Southern Tour 2013

It was, my wife said, her swansong before her summer teacher's break faded into history. We loaded the car, dog food, overnight bag for the hotel, picnic bag for dinners in the room, and all the little bits and pieces that make middle class road travel a pleasant break. It's my alter ego, the Family Guy, walking his family Labrador (on a pink leash as it happens) his wife carries the purse, he drives, she packs, he loads the car. He watches men riding motorcycles and wonders what that might feel like.

I have long wanted to explore Chattanooga, a city perched on a loop in the river seen from freeways curving round the bluffs and through the canyons. Cumberland Gap was a strategic pass for the generals of the Civil War, and today it's an outdoor play pen for young people with time on their hands. I wanted to see it.

Road trips require freeways and I enjoy using the car to slice and dice my way through traffic. I hug the right lane as I know 70% of tickets are given to vehicles traveling in the number one (left) lane, so I avoid that as much as I can. The car I photographed above hugged the left lane, the sole occupant slouched low behind the wheel. The tag on his Ford Fusion Sport was an enigma. Black letters on a yellow plate with no state, federal or consular ID. A freeway mystery.

Dog walks on the road are a little odd as I walk Herself where I can, parking lots empty fields, the loading zones of strip malls, wherever we are. Cheyenne doesn't much like riding the car, but she very much likes being with us, so as the week progresses she gets tired, but she is always game for a new smell and a new down town. I love listening to her snore as the lights go out in our La Quinta (dog friendly) motel room.

We usually eat a motel breakfast, nowadays they offer more protein and less pastries happily. Lunch is sought out by my wife, her iPhone and Urban Spoon and Trip Advisor. No longer do we stop at random, the Internet travels with us. S&S southern buffet in Macon, Georgia, a local landmark in a dying suburban mall.

Dinner is take out usually, but we try to eat that which isn't available on our small island home. Which we sometimes end up being reminded of in the oddest places:

Food drink and sightseeing, cheap motels, NPR on the satellite, conversations, pictures and three thousand miles later we get home. The result? We have batteries charged for another nine months of work. I like my breaks on the road and I'm lucky that I work a weird schedule so if I time it right I can take a week using not much of my accumulated leave. I don't drink ten dollar cocktails on Duval to refresh myself. I drive to Tupelo instead to spend my money!

Getting on the road is more than a vacation for me. It reminds me who I am. My mother put me on her passport when I was ten months old, and while I was born in England I was baptized in Italy. After my parents were divorced I already had my own passport and I traveled back and forth between London and Rome every vacation, a seasoned traveler at twelve years old. When my mother bought me a Vespa, partly I suspect to annoy her ex-husband who feared motorcycles, I used it to travel every vacation I was in Italy. I learned to ride every road and trail with twenty miles of my home by the time I was almost fourteen. I made roadside repairs and I reveled in the alone-ness of being out of touch. I still do.

Of course nowadays it's hard to be actually out of touch, but I like the feeling that I'm not physically present. I see things that others take for granted but that are far outside the circle of my daily life. Driving through the dappled, tree lined roads of southern Tennessee I know I'm not in Tibet, or on the Peruvian Altoplano, but I'm also not at home. I'm not in the flatlands of saltwater and mangroves. Oak trees, kudzu and trailers parked under pine trees. Brick buildings and Palladian courthouses. Rivers and mountains, might as well be Tibet, because it sure isn't the Keys.

Cheyenne liked exploring Chattanooga, not least because it wasn't the car. She doesn't see stuff like this except when we are on the road.

We ate lunch in TerraMae Appalachian Bistro | Chattanooga, TN nouvelle cuisine southern style. It was brunch actually and it was delightful.

The parchment-like menu was long and filled with classics, all served with a twist. The server was delightful, charming efficient and capable, so far removed from the usual Key West amateurs. The bill was small and Chattanooga introduced itself as a place worth seeing.

I had a breakfast bread pudding, what you or I might call a quiche while my wife had the eleven dollar Appalachian lunchable, plate of local flavors in small bites. We talked and wondered at the high price of endless summer, translucent waters and island life. Inland life seems to be so much less expensive, and a road trip reminds us of that.

Check out the tumbler with sesame seed thick cut bacon sprouting out. Pickled shrimp? Pimento cheese with feta? Those are not Key West flavors.

I like traveling The South because in part the region lives in the shadow of its past and all those stereotypes. You see a movie like The Help and imagine its set in 2013. It's not. The boom years boomed in The South too, and the electronic era brings a lot of the outside world into the quiet corners of the country. I'm pretty sure corruption and racism and nepotism rule the roost to some degree here as anywhere but for the casual visitor from another planet the South presents itself as the ideal region for a varied road trip.

