Sugarloaf KOA

I have  heard that the campground on Sugarloaf Key may not be coming back after Hurricane Irma wrecked the place.  I've never stayed there but I have heard from customers who loved it.

It's not surprising either as they had spacious shady lots and access to the water along with a  marina with all facilities. I had friends staying there and the place was clean as new pin when I went to viist them with a bunch of really friendly people. 

So I guess the rumor I heard that a hotel may be in the works would be bad news for campers who wanted  a nice space just 20 miles from Key West. On the other hand if a hotel really were in the works there are I'm sure plenty of people who could be persuaded to stay there or work there.

There is still plenty of construction underway around the Keys as slow moving insurance money gets paid out and this year we seem to have a pretty strong Spring Break as I see lots of traffic and many more calls for service at work at  night. And one of them are staying here, eighteen months after the hurricane.

 I walk by and it breaks my heart to see the place so torn up still.

 If you do check the website you will find essentially a static page promising information at some future date but rebuilding seems a rather hopeful term that is not reflected on the ground.

 It is a fantastic location but home now to security guards and open space.

 That much relied on mark used by travelers across the country:

 I caught Rusty in an odd moment crouching in the shade. It was hot!

 Later we stopped out on the highway to get the photo of the billboard and I took a look at the road and the clouds and usually this time of year campground residents would be out walking biking and fishing but there was nobody there.

All the more peace ad quiet for Rusty and I.  Here's hoping the campground comes back as it was  and Hurricane Irma  is allowed to fade from memory.

Last Sail

Webb Chiles has set sail from Panama to San Diego on the final leg of his sixth sailing trip around the world. For me who matured as a sailor on a  diet of Chiles' adventures  afloat it is a feat of some audacity to be completing a  circumnavigation by sailing direct across the Pacific Ocean to San Diego. Harbor hopping along the coast is a distance of some 4,000 miles, each of which I have sailed, but to head out into the open ocean and there scribe a vast arc is not the sailing style of most mere mortals. Especially not in a  24 foot ultra light racing Moore 24. But that's why he is who he is.

How do you have such a tight friendship with him? asked an acquaintance who couldn't seem to grasp how  necessary openness is to cultivate friendship. The acquaintance has thankfully drifted away as I could never find an anchor point on which to base a desired friendship. "Secrets don't make friends" a colleague of mine remarked in relation to some other thing we were talking about at work. Pretty smart saying I thought. Webb has never hidden the emotional toll of sailing, of being on the edge which has made his books so absorbing to an armchair sailor like me. Now he is approaching 80 and the end of what he describes as the middle phase of his life. The first phase was getting ready to go sailing and the long middle phase was making a name for himself as a  sailor and explorer who, in his words, goes to edge of human experience and sends back reports.  Now he is contemplating the third phase and the form it will take. The passage of time gives you pause.  

I very much enjoy his books still, but I am reading them sparingly as after this long sail there most likely won't be frequent fresh sailing content in the form of passage logs which he writes after each long sail. So eventually  re-reading the books will have to suffice when I need a sailing fix in the future. Eras end, change is inevitable, even here in the Keys in my daily life. Which is why I go out and take pictures trying to fix a moment in time and place with pixels. I record Rusty being happy because one day I fear he too will be a memory.

So what does make a friendship? Things to talk about, openness and ease of conversation. A shared sense of humor helps, and  I find a grasp of the difference between irony and sarcasm is really useful. Webb and I exchange e-mails in the sort of correspondence that puts me in mind of 19th century letter writers. We are old fashioned friends in a way that takes me by surprise when I think about how it developed. I miss his observations on the world, even on sports when he is at sea. It's a void all its own when he is absent from my inbox.

I fear  the pleasure of my own company, as I enjoy it too much. I take off with Rusty and my camera and I can amuse myself quite happily, unselfconsciously talking to my dog which is absurd but very satisfying as he sniffs and I seek new perspectives of the mundane through my viewfinder. I have to force myself to seek out diversions that include others. Writing to Webb is one such diversion. 

