I was walking Cheyenne last weekend in the backwoods of Big Pine Key. As we get deeper into winter and more people show up around here it gets harder to find some outdoor space to be alone. In some fit of wild optimism I went towards the Blue Hole and found the parking lot was packed. Cheyenne weirdly enough wanted none of it, briefly sniffing in the bushes and backing up rapidly towards the car as more people clutching hydration bottles strode down the fifty foot path to the viewing platform looking as though they were seeking adventure in a place so arid there is no chance of convenience store water for a hundred miles. I looked for somewhere more remote and came up with a side street leading off into the pine woods. This truck reminded me of the character Doc Ford in Randy Wayne White's novels about Sanibel Island.
Further up the street I came across a more conventional fishing operation, lobster traps and all.