Lula Mae has a bad leg, and her limp got worse so she ended up at the Marathon Animal Hospital, where she was caged. When I showed up to see her she was not her usual ebullient self, rather she was the epitome of hang dog:
She was glad enough to see me and she wagged and wiggled just a little and let me scratch her neck and rub her ears in my attempts to give her relief from her awful plastic torture ring. I spent a half hour sitting and talking to her, in a room that smelled to my inadequate human nostrils, of hospitals, not least because that is where we were:
Lula Mae seemed almost relieved to settle back into her bed, exhausted by the contact. I wanted to say hello to her neighbor but one doesn't want to aggravate some unknown condition or other. She looked like she could have used a visit:
Lula Mae is long since home and mending. One of the lucky dogs in a world where animals get short shrift. A hospital as equipped and modern as this would be quite human, never mind humane in many parts of the world.
She was glad enough to see me and she wagged and wiggled just a little and let me scratch her neck and rub her ears in my attempts to give her relief from her awful plastic torture ring. I spent a half hour sitting and talking to her, in a room that smelled to my inadequate human nostrils, of hospitals, not least because that is where we were:Lula Mae seemed almost relieved to settle back into her bed, exhausted by the contact. I wanted to say hello to her neighbor but one doesn't want to aggravate some unknown condition or other. She looked like she could have used a visit:Lula Mae is long since home and mending. One of the lucky dogs in a world where animals get short shrift. A hospital as equipped and modern as this would be quite human, never mind humane in many parts of the world.
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Florida has instituted a new policy on tag renewals and this year one can get a sticker that lasts two years which seems sensible to me. I registered the boat trailer, utility trailer, the boat itself, the Vespa, Bonneville and Nissan for two years and paid a little over $220, which seems cheap to me. My wife's car gets it's sticker on her birthday in January and then the stable will be good into late 2010. Florida is a no personal income tax state so there are a zillion odd schemes and fees to make up the budget. One is to issue a license plate with a special fee to fund particular projects, from Universities to whales, and by my count there are almost one hundred specialty car tags and one motorcycle tag:
I wonder how our officers can figure out what state these tags are from they are so diverse.
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I have only ever heard of Americans moving their houses, and I don't know if this is symbolic of this nation's impermanence or if it is just a practical way of preserving a valued home, but I never cease to be amazed by this sort of technology:
I don't think this house is going to be loaded onto a trailer and moved, I believe it is simply being raised to get a new, and perhaps proper, foundation. Certainly it appears to need one, as it sits looking rather undignified, up in the air above White Street. Key West has an above ground cemetery as noted elsewhere and this is the reason why:
It's not just the dead that need to be kept above the water table on "the Rock."
I don't think this house is going to be loaded onto a trailer and moved, I believe it is simply being raised to get a new, and perhaps proper, foundation. Certainly it appears to need one, as it sits looking rather undignified, up in the air above White Street. Key West has an above ground cemetery as noted elsewhere and this is the reason why:It's not just the dead that need to be kept above the water table on "the Rock."
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The City of Key West has reached agreement with the Truman Annex Master Property Owners Association and a gate is supposed to be built across Southard Street to secure the Annex from Goths and Vandals at night. As part of the agreement the city had to build a second access to the Truman Waterfront that was deed to the city by the Navy some years ago. I happened upon the new road, on one my midnight rambles. It appeared to be awaiting a ribbon cutting ceremony:
The new access road has been built from Fort Street and it splits into two one way lanes at the junction. the inbound lane comes from Geraldine, past a rather tight corner, while the lane that heads into Bahama Village forms a rather tight ess turn of it's own:
I may be wrong but I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I walked the new street. It has the undefinable air of being something of a passive aggressive statement by the city, as it does open a fresh access to the waterfront which is important to the Navy Base whose Commander has demanded twenty-four hour access to his property. However, while obeying the letter of the agreement with Truman Annex, the city has created a route that defies the ability of any large vehicle, military or otherwise to negotiate the corners. Thus it is, Southard Street remains the only viable waterfront access for trucks. Which is not anymore the city's problem as the agreement to end the lawsuit with the Annex has been adhered to. If the Navy wants 24 hour access for trucks, that will be their problem. A solution worthy of the machinations of the former city manager Julio Avael. I am impressed.
I may be wrong but I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I walked the new street. It has the undefinable air of being something of a passive aggressive statement by the city, as it does open a fresh access to the waterfront which is important to the Navy Base whose Commander has demanded twenty-four hour access to his property. However, while obeying the letter of the agreement with Truman Annex, the city has created a route that defies the ability of any large vehicle, military or otherwise to negotiate the corners. Thus it is, Southard Street remains the only viable waterfront access for trucks. Which is not anymore the city's problem as the agreement to end the lawsuit with the Annex has been adhered to. If the Navy wants 24 hour access for trucks, that will be their problem. A solution worthy of the machinations of the former city manager Julio Avael. I am impressed.
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This couple has nothing to do with anything but they just looked happy:
This couple has nothing to do with anything but they just looked happy:
And this left over from my cruise ship pictures reminded me that they still want us to keep on shopping to keep the economy afloat:
This one I saw in Miami and I couldn't make up my mind if it has to do with not fishing for alligators or if alligators shouldn't be fished or if one shouldn't be fished by alligators. It seemed rather urban for alligators, the State DOT office complex...
