Key West

May 12, 2013

I made the 127 mile ride to Key West from Florida City where I stayed after leaving Everglades City. I could have made the 211 mile distance easily in one day but wanted a fresh start and a short travel day so as to arrive sufficiently rested. I needed to make the most of the day for it's all I can afford in order to check Key West off my "been there, done that list" (not to be confused with a bucket list). I actually wasn't there long enough for the "done that" part but at least I can say I've been there. It is important to note that my trip meter, set at zero when leaving home, now reads 4875 miles.

I've talked to a few people who've driven the Overseas Highway so I knew what not to expect and that is my previous imagining of a bridge stretching 100 miles and a view of nothing but ocean as far as the eye can see in every direction. It's like any highway, going through towns and across bridges connecting the various islands (keys) that I've already forgotten the names of. The traffic is fairly thick and the speed seldom gets 55 or above. Above all, it was a pleasant and mostly scenic ride. A little windy in spots but not bad.

Key West certainly didn't strike me as a tropical paradise when I first rolled into town. I veered right, around recognizable motels like Best Western and Quality Inn, zig-zagging through orange barrels marking nearly 2 miles of road construction. Those motels offer a view of chainlink fencing and chunks of dug up concrete that restrict access in an out of their driveways. .... not a desirable option for spending your touristic dollar.

Eventually I entered the old section of town, which is a century apart and does indeed spark the touristic instinct to browse and ponder. First, I'd have to navigate through the wandering pedestrians, find a parking spot and check the availability of lodging, preferably within walking distance of the browse-worthy places.

Navigating the crowded back streets wasn't an easy task and downright miserable being helmetized in the intense heat. In short, I was dying. These desperate conditions and the sudden, undoubtedly rare availability of lodging at my fingertips, led to me to let loose of many, many more of those tourist dollars than I would in a refreshed state of mind.

Obviously mistaking me for a person who easily affords such prices, the gleeful manager of the  Cypress House   perhaps expected reciprocal giddiness when he offered me his grand bargain ..... $159 for a normally $190 room. Actually, in my humidity-fogged mind it did sound pretty good. Just lead me to it and let me bask in it's air conditioning, I thought as I pulled out my thread-bare credit card.


As a bonus, the manager said I could park my bike off the street in the gravel walkway between the historic buildings that make up the Cypress House on Caroline Street. Street parking can be hazardous to your vehicle, he said, given that the drunks from Duval Street a block away sometimes careen through here, ricocheting off whatever's parked at the curb.  As it should be, the large room and bathroom were impeccable and included every modern convenience merged into the 1888 structure.


Soon refreshed, camera in hand, I hit the streets to mingle with the tattooed, body-pierced and dreadlock-wearing horde of fellow tourists. Apart from a few cellphone photographers who take their shots on the run, I quickly realized this crowd had little interest in capturing the moment, just living it. Obviously, my picture-pondering photography was a real impediment and required defensive action on my part.


Remember the old cowboy movies, when a cowboy would fall from his horse in the middle of a buffalo stampede? To survive he'd hunker down under a log (which was always available). The herd would swerve around or jump over the log, thereby allowing the cowboy to survive. I adopted that same method of survival on Duval Street. Instead of a log I'd back up against a light pole, a mailbox and sometimes even a fire hydrant. It works.

I wandered and pondered for the rest of the afternoon. Even went into a gift shop and bought Sherry some shiny trinkets before returning to the air-conditioned bliss of my room, resting up before my attempt to capture a Key West Sunset.

The friendly Cypress House manager had given me what he inferred was secret advice on the best place to get a sunset picture. First he described the place "not to go" and that is down at the plaza by the docks where a huge celebration takes place  every evening before and after sunset. It's a real circus. They even have sidewalk performances. To avoid that he suggested the roof of the LaConcha Hotel.

As a preparatory tactic I'd checked out the LaConcha during my time on the streets. Entering through the plush lobby I was immediately contacted by a tuxedoed bellboy who correctly evaluated me as a financial inferior and asked "can I help you" ..... which is the catch phrase used by all proprietors and really means "what's your reason for being here?"  No, it didn't really happen like that. I just expected it. Actually, the bellboy was nice and helpful pointing the way to the elevator for a ride to the top deck.

The elevator came out into a bar surrounded by large, picturesque windows offering a view over Key West.  It would be a nicer view at sunset. The place was conveniently customerless at the moment so I thought it appropriate to sit and sip a $9 Pina Colada. (I learned the price as I was taking my first sip.) I laughed when the bartender asked me if I wanted another. I said I'd have to call it dinner if I did. He countered with, "A lot of people in Key West do call it dinner."

