Highway One looking east towards Boca Chica is mostly empty at that hour which is why I enjoy working short shifts occasionally. It's a trip flying down the empty road, a cool breeze and only the light of the headlamp to break up the darkness. The full moon made it even more spectacular last week. The last couple of miles into Stock Island the highway is illuminated which spoils the effect a bit. This is the easternmost turn onto College Road with the big Tennessee Williams Theater illuminated billboard:
This spot is where the city of Key West actually has it's outer limits. North Stock Island was annexed by the city to make way for a golf course and related gated housing development and the northernmost lane of Highway One is in the city of Key West (as is College Road).
The other three lanes and the median strip are in Monroe County. Which means that if this runner were to get heat stroke he would be attended by a city ambulance.
If he were across the street (where there is no bike path) it would be a county ambulance. Very confusing and completely uninteresting I'm sure. Just one of those oddities that strike the mind of a dispatcher. The Burger King is in the county, as is the big empty lot next to it. The lot was to have been developed by the indefatigable Spottswoods who felt the community needed yet another strip mall hereabouts. The damaged economy saved us the excrescence, the lot is for sale happily:
So what could that bright white light be that beckons from across the street?
Is probably not the liquor store, the place where you come for alcohol if you are desperate of a Sunday morning before lunch (!?) and can't wait for the city liquor counters to open up, when the Blue Laws relent at noon and permit such reckless behavior:
No, the bright white light is in fact our favorite chicken place, available on Stock Island of course:
And if you need gas 24 hours you can check out the Chevron at Mile Marker 5 more or less, awkward to get into if you are headed into Key West (where the other Chevron at White Street is also open all night as is the Citgo). This is the Chevron at the intersection of MacDonald Avenue:
The approach to the Cow Key Bridge, the only bridge into the city proper, is a series of light industrial businesses, mechanics and the like, lining the southern side of the highway. It's not pretty but it is useful:
Not forgetting the all important Harley Davidson rental shop at Hurricane Hole Marina:
And with your rented Harley you too could join the hordes of lookalike cruisers parading up and down the Overseas Highway:
I am forced to concede that cruisers make sense, for those with extra tough tailbones, in a state noted for it's flatness and straightness but I sure would like to see a little more variety on the streets of key West... And then, back on the road, we come to the bridge itself at Mile Marker Four, the place where the city really starts:
The last four miles of the Overseas Highway down to Fleming and Whitehead Streets are in the city and this is the formal notice of the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning if you are going the other way...
With an important reminder from your friends at Key West PD:
Should you choose to ignore the advice there is free board and lodging available at the Stock Island Hilton where they throw in a free body cavity search with registration. On the other hand should you find yourself needing to settle down in delightful Key West there us at least one bank with money to spare:
I was rather surprised to see the banner looking so cheerful on the way out of town, but there it is. Some banks apparently aren't in distress; we should all be so lucky.
I parked the Bonneville in a motorcycle spot on Frances Street planning to stroll over to Nassau Lane to take some pictures. Imagine my surprise when it occurred to me I had already done that, and in fact using the "search" function at the top of the page I found the essay posted last December 18th 2008. Well bugger, I thought. This blog really has been going on too long. It was with some trepidation I went to Roberts Lane for a back up plan and honestly I couldn't remember for the life of me if I had taken pictures there or only thought about it. So I took some more. 
Fortunately the same "search"function revealed no previous entries by this name so here we are, off Frances Street between Southard and Angela, a stone's throw from the cemetery. Indeed Google Maps shows Roberts almost connecting with Catholic Lane, though in fact they don't seem to join without crossing private property...
I could hear sounds of construction coming from the house though I was discouraged from approaching as I overheard a most unusual conversation, as I stood on tip toe, out of sight) I hoped!). One male voice said: " I don't see why they'd come after me.I never killed anyone." Which is quite devastating as the opening gambit in any conversation when followed up by the next statement to his companion in physical labor: "It wasn't like I killed anyone,"he went on: "I was just the book keeper to the mob." Which had me interested. It didn't seem like he was in the witness protection program, though why would he be laboring instead of living off his ill gotten gains? Maybe rebuilding a home on Roberts Lane is deep cover? Like the sailors in HMS Pinafore I with caution feeling, softly stole away...to enjoy some of the architectural gems of this tiny lane:
It is traditional in Key west to paint the eaves over the porches in this or similar shade of blue. supposedly it keeps away insects, and more esoterically, spirits as well.
