Turtles and beaches and Tiffany glass

Our first day proper on Jekyll Island and we began with the item at the top of Fiona's list - the Georgia Sea Turtle Rescue Centre.  

Volunteers and scientists collect turtles in distress (being run over by boats and cars, that would distress you, right?) and where they can, nurse them back to health for release into the wild, or failing that, arrange for them to go into aquariums. 

The description of the patients in the centre was given by Meghan, and fabulous she was too, without the dreadful sing-songy drone you can get from people who've told the same story too many times.

The black patch is a weight to help Fred (not his real name) rebalance 

This chap had his shell broken by some idiot in a boat running over him....

Baby terrapins deciding what they want to be when they grow up.

We learned of the diseases - possiby if not man-made, then man-encouraged - that threaten turtles, which include some pretty unpleasant fungal diseases as if being run over, hunted and eaten wasn't enough to contend with.  We also saw the amount of plastic that your average turtle can injest if humans throw it into the water, and what global warming is doing to a species where the sex of a turtle is influenced by temperature rather than genes....

Amongst all the doom and gloom, there are still some sparks of light.  Turtle populations are recovering (slowly) following the legislation has been passed to protect them. And if all else fails, America will add water to the problem and voila!

We're not making this up.....

After this highly satisfying morning, we trotted over to the Jekyll Island Club Hotel, which once played host to folks like Pullitzer, the Vanderbilts, the Rockefellers, J P Morgan, Mr Goodyear (of tyres fame) and where the Federal Reserve was launched.

 

Karen swore she'd sit on a porch in a rocking chair on this holiday.

Fiona, plotting our next moves.

We then headed to the chapel to look at and illegally photograph the glorious Tiffany windows, and then headed out to the aptly-named Driftwood Beach, which looked like a place just begging for a Vogue photoshoot.

We think that someone's nicked the melting clock.

And then it was a dash to the other end of the Island for the sunset, where we took way too many mediocre pictures.  So we'll just show you a couple here...

Coming soon to a postcard near you.

Then, grubby and sticky from suntan lotion and sea spray, we ate at the wonderful Latitude 31, which was a place after our own heart.

Dancing is encouraged. Singing, not so much.

And so, as Mr Pepys says, to bed.  Tomorrow, we meet Dan and Chris in Savannah.