Islamorada Bridge Walk

While I was hovering around Mile Marker 72 to photograph Craig Key I took advantage to take Cheyenne for a walk on the old Flagler Bridge which has been refurbished as a fishing pier on the edge of the town of Islamorada (purple island). It is a beautiful spot from which to look out across the water. This is the view south of Highway One, toward the Straits of Florida.In a north wind the Gulf side of the Highway was white with wave action, though the waters being as shallow as they are the waves aren't that big. I have no idea what the cement lumps are in the water. they look like big ship moorings but whay there I couldn't say.The bike trail is nicely landscaped. Looking east toward Islamorada.
Cheyenne surprised me. I don't think of these cement walkways as being that interesting but my Labrador finds everything fascinating. I guess anglers drop fishy bits on the ground. She was determined to walk the length of the old railroad bridge. These people were anchored and enjoying bouncing as they fished.Had it been twenty degrees warmer it would have been a glorious day. That is to say had it been less cold I would have enjoyed it more. It was still a glorious day to look at.The tide was flowing south and that combined with the breeze made the water flowing under the bridges look like a river during spring melt. How, you ask did I get that last picture..? Not by levitating. The engineers have added nifty little fishing platforms to the old bridges, places that stick out to enable people to drop lines in the water more easily. I was alone on the bridge so i could wander at will.As long as Cheyenne couldn't fall off I was free to enjoy looking around. So I did.Then I came across these weird things and I speculated they may have been some fishing apparatus. I should be a detective I'm that smart. In fact I met an angler huddling next to his van adjusting his gear and he took the time to explain to me that the nets are used for shrimping at night. Someone dropped something good and I could barely drag Cheyenne away from the spot.It used to be that there was only one city in Monroe County- Key West. Then Key Colony Beach, a city of 800 incorporated in 1957, Layton of similar size was founded in 1963, then nothing much happened for a while. In the 1990s there was a move across the Keys to incorporate to improve services and Islamorada incorporated in 1997 and Marathon followed in 1999.Here we see the bike path image- a cyclist wearing a helmet. All part of the improved services brought to us by Monroe County. This in a county where only snowbirds wear bicycle helmets, for some reason.At the end of the path Cheyenne and I took time to grope around under the seagrapes on top of the sewall. I limited myself to taking a few more pictures......while Cheyenne thrashed around in the undergrowth finding I don't care to know what. A Boy and his Dog. This was the cause of my visit, Craig Key in the foreground and the Channel Five bridge arching in the background. More rushing waters.My sure footed mountain goat of a dog. Just as well she wasn't ready to go for a swim. I'd have frozen going in after her to rescue her.

William And Catherine

Cheyenne attracted company after we got out of the car. A nearly naked man came round the corner to collect his errant ball of fluff. "How did he get out?" was the question. Beats me I thought as I paid closer attention to......the elderly KZ650. I had the four cylinder Yamaha version of this bike, the Maxim with shaft drive and it ran like a top with no maintenance at all. I bought it in Fort Myers and used it to escape Florida. After a cross country ride I sold it in Santa Cruz, California for reasons I don't clearly recall. Getting married may have had something to do with it. My wife was rather appalled to discover when she met me I owned no car. I bicycled everywhere around town and she asked what I did when I went out of town. "Take the motorcycle, " I said off hand. I don't think that was the answer she expected. Looking at this Kwak reminded me of all that...I have been busy flitting around with my camera and I figured it was time to do another street walk.This block of William, toward United is the back of the Mastic Trailer Park which I also photographed recently for some pictures on United Street.I can't imagine how hot it gets in these trailers in summer. Not least because we have been living lately through a particularly chill cold front so summer seems eons away. The sun manages to give a summery look to bright colors and palms even if it is quite cool.I am a sucker for mature trees, they make any house look good to me. I liked this one anyway with the tin roof and big old fashioned storm shutters.I really enjoy walking around looking at the bright colors of Key West. I think mostly people, if they notice me at all, think I'm a tourist as this sort of photography is quite common around town. people are always clicking away.When people ask I tell them I like to record the town as it changes. There have been so many changes since I first came here in 1981 and every time I came back, by motorcycle or by boat, more things have gone unrecorded even as they changed.This block of William and Catherine is easily identified by the huge Suburban Propane building. The kids on the skateboards buzzed by illustrating how useful those wheels are. I grew up just after the skateboard craze took hold.More bright colors in the afternoon sun.Often I notice the complicated skyline in Key West- all those decks and porches and railings and roof lines. This was Catherine Street one of my preferred cross town streets, looking east toward White Street. El Siboney, the great Cuban restaurant is up on the right.Suburban Propane, a landmark, in all it's glory.
and less glorious but ever so useful, the necessary propane tanks.And that was that. A quiet afternoon on William Street in Key West.

Pelicans and Stuff

The world is divided into people who commune with birds and people who don't. I am one of those who don't. This though is the cause of this essay, an osprey who passed overhead with lunch in his talons.Winter is when pelicans return to the Keys and they have been quite visible. I saw the osprey with the fish, and as I waited for Cheyenne to get her breath back I played with my little pocket camera, taking pictures of the only things I could see: birds.
Oh, and an airplane. I know about as much about planes as I do about birds.It was windy and the pelicans seemed to enjoy being aloft. They would squat down on the water and let the current carry them back. Then, when they had gone as far as they cared to they flapped up into the air and rode the currents back up wind. It looked like fine.I can't remember why but I did once hold a pelican and i was shocked by how light the big beefy bird was. It's like holding a feathery helium balloon.
I suppose they have to be light otherwise they couldn't fly, but actually holding a creature with hollow bones is a surprising experience. So much so I still remember how it felt though I can't remember how the experience came about.I like dogs apropos of nothing in particular but some people bond with birds. I remember a colleague years ago who took the day off she was so distraught her pet bird had died after a long life. On the surface we were quite surprised- a bird? But really a pet is a pet.This is one of those situations where a pocket camera is not much good and where a single lens reflex would be handy. The delay in the shutter opening usually doesn't bother me as most of my pictures are fairly static. But with birds flying around I had tot ake dozens to get a handful of half way passable pictures.I had lots of time to take pictures and mull over which ones to keep and which to delete. Cheyenne was in no hurry.r=0>The fence got inthe way on this one and at first I was going to discard it. Then I thought...why?This pelican flopped into the water and I saw a brief but epic struggle as the bird overcame lunch and swallowed. I wondered what it must feel like to be eaten alive.

Burp! And off for more happy hunting.One has to wonder if it really is a contemplative life for these birds.

On the water or in the air they look so thoughtful.

Above all the human busyness below they are barely visible dots.

Those three were hanging together soaring and dipping back and forth in formation. This next one was doing the solitary thing overhead.This is their range. On mature reflection it may not be such a bad life to be a pelican.