A lovely morning greeted us last week at Veterans Memorial Park at the beginning of the Seven Mile Bridge. We weren't alone as there were already people sitting on their cars staring at the horizon.
They left so Rusty and I had the place to ourselves, the sun was up and the quality of the light mattered more to me than apparently to the sun worshippers.
Hurricane Irma has left it's mark still apparent:
The spoil islands left by Flagler's engineers who dug out the foundations of the bridge were washed away in part by the storm. The tired coconut palms are still flopping there:
Shipping is still out there, though in smaller numbers these days.
The porta-potties are not going to replaced soon. I met a former colleague who now works for the county and he told me the officials are studying what to do and what gets done is nothing. The toilets remain wrecked and unusable.
They mow the grass and keep the place looking good and Rusty was happy as he loves to roll in grass.
The sun was well up but the place was still looking good.
Setting fire to perfectly serviceable picnic tables seems particularly stupid but these people live among us, like it or not.
It's a nice spot and I had a rather photogenic dog with me.
Across the new (1982) Bahia Honda Bridge.
And so home.