Floating

I wonder how much I will miss mangroves and palms, sweat and humidity in the not too distant future?

I know I'll miss the no maintenance swimming pool behind the house. We swim in the canal during the months of daylight saving time, when there is daylight after I get home from work, on days without lightning or rain which makes the water cold.

We used to go boating from our old home on Ramrod Key as we lived on a busy canal and the bay had islands and shallows where we could anchor and even picnic when the mood took us. Cudjoe Bay is a broad shallow basin with nowhere to park and picnic so we swim in the canal, easily and often.

I haven't yet grasped the nuances of submersible photography as must be evident, but I know there will be days when the water is clear and the sky is bright, so I live in hope.

Simply having a submersible camera seems revolutionary enough for me. Were I inclined I could drop it, walk on it, put it in the freezer or boil it and they say it would be fine. So I photograph my foot with it instead.

I got to thinking that if my travels work out I should be seeing much rain, a fair bit of wind, some deserts and sandy beaches and therefore I should get prepared. I got an unobtrusive black colored Olympus TG6 which the reviews said takes the best pictures among underwater cameras. It also fits in my pocket and has a complicated menu that does lots of things but gives me brain ache trying to remember them all.  It will take pictures fifty feet underwater.

I quite like the pictures, I find, especially considering I was bobbing around like an unsupported cork pushing wet hair out of my eyes.

The great thing about the Olympus is that you can twiddle knobs and dials with wet hands, unlike a waterproof smartphone. The entire camera is self contained with even the zoom is inside the housing. It is no bigger than a smartphone though thicker perhaps, and fits into a pocket. At $450 its a lot cheaper than a phone though it's got GPS if you need to navigate. It can't make phone calls, thankfully.

I fiddle with it obsessively trying to learn the nuances as I am told it rains quite a bit in Alaska.

On the whole I am an 80/80/80 type of human.  I like 80 degree air temperature, 80 degree water temperature and eight percent humidity. Don't think that will be on offer in those places where the tough Olympus will shine.

Cruising Blues

One of the benefits of growing old is that you come to realize, some seniors figure it sooner, others figure it later, that what they told you when you were young really is true. Life is a shared experience and we all go through similar growing pains and often reach similar conclusions. Its true what they used to tell us that good health s worth more than anything. You really do gain wisdom and lose the need to reform the planet in exchange for some elderly ironic detachment. I'm speaking for myself you understand. However looking back over history one can't help but feel that life might have been easier and more prosperous had the fire brands of history cooled their jets a little bit. Napoleon without the lust to conquer, Puritans not getting it onto their heads that God hated fun and those Spaniards and their insatiable need for gold...Ambition has a lot to answer for.

The city of Key West got overwhelming support for three referenda to limit cruise ships, their sizes and numbers of passengers. Personally I find my life is unaffected in large measure by the appearance of cruise ships however after a year of no sailings it does seem water clarity has improved in the Keys, and some particularly dense people seem to want to believe the two facts are not related. A century ago Upton Sinclair put it succinctly: "It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it."

There was a move to overthrow the city position by state law in one of those ironic moves from the Republican dominated  Florida state legislature whose passion to overturn local control seemed to fly in the face of whatever is left of a party political platform. In the end it looked as though lawmakers were going to leave the issue well alone and Key West's regulations might stand. Then a Key West billionaire hotel developer, who owns one of the cruise ship docks, stepped in and paid a cool million dollars to get the referenda overruled and the state legislature obeyed the call of the money and voted Key West back into the mainstream. Blatant and thus slightly weird. Upton Sinclair had a point.

I suppose once upon a time outrage would have followed this sort of news of the weird but from the high ground afforded by old age I know we live in the age of robber barons and blatant vote buying is the order of the day. Wealthy people got first dibs on the virus vaccine, does that come as a surprise? 

The cruise ship referendum was a funny old bird, politically speaking as it clamped down on low end tourism, in line with the mayor's manifesto to attract high end cultural tourists to Key West. She won the last election decisively but I'm not sure the consequences of electing an anti-populist mayor were clearly understood. Despite all the lamentation about the shortage of affordable housing the city seems helpless in the face of a workforce drifting to easier economies.

