Affordable Housing

The manager of the city of Key West has handed in his resignation and is off to the utility company to get a $70,000 pay raise in the number two position there for $250,000. The city commission who appointed Greg Veliz by acclaim one day has now decided to carry out an old fashioned candidate search to fill the position. Meanwhile city planning continues.

One  big deal moving to the forefront now that Truman Waterfront has been turned into a park is a long discussed plan to build affordable housing in Bahama Village. The three acre parcel between the Navy Base and Fort Street is being enjoyed these days as a soccer field, and very fine it is too.

However Fort Street is already home to several housing projects and the idea is to add possibly 120 units on the three ac re parcel. When the Navy handed 34 acres of waterfront land to the city decades ago the city promised Bahama Village some attention. It looks like the time has almost come to pass but there are some possibilities for delay.

Fort Street runs alongside the Navy base looking south and all there is at the moment is the parking lot. 

With a strong black fence behind it. The Bahama Village redevelopment agency wants to put the land development out to bid even though Affordable Housing of Monroe, a not for profit with an enviable track record of building affordable housing has an excellent proposal with funding plans for all affordable construction to rent and buy

This below is the Petronia Street side of the field where there used to be a very useful porta potty now gone. The weird humps in the background are part of old navy construction still on the base. So the request for proposals, none of which is expected to improve upon the sole bid from the local group, will hold up the process the newspaper says possibly until 2023.  

The wheels of development in Key West grind slow, but one hopes they will grind exceedingly effectively one day.

The Blue Hole

I had a suspicion the recent cool weather might have pushed the most famous resident of the Blue Hole to shallower warmer waters. I  guess I got that right.

With clear blue winter skies and bright sunshine under a strong cool northeast wind, the blue hole was looking quite appealing. 

One of the longest straight roads in the Lower Keys is Key Deer Boulevard which points due north three and a half miles across Big Pine Key. Two thirds of the way to the end when you think you somehow have driven too far, there it is, a brown sign announcing the blue hole.

This being winter the Blue Hole attracts quite a few cars, and I might add no masks (except mine). A few days ago I made one of my sarcastic remarks comparing mask wearing requirements to stores that require customers to wear shirts and shoes and my rather heavy handed humor insinuating that the shirt requirement  should be abolished got me a written reprimand. No, I don't really want to see naked chests when I go shopping. However I did see a lot of naked faces congregating around the alligator. 

The signs against feeding are generally in vain I believe. The previous alligator in the Blue Hole suffocated when it ingested a pink plastic toy thrown at it in the water. Every visitor to Florida live sin holy terror of the alligator yet it is the dinosaur that is at risk from contact with humans. Ah irony.

Don't forget: "don't feed the wildlife." In case you had forgotten while walking across the fifty foot pathway to the water's edge - DON'T FEED THE WILDLIFE.

I made a comment to the  person six feet away about how lucky we were to get to see the elusive alligator, a comment that elicited a blank stare.  No less than I deserve no doubt. I don't much care to talk to people on my days off but when I overcome my reluctance in an effort to be polite I get rebuffed. I make a terrible salesman. They could not  take their eyes off the alligator which gave no signs of life and gave an excellent imitation of paint drying...under water.

There is all sorts of information about alligators and wildlife refuges for anyone with a penchant for information, of which there were none. People came, looked, got bored instantly and left. For the record: crocodiles are salt water creatures, shy and retiring and can be found occasionally in the Keys, mostly the northern islands nearest Florida Bay.  One swam down to key West for a socially isolated vacation probably and caused a sensation. I remarked rather tartly to my long suffering wife that seeing a polar bear might perhaps have been cause for astonishment in the sub-tropics.

Alligators are freshwater creatures much easier to find in the Everglades than in the Keys where freshwater is scarce. The parks people say alligators cruise the Keys looking for fresh water but I've never seen one in 20 years of walking the trails. I suppose from my perspective it's good that they say this stuff so more people are scared and I get to be alone in the back country.

I have to say the Blue Hole was looking slightly blue when seen from  a certain angle.