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A few motorcycles just for fun :
I was on my home one evening and I stopped on Sugarloaf to photograph a sunset (see the next paragraph) and I got overwhelmed by a patriotic moment. No nation puts out more flags than the US. If any Cubans were to parachute onto the airstrip at Sugarload Key in their quest for freedom they'd be sure which country they'd landed in...._________________________________________
I rounded up some pictures of Cheryl who died this month in Key West as mentioned in a previous essay:
She was 56 and spent much of her adult life in Key West. My buddy Curt taught her the fine art of living on the water and she spent a good few years living on her Chris Craft anchored near Rat Key. I took this picture of our sailboat anchored nearby sometime around 2000 after my wife and I arrived here from our trip from California via the Panama Canal:
For me the half mile row into Garrison Bight was generally a pain and I was extremely glad when I organized an outboard. Cheryl disagreed:
Curt was always a fanatical rower seen here with Cheryl's dog his stalwart passenger. He still lives at anchor but even he these days has an outboard:
I look back at that time and wished I had taken more pictures, which makes me glad I've got it together finally to do just that. Better late, as they say.... 
...than never.
I published an essay a while back which I titled "Bridge to Nowhere" chronicling a short walk I took on the northern side of Summerland Key where I found a bridge at the end of the path which had been shorn of it's on ramp and as I stood there in my shoes and socks I wondered where the bridge went. The picture above looks back at the southern tip of the bridge and the end of the land where I had to stop last visit. I had returned to the spot armed with a pair of rubber clogs and the nerve to wade into the water and grapple with the end of the bridge.
The tide was coming back in pretty fast and I had this moment of wondering how cold the water would be, it reminded me of a cold mountain stream gurgling over the rocks. Naturally it wasn't cold at all, so the next obstacle was to haul myself up onto the wooden bridge. I threw my backpack onto the bridge to keep the camera safe while I dealt with the bridge.
It turned out to be surprisingly easy, there were nice solid bolts sticking out of the vertical post. almost like steps, so up I scrambled, trying not to worry about how i was going to get back down later. It wasn't real high, just six feet maybe, but I felt rather middle aged scrambling about like a child. Rather sooner than I expected I was up on the wooden bridge and walking to the opposite end.
It was a glorious day in the Lower Keys, bright sunshine, sparkling waters and a fresh easterly breeze. Indeed the wind was refreshing though not out of the north, almost like the first cold front of the winter, even though temperatures were in the upper 80's. The bridge itself was surprisingly solid, despite years of being abandoned in the sun and rain and storms. The planks were bolted together and the galvanized bolts were still solid. It was a fine piece of engineering, and now entirely wasted as the other end was also removed:
From on top of the bridge I could see a trail snaking away into the bushes:
It was, even for me, the work of a moment to leap off the end of the bridge and start walking. I was curious to see what this elaborate bridge had been built for and why there were the remains of a road at the northern end. The old road took but one turn past some bushes and immediately it began to deteriorate:
I was wondering if the road might lead to the remains of a home, at least the foundations or something. I have seen abandoned homes in the Bahamas that had collapsed under the weight of time and in the old days they used to build homes in these latitudes with cement foundations and coral rock chimneys (Crab Key near Georgetown comes to mind). The bridge fascinated me because it seemed so elaborate merely to connect a homestead which in the old days would have relied on a boat to get around anyway. I kind of figured there had to be some kind of cottage industry up here to justify a bridge this well built....
The trail snaked around a fair bit and from time to time I could see a peak of water off to the west, or some mysteriously uprooted trees to the east:
But of human construction there was no sign on any side of the trail. Which probably shouldn't be too surprising as the shrubbery was pretty thick:
I wish I could say that it was a pleasant walk but despite the sun, the breeze and the invigorating blue sky and puffy white clouds it was a really clod hopping clump through the muck.
We are in the closing weeks of rainy season and everything that isn't asphalted is wallowing in water, and as result my rubber clogs were squeaking and squelching like crazy through all this water. Plus I was carrying my camera in my hand ready for any exciting thing to appear, so there was that to worry about too, as the camera is not waterproof.
The only interesting thing I spotted were a few faint footprints in the mud so others had come here before me, possibly walking a dog, though as I'm not Natty Bumpo I can't say for sure. I also found a few strategically placed planks to bridge the deepest water puddles. I was covered in gray clay specks at this point and I surrendered. Back I went and I confess I was glad enough to see the bridge reappear through the greenery:
I got back on the bridge easily enough and spent a good bit of time standing on the warm wooden planks letting the clay dry on my legs and feet and other places where wet mud isn't supposed to reach. I played with the camera checking out the manual settings and trying to capture the sparkle of the sun on the water:
Not very well it turned out, looking down Niles Channel towards Highway One. I think I was just dicking around to avoid facing the descent at the end of the bridge. I am well enough convinced I did a good job of poking around in the underbrush to be fairly sure there is nothing too obvious that I missed on the island though you could probably hide an Iraqi army in the spiky shrubbery. I shan't be back I think. The getting off of the bridge was a piece of cake, and I didn't tear my shorts or fall in the water or commit any of my usual pratfalls. Expedition successfully concluded I'd say.
There is something about food that is covered in a batter and deep fried that tastes particularly good, and even though such cookery wrecks the nutrition, Americans' favorite flavor I once heard it said, is crunchy. I am quite fond of the fish basket at No Name Pub, deep fried fish and salty crunchy silver dollar fries. Throw in a large glass of 
The bard remarked that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but apologetically I choose to contradict the immortal one on that point. "Big Pine Key Pub" does not have the same ring as "No Name Pub" and I find it hard to imagine the pub would have lasted as long had it taken the former name. Nevertheless it is a fact that No Name Key is across a rather long bridge from the eponymous pub:
No Name Key rejoices at least for a while longer in the fact that it's residents enjoy cable television and phone cable service on their island but not cable electricity. This apparently has to change to 
No Name Key's other claim to fame, aside form the 
I spent probably a quarter of an hour just lounging on the bridge, admiring the 
And then I rode home. I swear there was almost a chill in the air. It must be freezing somewhere Up North.