There are plenty of jobs in Key West but rentals are not available if you don't have $2,000 a month and six thousand to move in, to housing that may not be at all attractive. The pandemic has had its predictable effects on worker morale and stability. 

Of fifteen budgeted positions in dispatch only seven are filled. Officers trained to help out are shouldering more of the burden as we work short staffed. And the drive is on to hire and train new people with a  ferocity and determination I have never seen before. City employees are under staffed, we are constantly training police officers who live further and further  away from the city. I used to be an eccentric living at Mile Marker 28, nowadays I am completely normal (in that respect).

These problems are universal, and in a  time of massive wealth accumulation I keep hearing about cute bohemian retreats under siege. The entire county of Cornwall in Britain is becoming a second home hell for local residents who as usual can no longer afford to live in one of the most desirable vacation areas in the country. No coincidence it is also relatively remote but opened up to long distance part time residents by means of modern technology.

The good bits about living in the Lower keys are exemplified by the side benefits of a wealthy community, the support for the arts, cultural activities and functional social systems. Key West offers all the well known entertainments as well as plays and art exhibits and so forth. The city also has an astonishing array of services for the destitute, humans, mammals, reptiles and birds. It's just too bloody difficult to make a modest living and enjoy the fruits of your labor.

Cruise ships will be back, possibly this summer, the waters will grow murky and entry level jobs will need to be filled in the stores currently empty that sell ship visitors plastic souvenirs of one more port call.

Many years ago when we came to terms with this odd half life in the tropical United States we used to laugh that life in Key West offers First World prices with Third World service and none of the charm. Our cheerful mockery of the bizarreness of southernmost life has come back to haunt us a bit. 

Driving eight hours to get my van fixed is how I live. I know lots of people who refuse to drive to Miami never mind Tampa on the grounds it's "too far." A far as I can tell there is no choice. Key West as a permanent residence is getting tougher.

And the beauty remains. The lack of serious crime, the sparks of non conformity, the weather, the friendships forged in the crucible of difficult living, the sense of shared sacrifice, the fiercely guarded memories of times past. If there's only one stressed clerk in the store, or no tradesmen who answer your call for help, that is your badge of honor, your shared difficulty, banal and yet frustrating.

Lots of Keys residents come here to escape hard lives elsewhere, and exchange emotional repression for economic depression, which can takes years to build up resentment and exhaustion.

I was born a nomad, always ready to wander and curious to see new things. That I came here 20 years ago and never left is a testament to the amazing power of Key West to attract and hold anyone. In some strange way Key West repels those not suited to life in this town. Others it embraces and opens doors as if by magic. How we got lucky I don't know but here I am.

I am very fond of the novels of Graham Greene and his portrayals of Europeans out of place and striving to fit into cultures in foreign lands. I used to have this imaginary Greeneland (as his critics describe his imaginary locales and states of mind) of my own. I pictured myself an elderly gringo living in an isolated Andean town in the manner of a place under an ice cap or a volcano. I would live among the townspeople accompanied by my dog and my walking stick sitting on the benches in the plaza watching the world go by and occasionally startling lost visitors by giving directions in fluent English before relapsing into the back ground noise.

You could have done that once in Key West and some did, but now it would take a lot of self control among the "see something, say something" crowd who call the police on anything untoward. I would not be a literary figure here, I would be a nuisance. Oh well.

Tampa Trip

I finished work Wednesday night, got in the van and changed out of my uniform and drove past my home  (and Rusty) and took the long lonely road to the mainland. It was a lovely evening but I made sure to keep the engine revs below 2,000 as we cruised at 60 miles per hour. Channel Five bridge:

I got gas at the end of the highway just before the 18 mile stretch putting 22.5 gallons into a 24 gallon tank with a range showing 375 miles on the Promaster's dashboard. My plan was to drive non stop to the rest area at the Sunshine Skyway Bridge on Tampa Bay. My estimated time of arrival was around 1:30 in the morning. Alligator Alley (I-75) Naples:

After my motorcycle accident when I was three months in the hospital I had to make check up trips to the surgeon's office in Miami. One thing that did freak me out two years ago was how a three hour trip to Miami exhausted me. We went from the University of Miami hospital to a hotel and I went from wheel chair to bed and passed out. I wondered if I would ever get my stamina back? South Rest Area, Sunshine Skyway, 1:30 am. Dinner Stop.

