for lunch. Remembering that there is a submarine museum in Georgia, we pulled into the little town of St. Mary’s to find it in the midst of a Christmas in the Park celebration. The submarine museum was open and we had fun looking at the models and playing with the real periscope that is twice as high as the little museum building. For some unknown reason, I've always been fascinated by submarines. In fifth grade, back at the Campus School, in Plattsburgh, NY spent most of the year building a full-size replica of the "Turtle" much to the detriment of my other studies. It was cool to see a reminder of that 1775 submarine.

 

The town itself had many nicely decorated homes and historic buildings. One of my favorites was a simple church decorated with wreathes and bows. Another was the “Orange House” with formal pillars and simple greenery.

As we explored the waterfront, three masts beckoned at the end of main street. A tall ship was in town and they were welcoming people to come aboard. The “Peacemaker” was built in Brazil and carries 10,000 square feet of sail. At 150 ft long with masts towering 126 feet over the water she was an impressive vessel. Launched in 1989, the vessel is very modern for a wooden sailing ship. The electronic instruments on the bridge contrast with the miles of lines and ropes that make up the rigging. Owned by a religious commune, the boat was a peaceful place on a cool fall afternoon. The mood was confirmed as we stepped into the main saloon where a fire was burning in the wood stove while a crew member played haunting chords on a harmonium.  Another fellow touring the boat was a marketing person for the Maine Windjammer Association. He noticed my “Mary Day” schooner sweatshirt and asked if we enjoyed cruise. The answer was a resounding yes and reminded me I should post photos from that wonderful week off the Maine coast. Knowing we needed to get going to our next campground, we broke out of our reverie, headed down the gangplank, and back to the van. 

On the way out of town we were “delayed” by a sharp whistle and another reminder of Maine. The local railway museum was running a Santa Train and we had to wait for the steam engine to clear the road crossing. My parents are from Maine, so I had to send a photo of the old Maine Central caboose that brought up the rear of the train.