Savannah - low tide and a haunted pub

Sessions today were fine - not quite as good as yesterday, but still good. When the last session wrapped up at 3:30, I was out of there and off to Tybee Island, about 20 miles out of town. I wanted to tour a lighthouse on the island, but the ticket office closed by the time I found the place. My back-up plan was to spend time on the beach. I'm convinced I possess DNA fragments from my pre-historic sea-dwelling ancestors. I love the ocean - the waves, the sounds, the smell and taste of salt water in the air. I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my pant legs and walked along the beach for an hour. It was low tide, so I had a hard surface with a gentle slope to walk on. That made it easier on my back. The water was cold - the temperature that is refreshing and slightly numbing to your feet, but would be excruciating to body parts located about 2.5 feet higher. I delighted in the former, but avoided the latter. Parking fee: $1.50. A hour on the beach: priceless.

It was then back to Savannah and the search for a perfect place to eat. I walked around City Market (see previous post), but saw nothing interesting. City Market is much more tame on a Monday night!! I was determined to find a combination of cuisine and ambiance that would jump out at me. A short walk north took me to River St. - a restored warehouse area by the river. I saw several nice Irish pubs, but we have a really nice Irish pub in South Bend, IN; I wanted something different. Close to the end of River St. I encountered Boar's Head Grill and Tavern. It was then I recalled we went past that tavern on the city tour, and the guide told us the tavern is haunted - customers sometimes hear slaves rattling their chains. Savannah is the 5th most haunted city in the U.S. Well, how could I resist? A haunted tavern, second floor in an old cotton warehouse, rustic dirty brick and wooden beam interior, with a view of the river. The meal was wonderful: she-crab soup, warm bread, blackened mahi-mahi and a rice medley; all washed down with a delightful local oatmeal stout and a Guinness. I carefully listened for rattling chains, but the closest sounds I heard were rattling pans in the kitchen and silverware being dumped in a container. Perhaps several more beers would have heightened my ghost-detecting senses. After a slow walk back along the river I was confidently legal to drive back to my hotel.