We first travelled to Florida and the US in the late 1980s. Two young daughters in tow, wide-eyed and Mickey-struck. It was all new to us: the scale, the heat, the endless highways, the promise of adventure around every palm-lined bend. The girls were young enough to believe in the magic of it all, and maybe we were, too, in our way. Tri and I had grown up on a steady diet of American sixties and seventies TV shows and movies. We'd been sold the dream, and there we were, driving through it.
That trip lit a spark. We didn't know it then, but it would be the first of many. Florida got under our skin—not just the big-ticket magic but the little things: motel pools at dusk, pancakes the size of hubcaps, and storm clouds stacking up over the Gulf. The ordinary became extraordinary, and we kept coming back.
By now, we've been to Florida more than thirty times. From historic streets of St. Augustine to the laid-back eccentricity of Key West, we've crisscrossed the state with a kind of quiet devotion. We've seen shuttle launches pierce the sky, and hurricanes threaten to tear it apart. We've watched the sun rise and set over both coasts, witnessed manatees, dolphins, and bald eagles, and once, unbelievably, led the Disney parade at the Magic Kingdom, waving to the crowds like pros down Main Street.
Each trip was different, but the feeling was the same — a mix of wonder, warmth, and déjà vu. Florida became our place. As the kids grew up and carved their paths, we kept returning, exploring more, venturing off the beaten track. That's when photography took hold. At first, it was mostly wildlife: herons at dawn, alligators basking in the shallows, pelicans diving in the Gulf. Florida had become more than a holiday. It was a kind of living photo album; a place where time moved differently, where memories piled up like postcards. Some faded, some still as vivid as ever.
Over time, we found ourselves more drawn to the laid-back vibe of Southwest Florida and the Keys, where the pace slows and the days stretch. Mornings drift into afternoons, then into golden hours. There's a kind of ease down there: sun-bleached buildings, warm Gulf breezes, the scent of salt and sunscreen. You can lose track of time without really minding. We'd linger in places like Sanibel, Naples, and Islamorada, chasing light, watching the world go by, camera in hand.
In recent years, we've returned with the family, grandchildren now with us. Rediscovering the theme parks through fresh eyes. There's something full circle about it: familiar characters, songs and fireworks, but a new kind of magic. We find ourselves watching the grandkids but also remembering our own, when they were the same age, the way they once looked up at the castle, at us, at the world. The memories blur and layer like double exposures, past and present, side by side.
And so, we're going back again. Another road trip for Katrina and me, writing yet another chapter. An itinerary that strings together old favourites and new places. We'll clock up the miles, chase the day, and stop when something catches our eye. It's part adventure, part road remembered. And at the end of it all, we'll meet up with family again — the next generation carrying the torch, making their memories under the Florida sun.
I'll blog daily for the next four weeks—photos, stories, scenes, and the occasional nostalgic ramble—all coming together in a kind of travel journal meets photobook-in-the-making. Expect everything from roadside oddities and golden-hour coastlines to early-morning coffee stops and midnight neon.
It's part photo diary, part creative test drive as I'll be putting a few iPhone camera apps through their paces—both for shooting and editing—and sharing my thoughts along the way. But this isn't just tech talk. It's about mood, light, memory, and the feeling of following the road to see where it leads. It's not a travelogue—at least not in the guidebook sense. No "Top 10 Places to Visit in Florida" listicles. And it's not a photography tutorial, though I'll talk about the places we stop and how I take my shots. A record of the miles, the moments, and how we see them. All captured on my iPhone—with a few old favourite thrown in, just for old times' sake.
Gas in the tank, sun on the dash, and roads full of memories old and new.