Key West And Andrea's Sacramento Delta

One of my colleagues is a Navy wife and her husband is leaving the Navy in a few months so now they are both looking forward to going home. Yes she is sad to leave Key West, a little perhaps, but Sacramento is the draw and her family lives among the bull rushes and levees of the Delta, the waterways that surround California's capital. So joy at the imminent return of the prodigal sweeps across the tule fog and incessant traffic of California's Highway 99.

Federal jobs in Key West have their advantages, like regular pay and proper benefits but they also suffer from a certain degree of uncertainty as Uncle Sam may have need of your worker bee presence in some other part of the national system for which you work. For someone like myself, happily employed by a local agency, as long as I keep my job here I stay, as the Key west Police Department doesn't have sub stations in Dutch Harbor, Alaska, or Butte Montana. If you can, I say, get a local job. Unlike a relocated postal worker Andrea doesn't have to go, but she and Joe have decided Key West is too expensive and too distant to settle in.

I don't have family in Sacramento though we do have friends raising children there. Oddly enough when we took off from Santa Cruz after wrapping up a few loose ends on September 10th 2001 we stopped in Sacramento for the night with them and enjoyed a pleasant moonlit walk on a levee making plans for the future and our forthcoming road trip back to Florida. Which plans as it happened did not include provision for the apparent destruction of lower Manhatten next morning when we woke up and it was already all over bar the recriminations. Our world had changed that night in Sacramento, as had yours.

Thus when I think of a future in Sacramento I don't consider loving parents and uncles and cousins and aunts and all that as part of the equation. I think of the muddy brown waters of the ditches and canals of the Delta, dug to drain the land and make it good in the industrious 19th century to grow crops year round. I think of the awful heat of summer, and the biting damp foggy cold of winter, notorious fog banks that pile traffic into untidy heaps on the endless freeways of Central California.

Awful heat sounds like a joke considering where I live but in the Keys summer rarely sees highs above 95 and even then the ocean breezes tend to help a little. I have seen temperatures in the hundreds in the Plains and also in the deserts of the southwest and Key west feels refrigerated by comparison. In the end. I suppose if it were just a question of weather Key West would thrash Sacramento hands down. Certainly we have more creative bums than most cities, seen here depicting the fatal scene from the Wizard of Oz:

Andrea is looking forward to shopping in malls closer than three hours from home. She will escape the summer heat by visiting Lake Tahoe and Yosemite National Park, less distance from her new home than the Everglades are from her old. She will be close to wine country, San Francisco and if she chooses, snow skiing. Her cost of housing will drop, her taxes increase and her car will need smog checks.

People come and people go from Key West all the time. It's a flow as natural as the tides, and for many life here was a disappointment, full of unexpected difficulties even though most of the hardships of life in the Keys are fairly obvious. Andrea doesn't ride a scooter so free scooter parking, ignored by this Vespa owner who might be viewed to have excessive attachment to his paint in a rough and tumble town; all that is of no consequence to her, and her car.

She is a woman half my age so I am not sure what drives her sense of aesthetics, and though Old Town in Sacramento is a charming tourist attraction, here Old Town is a thriving community of lived in homes. Some of them put bumper stickers on their palms with the apparently ironic message requesting we "Renounce Greed" but hey, this is a town where having an opinion is de rigeur. Some might see it as greedy to keep a winter home here for use a few weeks out of the year but still...simplicity is a moving target for those of us trying to grasp it!

I know Andrea likes to eat out as this topic is frequently discussed at some length during those hours we have worked together and the phones haven't been ringing. I am not sure she will be ready to drive two hours in any direction for dinner but Northern California is the epicenter of the North American world of foodies. A small town like this one cannot hold a candle to those choices, though Key West does well enough for me.

I told Andrea, as she mused about what sort of dispatch job she might get, to look into campus police dispatch at the University of California, as she will be in a town close to the intellectual influence of UC Davis, where not only would dispatching be less intense, but also where the stimulation of university life will spill over into hers if she wants it. I do miss living in a university town...even if we have the bicycles to look like we are one. I'd like less alcohol and more intellectual rigor. At least I think I might.

Her car is for sale, she has tickets to fly west to look for housing, her last day will be on us before we know it, around St Valentine's Day, and one more former colleague will become 'what's-her-name...the one who went to live in California...' So many dispatchers and trainees have been through our communication center in my nearly ten years I am starting to feel like the survivor of a prolonged catastrophe, a veteran of trench warfare, or a bubonic plague to which most others succumb. Perhaps that's the worst of living in a transient town and liking it, not everyone else does, forever.

