Sugarloaf Loop Road is another of those unknown open spaces in the Keys that you only find out about by osmosis (word of mouth) or by curiosity (poking around). I wrote about a walk I took in this area on the 25th October 2008, an essay I titled Sugarloaf Wilderness which included part of the loop road.
This time I walked the whole bloody lot in one afternoon, and it was ninety degrees (32C) so it was hot...and I didn't just walk the object of this essay, Loop Road, but I took in a chunk of the old State Road 939 as well so I spent three hours tramping around south Sugarloaf Key. Granted it's not the Mojave Desert but that's a lot of big sky to be roaming under:
And did I mention it was hot?
I did much better this time because I did remember to use sunscreen and mosquito repellent, though I did forget water and a hat, so in the heat of the early afternoon my shirt had to serve double duty. My wardrobe seems to be coming in for unusual scrutiny these days, pink crocs and all, so I feel obliged to point out that one can do a lot more than most people imagine, with even not ideal equipment. I felt like Gassim in Lawrence of Arabia, crossing the Nefud desert on foot after falling off his camel in a stupor. Lawrence proved he was as tough as the Bedu by turning around, against their advice and rescuing the stranded man. Of course later Lawrence had to shoot him because he initiated a blood feud that threatened the whole expedition. And people wonder why I am an Ironist. In the event I did survive the Loop Road crossing, even without a camel.
I have no knowledge at all about Loop Road's history or it's raison d'etre, though one can assume that this place was built to further development, which is the usual story everywhere in Florida there is something inexplicable. However what exactly they were planning to develop is unfathomable because the road is surrounded on both sides by salt water, in the form of a sound or lake:
Or by boggy ground that becomes water in the rainy season:
The house visible in the distance is on the other side of a massive canal dug through the rock alongside the homes on Sugarloaf Boulevard and is thus unreachable in a direct line short of flying (or swimming). Loop Road seems like it was a massive boondoggle of some sort that has become an abandoned roadway serving no visible purpose other than recreation:
However my fellow travelers only started to appear after the sun was obscured by a thick layer of clouds and while they were all busy improving their physiques, I was the only person I saw ambling along the road looking at this and that and pausing to take pictures of whatever I saw with no strenuous benefit in mind. Like observing pretty flowers:
Sea grapes here are doing a lot better than mine, which have taken to shedding their fruit as though in an act of self destruction:
I first heard, then saw this woodpecker even as the exercise enthusiasts were whirring by, heads down, no time for subtleties:
And I'm pretty sure I saw a rabbit-like creature bounding through the scrub, too fast for my camera. There were several sticks in the roadway of which this was the most tortured and artistic:
And I think the heat must have been getting to me but I was pretty sure I could the face of a rodent in this dried up coconut:
I took a few detours across the mud, wetted this week by some heavy summer thunderstorms and found mysterious paw prints, hopping along in parallel pairs:
And I also found this recliner, delightful presumably in the cool sunlight of winter, though a torture rack in the heat of summer, surrounded by freshly minted mud:
This is the side path I followed last October when i rambled down alongside the canal:
This unknown trail hacked out of the bushes I was too tired to follow:
The road went on and on, winding hither and yon:
I passed a trim boat snug at anchor, quite possibly a liveaboard as the bimini was up shading the cockpit, who knows perhaps someone working on Lower Sugarloaf, quite the castaway:
Not impossibly far from the bright lights of Highway One if equipped with a powerful dinghy:
But certainly isolated enough for most of us:
Loop Road and Old State Road 939 are closed to motorised traffic these days but the asphalt is starting to deteriorate:
Though some enterprising soul has carted out surplus cement to patch what they could:
And somebody else has been painting mysterious code in the roadway:
BS? Quite possibly, though I'll tell you what I think is BS, it's speed limits. In the days of motor vehicles traveling this loop the speed limit was 35:
Meanwhile on the enormous, wide and very straight modern Sugarloaf Boulevard the county has seen fit to impose a thirty mile an hour limit on modern vehicles. I mentioned this in my October essay and since then nothing has changed and the speed limit on the Boulevard remains at a piddly 30 miles per. Amazing!
