Mile Marker 82

This unprepossessing sign marks an oasis on a stretch of Highway One where the speed limit is slow and passing is forbidden. Better to pull over here and let the funeral cortège roll on without you.


There is a convenient parking lot suitable to feed a dog her breakfast, and take off walking with time enough to take a few pictures.


This part of the Keys is not terribly scenic owing in part to the shortage of water views...


...and the lack of urban planning.


They indulge in public drinking apparently as Cheyenne naturally found a discarded "to go" cup filled with delicious rainwater.


Lorelei the mermaid that seduces men to their doom was sitting outside an establishment named after her. As she is about twelve feet tall it's difficult to imagine who might picture themselves seducing her and being taken by surprise by her overwhelming...personality.


More prosaically the signs at the exit to the parking lot fuss over the poor dears in their cars. Seat belts will save your life but brow beating fools into wearing them seems like a waste of a good opportunity to cull the population.


Cheyenne wanted to pop into the few remaining old trailers in this glamorous community but I figured they probably didn't need to share their last crust with a ravenous Labrador.


The old Islander sign still stands overlooking the highway. My great regret is that I never took the time to drive underneath it when that was still possible. The advent of new landscaping saw the driveway redirected to one side of the sign.


It was a cloudy scenic day when I reached the turn around point and made my slow way back home.


That's quite a waterfront view for some lucky travelers camping illegally no doubt and apparently getting away with it as the sun was up and illegal camping now rated as legal parking.


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More Blobs

Damn! These things are everywhere.


They don't seem to be weatherproof so one can hope they will fade away.


Need a black market watch? There's this alley off Olivia...

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Waterborne

I never tire of acting like Captain Bill the guest at the Admiral Benbow who spent his days looking nervously out to sea.


I look out to sea, not especially nervously as I do not expect to receive the death sentence represented by the terrible Black Spot of Treasure Island fame.


I look out to sea to give Cheyenne time to check out the bushes as we meander slowly back to the car yet again, on yet another morning of exploration by my dog and I.


Looking out to sea one is reminded that nothing much will change after we are gone, even as we are warned of the perils of climate change and sea change and impending rising tides that won't go down again. When I used to sail I would spend hours and even days offshore sitting at the rail looking over the side, like a dog with her head out of the car window, doing nothing more energetic than the waves slip along the sailboat's hull.


Driving the Overseas Highway I observe this fascination with the sea on the part of visitors driving to Key West. They slow on the bridges and take the time to look at the water as though some inspiration will rise up out of the water and explain the meaning of life.


Cheyenne doesn't seek answers. She just needs a rest when we get home from a long morning spent walking and staring at open water.


A girl needs her beauty sleep, even if my girl is eccentric and prefers a hard bamboo floor to her, or even my, soft bed.

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The Dog And The Puddle

I have long since noted my dog doesn't much like tap water or clean water and prefers puddle water, anything that gives it a tea colored shade of mud.


I watched her lap up this Sugarloaf Key puddle and the thought crossed my mind she had a long way to go to drain that lake.


It was a lovely morning fresh and sunny and dry after a downpour. I was feeling frisky and making fun of my dog seemed the best way to start the day. In my defense she didn't seem to mind.



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Trash And Treasure

When I see birds perched on power lines I feel inspired to write a haiku.


Then I remember I'm not a poet and I'm not sure how to write a haiku and Solares Hill has become a boring weekly supplement to the daily paper and doesn't do poetry anymore.


Wire in the sky, bird flies off, alone with my dog.
Damn, I'm pretty sure I need more syllables.


Alone with my dog and lots of wires overhead which slice the clouds like a cheese cutter.


Cheyenne looked at me and wondered out loud why I was lying on my back making appreciative noises at the sky. We started to meander back to the car, past the liquid trash field.


Wind and waves tend to pile garbage into these islands and all the detritus of civilization slips up against dry land as well. I imagine the second mate of some tramp steamer in the Gulf Stream is wandering the ship frantically looking for his other sandal. Too bad dude, it's right here.


Last seen resting comfortably in the dead seaweed was a box of fruit juice.


And of course indestructible plastic riding high on the sargasso.


Styrofoam and plastic. Lovely enhancements to a field of boring natural grasses.


Stuff just gets away from you sometimes and on the water it just all gets blown down from the horizon.


On the seawall anglers abandon bags of stuff that smells so good Cheyenne can't leave it alone. She looks like Eeyore munching a thistle field but it's all human left overs.


I see dog owners tugging like power winches on dog leashes trying to prevent their animals from being animals. I think exploration is the purpose of life even for and perhaps especially for a dog that has but one way to experience the world.


Cheyenne agrees. It's hard work though, sniffing through all that trash.


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Bicycle Town

I was moved to take a few more pictures of bicycles around Key West when I caught this busy couple studying a map quite determined to get it right this time and find their destination without further ado.


Usually I offer to help and frequently get rebuffed but this pair acted as though map reading was pretty important to them so I limited myself to a picture. This picture below, taken on Simonton Street reflects typical hard core winter cycling in Key West. Note the long sleeved top, heavy duty cap and expensive sandals.


People who know this stuff suggest one third of the city's population of 23,000 doesn't own a car. Just because one is carless doesn't mean one can't behave badly and text while driving:


Bear in mind cyclists must obey traffic rules, like one way streets and stop signs and while they may ride on sidewalks they may not ride two abreast. Plus women are required by custom if not by law to cycle one bike length behind their men.


Why? I haven't a clue but they all do it. Personally I like following a woman on a bike because I like the female form and feel no need to worry about the size of my weenie if a woman is cycling in front of me. Other men are less self assured and none of them ever ride in pink Crocs. Go figure.

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