The Lost Horizon

I stood on the beach and watched  a whole winter world float by. The waters south of Bahia Honda were busy, another sign that the winter influx has started to fill the Keys for the next few months.

It is a relief to come out to places like this and get away from work and the crowded roads and all the people on the streets. 

The funny thing about these places is that visitors naturally tend to congregate in one place and just a few feet away there you will find a quiet spot to walk with your dog, take pictures and space out all by your lonesome. 

Rusty found iguana holes to inspect and I put my Lumix camera to use chasing boats and birds with the telephoto lense.

A busy dog.

An hour of running back and forth chasing smells and he was ready to take  a nap when we got home.

I am not used to seeing pink seaweed. So I took a picture as Rusty rustled up the bushes behind me. There was no one anywhere in sight even though a dozen cars were in the parking lot right off Highway One.

Then I saw the cormorant paddling along the shore and I thought to myself, small bird big ocean.

The old Bahia Honda bridge, over a hundred years old in fact, still stands and looks great in pictures. I know I have taken variations on this picture before and I am pretty sure I will again.  It is an extraordinary structure no matter how many times you photograph it.

I thought I blew this picture but the FZ330 Panasonic made a picture I did not expect to get.

I saw what I thought was a car exhaust under water. On closer inspection it was a waterlogged old boat fender and the rope it had been tied to... I wonder what the story was?

This barge was actually a sailing catamaran with its mast on deck. Another story there too, especially if the mast lowering was involuntary.

Dramatic skies following a weak cold front:

We don't seem to get strong cold fronts anymore with powerful winds and rain and roiling clouds and plunges in temperatures. Everything is relative but a drop from 82 to 65 in the space of an hour, especially around here in the sub-tropics, is pretty dramatic.

The lobster carapace put me in mind of lobster mini season and that's something I don't much like. It's two days when anyone can dive for lobster supposedly under strict limits and conditions (no air tanks, no spear guns, not in residential canals etc...) but it turns into a massacre the week before commercial lobster season begins. 

A couple of turkey vultures pondering what exactly Rusty might taste like as he...

...lay there panting to get his breath back.

Afternoon Sun

The gym I go to is close by Don's Place, the bar, so when I am sweaty and tired and Rusty is with me we go for a walk which often leads us this way down Truman Avenue. I posted this picture on my Instagram account (michaelconchscooter) as "Wasting Away In Margaritaville." A bit obvious but true nonetheless.

The other side of Don's Place on Turman. Where you come for a seven am drink.

What I like about Key West is what sometimes drives you crazy about this town: the variety of characters and scenes that one just takes for granted. Homeless run shoulders with millionaires who wear street clothes without labels. Cycling is efficient, but car ownership isn't and thus loses its role as status symbol.

I read on Facebook about the travails of packing and leaving for anew home in California posted by someone I knew in town. I can't say we shared lifestyles as he made a lot of money and l;iked to live high on the hog. I don't mind going high on the hog but I am happy to go low too, especially when I travel. I see no point in journeying to a country 5,000 miles away to eat the same high end "American grille" or sushi instead of trying local dishes. 

So when I read of their new California home in a gated community with home owners passwords and bylaws and all that stuff I wasn't surprised. I guess after  a long time in the chaos of Old Town orderly gated serenity has its appeal. And yet here we were approaching another typical street scene, bicycle repair man took time out to pet Rusty and show me the nuances of his low rider, two people standing in the street blocking the road, as you do, chatting.

Nice signage too, for a change instead of the nasty plastic hardware store stuff:

The bell at the firehouse museum on Grinnell:

No idea what this is but someone worked hard to create it:

Rusty rarely grazes on street food but he cleaned up this lot. He is a surprisingly picky eater for a former stray. Maybe he likes the civilized food he gets at home these days:

Oyster shells as road fill. Weirdly medieval:

I love the evening light on these classic Key West porches:

Reading while cycling:

Florida louvered window:

Here you go, home sweet home. Conch cottage needs  a lick of paint. And restoration no doubt. 

