Like clockwork at 5:45 a.m. caravans of workers made their way through the park toward Ft. Pickens. Every ten minutes or so, another group would file past.
The beach was clear again today and the water was shades of turquoise, but for the first time I could see what appreared to be tendrils of an oil sheen winding its way toward the beach.
With no odor to distinguish it as oil, I wouldn't have paid attention except for the patch of light colored mousse which floated along toward the end.
And one solitary tar patty bobbed along at the shore line at the tip of the island.
And one solitary tar patty bobbed along at the shore line at the tip of the island.
Hundreds of feet of boom were anchored on shore and stretched out into Pensacola Pass.
And a wall of boats, barges and larger ships seemed determined to block the oil's progression, but, as we all know now, it probably floated right underneath them during the night.
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