And I have been lucky as my friends who live nearby and my colleagues with whom I work  have been patient with my lack of mobility as I recover. It's impossible for me to explain rationally how it is, but my dog has learned to slow down to accommodate my limitations. They all, friends and dog, accommodate my need for time alone, even my ever patient wife gives me the space I need. Webb used to fuss about writing me emails as though they were intruding.  I had to reassure him they were welcome. I hope mine still are. 

I hope as Webb tries out retirement and as I slip into that same status in a  few years there will be more time to sit and contemplate, to write rambling letters like this one, to take pictures, to travel, to think and to await the final reckoning. It's a privileged status to be able to contemplate old age without fear or face the prospect of being cast aside as superfluous without fear, but much of what we middle class people take for granted is new and unusual in human history.  We get to grow old in peace with professional help for our failing health and we get pension money to keep us from starving to death on the margins of an active society. It's not that way everywhere in the world, only in our luxurious first world, privileged  communities. And I, the world traveler, am acutely aware of the privilege.

Watching the sun set on another day is a healthy reminder that there are only so many left. Best to be open and grasp life with both hands. I am doing that and part of that grasping is holding friends close, the ones who understand and can listen and can talk back. We are lucky to have a few each and thus keep the circle of life going round. That's why my friendships with Webb, with Robert, with Gary, with Mandy, with Rusty, with Nick and Steve and Sean  are only as comprehensible to you the reader inasmuch as your friendships with survivors of your life are as strong and important to you. Not everyone gets it. Not everyone has a circle of friends to fall back on. Another privilege of which I am acutely aware. 

And now in my own twilight years I find myself the possessor of family ties: my wife's sister's family in the US and my own sisters and their families in Scotland and Italy. It is an abundance I tell you. And you would think that subtracting Webb from this circle would be okay. But as he casts off and heads out I am happy for him and I remember the joy of the new unknown, but my heart is heavy because it is a portent of losses to come, and those will not be temporary gaps. And those I do not look forward to either.

Secure Socket Layer

In order to comply with search engine security I’ve had to add an S to the address of this web site. I’m told that it will forward automatically and if it doesn’t you may not be able to read this note. 

It seems secure websites are now required even though nothing is asked of you for this page. This isn’t a commercial site obviously and up till now I was allowed to continue without this extra expense.  Now I am no longer allowed to.  Sigh. I expect the newer TLS Transport Layer Certificate will cost even more. 

Past Imperfect

Next Monday I go back to Jackson South Hospital in Miami for what I hope is my last operation to finish what I started last August. I have a blood clot filter in my groin that is used to prevent strokes in immobile patients in the event a leg clot forms and decides to travel uphill and kill them. The IVC (Inferior Vena Cava) filter catches the clots and saves problems. However I am mobile enough these days I no longer need the filter in my body they tell me and a two hour visit to the hospital will get it out and send me home the same day. Unless there are complications is the caveat offered to me as they are after all, cutting me open with a knife. 

Rusty stays with friends, my wife and I spend Sunday night in Miami and Monday evening I’m home sleeping in my own bed.  Modern medicine is astonishing. And from there it’s onward and upward as I continue to practice walking without even a cane. 

A new pair of shoes help to keep my feet on the ground and in physical therapy I work on improving my balance.  Restorative action by lawyers is coming up against a brick wall it seems. The scumbag who nearly managed to kill me already has a quarter million dollar judgement against her family so she only had a ten thousand dollar policy for her car. Why the Florida State Legislature allows such miserable sums is beyond me but perhaps our state representative can be brought to think about this gross unfairness. It’s almost as bad as encouraging totally uninsured motorists on the roads. 

My wife feels the injustice of the situation more acutely than do I. She has had a tough physical and mental struggle with this situation. I was lucky inasmuch as I had time to think and sort out the good and the bad of what had happened to me. She saw only the dreadful external appearance of me laid out in a hospital bed stuffed with tubes and wires. Compensation seemed doubly appropriate when we heard through the grapevine the scum bag was telling people I just suffered a few broken bones. It’s at times like these one hopes there really is a hell with space reserved in it. 