Speaking of dinner, I stopped at a sidewalk cafe on the return to my room and had a $12 salad with bread and water.

Once again I gathered my camera gear, tripod included, and walked the shaded and crowd-free Carloine Street, a backway to the LaConcha Hotel on Duval. I took the elevator to the top, walked through the bar, stepped onto the "roof deck" and realized I was late to the party. The place was swarming with celebrators, some celebrating more than others. Luckily there was one opening left at the railing and I wedged a tripod leg into it to await sunset.

I warmed up with a few shots of the city and then a series of photos as the light changed and changed and changed, the finale being the use of my 300 mm to reveal the sun as a big orange globe veiled by purple haze, topped off with a sailboat on the water. It doesn't get any better than that.

The crowd began to dissipate as the last sliver of orange melted on the horizon. But I wasn't ready to leave just yet. I wanted to drink in the ambiance and that second Pina Colada. No, it doesn't make financial sense, but neither does this entire trip. A window to the outside deck made it handy to order.

The bartender apologized for being "out of" Pina Coladas and suggested a Banana Daiquiri. I said make it strawberry and you've got a deal. Yep. $9.

I no more than took a comfortable seat at the rail and a sip or two of the delicious, icy beverage when "Al" showed up. The one-sided conversation starter was my camera, on the table in front of me. Al (who introduced himself later) said he was thinking about getting a digital SLR but can't because he's married and his wife won't let him and he has been installing MRI machines in hospitals for 22 years, is from Louisville, Kentucky and went to MRI training in Orange Country, California and how he'd never live there, too crowded; Louisville is much smaller, only two million and Jim Beam is buried in Bardstown, Kentucky and he (not Jim Beam) is in Key West to celebrate his 60th birthday and he drinks a lot, which is why he rented a bicycle and it's tied up down below but it doesn't have a light on it and his wife "texted" him and told him to be careful and what he meant by careful is not necessarily for his safety but not to get caught riding without a light on the bike because where they rented it they were told it was a $100 fine if you ride at night without a light. ....... He said a lot more but I can't remember. My daiquiri and tranquility were gone before Al was.

May 13, 2013
I woke early, made notes for the blog and was to the breakfast area early so as not to miss out on whatever it was. Outside seating in a garden courtyard in the cool humid morning. Very nice. I took my time, sipping coffee and reflecting on the my short visit to Key West before enjoying some breakfast burritos and orange juice.

I remembered "Al" trying to give directions to the Ernest Hemingway house, saying there's a $20 fee to tour it. I didn't want to do that but figured I'd at least do a driveby and take a picture of the outside.

According to Al, I go that way on Duval Street to the street that turns into the highway off the island but I don't go that way. No, I go toward the old military fort and it's not the first street but the next one and the house is on that street.

I did all that and in fact found the house. That's the good news. The bad news is that the yard was so overgrown with vegetation you can barely see a house. Besides, there was no place to park and the street is too narrow for even a motorcycle to stop and allow traffic (piling up behind me) to get by ... not to mention the swarm of people already forming. And, for whatever reason, my video camera was off at that particular moment.

So, even though I can say I've been there, I've not done that and have no evidence I even glimpsed a portion of the house where the famous Ernest Hemingway lived. But I can live with that. Key West was soon a fading memory in my rear view mirror.

 



12-Minute Video Of My Ride To Key West



Everglades City To Key West (211 Miles)


Cypress House On Caroline Street
Off Street Parking
My Room




Life On Duval Street

Lots Of These Upgraded Rickshaws In Key West


Tattoos


Hat Maker

Artistic Weaving
Taxi Texter
Key Lime Pie Factory


Before
After

Navigating Duval Street
Off The Beaten Path Is This Cruise Ship Called
Jewel Of The Seas

My First Trip To The Top Of The LaConcha Hotel
No People
Overlooking Key West To The North
Overlooking Key West To The Southwest.
The Cruise Ship Is The Same Previously Pictured.