This isn't the desert country of the Southwest obviously, nor is it the temperate rainforests of the Pacific Northwest, other regions I have thoroughly enjoyed. The South is its own gentle land of rolling hills, farmland, rivers and good manners. Southerners see Florida tags on a car and assume the occupants are carpet baggers. Not real Southerners, they snort. They'd be right in my case.

But there again I claim no roots anywhere much. Born in England, grew up mostly in Italy, became an independent adult in California and am slowly resigning myself to decrepitude in the Keys. The road trips remind me of my rootlessness, my pleasure in absence, my life away from where I belong.

You hear people in Key West say they never leave their island. I've heard of folks who never leave Old Town. My sisters never leave home anymore and watch the Italian seasons from their Umbrian farmhouses. I suspect it's all genetic or something, like being gay, or the color of your eyes. I find myself unable to shake the travel bug. I'm going to Italy in September so pasta and motorcycles will be on the menu next month.

The good part for me is that I like coming home. This time I have come home to news of changes at work. Next week I shall be working day shift. Not my choice but when the bosses ask, I remember I like working for the police, an environment where "No" is not an option. Besides when they need my help it's good to be wanted. I just wish it wasn't on days. Oh well. Change is good.

For the next ten days The Keys will not feature on this page. Change is good, but normal service will resume only after you travel from here to there with my wife my dog and me. William Faulkner, Vintage Motorcycles at the Barber Museum, Johnny Coley, Cooking School in Atlanta, Tea in Tupelo, Outlook Mountain, the fresh water Aquarium and the history of...auto wrecking? All will be revealed.

 

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Sewer Pipes, Grinder Pumps and Gravity

Things are getting a little odd in the world of Lower Keys sewers, a subject that doesn't  sound that enticing but that is in fact quite a story.  The story has its origins in the rather lackluster approach to keeping coastal waters clean in Monroe County from  two decades ago. Imagine a time when money flowed like water for public works and there was a plan long ago to get sewers built throughout the Keys to stop the excessive fertilization of coastal waters.  Monied interests have fought the science forever but its clear by now that agricultural runoff into Florida Bay, principally from Big Sugar has brought untold amounts of fertilizer into Monroe County waters and added to this is the fact that almost everyone in the Keys shits into septic tanks that filter the sewage through rock, not at all effectively and thus add human waste to the fertilizer mixture.  The problem with fertilizer in seawater is that it promotes excessive growth of algae which muddy the waters and deny coral the ligfe giving clarity it requires to live. All this fertilizwer is killing off the coral,

In those distant days money was available to do the sewering but county commissioners decided to postpone the work which would have involved bond issues and taxes and all that nasty stuff with the result that the situation went on long enough until the state started imnposing deadlines. Monroe County signally failed to meet those deadlines which didn't matter one jot as the state has obligingly extedend them anyway.  Nevertheless the work has started, which is a good thing. The City of Key West finished its world class sewer system a decade or more ago but Stock Island, in the county, got it's sewers about three or four years ago installed in some sort of low bid deal with a private company that made  a horrible mess of the installation, which led to toilets backing up and shit landing on many peoples' floors. So the latest round of sewer installation between Stock Island and Big Pine is being undertaken by the public utlility, Florida Keys Aqueduct Authority, which on the face of it makes sense. However...things are looking a little odd.

I recently receiuved a letter from the Aqueduct seeking my signature approving their plan to install an underground pump on my property to macerate and pump away my sewage. The idea is to put the grinder pump underground and have it force the sewage into the main line. More Than You Want To Know About Sewage Pumps.. The immediate question that comes to mind in the flood prone Keys is what happens when another storm pushes enough water on land to flood these pumps? What happens to our sewage lines when  power goes out, sometimes for days at a time, and we still need to go to the loo? And in my own mind, as a former boat owner familiar with pumps used in various onboard applications, pumps fail and designs change. What happens when all these grinder pumps start to fail at once at the end of their designed lifespan? And what about part time residents who won't use their pumps more than a few weeks a year? Theirs will fail through inactivity. The Aqueduct doesn't seem to care about these issues at all and they are planning on installing thousands of these pumps throughout the keys. Why?

I had dinner with a friend a while back and he told me a person of influence has been stockpiling these very pumps for years in a warehouse in Marathon, and my dinner companion, a ferret when it comes to public records says that's the only reason he can figure the Aqueduct is insisting on using these pumps when he believes their widespread use is not only not necessary but also harmful to the effective implementation of sewage system. Apparently the re-shuffle of the leaders of the Aqueduct may have been related to this sewage operation which my friend sdays the old director would never have countenanced. In fact I wondered at the time what the speific reason was that important people at the public utility lost their jobs and friends of Board members took their place. One word: sewage! So now there is a movement across the Lower Keys if my friend is to be believed, of homeowners who are pushing back against these infernal grinder pumps. He also says the county has sought funds promising one system while actually planning to install another and that sort of thing can invalidate the bond issues. How is it possible the county, overseeing the funding, could be so dense? Surely it can't be true says I.

