It still happens from time to time that I come across a lane or alley that I don't remember hearing about. Quite likely there aren't many calls for the emergency services on Caraballo Lane, but I was looking for a lane to photograph and this one fell to hand on my way out of town on Eaton Street. 
I must have cycled past it on my way to work on the waterfront in my previous life but why would I have noticed it? The entrance is marked by the two most common styles of homes seen nowdays in Old Town Key West. The old:
And the old refurbished in grand style:
The lane is half a block long, though unlike others it has somehow resisted the blandishments of tarmacadam:
I must have cycled past it on my way to work on the waterfront in my previous life but why would I have noticed it? The entrance is marked by the two most common styles of homes seen nowdays in Old Town Key West. The old:And the old refurbished in grand style:The lane is half a block long, though unlike others it has somehow resisted the blandishments of tarmacadam:And whether it is an alley or a lane I shall leave to someone else to arbitrate. If you do choose to drive down the lane (or alley) you'd better be ready and able to back out as turning room is limited, and backing onto Eaton Street, a main thoroughfare, takes more nerves than most drivers seem to possess. The speed limit on Eaton is 30 miles per hour for some joyous reason even though visitors will frequently be seen pootling along at 12. They are on "island time" and fondly believe everyone else is too.
.
Old yes, but not out of date:
Personally I'd rather throw my money at central air conditioning than at televised advertising, but there we are. While I am in a bitchy mood (and I can't think why, if it isn't a lack of motorbikes in my life) I should point out that I am a great fan of asphalt. I have lived on dirt and gravelled roads and they suck. They create mud when it's wet, dust when it's dry and they are impossible to ride with any sense of security, though these days even asphalt roads seem to be giving me trouble.
I don't feel particularly indebted to the Scots for golf, haggis or Scotch eggs, but asphalt must rate high on the list of human achievements. I know it is fashionable to denigrate roads and cars but had their critics lived and traveled in communities where it is absent they might possibly change their minds. On the other hand Caraballo Lane's slightly dishevelled air is very picturesque:
And this is the place where those preposterous safety measures called insecurity lights have been allowed to disintegrate:
In a delightful backwater like this a stern finger wagging should be sufficient:
Caraballo Lane is picturesque:
The lane also provides two major food groups for hard economic times, papayas and coconuts and judging by the bountiful fruit on my own trees we may be having a bumper coconut crop this year. I need to plant papayas judging by this bounty:
Looking back at Eaton Street:
And across the street is the landmark Island City Hotel, circa 1889, with its splendid carriage entrance and gingerbread decorations:
I should point out that it would be a very good idea not to mix this place up with the Island House for Men on nearby Fleming Street. One encourages a certain level of intimacy, the other doesn't. Up to you to find out which is which. Neither of which has much to do with lovely Caraballo Lane.
Old yes, but not out of date:
Personally I'd rather throw my money at central air conditioning than at televised advertising, but there we are. While I am in a bitchy mood (and I can't think why, if it isn't a lack of motorbikes in my life) I should point out that I am a great fan of asphalt. I have lived on dirt and gravelled roads and they suck. They create mud when it's wet, dust when it's dry and they are impossible to ride with any sense of security, though these days even asphalt roads seem to be giving me trouble.I don't feel particularly indebted to the Scots for golf, haggis or Scotch eggs, but asphalt must rate high on the list of human achievements. I know it is fashionable to denigrate roads and cars but had their critics lived and traveled in communities where it is absent they might possibly change their minds. On the other hand Caraballo Lane's slightly dishevelled air is very picturesque:And this is the place where those preposterous safety measures called insecurity lights have been allowed to disintegrate:In a delightful backwater like this a stern finger wagging should be sufficient:Caraballo Lane is picturesque:The lane also provides two major food groups for hard economic times, papayas and coconuts and judging by the bountiful fruit on my own trees we may be having a bumper coconut crop this year. I need to plant papayas judging by this bounty:Looking back at Eaton Street:And across the street is the landmark Island City Hotel, circa 1889, with its splendid carriage entrance and gingerbread decorations:I should point out that it would be a very good idea not to mix this place up with the Island House for Men on nearby Fleming Street. One encourages a certain level of intimacy, the other doesn't. Up to you to find out which is which. Neither of which has much to do with lovely Caraballo Lane.
Driving towards Key West on Highway One, there is a place just past the Sugarloaf Lodge where someone parked a plane:
This unmarked street on Google maps is labeled "Perky" after the mythical town that was supposed to have been built around the developer's bat tower that can be found at the northern end of this road. 