I am a big fan, as are insurance companies, of metal roofs which provide the strongest hurricane protection and I particularly enjoy the old style metal roof, almost scalloped looking like this:
Roberts Lane is also filled with Art which gave my wander an added fillip:
Roberts Lane has a little intrigue of it's own in J Wills Burke's book Streets of Key West where he discusses a Roberts Lane off Caroline Street. From what I can gather that would be the alley way alongside Los Cubanitos Marine hardware store which never had a name as far as I knew but on Google maps it shows as Roberto Lane which may be what Burke is referring to in some geographic cosmic mix up. Or not.
Burke's Roberts referred to any one of three historical figures, a "colored Sheriff" or a "colored businessman" weirdly enough a friend of Stephen Mallory, Secretary of the Confederate Navy. Ina any event the lane is here and not there nowadays. Very pretty it is too, off Frances Street:
And there on Frances runs the dreaded Conch Train blathering its endless repetitive spiel at 5 miles per hour (8km/h):
One needs the Conch Train as a reminder that this is Key West, not Paradise.
My wife called me Mister Doom and Gloom last week and forbade me from speaking about the plummeting economy in her presence. That was before the wife of the Superintendent of Schools (he who is her boss ultimately) had to resign her position as head of Adult Education in a rather unseemly hurry. Apparently she stands accused of misuse of her school district purchasing card and the Superintendent's enemies on the Board are now ramping up to get rid of him as well. So all in all it has been a stressful time for those of us married to people working in the school district, a place rampant with speculation and gossip at the moment. And none of that uncertainty or angst has anything to do with me or my fears about the economic future. The economy generally still sucks though, and I'm still pretty grumbly about it. I wish I could declare myself a bank and get free money. And then claim I was "profitable." Enough of that though or my wife will spank me.
On the other hand the Bonneville with 23,500 miles is rolling along nicely. I took a few pictures on Rockland Key at Mile Marker Nine recently and as they were for no particular purpose I labelled them as random pictures. I pulled over on Rockland because traffic on the Overseas Highway was all backed up, the evening commute was in full swing and getting stuck at the sewer works on nearby Big Coppitt Key, and I wasn't in the mood to do any stop-and-go so I turned off the highway altogether and took pictures instead:
I'm going to do an essay later on Rockland Key which has some points of interest but for the moment I contented myself with standing around admiring the setting sun and the salt flats. And the gigantic cargo plane taking off from nearby Boca Chica Naval Air Station:
The Navy base guards itself with heavy green fencing and I was quite surprised to see that Rockland Key's few streets are something in the manner of a peninsula surrounded by Navy land:
Further across the salt ponds I could see a roof, a rather intriguing splash of red amongst the green and blue:
Earlier in the day I had stopped off at Home Depot on North Roosevelt to get some painting supplies for a little project at home and I was put in mind of Irondad's thoughts about parking motorcycles (Musings of an Intrepid Commuter blog in my web list). You'd think with all the open spaces in the conveniently located motorcycle parking this Sportster rider could have figured it out. Not at all; he parked as though he were steering his large pick up truck:
On closer inspection the parking style wasn't the only oddity here, I've never seen stainless handle bar grips before, which probably speaks to my lack of familiarity with the Harley Davidson accessories catalogue:
I wonder how one rides in the rain without losing one's grip? Probably one doesn't ride in the rain is the answer to that futile query. I did see a man on a mission at Home depot and he was getting on with the business of being practical, hauling his load away:
I know, tut tut, no safety gear. I like it that some people in Key West use their two wheelers as practical means of transport, instead of just toys.
The shade of blue had a twinge of purple in it which was a bit off putting and the flames down the side looked decidedly puerile. I guess my inhibitions reinforce my desire to ride a staid Bonneville instead, I just don't have the nuts to exhibit myself on a Harley.