Cheyenne likes it too and she enjoys wandering the bushes next to the bridge also.
While people stand like mannequins dipping dead worms in the water Cheyenne stumped down to water level to make sure there wasn't any edible trash going to waste.
I can't say I have ever understood the attraction of the sport, and after years in the Keys, paradise for anglers, I still don't.
The views are pleasant enough.
And the bridge itself has been beautifully refurbished by the great State of Florida.
Cheyenne loves to hunt for abandoned bait fish.
With a strong east wind blowing up Bow Channel the waters take on a steely gray color.
But for these people chasing fish is more important than checking out pansy views.
Some people like to spend money chasing fish on the water.
Women can be martyrs to fish hunters. This one I don't get at all. Many women love to fish, you see them all the time on the bridges with poles, but to be out here wind blown and bored without even a book (or a Kindle) blows my mind.
Te bridge is also home to families cycling together. They liked Cheyenne but happily my pink Crocs kept them at bay.
And to cap it all we found dead fish strewn around the parking area. Raw fish does not appeal to Cheyenne but she gave them some close scrutiny before leaving them where she found them.
And I scrutinized this abandoned bra for some time trying to figure out what the story could possibly be. Nothing good I think.
I have no idea how the bloodmobile got into this essay, but here it is on it's way to Summerland Key for a round up of donors.
I have a rather rare blood type but can't give because I had Heptatis A, contracted in Africa when I was a wild motorcycling youth and not very conscious of cleanliness as I camped rough through Nigeria and Cameroon and ate whatever I found. The interior of the bus is therefore a mystery to me and all the more fascinating for it.
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