I’ve lost accumulated sick leave, I can only work part time at the moment but medical bills are not swamping is for some reason. For that alone we feel lucky in the world in which we live. Medical bankruptcies loom everywhere. So there is that. And the care has been excellent. 

I had a bad moment a few nights ago at work. A motorcycle crashed in the early hours of the morning and the passenger had to be flown to Miami. The young man was not completely alert and they suspected a broken pelvis. That gave me some flashbacks. I can normally get over work on the ride home but that one stayed with me and still I wonder how he’s doing. These are the worst days for him and recovery will be long and slow. Which is hard for a young man to cope with. 

In the end all we can do is cope with our own problems I guess. He’ll manage without me and my own scumbag who ran me down will go on living as will I, each in our own way. There is a lot of truth to the saying that the best revenge is living well. I don’t care much for the concept of revenge but living well is a good way to live for any reason. There is a voice inside me that is a constant reminder that things could be worse and will instead be much better as time goes by. 

I doubt anything will go wrong on Monday as I’m inclined to believe the people who will be operating on me when they say it’s easy peasy. Nevertheless the fact I’m going to get sliced open is a salutary reminder not to take anything for granted. And also not to get too bummed out by life’s reverses. It could be worse I think. At least I was wearing my helmet and I still recognize my dog.

Night On Eaton

I keep reading about continuing  cold and snow Up North which is at odds with what's been going on down here. A pleasant breeze helps but it has been hot and sunny day after day, just how I like it.

My dog less so. Rusty likes to wait until the sun is starting to set before venturing out in the afternoon. Most of the time he sunbathes on the deck or wanders down to the driveway and lurks on the paving in the shade watching the world go by, then he returns to the air conditioning by way of his dog door, and stretches out on the tile in the kitchen. It really is a dog's life, cage free, fence free and unencumbered by obligations or guard duties. In return he behaves with perfect propriety. 

 So by way of reward when I'm off work and awake at some ungodly hour we drive into town and take a stroll before the sun comes up but after the bars close and people retreat indoors. I have a terrible feeling that when I retire the hours between three in the morning and six in the morning may become my favorite times of day, as it were. I enjoy the absence of activity.

 I have decided to give in to my better nature and try using a  tripod for night photography. I have long felt the absence of a steadying influence and now I am able to walk a bit more securely in my new shoes I think maybe I can handle a tripod and slow the pace down from time to time. Taking pictures on the fly is not my preferred method at night when I would like to spend more time on composition and shutter settings. During the day with strong light and a need to keep an eye on the little brown bundle of joy a tripod would be in the way. I'm hoping that at night I can take the time to work on night exposures. I guess it's time.

Walking the streets at four or five in the morning is really quite lovely and it gives me time to think. One of the big issues facing Key West at the moment is  a plan by the state to refurbish the one solitary bridge into the city. The work at the Cow Key Bridge is scheduled to take a year or so to complete and the plan calls for one lane in each direction to be closed as work progresses. They want to keep two lanes open outbound to allow emergency vehicles to get to the hospital...Its going to be that crazy It is pretty obvious already that one bridge is barely able to cope with seasonal winter traffic in and out of the city. What happens when access is halved is the stuff of nightmares.

I have been pondering the problem myself and I am seriously thinking of buying an electric bicycle and parking my car outside the city and riding in to my job from Key Haven. The electric component is to allow me to get to work in a fit state to sit in a room for twelve hours with two other non-sweating people...And the fact is an electric bike would make getting around the city to other obligations much more viable than pure pedal power. That's my argument and I'm sticking to it.

I've even heard some people pondering the possibility of arriving in the city by boat. There really is no alternative to the bridge repairs, and they can't safely be postponed. One side effect of this rising sense of panic is the notion that maybe the city needs a second road bridge to Stock Island but that apparently would take a decade to accomplish and millions of dollars. Personally I think a bicycle bridge across Cow Key Channel could alleviate a lot of traffic as electric bikes are becoming viable alternatives to urban car use. 

In the meantime we blunder forward hoping for the best as the bridge repair deadline approaches in April 2020.  According to the Keys Weekly the state is offering an incentive to get construction work down to nine months to avoid road closures during the  heaviest winter traffic which would be very good.