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Lounging In Key West

Entering Key West these days seems like one passes an endless construction zone. Supposedly it will be done by July, but we have the winter crowds to get through first, and they will do their bit to clog the streets.

I confess it's too cold for me to go swimming anymore unless it were a calm day and a heated swimming pool. Visitors seem to suffer no such compunctions, and beaches will be crowded. Look at them, it gives me goose bumps to think of a beach day in 77 degrees.

Key West doesn't always lend itself to inward contemplation you'd think despite the abundance of yoga spaces, but this is a more reflective town than the image might suggest. Water views will do that to a human.

I walked under the bows of the Fort Myers Beach ferry, impatient passengers waiting to disembark, for their day at the beach.

A local lounger put their impatience to shame with his brown bag dangling by the water's edge. I have no idea what he saw in the turquoise waters beneath his feet.

You don't have to be a local to contemplate your navel in Key West. You can do it on a rented bicycle in a crisply starched t-shirt.

A tour bus driver was taking advantage of a gentle cooling southeast breeze to let him sleep in silent comfort. Not quite silent comfort...

These people, the bus's neighbor, could have learned a lesson or two from the coach driver. Their RV was buttoned up tight in the breeze with a muffler-free generator rattling like the arrival of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Their joy ride indeed, 32 weeks in and blessed with a busted muffler. As these charmers plan to visit all the national parks one can only imagine they will be leaving their mark in those natural, silent spaces with their self propelled jack hammer.

I moved on to lounge elsewhere, lots of quieter spots if you know where to look. No ice storms here.

 

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Surrounded By Ice

It was 75 degrees at the Blue Hole this morning when Cheyenne and I went for our morning walk.

For at least the next week I am back on nights as my Trainee does some specialized training with my boss so I have that to look forward to, and even though she doesn't know it Cheyenne will enjoy a return to our regular schedule. I am glad to train as I want more people to get this great job I have, but it is much more stressful training by day than working by night with my buddies.

I was idly wondering what the forecast this week of night work might look like and I saw a horrible picture. Well bugger. Unless you enjoy snow which I don't, I looked at this and read that four people died of hypothermia in San Francisco. Charleston to Tallahassee is the front line holding out bearable temperatures against a continent of frozen water.

The little strip of orange depicted above looks like this on the ground. Reading, in shorts, on the porch.

We will pay for this sooner or later with a monster hurricane, but for now, I'm basking.

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Night Key West In Sepia

My first thought was that it's getting to be time for Christmas decorations and my second thought was that chasing down decorations sounded like a lot of work...and there's still plenty of time for that. So I set my phone camera to sepia and off we went, Cheyenne and I.

Key West in the middle of the night is surprisingly peaceful especially if you are used to seeing it only in the hustle and bustle of daytime hours when visitors are abroad on foot, bicycle and scooter. These two guard kitties didn't dare move till after my attack Labrador had lumbered by.

Classic Key West porches, perfect for sitting out on a mild December night, if only the house itself were inhabited.

Elizabeth Street looking down the hill toward Truman Avenue.

I particularly appreciated the absurdity of this situation, classic Teutonic Yuletide decorations on the porch with the front door wide open to let in a cooling December night breeze.

This house for some reason puts me in mind of homes I've seen in Puerto Rico, doubtless due to the creative use of tiling. In Puerto Rico though, the wall would be much higher with broken glass and barbed wire on top to discourage uninvited visitors. Crime is a real problem on that lovely island.

I always like to see classic Florida louvered windows, relics from the time before cheap sir conditioning became available. And they are as functional as ever. I have slightly more modern versions at my house and they let the breeze circulate while keeping out any stray rain that may be falling.

My wife and I are planning a stay-cation on her Christmas break, taking advantage of whatever few days I have off. The idea is to go out of our way to try some eateries we always want to visit but don't take the time to patronize. Seven Fish is on the list, as seen below, and a review will of course follow.

This trailer park is now closed. The money lenders at the Catholic Church sold it to developers and the residents, the usual clutter of low income inheritors of the Earth per the Sermon on the Mount, have been given vague relocation promises. One has to hope the developers make a real killing because as we know these days massive wealth is a sign of God's favor. The poor will of course eventually get the kingdom of God, per the beatitudes but until then best of luck.

A modest dwelling like this in the heart of Old Town not only will cost more than half a million but it will require substantial operating costs as well. Key West is among the most expensive cities in Florida.

I was not out late at night, so there were a few people around. Bicycles make great urban assault vehicles in a nation dominated by large trucks on city streets. Wisconsinland: Disappearing Landscape laments the loss of open space to the construction of suburban communities that are totally car dependent. Not so Old a Town:

The wall surrounding the land belonging yo the Minor basilica of St Mary's. No plans to sell this lot off to developers!

