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When my wife and I decided to visit historic St. Augustine, Fla., it seemed an easy enough endeavor.

We would fly there from Naples or Fort Myers, stay a few days, see the sites and then fly or drive home to Marco. We thought flying would be easier and faster. Wrong!

As we delved into details of such a trip, our hearts went out to Juan Ponce de Leon, the Spanish explorer who went to what’s now St. Augustine, in 1513. His trip was arduous. Ours was looking that way too.

Flying would be less than a breeze. We could charter a private plane, but the cost was out of the question. We could fly commercial on two smallish commuter planes, starting from our Marco home, driving to Naples airport, changing planes in Tampa, flying to Jacksonville, renting a car and driving to St. Augustine.

Or we could drive all the way, saving several hundred dollars and almost two hours travel time, door-to-door.

A quick look at a map of Florida showed an obvious route — up I-75 to Tampa, heading northeast on I-4 past Orlando, up to the Daytona area, then north on I-95 to State Highway 207, which should take us into St. Augustine. Without major delays, that would take fewer than six hours.

“Oh gosh, no, don’t go that way,” opined an old friend, Freddy Magellan. “Highway 4 is a monster, always under construction, a multi-lane parking lot much of the time.”

Having experienced the I-4 frustration some years ago, we looked for another good way to get to St. Augustine from Marco Island.

Again, we were reminded of Ponce de Leon and the other brave explorers who tooled around various parts of the world in the 15 and 16 centuries and beyond.

Were they beset by clever travelers, suggesting other routes to the New World or the Orient?

“Hey Juan, don’t go too far south or you’ll end up in the middle of nowhere,” said an envious friend before Ponce de Leon left for the west.

“Go for it Ponce,” interjected another conquistador in the bar. “Find that Fountain of Youth as fast as you can. You’re not getting any younger, ya know.”

With visions of the explorers cruising Florida, checking the coast for fresh water springs that could be that Youth Fountain, we proceeded to explore other routes to St. Augustine.

We weren’t going there for eternal youth. Chances of that were between slim and none, in spite of St. Augustine’s eager tourism department.

A nice visit to a pleasant little city with a lot of interesting history would be enough for us.

We began asking friends who’ve driven around Florida more than we have how they would drive to St. Augustine.

One pal, Walt Raleigh, suggested we drive all the way up I-75, past Ocala (with maybe a quick stop to see some beautiful horses), past Gainesville (with maybe lunch at Gator’s Dockside or the Gator City Sports Grill).

Refreshed, we were told to veer northeast on Highway 24 to Waldo, a town of about 800 people. There, we should slow to about 10 mph and creep through the town.

That’s because Waldo is famous for being a nationally known speed trap, or as the local’s say, “a place where our local speed limit on US 301 is strictly enforced.”

That would be worth a quick look for any tourist, as long as the stop didn’t involve chatting up a judge in Waldo traffic court.

I’m guessing that old Ponce never made it inland as far as Waldo, fearing that his official explorer’s badge might have been confiscated because the town is landlocked.

I also doubt he made it to Waldo, because he allegedly is the explorer who coined the current expression, “Where in the world is Waldo?”

Leaving Waldo, we would take US 301 up to Highway 16, then east across the St John’s River and into the north end of St. Augustine.

Whew! What a trip. So full of places to see and things to get arrested for. Risking a night in the Waldo lockup could make the trip longer, yet give us a lot more to talk about on our return.

Other friends derided that meandering way to travel.

“You should leave Marco and go across Alligator Alley,” claimed our old friend Gary da Gama, who insists he changed his original name, Vasco, to Gary so his mean school friends would stop calling him Vasectomy da Gama.

He thought it best to take the Alley to the Florida turnpike and up, up, up the coast to Ft. Pierce, where we would get over to I-95. That would take us up the “Space Coast”. Can you imagine Ponce’s reaction if he was coming ashore one day in 1513 and looked up to see a space shuttle launch?

From I-95 it’s easy to reach St. Augustine via State Highway 207.

So, what’s it to be? Fast, Interstate travel, flying by Florida’s countryside, risking gridlock on I-4? It would be boring, but we could listen to a book on tape, maybe “The Life of Ponce de Leon” or “Explorers and Conquistadors — How They Influenced the Sunshine State”.

Or how about the scenic, adventurous route up through Ocala, Gator Country and Waldo?

Or we could try to emulate Ponce de Leon, Columbus and the other sailor boys of yore, by making the entire trip without a modern road map, relying on renderings of the New World conjured up by

Euro-monks drawing on parchment by candlelight.

That might be the most interesting and would give us a unique recommendation if someone ever asks us, “Hey, what’s the best way from here to St. Augustine?”

Still, such a trip would be tense and tiring, so much so that if and when we made it to St. Augustine, we’d probably forego a drink from the Fountain of Youth for a thirst-quenching cold Cruzcampo cerveza on tap. Old Ponce would have been proud.

I’m just sayin.’