St Mary's Catholic Church

When I Returned The Place Was Packed
Sunset Watchers

Key West Sunset
Zooming In On The Sunset

Purple Haze

Cloud Sinking Sun
Only A Sliver Left




After Sunset On Duval Street
Curry Mansion Inn Is A Block From Cypress House

Back Home At Cypress House



You Can't Get There From Here

May 9. 2013 (Continued)
It was a great relief returning to an air conditioned room after the pontoon boat excursion. The hotel power was back to full throttle and the paddle fan was spinning happy circles on the ceiling. Life is good. But I had one more hurdle to cross .... buying a ticket from the airboat lady who ordered me back no later than 4:30.

I walked down the stairs back into the heat, crossed the street and walked a block or so to the airboat tour building. This time there were a few people present. The lady was actually nice when she sold me the ticket (probably due to the witnesses) then proceeded to draw a map on how to get to the launch zone, a mile away! The boat leaves in 15 minutes.

"What?" I stammered. "You have boats right outside the window. You say I have to go a mile. I'm on foot." She said they merely park here. Town rules won't allow them to operate from here.

"You don't have a car?" She asked in disbelief.

As I began to whine and snivel that I'd have to walk (actually run) back to the hotel, imagining going back up the stairs, unlocking the door of my room so I could retrieve my helmet, going back down the stairs, etc, etc, a couple standing off to the side came to my rescue.

The lady said they were going to the same place and could give me a ride. I accepted their kind offer. She said they don't normally give strangers a lift but under the circumstances they'd make an exception. "But don't try anything," she joked. "Because my husband's a cop." Well then .... we're practically related. I announced my affiliation in the business, albeit retired.

The nice folks are Doug and Melba of Virginia. They'd just flown into Fort Lauderdale and this was their first stop on a road trip to the Florida Keys to celebrate their anniversary.

"Captain Doug," the airboat guy, was passing around a baby alligator when we arrived. Soon afterward, six of us boarded his boat ..... three in front, three in back and Captain Doug sat high above behind all of us.

Up front was a threesome from England. I sat to the right of Doug and Melba and we were soon motoring into the glades with yet two more passengers ... pelicans on the bow, waiting for a handout. Captain Doug threw them something, probably fish entrails. One had a hard time swallowing but finally did.

Hands down, the airboat ride far surpassed the boring pontoon excursion. It was a blast. Captain Doug entertained us with witty remarks from the swamp and seemed to take pleasure in splashing us by spinning the boat and sliding sideways.  As hot as it was none of us seemed to mind.

I liked Captain Doug and would have liked to have given him a tip (yep, he asked for one) but the pontoon panhandlers got the last of my small bills. I guess I didn't like Captain Doug well enough to give him a 20.

Doug and Melba drove me back to my hotel before continuing on their journey. We exchanged email addresses, handshakes and best wishes on our separate journeys. (I promised to send them a link to the video in which they starred.)

I returned to my now electrified room, basked a while in its air-conditioned comfort, then walked over to the buzzard-perched restaurant for dinner on the deck  from where I watched evening light cast its color over the swamp. Once again, life is good.


 Alligator Holding

14-Minute Video of Captain Doug's Airboat Ride

 Note The Buzzards On The Roof
Everglades Sunset

Electrified .... But Just Barely

May 9, 2013
I went to sleep last night in the air-mixing bliss of a paddle fan twirling high over head. It was dead this morning and the air conditioner was sputtering, trying to come to life but couldn't. None of the lights worked.  In short, the electricity in the room was kaput. (Had to shave in the dark.) I mentioned earlier this was an old hotel with modern pricing. It was getting older by the minute but not any cheaper.

It was 90 degrees yesterday and the same is predicted today. I was recently asked if the humidity in "The South" is as bad as they say it is. It's worse. The morning challenge is pulling clothes on over a sweating body, in spite of having just dried off after a shower. Not bad if there's air conditioning but that wasn't happening this morning.


Hall Lights On A Better Day
The hallway lights on the second floor were flickering like those of the Titanic right before it went down. I correctly figured the electrical problem was already known downstairs where the desk lady said with a yawn, "oh yeah .... it happens all the time." When asked "why," she simply said, "because it's an island." I'm still trying to understand that.

 "But they're working on it?" I asked.

 "Oh yeah," she replied in a tone suggesting I'd asked the day's stupidest question. 

 "Don't suppose you have coffee?" I asked, looking at my watch and seeing it was already 8 a.m. I was starting to twitch.

"Yeah, but can't tell you how warm it is", she said, nodding toward the vacant lobby and following me there to check my approval or disapproval.

"It'll do," I said, sipping the lukewarm coffee, sweating and staring out the window at the empty town.

