Just past the ’oar house I thought she’d said. Brief pause. Asked her to spell it. O-A-R, she replied, quickly adding that it was a restaurant. I was relieved. In all probability I’d spent the odd night in one of those places, quite by accident. Question of mistaken identity. Cheap hotel. But I’d told my Mum all about it. The story even featuring in the latest edition of Adventure Travel Magazine. So no chance of blackmail.
I’d crossed into Alabama earlier in the day. Brief foray, planning to reach Florida roughly twenty four hours later. Humid. Not oppressive, just a bit clammy. But unexpected. Memories of northern Australia. I’d half planned to stop for lunch at Grand Bay but found it uninspiring. On to Bayou La Batre. Brief late afternoon visit to Subway. Then push over the causeway to Dauphin Island before dark. Calling ahead for directions.