Good luck!

Conch Homes

In some manner the term Conch Cottage refers to homes that have been knocking around since Key west was chartered in 1828 and they are invariably made of wood and are supposed to be small and charming.

 I found an article in Coastal Living magazine discussing an extensive renovation of one such home:

The Winfreys' early 1880s Conch house (the local term for any simple wooden residence) would have been a familiar type to the spongers, wreck salvagers, and cigarmakers who filled the town back then. The Classical Revival sawtooth (from the ridges of its parallel gabled roofs) had three bays--originally, a central entrance hall flanked by two small rooms. The "classical" derives mainly from its simple porch columns and harmonious proportions, but the couple might well have thought it referred to ruins: Though clad in deathless pink aluminum siding, the house had major termite damage, dry rot, plants poking up through the floor, and rain drizzling through the roof.

"It dawned on us that it wasn't going to be just three carpenters working for three weeks," says Carey. Determined to restore the house's original character (and satisfy Key West's vigilant Historical Architecture Review Commission), they began working with preservation-savvy architects William Horn and Frank Herdliska. Like many owners of coastal homes, the Winfreys reviewed the renovation from afar--first New York, then Washington, D.C., where they moved after Carey was named editor in chief of Smithsonian.

The "sawtooth" referred to in the article is a home with a couple of additions in back of the original house creating several pointed roofs, designed that way to catch more rain to feed the cistern for a larger family in the bigger home:

The look is supposed to be finished with a picket fence or a cement block wall (Christmas ornaments optional). Rusty enjoys exploring the streets while inspecting the base of the fences.

 The God of Prophecy Church on Elizabeth Street is an adaptation of a Conch ("konk") cottage:

Money flows in to Key West and renovation and repair is a big part of owning a run down elderly home which has weathered the ... weather in this salty sunny wet  town.

 And there can be lots to haul away if the work encompasses major repairs:

The old Seven Fish restaurant was charming because it was in a Conch cottage type space. Now they are in a larger modern building as I wrote elsewhere on this page  I'm not sure it will feel the same at all.

 Restored, painted and ready for anything:

I always enjoy the written delivery instructions. This by the way is a classic Conch cement block garden wall:

 Mysterious lanes and alleys...

Cruising The Waterfront

These delightful open spaces will be gone soon so I am trying to enjoy them as much as I can with Rusty before they are overrun with concrete and landscaping. And on this visit there was one of those plug ugly seagoing things called cruise ships but which actually look like Soviet apartment complexes.

 I was intrigued to see this long distance cyclist pedaling hard out of the dead end at the waterfront. No idea where he came from or why. Perhaps he spent the night on the cement?

 Then I spotted my buddy Curt  helping to tie up the big block of a ship.

 There he is reaching for the line:

 It was a lovely day and I was enjoying it properly.

Nor was I alone in my pleasure. Rusty trotted up to him and let him run his hands through his soft thick fur. It never ceases to amaze me how my formerly stray  dog is so eager to be friendly to strangers.

 I hope the new park will draw visitors to the floating museum that is the Coast Guard Cutter Ingham.

 Mangrove islands across the harbor.

 The seaplane flying to the Dry Tortugas:

 I like to let Rusty wander in this open space but not all dogs are that lucky:

 And because it is winter squads of loud squawking cyclists burst through the serenity of the morning.

 The museum has a long history:

 Rusty was checking out the area under construction. I can already see the pattern of order to come out of the chaos in the swerving line of cement on the ground:

This used to be a parking area:

Above they are tearing up what you see below as part of the first phase of development of the land that used to be part of the Navy Base:

 

Driving back up Fleming I saw Curt cycling oblivious to my presence. I was in a hurry and couldn't stop for a chat when I saw him pull off into Fausto's before presumably heading off to his second job selling food to tourists. He has been consistently working those jobs for the past two decades while living on his boat anchored beyond Wisteria Island. It's quite the record for consistency in this town.