The per-household charge for the new system is $4500 which can be added to a twenty year mortgage payment to spread the cost and its just over half the amount Islamorada will charge it's residents according to the newspapers. I have to say the cost bothers me a lot less than the idea that unecessary pumps, likely to fail, may be used where none are needed. My friend who has experience in these matter says a gravity system using fewer and larger pumps will work fine.

                                

How odd it is that I see a popular revolt growing in these islands, not on matters of urgent national debate like abortion, taxes or gun rights, but on the subject of sewage and how to manage it. Local politics, what a scene.

Vacuum Sewage System Benefits

The Joy Of Grinder Pump Maintenance and Failure

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Magic Rocks And Major Hurricanes

Hurricane season is upon us, and it will peak next month statistically speaking but it won't end until 30th November, according to the scientists at the National Hurricane Center. In deference to the season I present Key West's first line of defense against tropical storms:

Yup, its the time of year when The Grotto at St Mary's Catholic Minor Basilica gets the attention. I heard on NPR's Wait Wait Don't Tell Me that Gwyneth Paltrow a new age actress, had a conversation with some boulders on a hike and they affirmed her sense of self worth. Call me a philistine but if she needs more affirmation than the obscene size of her paychecks she might as well do the world a favor and get herself into a nunnery. Which could work well for her as she already has a belief in magic rocks. We have magic rocks to beat the band at the Minor Basilica on Truman Avenue.

And if you get lost on the way to your devotions there is a handy dandy aerial photo to explain the layout.

The Grotto, modeled after the cave at Lourdes in France where Our Lady was said to have appeared to a peasant girl and told the 14 year old to get a chapel built there, which she duly did overcoming the sceptical indifference of the entrenched clergy. A miracle indeed. Thousands of free medical cures are said to take place at the original grotto where the local one has no such curative powers (I think) but it is said to repel hurricanes. Power enough you might think.

The everlasting abortion debate chunters on here of course, though how one remembers those who never made it onto the scene is a question of syntax and grammar that might defy the logic of any po-faced pedant like me who tries to keep a logical face on a world gone mad.

It is charming of course set in perfectly manicured gardens which exude an air of tropical freshness unlike any other place in Key West. And though the Grotto isn't actually Lourdes the votive candles burn bright. I spent far too many years getting a Catholic education in an English Boarding School attached to Downside Abbey so I am fully equipped to move around the Minor Basilica and not make a total fool of myself. Catholicism is a brilliant religion, adopting elements of other faiths and making them seem as naturally Catholic (a term intended to mean "universal") as you would never imagine them being part of someone else's faith. Burning candles in the sanctuary has it's roots in Judaism and burning a candle to send one's prayers up to an eager expectant God remind me of Bhuddist prayer wheels and flags which rotate and flap to the greater glory of their deity. Passover made Easter and the Solstice made Christmas. And we were all brought up o believe it was our own invention, we young Catholic gentlemen.

But lest we forget the true purpose of the grotto is to deal with pesky hurricane threats.

And there is a rather interesting rosary circuit set in the lawn with the stations carefully marked out. I figured it is one circuit for each series of mysteries. Which if you aren't a Catholic might constitute a mystery in and of itself. Muslims hold misbaha, Cypriots use worry beads, Catholics measure the rosary.

When I was a child we used to thread our fingers and say a little rhyme that started out as here's the church as we folded our hands and here's the steeple as we pointed our forefingers skywards...

....open the doors and there are the people as we unfolded our hands and splayed them to symbolize the interior of the church. Silly, but that's all I could think as I walked back to the church, or rather the: Minor Basilica. Which is the official Vatican designation for this rather lovely tropical church.

 

"Spe Salvi" means through faith we are saved which is a translation from a letter by St Paul wherein the suggestion was that we are saved in hope, where hope is intended as trust in God. When I was learning my catcheism the monks used to rattle on about Faith (belief in God), Hope (trust in God) and Charity (love of God), of which Charity was the greatest virtue as it will persist after we die when we will no longer require faith and hope as we will know it all at that point. Until then there is this:

 

 

There is a certain pleasure to find a church wide open and unencumbered by locks, open to cross breezes and the warm tropical air. I went inside and sat a while wondering why I'm stuck in the logical minority that sees faith as a form of whistling in the dark.

 

Everywhere I go I see her throwing up her hands in despair. I keep apologizing but I keep coming up short nevertheless. One childhood prayer too many never answered.