This time I walked the whole bloody lot in one afternoon, and it was ninety degrees (32C) so it was hot...and I didn't just walk the object of this essay, Loop Road, but I took in a chunk of the old State Road 939 as well so I spent three hours tramping around south Sugarloaf Key. Granted it's not the Mojave Desert but that's a lot of big sky to be roaming under:And did I mention it was hot?I did much better this time because I did remember to use sunscreen and mosquito repellent, though I did forget water and a hat, so in the heat of the early afternoon my shirt had to serve double duty. My wardrobe seems to be coming in for unusual scrutiny these days, pink crocs and all, so I feel obliged to point out that one can do a lot more than most people imagine, with even not ideal equipment. I felt like Gassim in Lawrence of Arabia, crossing the Nefud desert on foot after falling off his camel in a stupor. Lawrence proved he was as tough as the Bedu by turning around, against their advice and rescuing the stranded man. Of course later Lawrence had to shoot him because he initiated a blood feud that threatened the whole expedition. And people wonder why I am an Ironist. In the event I did survive the Loop Road crossing, even without a camel.I have no knowledge at all about Loop Road's history or it's raison d'etre, though one can assume that this place was built to further development, which is the usual story everywhere in Florida there is something inexplicable. However what exactly they were planning to develop is unfathomable because the road is surrounded on both sides by salt water, in the form of a sound or lake:Or by boggy ground that becomes water in the rainy season:The house visible in the distance is on the other side of a massive canal dug through the rock alongside the homes on Sugarloaf Boulevard and is thus unreachable in a direct line short of flying (or swimming). Loop Road seems like it was a massive boondoggle of some sort that has become an abandoned roadway serving no visible purpose other than recreation:However my fellow travelers only started to appear after the sun was obscured by a thick layer of clouds and while they were all busy improving their physiques, I was the only person I saw ambling along the road looking at this and that and pausing to take pictures of whatever I saw with no strenuous benefit in mind. Like observing pretty flowers:Sea grapes here are doing a lot better than mine, which have taken to shedding their fruit as though in an act of self destruction:I first heard, then saw this woodpecker even as the exercise enthusiasts were whirring by, heads down, no time for subtleties:And I'm pretty sure I saw a rabbit-like creature bounding through the scrub, too fast for my camera. There were several sticks in the roadway of which this was the most tortured and artistic:And I think the heat must have been getting to me but I was pretty sure I could the face of a rodent in this dried up coconut:I took a few detours across the mud, wetted this week by some heavy summer thunderstorms and found mysterious paw prints, hopping along in parallel pairs:And I also found this recliner, delightful presumably in the cool sunlight of winter, though a torture rack in the heat of summer, surrounded by freshly minted mud:This is the side path I followed last October when i rambled down alongside the canal:This unknown trail hacked out of the bushes I was too tired to follow:The road went on and on, winding hither and yon:I passed a trim boat snug at anchor, quite possibly a liveaboard as the bimini was up shading the cockpit, who knows perhaps someone working on Lower Sugarloaf, quite the castaway:Not impossibly far from the bright lights of Highway One if equipped with a powerful dinghy:But certainly isolated enough for most of us:Loop Road and Old State Road 939 are closed to motorised traffic these days but the asphalt is starting to deteriorate:Though some enterprising soul has carted out surplus cement to patch what they could:And somebody else has been painting mysterious code in the roadway:BS? Quite possibly, though I'll tell you what I think is BS, it's speed limits. In the days of motor vehicles traveling this loop the speed limit was 35:Meanwhile on the enormous, wide and very straight modern Sugarloaf Boulevard the county has seen fit to impose a thirty mile an hour limit on modern vehicles. I mentioned this in my October essay and since then nothing has changed and the speed limit on the Boulevard remains at a piddly 30 miles per. Amazing!...............................................................
Post scriptum:
Reader Keith Krensberger has sent me these pictures from an automobile rally on Loop Road in 1974:
Delightful period pieces indeed. I wonder how many other such photos are out there deserving to be seen...
5 comments:
Mr Conchscooter:
I can think of better things to do on a 90degree day than to torture myself walking the Sugarloaf loop. Where is the bicycle ? It must have been affluent at one time with all these roads leading nowhere, or perhaps someone in authority owned a paving company.
oh, and I like your pawprints
bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin
Dear Sir:
I have heard of this "walking" business, though I have little recent experience with it myself. It seems to be on a par with self-flagellation. Scanning through the pictures before delighting myself with the text, I was startled to see a grinning Arab in the Keys, eith a maniacal look on his face.
Your reference to Lawrence of Arabia was veery soothing. It is one of Peter O'Toole's best (outside of "My Favorite Year") and one I especially relate to. I too amd a Shariff, but of the Mac-Pac.
Only mad dogs and Englishmen go about in the sun.
Fondest regards,
Toad
Twisted Roads
"Lawrence, Lawrence of Arabia, he came to fight the Turkish..."
I wonder if given tyhe choice, if Lawrence would have worn pink crocs or instead chose to walk across the scorchin desert barefoot.
Things that make you go "hmm"
-Peace
I wante dto ride the Bonneville so I had to leave the bicycle at home. Walking gave me time to think and regret.
My next post from the area (old State road 939) will not not have pink crocs. God forbid.
Fine looking seagrapes there. Anyone have a recipe for seagrape jelly or chutney? I plan to snag a few baskets from the neighbor's bushes soon.
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