The fact that "Perky" never came into being hasn't deterred mapmakers, locals call this place generally "Lower Sugarloaf" and this is where the airstrip lives, shown by that billboard advertising airplane rides.
They say the landing strip is 2700 feet long, about half a mile to you and me, and just over three quarters of a kilometer in Canadian miles. It looks long enough to me, though I know nothing about flying at all. As airports go, Sugarloaf's is a very home brewed affair:
This is where the flying lessons are apparently given:
With planes parked alongside possibly ready to go:
Continuing the home grown theme there is a simple mechanic's shop in a trailer:
There is an ultra light also, similar in many respects to the one currently floating at the dock at Sugarloaf Marina next to the lodge. Doubtless for rent is you have a yen to fly ultra-lightly: 
It wouldn't the Florida Keys is precious land area weren't given up to the hopeless wrecks which sit gently decomposing at am epochal rate in the sun:
Beauty and usefulness are strictly in the eye of the owner. Not to mention the cost of removal and disposal. You might think this would be an excellent spot to try some speed trials or just to bugger about on with a motorcycle, however to guard against a collision with an aircraft such foolishness is forbidden:
Though one can stand for a while and contemplate the surroundings which inevitably include water around here:
And so, after standing in the sun for a while one has nothing left to do but turn around and head out. At which point one comes across the little green shed one saw peripherally on the way in. More rides!
I am told by people that have done it that throwing oneself out of a perfectly good plane here yields tremendous views. The day I decide to do something so foolish I promise I shall post pictures. Looking back at the airport one can glimpse the houses I call the "Ho Ho Ho Homes". They light up the seasonal sentiments at Christmas time, clearly visible across the water for northbound traffic on Highway One.
I hope I shall be back on the Bonneville soon because seeing these pictures and remembering riding does me no good at all.
The not so magnificent:
The revolutionary:
The military:
The middle class (in a class-less society):
The artistic:
I like the modern art gallery above with the sign outside- peligro, "danger" - though I have no doubt it refers to roadworks, not art. Cuba for an American is the back door equivalent of North Korea, though unlike North Korea, every sign I have seen is that Cuba is just another Latin American country, partially dysfunctional, and yet in many ways more functional than one might imagine, considering the US's hostility of the past 60 years.
The American love affair with the automobile is one starting point for a rapprochement, a way to close the gap between two nations ninety miles (150 kilometers) apart:
It used to be that the automotive world in Revolutionary Cuba was stuck in drive circa 1959, but these old cars nowadays are more often powered by modern Japanese or Korean engines and parts cobbled together in ways that Americans have never had to learn. 
These old cars and Soviet era Ladas (Fiat 1500) are replaced by modern shiny go karts from the Far East where trade embargoes and ritual resentment are anathema as far as Cuba's import market is concerned.
Tourists with hard currency (what an Iron Curtain term!) get special treatment, consisting of whores restaurants and buggy rides. In a land of egalitarian poverty, the dollar rules:
There is so much propaganda about Cuba in the US it's hard to discern truth from fiction. My sole visit was a close sail-by taking cover from a storm in the Straits of Florida and all I saw were revolutionary slogans, mountains, fields and endless mangrove islands along the north coast. I listen to Radio Reloj (950am) and Radio Nacional (590 am) in the car, now that I am forced to drive, and while I sit up at work in the quiet times I wonder what they are doing across the way. Probably much the same we are, with less. They tell us Cuba is allowing Havana to crumble, which owing to their lack of money wouldn't be surprising. Perhaps it's true in some parts of the city:
To compare Cuba to the United States as so many critics do seems irrational to me. Comparisons with similar countries might be more in line. I'd rather be Cuban in Cuba, than Haitian in Haiti or Honduran in Honduras. If I were Cuban in Miami I would count my blessings in my dollar denominated bank account, or if I wanted my finca back I'd do what Castro did and take to the Sierra Maestra and fight for it. Otherwise I would shut the fuck up, grow fat and contented in the land of the free and let commerce do it's work to break down barriers. The embargo benefits the dictatorship across the way and the would-be dictators in Miami and why President Obama, who wants change in the rest of the world, won't do anything about this stupidity is just another of those mysteries that puzzle me about our leadership. Banks yes, autos no. Palestinians yes (at last) Cubans no. If not now, when?