Like a friend said to me "it can't hurt" when I mentioned the nonsensical hope that The Grotto might spare us hurricane damage. Wilma in 2005 flooded half the Lower Keys and caused massive amounts of damage. And that was just one in a number of hurricanes that have done their worst over the years. Logic really has nothing to do with it because the faithful will tell you without The Grotto things would just have been a whole lot worse. Personally I'd rather see the federal Government spend a bit more money and keep the weather satellites rotating properly in space which they are failing to do owing to old age and wear and tear. Or perhaps we can just keep hoping and praying The Grotto will do the work of the satellites and do us the extra favor of smiting the storms in a Biblically fearsome way. Do I get the same magic rock coverage as the faithful? So far so good.

 

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Criss Crossing Truman

There are  some days out walking Key West when you wonder how it is not everyone likes tropical climes. Blue skies, green trees, warmth verging on too much and here we are almost in August. A conch cottage, a motorcycle, a palm; what more could a resident want or need?

Pretty soon we will be hearing how much seasons matter Up North. The changing of the leave sis so important they say. I rode to new York State on an Iron Butt ride a couple of years ago and I saw leaves changing all round a town called Binghampton, and it's true the Catskill Mountains were pretty. I also recall freezing my butt off the motorcycle as I climbed the mountains one frosty morning. 50 degrees in October? Whatever next?

Recycling has come to the Southernmost City. It seems green bins with yellow lids were aethstetically challenging to city residents who resisted recycling for that reason we are told. So the city got blue bins in the hope that dismal recycling rates will improve and save the city some waste management money.

I can't say that these blue bins are particularly pretty but happily I live in the county and cope manfully with small bins like the one seen in the background in the picture below. I have two and if I have more recycling I fill a cardboard box and put that out. Waste Management's single stream recycling program is very accomodating.

The thing about walking around Key West with a camera is that sometimes you feel like you have taken too many pictures of certain places or things. I figured this octopus has been in the blog quite enough but then I also figured it has been a while...and the paint has been refreshed...and Cheyenne doesn't give a toss about it which I liked...so here it is, on Catherine Street. Still.

I thought I'd close with a picture of a possibly typical Key West houses, if such things exist or could be called "typical" such is the variety. I liked the green paint and the massive greenery, hedge and trees surroudning it. I like my tree house on stilts with lots of trees around it.

On the subject of trees  I must confess I haven't been around this corner of Royal Street in a while so I was slightly surprised to see the arboreal nudity at this corner:

I remembered it more like this:


I suppose the tree was leaning a tad bit too much...shame it had to go though.

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Doughnuts

I did it. No excuses, well, I do actually have one excuse and that is my wife pushed me to try them.

This is the place that caused a laugh by asking for a wine and beer license - and got it! The box of assorted wildly flavored cakes cost sixteen dollars which is cheap for two breakfasts eaten twice. Chocolate, ample syrup and bacon, praline and pecans, plum, Key Lime Pie, and mango.

The woman behind the counter and I shared a laugh of our own as I stumbled along trying to pick six but in the end I got the job done and took them home.

Yorkshire Gold tea and doughnuts. Not an every day breakfast.

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Big Pine Woods

I admit I got whiny and bitchy with all the rains last month. It seemed like everyday the skies were gray and they opened over and ver dumping feet of water on South Florida. It was not the summer weather I wanted. However, and here's the thing, those weeks of rain were good for the water tables of course but they also kept summer's heat at bay.

Usually summer kicks in around May in the Keys with increasing hours of sunshine, sudden clots of rain, and massive humidity. Unusually this year we didn't star sweating till the middle of July. Cheyenne loved it, as she do e's alive in winter and hibernates in summer.

But in the end summer's heat got to my dog and her walks started to get shorter, which is great for me as I get to bed earlier after a night spent sitting up. I love my Labrador so she gets to walk as she wants, it's her time of day and I'm just there to chauffeur her around... She led me a pretty dance though the pine forests because Cheyenne has a sense of humor and making me plough through the scrub palmetto was a good joke. Actually I had fun getting lost alongside her.

We sat about for a while until we found ourselves back in human controlled turf, the pine forest gave way to suburbia and all the fear that involves. This property protected by Smith and Wesson. I wonder how many suburbanites think they have what it takes t deliberately choose to shoot a human being. Even a trespasser.

I like walking the woods, they make a serene. Meditation for me to end my night at work. I make sure Cheyenne gets the walk she wants and needs but sometimes I need to see trees and wonder why bracken grows so well in the Keys.

The subject of banning plastic bags in supermarkets is off the table as a violation of human rights. Good job.

 

Back in civilization I found this guy. Do you envy him his mortgage? His freedom? I look and wonder how it is closing mental hospitals to save money was ever considered a good idea. When will we ever learn?

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