When the perfect vacation consists merely of a book and a beach, the ideal location is necessarily defined by way of negation. Such a place would not have crowds, noise or congestion; it would not have nearby attractions that demand inordinate time and attention; it would not require unusual effort in travel or expense. If this destination could not be found on some maps (which is sometimes true of Palm Coast, incorporated in 1999) this last negative attribute would be best of all.

What we found was a perfectly manicured and landscaped collection of gated resort communities. Like so many of Florida’s planned communities, it imposes a perfection on nature reminiscent of Seaside, made famous by the Truman Show. It’s an attempt at perfection that has the advantage of keeping your reading time quiet and the view beyond your pages unspoiled.

Our single complaint might be that this beach consists of coarse sand and a periodically exposed coquina reef. So if beach swimming or sugar sand is your preference, you’ll want to look elsewhere. But for us, the opportunity to enjoy Spring Break away from the crowds far outweighs any concerns about the diameter of sand grains.

Things to Do (or Not to Do)

If you begin to feel restless, you’ll find several good options for day trips near Palm Coast. None are so compelling that they’ll induce guilt if you pass them by.

St. Augustine: America’s oldest continuously inhabited city, just a half hour north, is an outstanding destination if you’re interested in old Florida history, shopping, and art. Highlights include the Castillo de San Marcos and the nearby historic district which dates back to the 16th century. Also check out the Lightner Museum, originally Henry Flagler’s Alcazar Hotel, which offers a vivid glimpse into St. Augustine’s opulent Victorian era. Kids will enjoy the evening ghost walks and the Ripley’s Believe It Or Not! museum. For an old world dining experience, try the Columbia Restaurant (the original Tampa location is Florida’s oldest family owned restaurant).

Ft. Matanzas National Monument: The rather small Spanish fortress at the mouth of the Matanzas River dates from the 16th century.  The outpost guarded St. Augustine from British attacks from the  south. Although surrounded by natural beauty, the place gets its name from the Spanish word for “slaughters.” It was at Matanzas that Spanish colonials murdered 250 French Huguenots in 1564. From the park headquarters, a free boat ride transports you to the fort for a brief tour.

Washington Oaks Gardens: Worth visiting? Sure, why not. Kids will be bored senseless, but if you’d enjoy a manicured garden and a little taste of Florida’s Civil-War era plantation history, by all means stop in for an hour or two.

Marineland: One of Florida’s original tourist attractions is just a few minutes north (combine it with the Alligator Farm in St. Augustine and you’d have a two-fer of old Florida tourist attractions.) As I understand it, Marineland is now mostly devoted to marine research with the University of Florida. You can also swim with dolphins and check out some early Florida film history. It’s a place we pass by frequently, and keep telling ourselves we need to stop in and see what’s going on. So far, we’ve managed to put it off. Maybe this summer.

Bings Landing Park: The site of another Civil War-era plantation is also a good point of departure for a kayaking adventure in scenic nearby estuaries. This year we lugged along a kayak to explore the salt marshes and do a little fishing. In just a few minutes on the other side of the Intracoastal Waterway there’s a wonderful network of scenic salt creeks. Check out Tropical Kayaks for details.

Local Dining: You’ll find plenty of good chain restaurants in Palm Coast — Outback, Cracker Barrel, Sonny’s BBQ. Local’s seem to like Thai by Thai for Asian Cuisine and we enjoy the hamburger stand across from Bing’s Landing as much for the signage as for ice cream and burgers.

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Hollow Earth Globe

If the dream of Dr. Cyrus Teed had come true, the capital of the world would be located just south of Fort Myers, Florida. A century later, the fascinating remains of Teed’s failed utopia are preserved at the Koreshan State Historic Site.

The story began in 1869 when Teed, a 30-year-old Chicago physician, had a revelation that he was the Messiah. He changed his name to Koresh (the Hebrew form of ‘Cyrus’), and in 1894 he  lead his wealthy followers into the muggy wilderness of Estero, where they founded a commune called the Koreshan Unity.