I guess by now it's safe to say I did. Eight hours driving after a twelve hour work day and I was still wide awake and able to heat up a Lean Cuisine in the microwave without falling face first into the plate of tortilla fish.  I opened the small slider windows in the back which allowed a lovely cool breeze to blow, and stretched out in bed in the North Rest Area at the bridge. It's a banal highway rest area but noted in reviews for its scenic properties. I certainly observed the beauty in the morning reflected in the windows of the minivan   parked next to me:

I was alone in the van, no need to walk a dog or step aside for my wife so I made tea, ate the egg salad and sausage breakfast Layne had prepared for me. Then I washed my dishes and myself, the sink water drains to a tank  in order that we may leave no trace of our passing. I took a second cup of tea and sat outside watching a rather shapely dog walker herd her three animals across the grass. I missed Rusty but I enjoyed being contemplative and not active. Sunshine Skyway North Rest Area 8:00am Thursday:

My destination was Jerry Ulm, the self proclaimed Number One Ram Dealer in the United States on North Dale Mabry, Tampa, Florida. My van was squeaking after our Miami trip last weekend and I wanted the noise diagnosed, not on Facebook by shade tree critics but by an expert. I got what I asked for. I called to book a service on Monday and they took me in Thursday morning promptly. Manny took the van and directed me to the waiting area, a coffee shop with socially distanced seating. 

There was a time in my callow youth when a new engine noise, the sound of a jet engine spooling up when revving above 2,000 rpm would have made me cover my ears and press on. However decades of experience and an allergy to roadside break downs convinced me this needed seeing to. The Ram dealer in Key West "doesn't do Promasters" I was told and what might at first seem like a set back actually turned into a giant blessing. Things happen for a reason....actually they don't but you do need to have the capacity to see lemonade when handed a lemon. A small part of the vast air conditioned work area at the Ulm dealership:

While I sat and read a history of Central Asia (a future destination I hope) Manny and the mechanic pored over the engine which was actually displaying what I had hoped was a delusion.  They heard the noise too, making it very real, and thought it was an idler pulley but as they lacked the exact right replacement they sent for one across town. I had a Cobb salad for lunch at the café and very good it was too:

I found these pictures to explain to home base what was wrong, a suspected broken idler which keeps tension on the belt that operates the generator and starter motor broadly speaking. Manny made it clear that it was not supposed to seize after 17,500 miles and this was a warranty job, possibly completed by dinner time. Whew!

Well, it turned out I wasn't so lucky. The good news after they installed a replacement was that the noise went away for a couple of seconds but because Jerry Ulm hires conscientious people they double checked and the noise came back! This was not a warranty repair and I was looking at about $1200 to fix things. The second alternator installed to give extra battery charge to the RV battery bank (600 amp hours of Lithium) in the back of the van was dying noisily. I asked them to order the part from Nations in Cape Girardeau Missouri. The All American family business declined to overnight the replacement alternator and could not promise it would arrive by Tuesday...I wish the problem had been the idler but my Ram Promaster is solid and intact.

I was prepared to take a hotel room for the night so it was with some sadness I arranged a rental car at the Enterprise desk inside the dealership (!) and took my few belongings out of my retirement home. I felt truly weird shutting down the power and opening the fridge door before walking away from GANNET 2. See you in a  week I hope:

They gave me a Chrysler minivan to keep for a week. The rental car market has been ravaged by the pandemic I was told and Enterprise can't do one way rentals anymore as they don't have enough vehicles in their fleets to send them away. I called around and the best quote I got for a one day one way rental to Key West was $375. The van for a week at $450 seemed like a deal! I hope to drive back next week and pick up GANNET2 all ready to go again. That's the plan. The return trip Alligator Alley 3:00pm Thursday:

