A Small Community With A Big Heart
Located in an area of Florida referred to as “The Forgotten Coast”, Port St. Joe most recently bounced back from category five, Hurricane Michael in 2018. Michael’s path spread out over a thirty mile stretch of coastline.
Most of the boats docked in the old marina where new Point South Port St. Joe Marina sits today, ended up in the parking lot of the nearby Piggly Wiggly, which locals refer to as ‘The Pig’. The impressive welcome wagon began here at this marina and continued throughout town.
Of course, there is still evidence of loss, but for the most part the community has moved on as evidenced by its bustling Reid Avenue lined with shops and eateries.
We strongly recommend Uptown Raw Bar & Grill for its simple set-up and amazing oysters, The White Marlin for the food and the waterfront sunset viewing, and the quite popular Sweet Bunz. Although, you need to get to Sweet Bunz early because they hang the ‘sold out’ sign quicker than you can ask “what time do you close?”
Florida’s original constitution was drafted in what was then called St. Joseph in 1838 and years later became Port St. Joe in 1909. So it has its place in Florida history.
Of all of the friendly people we met around town, it was one night at the Haughty Heron bar and music venue that we were introduced to a man wearing a vintage Pink Floyd t-shirt. The ‘infamous’ Spud. He joined us at our table out on the patio while waiting for the nights music to begin. When asked why he is infamous, he told us he sings with bands in the area.
This man was soon becoming one of my favorite people. His dad was a pastor in the area on his days off but passed away a few years ago. Spud had lived with and taken care of his Native American mother until she died last year. On Valentine’s Day.
By the time Spud joined the singer on stage for his one song for the night, I was already fond of this humble man, and tears began to form as he began to sing ‘Simple Man’ by Lynyrd Skynyrd.
“Mama told me when I was young
Come sit beside me, my only son
And listen closely to what I say
And if you do this it’ll help you
Some sunny day
Oh yeah...
And be a simple kind of man
Oh, be something you love and understand
Baby, be a simple kind of man
Oh, won’t you do this for me son,
if you can.”
It would have been a great performance even if we had not visited with Spud beforehand, but knowing a bit about him etched the entire experience in our memories forever.
We happened to be there over Memorial Day weekend, so we had the chance to attend the First Methodist Church, still in the rebuilding stages since Michael. If we didn’t already have ‘visitors’ written on our forehead, you would also know because we were not wearing red. We had missed the memo.
A member recited the poem “In Flanders Fields” where red poppies grow. It was also Day of Pentecost and for a community mourning the tragic death of two local teen-agers two days after Graduation celebrations, the Holy Spirit was definitely part of the healing process. This moving service in a makeshift sanctuary, overlooking the waters that had engulfed it five years earlier was impactful.
We bid farewell to Port St. Joe and made a pass by Black’s Island, a private island resort only accessible by boat, seaplane or helicopter.
Somehow, miraculously, although, actually by design, the bungalows on Black’s Island escaped serious damage during Hurricane Michael. All twenty-six round bungalows made it through the storm.
We are curious enough to add this to our future travel list.
Thanks for following along,
~ The Crew