“They wanted to recreate the Garden of Eden, and they knew they couldn’t do it in Chicago,” said Chet Perry, a volunteer docent. Estero was supposed to become the New Jerusalem, with a population of 10 million. During its heyday at the turn of the century, only about 200 people made their home here.

But for a while, Teed’s seemed to be coming true: From the bug-infested swamps, the Koreshans had carved out a thriving, economically independent community. Manicured gardens lined carefully planned streets. A bakery produced up to 600 fresh loaves a day. Recreational opportunities included tennis, baseball and boating. Arts and crafts flourished.

A printing shop produce a weekly newspaper. A power plant provided electricity. In the evenings, the community enjoyed classical music and Shakespearean dramas in their elegant Art Hall. Fine oil paintings by community members decorated the walls.

The sciences also flourished here–or at least Teed’s own peculiar brand of science called “cellular cosmogony.” Teed believed that the earth was a hollow orb containing continents and oceans on the inside. The sun, moon and stars were reflections in the ball of gas that comprised the earth’s core.

In 1989, the Teed conducted an experiment on Naples Beach  that showed the horizon curved up eight inches every mile, thus “proving” that the horizon was concave, not convex. The rectilineater he used for the experiment can be seen in the Art Hall, along with a hollow globe.

“Supposedly, Hitler was also intrigued by this thought,” Perry said. “He thought if he built a powerful enough telescope he could see FDR over in the White House and watch what he was doing there.”

In addition to his contributions to science, Teed founded Koreshanity, a religion which was to supersede Christianity. Many of the women became followers because Teed taught equality of the sexes and races well in advance of the rest of the country. Koreshanity also taught celibacy. Men and women lived separately, and children were raised communally.

“He thought the act of celibacy would create immortality,” Perry said. “Of course, it shot holes in that theory when he died,” Perry said.

Teed died three days before Christmas in 1908. His followers propped him up in a tin bath on the Art Hall stage, assuming he would resurrect himself after the customary three days and nights. Several days after Christmas, the Koreshans still remained hopeful.

“Finally, the county health inspector said they had to do something,” Perry said. So the Koreshans placed Teed’s body in a mausoleum by the beach. “They still thought he’d come back–he was just being stubborn,” Perry said. “They kept a 24 hour vigil at the mausoleum so somebody would be there to greet him.” The Koreshans didn’t abandon hope of their leader’s return until 13 years later, when Cyrus Teed’s body was washed to see by a hurricane.

During the Great Depression, the community sold off the larger portion of its 7,500 acres. Advances in science, two world wars and the effects of celibacy gradually took their toll on the Koreshan Unity. In 1962, two members who remained deeded the land to the state. The last Koreshan, Hedwig Michel, died in 1982.

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More Information:

• Koreshan State Park
• Koreshan Unity on Wikipedia
• Unofficial Koreshan Homepage

If you’ve got trouble in Carrabelle, Florida, just dial 3691. That’s the number for a blue phone booth on the main drag that is the world’s smallest police station. The phone booth is shaded by a shiny berry tree, and there’s a park bench in front where policemen can keep an eye on the town of Carrabelle (population 1,800).

The phone booth was installed in 1963 to keep policemen out of the rain. “They used to have a phone on the wall across the street,” said Police Chief Jesse Smith. “But every time it rained, the man who answered it would get wet.”

At the time, the single police officer walked a beat and didn’t have a patrol car, Smith said. The department has grown to three officers since then, but little else has changed.

“I love it here,” said Smith, who had worked for the station for 22 years. “It’s just like any other place. You have the same things, you just don’t have as much. Some days you’ll come and you won’t get a call all day, other days they’ll keep you running.”

