Come two o'clock I haven't been feeling sleepy lately, and I haven't been over indulging in coffee or sleep or anything. So, despite my best endeavor I end up wandering somewhere with my camera in hand.
This time it was White Street Pier, a place that has already been the object of an essay in this blog. The pier juts out perhaps a third of a mile from the beach, and it is frequented by anglers, romantics, insomniacs and off duty dispatchers in the middle of the night. Technically the pier isn't closed as long as the activities taking place in it's further reaches aren't illegal my colleagues tell me no one will be moved along. 
To me the pier is a place of reflection and strolling it's sturdy cement and asphalt length puts me in mind of being on a boat. 
It's odd really to stand behind the ample barrier at the edge and watch the waves roll by, refract and head back out to sea, and to find oneself at the same time on a fixed and immovable object. 
On a boat one expects a certain amount of motion in relation to the waves; not here. On the pier there is time to lean against the railing as and watch the water, or the lights ashore:
Which makes the West Martello Tower look like a small hill...I always found it astonishing how things change their appearance between night and day when I was living in the water. At night seen from this angle it looks like a hill, by day it looks like the Garden Club,which is precisely what it is. This next picture looking seaward from halfway up the pier makes it look like dawn is breaking. It wasn't- I just put the camera on a 15 second exposure, propped it on the railing and let 'er rip; to see what it might look like you understand. The yellow strip at the bottom isn't a beach -it's the cement parapet!:
I suppose there is a municipal obligation to keep these corners lit up but it seems odd sometimes to see the lights blazing and no one home. The entire island looks that way from the pier, looking up White Street with the traffic lights changing and no one there to watch:
There were a few people out on the pier in the middle of the night. A guy (I guess that was what it was) sleeping al fresco:
The benches are designed not to be slept on, with hand rails built in, thus preserving them for those among the population who prefer to sleep sitting upright:
For some youngsters the pier is a romantic rendezvous:
To me the large plaza at the end, embossed with a decaying seal of the Rotary Club, of all things!- seemed rather empty and bleak:
And then a lone figure muffled in a jacket appeared and silently crossed the plaza to look out pensively at the waters to the west:
A good time and place to be pensive if you have something to work out.
This time it was White Street Pier, a place that has already been the object of an essay in this blog. The pier juts out perhaps a third of a mile from the beach, and it is frequented by anglers, romantics, insomniacs and off duty dispatchers in the middle of the night. Technically the pier isn't closed as long as the activities taking place in it's further reaches aren't illegal my colleagues tell me no one will be moved along. To me the pier is a place of reflection and strolling it's sturdy cement and asphalt length puts me in mind of being on a boat. It's odd really to stand behind the ample barrier at the edge and watch the waves roll by, refract and head back out to sea, and to find oneself at the same time on a fixed and immovable object. On a boat one expects a certain amount of motion in relation to the waves; not here. On the pier there is time to lean against the railing as and watch the water, or the lights ashore:Which makes the West Martello Tower look like a small hill...I always found it astonishing how things change their appearance between night and day when I was living in the water. At night seen from this angle it looks like a hill, by day it looks like the Garden Club,which is precisely what it is. This next picture looking seaward from halfway up the pier makes it look like dawn is breaking. It wasn't- I just put the camera on a 15 second exposure, propped it on the railing and let 'er rip; to see what it might look like you understand. The yellow strip at the bottom isn't a beach -it's the cement parapet!:I suppose there is a municipal obligation to keep these corners lit up but it seems odd sometimes to see the lights blazing and no one home. The entire island looks that way from the pier, looking up White Street with the traffic lights changing and no one there to watch:There were a few people out on the pier in the middle of the night. A guy (I guess that was what it was) sleeping al fresco:The benches are designed not to be slept on, with hand rails built in, thus preserving them for those among the population who prefer to sleep sitting upright:For some youngsters the pier is a romantic rendezvous:To me the large plaza at the end, embossed with a decaying seal of the Rotary Club, of all things!- seemed rather empty and bleak:And then a lone figure muffled in a jacket appeared and silently crossed the plaza to look out pensively at the waters to the west:A good time and place to be pensive if you have something to work out.
11 comments:
Creatures of the night, all of you. I can't keep my eyes open past 11pm (on a weeknight anyway). But one day I will take a nap and wake up at midnight, with my trusty Gorilla Pod, when it finally arrives. It's just that in Vancouver it is not safe to wander around at night due to all the drug dealers and shady characters. Right now, we have a gang war going on with bodies and bullet casings all over the place. People are shooting in the malls, in the restaurants, while you are driving in your car. All targeted hits, but one day innocent people may get hurt. And this is happening throughout the region, not confined to certain areas.
I caught a picture of a coconut recently, and I know where there are some palm trees so one day you will know that these things are not only confined to KW
bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin
I had no idea Vancouver was so exciting. I thought the mafioso in the series Intelligence was so much more civilized than Tony Soprano.
Unless you are drunk, stupid, or looking for drugs you can wander pretty much anywhere in Key West at any time and suffer nothing worse than an angry stare from one of the aforementioned.I am told Miami is different.
Conch: While Vancouverites are not proud of these events, do a google and type in: "gang war, vancouver" . I just did it and pages of murder and targeted hits fill your screen. It has something to do with the Mexican cartels, shrinking drug market, and control of territory as gangs battle each other
bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin
Dear Conch:
This pier has all the ambiance of long-term parking at Newark International Airport (Liberty International now) at 4am on Easter Sunday morning. I sent two of the pictures to a friend of mine, who is going to Photoshop huge squid tentacles wrapped around the light poles.
My native Jersey City now has a concrete pier jutting out into the Hudson River at Exchange Place. The last time I was there, half of it was covered with sleeping bums. The other half were fishermen with baited lines, looking to grab a meal out of a river bottom thoroughly lined with PCB's.
Seaside Park, NJ has a little pier like this in Barnegat Bay. The police use it for training purposes. Two cops go out onto it every 30 seconds in the summer time and club the living shit out of anyone who looks like they are having a good time.
October, huh?
Fondest regards,
Jack
Twisted Roads
I was sorry to read about your rubbish seat lock on your gold plated BMW. Hope the bitterness wears off.
October sounds great. But not in Newark. Ever.
Miami is incredibly bad. Shoot outs at schools. Robberies with no house members left alive. South Beach with girls missing or raped in their parking lots while hurrying home.
Glad to hear Key West is nowhere near it. Distancing is often very sociable.
See you soon, islanders!
Dear Sir.
It is impossible to offer bold new designs without sticking your neck out. The parts kit just arrived today. I looked through it with interest. Only two pieces were not available. It occurs to me now that they are the two broken ones on this rig. Thank you for the encouragement.
Each day brings one step closer to my Key West visit.
Fondest regards,
Jack
The first ride of the season will produce an exciting, saddle sore report.
Golly...you guys are like football on Sundays with your cigars, engines and burns. Give us your literary , "twisted" thoughts and photos! All of us can't get enough of them!
Jack...do you have a dog or not? And if so, god forbid, does it ride with you?
(please , get off the bikes and both ponder...it really takes us there!)
There are two ways to find his blog. 1) If his name appears in blue font in the comments section click on it. 2)Try the third entry from the bottom on my web list, named, by sheer coincidence "Twisted Rides." It is very funny and very adult.
Conch, you are a master of the night shots. I really enjoy them. There's something oddly comforting to know that there is life going on at night, even though I spend much of that time asleep.
Thanks also for stopping by my blog and discussing the merits of Kymco v. Elite owners!
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