Though really the water is green and somewhat tannic when you look straight down. There are no rivers or lakes in the Keys and places like the Blue Hole are created by humans digging up the rock to make gravel for construction and the resulting quarry, when abandoned fills with rain water and here it is: alligator country. Humans import the alligators, they don't just sprout here by magic.

A pleasant spot to waste fifteen minutes on your way to pick up groceries at Winn Dixie up the road. 

I was lucky enough to get to see the wild creature of the deep on this trip.

I don't come here that often but he (or she) made this trip worthwhile. Let's face it, alligator watching isn't that interesting but without the sight of the dinosaur the Blue Hole is pretty much as interesting as any backyard pond Up North. 

Mask free parenting: bring them up right!  I stepped aside for them and they walked by pretending I wasn't there. The Keys do attract some socially inept people. Myself among them I suppose.

It was a good afternoon to out looking at Nature.

White Street Pier

When the north winds blow the shrimp boats duck south of Key West, and anchor in the smooth waters in the lee (downwind of) the island.  When you look at them head on they look like water buffalo grazing, with their shrimp net booms stuck out to the side to steady the boats at anchor.

With a cool fresh breeze blowing and bright sunshine this weekend was a perfect time to hang out at Higgs Beach and work on your tan.

Or to chase fish on the White Street Pier. 

I'm not sure the fish stood a chance with a pier full of fishing desperadoes.  

It was a great place to spend a lunch break away from the office.

And there was even one intrepid sailor sailing in the breeze, a wind strong enough to require but one sail to move smartly with the main furled.

There was fascinating stuff everywhere around the pier.

I sat with my back to the northeast wind and played with my camera  and soaked up some sun.

Not many masks in evidence but I wore mine. Though vaccinated I don't want to spread anything.

I was keeping the Vespa (for sale) at the police station and enjoying running it to "keep it fresh" for the new owner whoever he may be. He says he owns a pizza shop. We shall see if he comes through.

A Morning Off

My wife has three more months of work before she retires in early June. She may even get to teach a last month of summer school before she gets kicked, or leaps joyfully, to the curb of the working life. I am looking forward to having not only an unemployed person at home to cater to my every whim but also to not having the house filled with conjugated verbs and bizarre sentence structures as adults endeavor to come to grips with the nuances and bizarreness of spoken English.

Normally on a day off I retreat to the van in the driveway where I have all the comforts of home squeezed into a 6 foot by 12 foot space. I make tea, get milk from the fridge, eat some cereal, read the newspaper on my laptop and ponder the vagaries of human nature. Of course all these delights are only available to me after I get Rusty the entirely too easily fatigued dog, walked. So on some certain days off filled with no appointments or chores I take the mountain to Mohammed as it were. 

He is never easily convinced riding in the van alone with me is a good idea. I get the feeling someone watching me carrying my dog bodily into my van might get the idea I was going to do some unspeakable things to his furry little body and indeed he curls up like a shrimp facing an executioner. As I carry his trembling 60 pounds through the sliding side door. My wife thinks he views the van as a long distance vehicle suitable only for all three of us together so he has no idea we are going to Old Bahia Honda twenty minutes away. For all he knows he may be going to Michigan two weeks away.

All is forgiven and forgotten when we arrive at the waterfront and he starts whining to be let out. Last Friday morning wasn't i surprised to see a giant Class A motorhome in the dirt by the waterfront. Even more surprising were the occupants, a group of 19th century German gentleman farmers and their blushing brides in ankle length skirts and bonnets. 

It's not that Mennonites don't vacation in Key West because I have seen them around from time to time but that they were packed into a 40 foot RV made them much more interesting. I suppose in the age of Covid a motorhome makes sense for everyone. If you are hoping for photos I thought that my fascination didn't outweigh common courtesy so enjoy the nature pictures instead. I got there just at sunrise but they were wrapping up their early morning walks and soon left. The habits of a lifetime are I am sure hard to drop on a vacation for them as for us English. The thing is they seem so austere I just can't imagine them taking breakfast in bed to celebrate a day off.