My wife is having shoulder surgery in Tampa and we have to be in town for her pre-op meeting with the medical staff and the Florida Orthopedic Center not far from the Ulm dealership. All this trouble with the van set her nerves jangling as we planned to take her home comfortably in bed after the operation. Van Life as basic life support ambulance...Four Lane Highway 27 and Krome Avenue to Homestead avoiding the Miami Freeway mess:

In the end I got home around 9:30 Thursday evening in time to give some reassurance that all would be well and to reassure Rusty that I hadn't abandoned him forever. The Eighteen Mile Stretch, Sunset Thrsday:

The next task will be to get the van back running properly and I have every confidence Jerry Ulm will get it done. The technician did not seem at all put out by the camper conversion and I was much reassured. I'm glad to know there is a strong dealer I can count on as we gear up for departure.  I want to think I can rely on them for pre-departure checks and after the party checks on the van when we get back to Florida after Alaska. This small problem has been very useful and instructive. Overseas Highway in the gloaming:

I hope Nations will honor their pledge to build the best and strongest alternators by recognizing that 17,500 miles of service deserves warranty protection. We shall see but my wife the former lawyer isn't convinced and is planning her small claims strategy. That might keep her busy in retirement as she recovers from the surgery. I will be working overtime for a few months more to pay for this small setback... A mobile retirement might require quite a few mechanical repairs I'm thinking so this is just good practice to be patient and deal with what needs to be dealt with. May the power of Social Security and the Key West retirement system never grow less. A journey with monthly income will be a novelty for both of us. I hope not all of it gets spent like this!

Miami Madness

On being vaccinated. I got my second Moderna shot on February 16th so technically I should be safe to act normal, were such an attitude in my power. I still wear a mask as required, I order food curbside, I avoid crowds, I walk Rusty in places where others dislike treading. 

My wife has shoulder surgery scheduled in a couple of weeks so even though she too is vaccinated she is anxious not to screw things up so she too avoids crowds in an effort to avoid infection. It seems sensible and over the top at the same time. The pandemic brings out the weird in all of us.

So it was with a little surprise we found ourselves sailing up the Keys in heavy traffic Sunday morning. The idea was to have lunch with friends, do a little light shopping at Trader Joe's and then sail the tank back home with me at the wheel and the working wife and Rusty asleep in the back. I like to drive home after dark whenever possible to avoid delays which are endemic on the Overseas Highway on weekends.

Norman Brothers fruit stand has a Rusty friendly field in the back. He had a great time while I picked burrs off my sock.

Back in the van in traffic increasingly heavy my wife broke the news to me that the boys now live in Miami Beach. Why? I asked petulantly, thinking of their former rented apartment on a quiet street far from crowds with lots of parking.  Going to Miami Beach is like visiting Duval Street inly with prettier and more self-conscious pedestrians. We inched slowly toward the beach surrounded by cell phone users.

There was some undefined traffic fiasco to make things worse so the line to Paradise By The Sea snaked for miles. Luckily the van has powerful air conditioning and enough mass to forge a path through the most aggressive and badly trained Miami drivers. I find it quite relaxing.

The boys had organized a street permit for us but there were no spaces in the permit zone near their apartment. Two blocks away was the restaurant where we were having lunch with Rusty friendly outdoor seating. As we drove past Time Out Market  home of my mahi burger lunch a Mini Cooper zipped out of a parking spot. Would you beleive my 21-foot Promaster zipped right in? Then a guy rode his scooter into the spot behind us and started going on about his camper van. We are in a  cult I discovered. Great fun.

Four dollars an hour is no more costly than Key West and using the app you can prolong your parking as you need to while eating lunch. Feeding the meter is very modern with a smart phone. I did see an old fashioned parking control officer in a car driving by. I have no idea how they check you've paid. 

Phillip and Van are a pretty astonishing couple. They found themselves a lovely quiet apartment in a lush complex full of character and not desperately modern. I asked if there is some secret gay realtor cult you belong to and they looked at me and denied denied denied. Then they admitted it had been sold to them by a  friend who was moving out. I am getting old but I think I have finally grasped the concept of its not what you know, its who you know. And you should have seen their place in Boston....