The church was declared a "minor basilica" by the Vatican and this title is bandied about like a temporal badge of distinction by the spiritually inspired church. I don't think Pope Francis' devotion to the poor gets much traction here where community leaders get on their knees and hobnob with God's representatives on earth, probably not about hiring standards and rates of pay. On Stock Island though the church operates a much needed soup kitchen and food bank that keep the working poor nourished and grateful enough not to demand living wages.

More urban loveliness:

It's the season of goodwill and this is my favorite house decoration, near the cemetery.

It's a reminder that everyone is supposed to be nice for a few weeks. That includes the old biddy who stopped as I was taking the picture and observed Cheyenne resting comfortably in the gutter and started to give me the third degree about torturing my dog. I felt like John Cleese and the Norwegian Blue...she's just resting I insisted to the gaunt Miss Marple eyeing me like I was a child molester. She's...heavy she said. So am I, I replied but she's an elderly Labrador and I have no excuse. Lucky for me it was the Christmas season else she'd probably have brained me and stolen my dog to save her from further abuse. Had she had half the brains of Cleese's parrot I'd have told her in no uncertain terms to go and save a dog from the pound and to bugger off and leave us alone. As it is even I am infected by the Christmas Spirit and I just walked off without further ado. Ho ho bloody ho.

 

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A Day In the Sun, A Road Closed

Stepping onto the porch yesterday it was obvious it was going to be a lovely day. So when my wife, returning from her latest out of town conference texted ahead to me to get a couple of dinner ingredients I took the Vespa and did that which one often does when looking for an excuse to burn some dead dinosaurs. I went off track.

Life, they tell us is a series of compromises, and for many riders across temperate lands this is the time of year to put away two wheeled machines and confront ice and snow from the cabin of a cage. For me that day never comes in the Fabulous Florida Keys. However even this paradise has it's serpent: viz, there is but one road. Northern riders who get out their machines in Spring can look forward to months of varied rides up hill and down dale. All I get in Spring is the same road, a little warmer and a little wetter as summer is rainy season here.

My plan then, was to ride to Winn Dixie, the Big Pine supermarket situated about five miles from my house. As I rode I figured it was too lovely a day to just go food shopping so I passed the aptly name Key Deer shopping center and kept riding north.

I could have veered north for five miles to take a ride to Port Pine Heights or No Name Key, both streets without outlets of course, wind prettily among the pines where I like to walk Cheyenne on the trails:

But I was pretty sure there was a good chance I would find a pleasant ocean view or two if I went up my only main road option. I was correct, and I stopped a few miles past Big Pine at the bridge connecting Bahia Honda and Ohio Keys. Looking north:

The view to the south was equally flat despite the fact that this side of the road is the open waters of the Straits of Florida, a place often filled with ocean waves and surf and suchlike commotions. Unlike yesterday:

The old Flagler railroad has been transformed into a rather dashing paved fishing pier, pedestrian path and a bicycle route, all in one. A more forward looking state might have done as much the length of the Keys but the Sunshine State prefers to let such things deteriorate and cut income with endless sales tax loopholes.

You stand behind the white line to fish, while between the lines travel the bicycles and pedestrians in determined fashion. I love the bike pictogram with a cyclist riding properly attired in a Chinese conical hat.

After the Great Hurricane of 1935 the railroad, already losing money for lack of commercial traffic, folded and stayed closed until the state bought the rights to the rail bed and converted it all to a highway. Imagine modern tea party protests at such a waste of public monies! Yet what we take for granted today in public works were built one day in the past with tax money, in an era when this country functioned as a community. They took the rails and welded them into hand rails. Below you can see the original rusty rails now replaced by the bright modern aluminum hand rails.

The modern Overseas Highway was completed in 1982 and as I recall it reduced the drive from Key West to Homestead from five hours to two, while offering many splendid views alongside lanes wide enough to easily accommodate two trucks. The old road bridges had been so narrow, large vehicles meeting on them had to stop and struggle to pass.

Earlier this week a distracted truck driver drove his semi into the back of another eighteen wheeler stopped for construction on a bridge north of Marathon. The eighteen wheeler thus rear ended was pushed forward into the back of another semi stopped in front of him. The mess was so complicated that after they flew the culprit to Miami by helicopter, not, we are told, in danger of losing his life, the highway was closed in both directions for eight hours. Yup, eight hours on the only road into or out of town. Had you travel plans that day you would have been screwed. Welcome to my world, snow free but remember that stuff I mentioned about serpents in Paradise?

Better learn to keep hurricane supplies in your home year round because you can't eat the gorgeous views.

 

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