"Please clean up after yourself please." Grammatically the message fell a bit short and though I admire the sentiments I am not sure writing the words on a plank attached to a tree by nylon ropes really lives up to the promise and the plea of "leave no trace."

Naturally there were plenty of traces left by industrious people including a pile of garbage collected for transport. The spot is a long way to hike with a load so I fully expect a pick up to swing by in an attempt to remove this festering temptation to drop more. People who are enjoying this more open beachfront after Hurricane Irma swept away the undergrowth better wake up and leave no trace if they don't want it closed to vehicles.

Over the years and all the trails I have walked I have slowly come to understand that making alterations is a bad idea. If trails grow over through lack of use I try to view it philosophically. In the Keys I have seen trails wrecked by storms but pretty soon the chain saws come out and restore these few escapes we have into the backcountry. But dumping trash baffles me as there are county garbage cans everywhere.

Rusty decides the turn around point and I trail along behind him never more than twenty feet apart. It is a silent companionable way to walk. If I get hung up on a  picture he sits and waits and watches me. If I take too long he starts a low pitched insistent whine and I move rapidly along. I am trained.

People do feel the need to leave their mark. The worst are the bottles and cans plopped on dead branches so the illusion of aloneness cannot be maintained. But you always know people were there by the rocks propped up and the ground disturbed.

It was still early and the sun was low in the sky. The air was cool thanks to a low key cold front that blew into the islands just in time for the weekend. 

A lobster carapace on a  stick:

Wood likely killed off by Hurricane Irma which blew 140 mile per hour winds here in September 2017.

A sponge catching the sunlight. There used to be a sponger I saw from time to time in Kemp Channel many years ago. He had a trident, a prong on a very long broom handle and he stood up in his boat on dead calm days drifting and poling and suddenly darting down and spearing. He'd lift up a dripping ball on the end of his trident and drop it in the bottom of the boat. He reminded me in silhouette of that Chinese water colors of boats fishing with cormorants. I never met him and was rather glad not to as I fear meeting the man might have wrecked my illusions., Nevertheless I wondered about the sponge market for the real things, especially in the Keys.

We wandered slowly back to the van i the bright sunlight. I think Rusty was figuring that the van was less torture than he thought it might have been.

The pile of trash was around the point in the distance. A pleasant walk when not encumbered.

Low tide:

I have removed the Moon Shade awning to stop myself forgetting about it in a dark locker for the summer. I don't want to leave it in the van to get moldy but that means I prefer to find shade on sunny days! I did all right on this occasion.

It was the perfect day to be at the beach. The breeze was cool and fresh, the sun was warm and after having breakfast and some water Rusty composed himself for a nap in a pile of shady grass. Me being human I got busy after breakfast with my book and my cup of tea and I couldn't hear even the merest whisper of a Zoom classroom anywhere. 

A man stopped by on a bicycle, unmasked and more or less distant and asked me about camping here. He was, I have to say, a brave man with his reluctant wife and proper RV, looking for off beat places to park. He told me he had been moved along from Searstown in Key West and I commiserated until he explained he had been there seven nights, arriving after ten and leaving before eight. Seven days? I asked in disbelief. You got away with seven nights free parking? I was astonished. Then he said he parked outside Boyd's campground in Stock Island as the spaces were too expensive. An employee came out that night and said he couldn't park on the street. He came back the second night and got moved along by a Deputy. I am such a goody two shoes I could never pull that off staying in place after it was obvious the employee was pissed off. I am a rank amateur compared to the man from Massachusetts and his reluctant wife who would prefer proper campgrounds. 

It was a pleasant change, a sense of irresponsibility, a moment away that felt as though I might have been anywhere, not twenty minutes from home.

Back at home Rusty discovered once again, there is routine after the van so he did more napping and watching the world go by. My wife and I spent the afternoon culling more belongings, cleaning the van and pondering what will go into the storage locker, what will go to the dump and what my wife might foist on Goodwill. I'd rather be off in the van that sorting through 20 years of stuff that has unaccountably stuck to my life in that time. I have to be motivated not to be lazy.