The reason we get on with them so well is in part because they are never quite settled.  They live for a while in one place, make it nice and move on. Van is from Maine and we had hoped to see them in Portland this summer (the home they haven't yet flipped!). However this year we have so few dispatchers left a three week vacation is out of the question. Life gets in the way sometimes.

I told you it was lush...and no For sale signs in evidence.

I am not the kind of demographic Miami Beach is looking for, young beautiful, affluent by whatever means necessary, and a shopper. I see this beach town and I fear for Key West's future where affluence is replacing eccentricity as the benchmark desirable trait. 

When we were out sailing many many years ago we crossed paths with a really funny man who had retired and decided to go sailing and "live the dream." After a while he told us his story and as unbelievable as it sounded we Googled him at his suggestion, when Google was a novelty act on a computer and sure enough there he was: the highest paid Government whistleblower in US history. Check 1989 in this lengthy list: Doug.

We crossed sailing paths a good few times and I found him to be well read, funny and great fun to be around. He was one of those people who helped me to learn to think for myself, to question my assumptions and to look beyond the obvious. He made me laugh.

But in the end it wasn't sustainable. We had to go back to work and he wanted playmates. I got a strong feeling he would have been better off retiring in the normal way instead of taking a huge lump sum and being cast into the wilderness. His equals among his people saw him as a pariah and the life he had known, of upper middle class earned income was now out of reach and with it all the people he had known. 

I would never bother to work so hard to be able to afford to live in Miami Beach but those that do live lives of no interest to me. Like the man in the photo below I stand on the edge of the action and want no part of it. I don't aspire to win the lottery, I don't want to live among lottery winners. I know one retired Manhattan merchant banker in Key West who inherited wealth and made a lot more with, by his own account very little effort, who describes himself as a member of the "lucky sperm club." 

Key West is a place in transition, and to a large extent always has been. It was created as a port city, a transit point between the Atlantic and the rich trade in cotton and grain in the Gulf of Mexico. The transition to a tourist town came by way of all sorts of trade, fishing, smuggling, government military installations and now in the new age of blistering wealth inequality it is a haven of button down respectability for retirees. 

Miami Beach is brash and colorful and youthful and bursting at the seams with public art in architecture and murals and fashionistas of all genders. They even ride scooters here almost as much as Key West. Layne shopped at Trader Joe's Rusty and I walked and stared and stayed away from the crowds in a pandemic reflex that may no longer be necessary but still feels more comfortable. Besides I still prefer the possibility of being slovenly in Key West...

Roast pork was on the menu after Trader Joe's and it was my first visit to Alessandro the Italian roast pork master. My wife had been by on a previous solo trip to Miami but this my first stop. Roast pork was a holiday treat when I was growing up in Umbria when three wheeler food trucks would visit villages on holidays and Sundays and sell slices of rosemary infused pork sandwiches.

We talked for a while as he prepared two sandwiches and a pound of pork to go.  The Wynwood Arts district in Miami has grouped a bunch of food trucks in one lot and failed to advertise them. He is gloomy about his future in Miami. On his Facebook page he says he is "temporarily closed." What that means we shall see.

Alessandro used to own a pork restaurant in Rome and sold it, as he found Italy was not recovering from the 2008 economic downturn that devastated the country. Now he says it certainly isn't better given the virus is keeping the country locked down. His pork sandwich is rather richer and more sophisticated than the slice of meat with a piece of crisp skin slapped between two slices of dry bread of my youth.

Porchetta to go ("da asporto") will be enjoyed at home. It's not everyone but it is how Italians in central Italy actually like to celebrate. This was why I looked forward to market day when we went to Todi and my family shopped and I smelled the rosemary and salted pork drifting across from the food trucks.

Night fell and we drove home, pausing to eat our sandwiches in the van in Alabama Jack's empty parking lot. You can do that comfortably when  you are driving your home around. Cool.