Saturday, September 3, 2011

Fishing Bridge

The big white pipe leads to the South Florida Aquifer and the new pipe laid in 1982 runs alongside the new highway.

Joint by joint.

The old Flagler Bridge, with the old World War Two pipe runs underneath the old bridges.

This is some interesting stuff.

When they converted the old railroad bridges to a highway in 1938 they took the railroad tracks and turned them into crude railings.

I think the only reason Cheyenne leads me on the old fishing bridges is in search of bait fish. It isn't for the shade.

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South Roosevelt Roadwork

The repaving of Eaton Street has been widely praised for it's speed and efficiency but recent comments in the anonymous section the paper lead me to think they may have raised the bar when they repaved that street in just five days.

Already the work being carried out to fill in the former houseboat row with dirt (!) seems to be taking an age.

The idea according to the paper is to fill in the seawall in some manner and plant trees. It rather reminds me of the habit of sowing salt in the fields of the vanquished.

Houseboat Row was removed almost a decade ago to clear an eyesore from in front of the very expensive apartments planned for the area inland of the road.

Off they went and naught remained but a few posts and a fair number of memories.

After this lot is done perhaps we shall be able to sit in the shade of fruit trees and reminisce about the seawall that was.

I remember Houseboat Row as a collection of houseboats, mailboxes and potted plants, but for some people it was a way of life.

Things seem a little topsy turvey all round these days. Here we are in September and the road home was jammed and slow for mile upon mile.

At 35 miles per hour I had plenty of time to reflect how much like winter this felt, and not at all like the quietest month of the year.

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Labor Weekend Fun

Getting a ticket is no fun at all and from the brief trips I have taken up and down the highway I have seen a lot of enforcement out and about including quite a few unmarked cars I've never before noticed. Driving the Overseas Highway this long weekend will require all that attention people rarely give to the business of driving.

But there are quite a few people in the Keys this weekend busy enjoying what the Keys have to offer.

I enjoy the views and for all that the Keys are crowded to mark the official end of summer there are still lots of open spaces unencumbered with people.

I have said before that I am no angler so I know nothing about the sport but it takes quite a bit of gear from what I can see.

And peculiar physical exertions. "All hail the Lord of the Fish!"

The nice part about this official summer weekend is that it will look like this pretty much all winter long.

Boats running around doubtless hauling all the impedimenta of fish chasing, they will be here this winter in greater numbers than ever.

This is a family weekend so we will have to wait for Bike Week later this month to see the Overseas Highway crawling with loud v-twins.

But there are a few hardy solo souls loose on the road, looking good.

I am working this weekend, happy to be out of the ebb and flow of other people's busyness.

Let's hope they will be well behaved. Fat chance.

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It is a given that I am the world's worst shopper, and that if I am to be stereotyped it is that I am a typical man. Rush in, buy the vaguely suitable thing and rush out. Get on the motorcycle and blow the cobwebs from my brain. Thus this poster in then window of The Express store puzzled me not a bit.

The world of fashion leaves me cold, such as the latest absurdity that is the desire to be seen in public in these ridiculous hats.

Shop, Betty, shop and keep our local economy strong, thank you. This guy selling wire sculptures in front of La Concha seemed to attract shoppers to his stall like the proverbial flies to the web.

I cannot imagine how much time and energy it takes to sell this stuff.I admire salesmen even as I know I will never count myself among their number.

My problem is that I have no inner belief that thinks that anyone needs anything much and that makes selling a little...difficult. One has to be convincing above all else.

He is apparently and he doesn't have to pay the enormous rent landlords expect to receive for these downtown store fronts.

How they make a living I cannot imagine, lights on, doors open, air conditioning blasting and employees to pay. Phew!

They walk by, they look and some few drift inside to touch and feel and look and think and drift on by.

Fashion is a hard task master, one I have never bowed to.

When callers dial 9-1-1 and tell me the suspect fled wearing a t-shirt and shorts I think to myself he was wearing the Key West uniform, one fashion statement I have no difficulty adhering to.

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Camping For Crowds

Near Mile Marker 39 there is a campground which in winter is filled with vehicles and people and tents and boats all down in the Keys for fun under the sun.

The campground is known as a retreat for working people from Miami a weekend hang out as well as a vacation spot and a location for winter homes. In summer Ohio Key is quite quiet by comparison.

The RVs remain while summer rolls on toward the Fall, and some few residents come and go. The store and Chevron gas station at the entrance are open and make a convenient place to buy a cold drink to take to the nearby beach at Veterans Park at the foot of the Seven Mile Bridge.

The fishing is said to be excellent here as it is anywhere in the Keys. But I am no fisherman.

The views are fine too, this one below taken from under the old Flagler Bridge.

Imagine this place packed with people having fun. I am horrible at being in a crowd. I'd rather be alone but I recognize I am a feeble human when it comes to socializing and I do my best when called upon by my socially adept wife.

I'd rather have a wolverine gnaw my arm off than live cheek by jowl with strangers.

Labor Day promises cooler weather eventually, in some distant future when the tents will fill and people will be around to pay attention to important signage.

There's my campsite, the one all by itself, in the middle of the bushes.

I missed my calling, I should have been a hermit.

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