I know I must seem a bit odd but I enjoy following Rusty on these walks. He goes one way and then the other and  I just watch him trot back and forth. He is amazing around cars too. I guess he learned to survive on the mean streets of the Redlands in Homestead. He looks into the street before crossing and sometimes I worry that interfering with him will distract him as he copes so well on his own. Then when people start to appear I put him on the leash and he slows his pace to match mine hobbling along behind.

I would never get out like this if it weren't for Rusty but he is always ready. Well I should say almost always ready.  Some days he just lies there and looks at me as I prepare to leave the house. He'd rather stay in the cool and let me go out and see my physical therapist and go shopping and deal with distracted traffic on North Roosevelt Boulevard. I can hardly blame him.

And then when we do go out together in the warm dark night I see things I'd never notice in the hustle and bustle of the day time. I pity my wife at home asleep and snug while I'm being dragged around town by my dog.

And some things I make myself by hitting the flash which I never use, and an innocent tree becomes a ghost. 

Thank you Rusty for the encouragement to explore.

Old Bahia Honda

I haven't visited this spot in months, and when I did come here for the first time after I got home from the hospital I found the trails were inaccessible to me with my feeble legs. It was annoying to find myself unable to navigate pebble filled trails set at a steep angle on the slopes leading to the old bridge. So I didn't  come back. No one wants to be reminded of their frailties. This latest visit, filled with determination to cope, I was quite surprised to see a vehicle abandoned by the water:

Rusty took off but he didn't go far down the trail toward the old bridge. So I found myself not visiting the old monument!

It was as though he remembered my inability to make it across the slope and he herded me back to the parking lot. I suspect I am sentimentalizing his lack of interest in the trail but I'm okay with making him more human than he ever might want to be. 

The fast crumbling old bridge still looks imposing. Deep concrete pilings support the old railroad trestles converted to a road bridge in 1938. The sun low in the sky gave it a golden glow with no filtering on my part.

The car it seems was not abandoned as I saw movement inside, a sleeper enjoying free waterside accommodations most likely.

We walked the paved bike trail and descended on foot to the water...

...where I found signs that others have made the vehicular trek along what little remains of the old road down.

Before Hurricane Irma tore everything up it was easy to turn off the highway and drive down to the water. Camper vans used to do it. I took this picture in August 2013.

The car picked up and left  driving up the remains of the track, onto the bicycle path (!) and away... 

We continued hang out alone wandering through the shrubbery which is struggling to grow back after the ravages of the storm.

I sat on an old cement block that used to be under a leafy gumbo limbo but that is now struggling to produce leaves at all.

A few signs of life:

This old mangrove got killed off but the remains still stand. I saw no leaves at all there.

My long standing cement seating area that used to be in the shade:

A couple of walkers from heaven knows where showed up on the skyline:

Took some pictures...

And we continued to sit...

And then they left...

A lovely morning.

More death and destruction from Irma. The amount of wrecked foliage here really pissed me off the first time I came by right after the hurricane. I used to love sitting here in the abundant shade from the trees that grew along the water's edge. Nowadays it is still a scene of devastation. The highway itself was torn up nearby, right in front of the state park entrance cutting Key West off for several days. But this area was what annoyed me most when I considered all the trees torn up around the Lower Keys:

The damage to homes was dreadful of course and I was lucky in that department but to see my favorite walks stripped of leaves and foliage felt like Nature rubbing salt into the wound. 

It remains a beautiful spot of course:

Bike Week  in Daytona brings tons of motorcycles to the Keys the week before as visitors explore the state.

The Florida Highway Patrol showed up and parked in the median in front of the Bahia Honda Bridge.

It's known as the Lower Keys Toll Booth and almost immediately the blue lights came on:

Traveling south off the bridge speeding locals slow down to 60 mph in the 55 mph zone. Visitors  see the four lanes reducing to two and race to get ahead. And, as it turns out get a ticket.

My wife came by on her way to work in Marathon and Rusty said Hi.

And so home to chores.