Our season ended last Wednesday night in the regional semifinal, on a ground ball that took a bad hop with two outs in the seventh. The bus got back to school at 11:40 p.m. I was hanging up catcher's gear until after midnight, taught on Thursday and Friday half awake, and at 3:50 on Friday afternoon we pulled out of the carport with the pop-up behind us, headed north to Jonathan Dickinson State Park. Dana says I was a different person by the time we reached the Turnpike. I'm choosing to hear that as a compliment.
Dana grabbed this one as a cancellation in April: two nights with water and electric for $78. We were last here in March 2024, on spring break, in the old Sundome tent, with kids who were seven and four. Two years later it's the same park with a camper, and kids who are nine and six and have opinions about campsites.
May is the edge of the season
Mid-May is where South Florida camping starts to tip over. The dew point was 70 when we pulled in a little after 6 on Friday, right on the line of Dana's 70 rule, and Saturday's forecast high was 90. In a tent, I think we'd have stayed home. With 30-amp power and the roof AC, we bent the rule, and it held. The AC ran from about 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. and kept the camper near 75 inside, with the steady hum of the unit and the occasional tap of a lovebug against the window screen.
The lovebugs were out in force, the May swarms that paint the front of every car on the Turnpike. By Saturday morning the Pilot's grille needed a hose.
Friday dinner was a test run for the summer: a bag of picadillo we'd cooked and frozen flat at home the weekend before, thawed in the RTIC and reheated in a pot on the camper's stove. It worked, mostly. I'll explain the "mostly" when I write up our freezer meals.
Hobe Mountain at 7 a.m.
The best thing we did all weekend happened before breakfast. Hobe Mountain is an old sand dune about 86 feet above sea level, which in southeast Florida counts as a mountain, with a wooden observation tower on top. It's a short, steep boardwalk from a parking area near the park entrance, and we were at the bottom of it at 7:05 on Saturday, before the sun had any real bite.
From the top you can see east past Jupiter Island to the Atlantic, the Indian River Lagoon in between, and to the west, pine flatwoods running toward the Loxahatchee River. The air up there smelled like warm sand and pine. Maya spotted a Florida scrub-jay on a dead branch near the boardwalk, pale blue and completely unbothered by us, and she sat on the bottom step and drew it for 15 minutes while Nico counted boards. The jay stayed until she finished, which she considers a personal favor.
By 8:30 we were back at the camper. The cafetera was hissing on the Coleman, and the café con leche went into the white enamel mugs at the picnic table while it was still only 78 degrees. Honestly, that was the trip. The rest was managing the heat.
The 90-degree afternoon
We walked a stretch of trail near the river at 10, where a gopher tortoise was grazing beside the path. Nico wanted to name it. Maya told him to give it room. Both were right. By noon it was 88, and by 2 p.m. the Pilot's dash read 91. So we did something we've never done camping in Florida: we went inside and shut the door. From 1 to 4 the kids read on their bed end, Dana did a crossword at the dinette, and I took my first nap since January.
Saturday dinner was my first attempt at pizza in the cast-iron skillet over the fire, and it did not go well. I pressed store-bought dough into the Lodge, put the lid on and set it over a fire that was much too lively. The bottom turned to charcoal and the cheese stayed cold. Nico ate the middle and called it "pizza toast." Quesadillas on the griddle saved dinner, and the pizza goes back to practice.
Shade, bugs, bathroom, and the bill
Shade was decent in the morning from the slash pines and thin by midafternoon. Bugs were mostly no-see-ums at dusk, which sent Maya inside with her book, plus the lovebugs, which bother the car more than the people. The bathhouse was a short walk and clean, and by Saturday afternoon a cool shower was the best thing in the park.
From the trip log:
- Campsite, 2 nights with water and electric: $78
- Gas: $41
- Groceries: $58
- Ice: $10
- Cat sitter, 2 visits: $30
That's $217, or about $108 a night for four of us. The picadillo came from home and isn't in there, which flatters the grocery line a little.
We were packed up by 10 on Sunday and home by 1, ahead of the afternoon storms. Maya turns ten on Friday. Her one birthday request is a sleepover in the camper, in the side yard, with no grown-ups inside. Dana said yes before I could finish doing the math on five girls and one pop-up.