The desk lady sat down at a laptop computer surrounded by stacks of papers, apparently returning to the job she had to put on hold to intercept me at the desk. Looks as if she lives here. Probably owns the place. I asked how long she's been in these parts.

"All my life. My grandparents were married on the steps of City Hall in 1922," she said, nodding toward the historic building a block away. I knew the place, having just taken a twilight picture of it last night.



City Hall
She gave an interesting account of life in Everglades City from the snowbird business to hurricanes. She said the locals seldom evacuate for hurricanes. It's not mandatory. Once you leave you can't get back.They learned their lesson during Hurricane Andrew. It was months and months before people were allowed back to check their homes for damage of if they even still existed. As for the snowbirds, they evacuate each year before tax day in April.
 
I asked about airboat rides. She said there were several vendors on the island, all with the same price. If I wanted to see wildlife, however, I'd be better off taking the cheaper pontoon boat ride at the National Park a couple of miles south of town. The airboat rides are mainly for the thrill and not conducive to picture-taking.
 
Knowing the Buzzard Restaurant next door didn't open until the afternoon, I asked about a place for breakfast. She pointed to a green-roofed building in the distance.
 
"Take cash with you," she warned, saying electrical problems may very well hinder their ability to process debit or credit cards.
 
I ended up in the Subway Sandwich corner of a convenience store. No one at the counter. A bearded guy behind the store-portion-counter on the opposite side hollered the name of the less than enthusiastic waitress in the back room who responded with and aggravated, "WHAT?"
 
"CUSTOMER!" He hollered back.
 
In fact I was the only customer. Still, the duty of waiting on me was an apparent aggravation. I remembered the hotel lady describing tax day in April as the end of the tourist season, or at least when all the snowbirds return north. Perhaps my being a residual tourist didn't warrant the same tip-seeking hospitality in place during the season?  I placed my order apologetically, ate and left.
 
I walked across the street to Captain Doug's Airboat Tours, just to check prices and schedules, thinking about a ride later in the day. The "go to lady" was parked behind a desk beyond the gift shop, texting. Or maybe she was playing solitaire on her gadget, for she was older than the "texting generation". She never looked up as I stood in the room waiting to be waited on.
 
Waiting, I browsed the beads, trinkets and plastic alligators. I spotted some light-weight, mesh-vented, chin-strap hats hanging on the wall and thought I might get one to keep the sun off my ears when riding in boats. They're called "Tilley Hats". Comes with instructions.  Never saw hat instructions before. Couldn't see a price tag.
 
"What's the price on these hats?" I asked across the empty room to the woman who was still "gadgetized". She never looked up. Completely ignored me. Oh well. I checked closer and finally found the price ....... drum roll here ....... $83.50 !!!!!!!!!!! I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity. Suddenly I was okay with my ears frying in the sun and walked on to other observations.
 
Insert: Curiosity later led me to this link Tilley Hats in an effort to learn how such a price is justified. I'm still not buying the reasoning, much less the hat.
 
By and by, the seemingly perturbed woman rose from behind the desk, walked over to the hats, found the tag on one and quoted me the price, which of course I already knew. She walked back, sat down, and resumed texting. I followed and stood in front of the desk. I waited. She looked up with a "now whadya want" look on her face.
 
I asked for details on the airboat rides, in particular when the last one leaves.
 
"Be here at 4:30 if you wanna ride," she barked.
 
"Aye, Aye," I thought (imagining myself saluting her), did an "about-face", and marched out, hoping for better treatment at the National Park south of town.
 
The pontoon boat ride was "okay". The 90 minute meandering in search of sea life didn't produce anything more than a dolphin spotting and various birds. We did see some interesting looking fishermen, their faces wrapped up like burn victims in an apparent attempt to keep the bugs away. I'd seen the same on faces of flaggers at highway construction sites.  
 
There were two guides on the pontoon boat. One manned the helm and the other the narration microphone. They traded back and forth.  One announced at the end of the ride they weren't with the National Park service, but private vendors contracted to the park and, therefore, didn't receive the same benefits as National Park employees and greatly depend on "tips". During the disembarkment he took on the look of a panhandler, standing at the end of the gangplank with a tip can in hand, no doubt an act of subtle coercion.
 
The Stunning Wildlife Mentioned Here Were
Apparently Too Stunned To Come Out Of Hiding

Yes, I Was

Our Boat

Room To Walk Around

Underway

We were told these are    Roseate Spoonbills    not flamingos,
which, contrary to popular belief, don't exist in Florida. 
If you see a flamingo in Florida, said our guide,
it's either in a zoo or it's plastic.  

