by Rachel L. Miller

My name was called on an Amelia Island street for the third time that day. 

The first two times it happened, I was quite surprised, my head snapping so fast that my short hair managed to whip me across the (slightly sunburned -- or should I say sun-kissed?) face. But by the third time I was recognized on the street by a new acquaintance, I began to wonder if there was some sort of conspiracy or Candid Camera-esque action taking place. 

Of course, there wasn't. Just the friendly locals that I'd met a day or two earlier saw me passing and thought they'd call out a greeting. But that still didn't make me any less surprised. After all, I was traveling on my own in the tourist magnet commonly known as Florida, where one expects to remain anonymous. Just a nameless face in the throng of Northerners looking for their ever-evasive sun; just another body on a packed beach; the next patron ushered in and liberated of a hefty load of currency by an overrated hotel or restaurant. 

Not so on Amelia Island.

This barrier island, located a scant half-hour northeast of Jacksonville, basically destroyed my beliefs on all things Florida. And believe me when I tell you that this is a good thing. When I hear the word "Florida," three things come my mind: Orlando, Disney and the crowds (with screaming kids) that accompany those two things. (I also think of screwy ballots and Elian Gonzalez, but that's a different story altogether.) 

So during the initial drive up the Amelia Island coast, this is what I expected to see lining the streets: tacky beach shops with blazing neon colored signs advertising a sale on flamingo salt and pepper shakers. Nope. Instead I saw many private residences -- condos, houses, apartments, even two B&Bs -- but not even a hint of the tackiness that normally tags along with the over-development of a Florida beach. The reason is two-fold: Amelia Island hasn't yet reached the point of becoming overdeveloped (thankfully) and the folks there are determined to make sure it won't get that way. The northern and southern tips of the island have already been turned into parks, as have been a number of spots along the island's 13-mile stretch of Atlantic Coast beach. And much of the island's gorgeous green-grassed marsh has been untouched.  It's a great place to see crabs scurrying about, as well as a variety of rare birds. Just keep in mind to bring along bug repellant if you're going anywhere near the marsh or woods -- the itch from the dozen or so bug bites I received is just starting to ebb. (CONTINUE...)