APALACHICOLA
Old Florida still lives in sleepy Panhandle town
Apalachicola hasn't found its perfect demographic yet -- and that's a good thing.

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BY PATTI NICKELL
McClatchy News Service
Other buildings with a storied past have been reborn as antique shops, galleries and boutiques. Two of my favorites are the Grady Market, a collection of a dozen galleries, textile boutiques and antique dealers in a brick building overlooking a lush courtyard garden; and the Riverlily, specializing in locally made vintage-inspired jewelry. (Note to husbands: Don't let your wives loose in either of these places.)
A short walk from the town center is the Raney House Museum, built in 1835 and thought to be the oldest house in Apalachicola; the John Gorrie State Museum, dedicated to the physician whose invention of an ice machine to cool his yellow fever patients became the precursor of modern air-conditioning, and the Apalachicola National Estuarine Research Reserve, at 246,000 acres, the second-largest estuarine reserve in the country.
With 1,300 species of plants and 360 species of marine mollusks, many of them endangered, the reserve's displays focus on indigenous life from the river, bay and gulf.
Between downtown and the bay are gracious neighborhoods of elegant Victorian-style homes in rainbow hues, draped in masses of scarlet azaleas.
One of the most elegant is the three-story bright yellow mansion on Sixth Street that was built in 1905 by lumber baron James Coombs, and is now owned by airline executive Bill Spohrer and his wife, Lynn Wilson, who operate it as a bed-and-breakfast inn. Wilson, an interior designer whose clients have included the Biltmore Hotel and Queen Elizabeth, has lovingly made the Coombs House one of north Florida's most lauded inns.
DESERTED BEACH
I didn't believe it was possible: my own deserted (well, almost) Florida beach. And yet here it was, on St. George, the barrier island separating Apalachicola Bay from the Gulf of Mexico.
While the western end of the island is lined with multi-million dollar homes bearing romantic names such as The Wind Dancer, Sea Breeze, Gull's Cottage and Island Time, the eastern end is a 9-mile-long state park. It boasts the longest beach front of any state park in Florida.
The undeveloped shoreline is a tapestry of dunes, bay forest, sandy coves and salt marshes, and the sugary white sand beach is one that Miami and Fort Lauderdale can only dream of.
When I said I had the beach to myself, I wasn't taking into account the sea gulls that circled overhead and the terns that skittered nervously away from the incoming waves.
There was also the occasional lone beach walker searching the tidal pools for starfish, sand dollars and shells.
But for the most part, it was just me, the surf, sand and sun.
Back from my day's outing on St. George Island, I joined locals and visitors on the wide front porch of the Gibson Inn, another of the town's historic buildings.
Sitting in a rocking chair and sipping a glass of wine as I watched the sun drop into the bay, I realized that the Florida of my imagination is indeed alive and well in Apalachicola.
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