These Dolphins Generated Excitement On The Boat
As We Tripped Over One Another Trying To Get Their Pictures.
We Were Desperate Tourists.
 
 
Never Saw Any Manatees

Sight-Seeing Competition


Burka Wearing Fishermen
(The Most Fascinating Sight We Saw)

 
 
 
  
 
 

 

Bugs & Buzzards

May 8, 2013
I left Ralph's about 10:30, an hour later than intended due to the jigsaw puzzle I had to put together called "packing". Unlike car travelers who can toss luggage into a trunk like loading a tuna boat, motorcycle travel requires every nook and cranny be filled with the same items as before. A real memory test .... and my score keeps dropping.

I have programed the Garmin to avoid Interstates and I enter a day's destination in segments so as to access the general vicinity of the less traveled routes I prefer. If left to its own, the Garmin would send me to the Interstate every time. Today's first segment was the unheard of town called Avon Park on Highway 27, which lined me up with Highway 29 that would take me straight down to Everglades City, today's ending point.

As was my hope, today's ride was clear, dry and wind free. Little on the warm side but that's okay. What bugged me though were the bugs. That's their job and they do it very well. So well in fact that I had to stop at a service station just to wash the windshield. Didn't need fuel. A stranger at the station, apparently seeing my license plate and figuring me correctly for a foreigner, told me it was "bug time" in Florida and I could expect more of the same anytime I'm near cow pastures because these "love bugs" hatch in the manure. I hadn't seen a cow all day, maybe because of my bug covered windshield.

What I did see a lot of is Orange groves, an unusual sight for an Oregonian. It reminded me of when Sherry saw her first tree-hanging orange in California and how she marveled at the sight. She was even more amazed when she saw avocados hanging from a tree. Knowing the price in stores, she figured every avocado was hooked up to an alarm system. I stopped and took a few pictures of the oranges, much to the eye-rolling amusement of the locals I'm sure.

And what I didn't see was a bear or a panther, both of which were silhouetted on road signs indicating their road-crossing propensity on Highway 29.

Everglades City isn't the bustling tourist town I expected to see. In fact it's rather serene.  I would later learn this is due to a mass exodus of snowbirds before "tax day" in April, reducing the town's population by more than half.

The tourist trade is still viable enough to result in a no vacancy sign hanging outside what looked like the only motel in town. I inquired within as to the availability of anything else. Only a "hotel" at the end of the street and a couple of B&B's, said the motel manager.

The hotel ("The Captain's Table) had vacancy. It's an old hotel with modern day pricing, conveniently next door to the Seafood Depot Restaurant where buzzards roost on the roof. Doesn't say much for their food. I'm just sayin' (as they say). Nevertheless, I was hungry enough to wrestle a buzzard for whatever was inside.

The "all you can eat shrimp & salad" was on special and highly recommended by a customer at the next table, John, a Bible instructor from Fort Lauderdale who's father, a West Point Colonel, was in a German prison camp during WWII (he died last August at age 91) and his brother is a West Point graduate and so is his son who is an Army captain on his way to Afghanistan. I know all that because he told me. And he told me much more, so much more that I nearly lost my chance for seconds at the all you can eat salad bar. John also had his own electronic business and built stuff for Motorola radios. Just thought I'd mention it. It was peaceful when John left and I was able to enjoy my last bites of dinner on the outside deck overlooking the slack water of "the glades." 

As twilight neared I took an evening stroll around the quiet town, camera in hand. Also in hand was my tripod, a necessity in the fading light. Airboats parked at the curb caught my attention. Maybe I'll sign up for a ride tomorrow. The boats are a short walk from the hotel.



Passing Through Orange Groves On Hwy 27

Oranges Are What Florida Is All About


Serious Bugging
Bug Lite


Everglades City's Depot Restaurant






A Dumpster Below Attracts Buzzards
Who Perched Here Both Evenings I was There


Buzzards On Broadway


 Restaurant Deck & Outside Bar
 
 
Beer Guzzler On Deck
1 Hour Airboat Tours Available For $39.95
The Lineup
Captain Doug Is One Of
Several Islanders Offeing Airboat Rides


Tranquility



Sundown In Everglades City, Florida


I'm In Room 203, Second Big Window From Left

City Hall






Backside Of The Captain's Table Hotel

 
213 Miles