When he’s not patrolling, Smith parks by the phone booth. “We just sit here because there’s a little shade and it’s right in the middle of town. We can see everything that’s going on. And if people need to get a hold of us they call it and we answer the phone.”

Smith said visitors come from “all over the world” to see his police station. “They want us to stand around and take pictures with them and we do it.” (The town now has another one-room police office, but it doesn’t attract visitors.)

In 1991, Smith was a guest on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. “I enjoyed the trip, it was real nice. They carried us all over the place in a limo. Johnny just asked about the police station.”

Smith has also been featured in a commercial for the police program “In the Heat of the Night.” But Carrabelle doesn’t get the program, and “I ain’t never seen it,” Smith said.

Be sure to wave the next time you drive through Carrabelle. Or better yet, stop and chat a while.

Back in the old days, the High Springs Opera House played host to countless itinerant vaudeville performers. They carted their trunks up the street from the rail depot, unpacked, then hopped the train again as soon as the curtain fell. Back then you could watch a silent movie in this place, or maybe quiver in your seat as Billy Sunday delivered one of his fire-and-brimstone sermons.

Fast forward a few generations. Downstairs they now serve things like cappuccino, tofu, and hot artichoke dip in the Great Outdoors Cafe. The Trading Post proffers upscale outdoor equipment and tastefully rugged, premium-priced Royal Robbins shirts.

Theater of Memory in High Springs

But upstairs in the old Opera House things haven’t changed so much. You’ll still find itinerant musicians here on the weekends, performing anything from blues to renaissance music with period instruments.

Even before the music begins, the odd collection of artifacts and memorabilia that fills the room creates a unique atmosphere. “If you can set the stage properly, people will get it before the actor even walks out,” says musician and museum curator Bill Hutchinson.

The “Theatre of Memory” combines Hutchinson’s love of music with his passion for history. His eclectic museum begins back in the 14th century — represented by porcelain dishes from the Ming Dynasty and a collection of illuminated manuscripts — and concludes with the first Macintosh computer.

Alongside WWI trench art and a substantial cache of seashells, he has collected two decades of hair-net envelopes. “Why should that be exciting? I don’t know, but some people go right to it,” he explains. Another favorite is his braille edition of Playboy magazine.

If the museum lacks an overt theme that’s because what matters is something far more personal. That 14th-century parchment, for instance, is not something he keeps under glass. He takes it out and offers it to a visitor: “Here,” he says, “Feel the texture of it.”

Hutchinson’s passion for life sprang from his confrontation with death in Vietnam. “I enlisted to be in the band, and they played this trick on me and put me in the infantry,” he says. “It was not only worse than I imagined, it was worse than I was capable of imagining.”

“When people are shooting at you, your philosophy goes out the window and you shoot back. That’s what I did.” Somewhere along the way he contracted malaria. Finally, he linked up with Special Services where he managed USO shows and got to play Beatles and Jimi Hendrix tunes for his fellow soldiers.

He came home deeply shaken. “I found out that there was more to life than met the eye. I wanted to figure out just what this universe is about.” When he’s not working his day job as the entertainment producer for Gainesville’s department of cultural affairs, the Theatre of Memory allows him to explore that artistic vision.

His own band (which has no name) performs an eclectic set of folk, blues and acoustic rock at least once a month. “If you use money as a yardstick, this has been a disappointment,” he says. “But if you look at art and expression, it’s been wildly successful. If it pays for itself — and if we get gas money too — it’s a good thing.”

Manic humor pervades his stage presence, but Hutchinson is philosophical at heart. “It may sound polyanish to say it, but I want to contribute to society,” he says. “I’m no longer trying to kill people. Now I’m trying to entertain them, and that’s more my natural proclivity.”

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Local Information:

• High Springs Herald
• Great Outdoors Restaurant
• Grady House Bed & Breakfast
• Ichetucknee Springs Cottages
• High Springs Country Inn
• Adventure Outpost
• Ginnie Springs Outdoors