Travelous

I had been on the road for just an hour, but when you do, you have to do.

For the beach, I mean. As I walked down the east coast of Florida, the view was increased from an ocean view condo high-rise luxury waterfront homes with only a narrow strip of grass and shrubs, with Atlantic waves break the other side. Locate a path through the shrubs, with a lone car parked nearby, I swung the wheel of my rental Ford Focus and parking.

Thirty seconds later I had my own private beach, almost: a solo sailor in the trunks feature the colors of a sunset was good upto 100 meters on the sand, staring at the surf. I stayed for about the same time,we should use the bathroom and a scarf at a Cinnabon at a highway rest stop, and headed toward the car.

Spots like this in Sebastian Inlet State Park, Florida were all new to me. I'll admit to have enough knowledge of the stunted state before taking a trip of 250 miles of the border in southern Georgia along the coast in Hutchinson Island, just north of West Palm Beach, early April. He was in Miami, where the cool people hang out in South Beach and cooler people go to Art Basel. Orlando theme parks, Key West homes for eccentricity and pastel, the enclave of southern culture, and the Everglades with alligators.
Seth Kugel for The New York Times

All that this stretch of coast of the Atlantic, as far as I knew, was Daytona Beach, home of the drunken spectacle known as spring break. Not for me (or more).

But a closer examination, the map shows a road with a name curiously slender blissfully confident A1A. He kissed the water as much as possible along the endless beaches in state parks and back barrier islands. He passed through St. Augustine, the oldest city in America, then across the beaches with names like Daytona and Ormond and cocoa - well, what do you know? - Cape Canaveral.

So, earlier this month, I flew to Jacksonville, rented the cheapest car I could coax Priceline ($ 137 per week, including taxes, Alamo) and embarked on my own journey Spring Break Adult Road. It would be a cheaper alternative to a more glamorous route to the southern tip of the state, a four-point plan that involved frugal free beaches, attractions, cheap seafood for under $ 10, an inlet and motels about $ 60 a night.

My first stop was St. Augustine, founded by the Spanish in 1565. Nearly 450 years later, he had changed a lot - although not entirely for the better. It has a half-historical, semi-tourist trap look at him - as if the child's love of Savannah, Georgia, and Disney World. Visitors tour of the city "trains", about $ 22 for a pass for three days, between sites that most people would be very walkable - from signs like "Authentic Old Drugstore" and "Fine Art Gallery "screaming the opposite, and making a stop at an oak tree 600 years old nicknamed the Senator with Howard Johnson motel was built around him.