Big Pine Hole

Most of the waters around the Keys are pretty shallow, less than six feet which is good in the event there is a storm as waves can't build...but it's not much good for swimming as your feet easily touch bottom. Then there are places where people of enterprise have tried to build and their efforts have left behind deep holes, what were to have been canal access for waterfront homes. One such is the Big Pine swimming hole:

It was, I suppose too good to last because now the Free Press is reporting there are plans to make this informal spot an official county park. 

The newspaper included a graphic depiction of what is to come with boardwalks and facilities and so forth. On the one hand that will be nice and on the other we will see more encroachment of rules and requirements and so on. And there have been some few rules in place already, amidst the parched dirt and scrubby bushes:

I haven't been swimming here for a while, ever since we moved to a short canal with few homes on it, making it easy to swim in our own backyard. Nevertheless, bring a towel and a chair if you want and you are good to go. No boardwalk needed really:

The last time I was here was with my wife swimming and also with my dog walking, but Cheyenne quickly lost interest in this spot as it is not much visited by dogs an there's not much to smell.

I wonder how welcome dogs will be in the future.

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Keys Goings On

When I read peculiar stuff in the newspaper it helps me to go for a walk with Rusty and as the tide was high - really, really high - and as the north wind was blowing I figured West Summerland Key, known to visitors as the newly renamed Scout Key, was the place to clear my head. It was a lovely day.

Here's the thing: the paper reported what at first glance appears to be the final disposition for the former Navy housing at Peary Court. It's weird because the voters at the last election a few weeks ago turned down a proposal for the city to buy the property for 55 million dollars and pay the bond off with rent from what would become worker housing. City voters not surprisingly turned the offer down, as information about the terms was nowhere to be seen and the developers who had held the property for two years from the navy were going to make a twenty million dollar profit on the backs of the taxpayers. So far so good.

So the city commission this week votes another deal, this time the city will take every last penny of its accumulated low income housing funding and throw it to a private owner of the Peary Court property, and who that is is not exactly clear just yet. In return the owner of the housing will rent the individual homes for $2400 a month. Which in Key West is supposed to be affordable. All this with no public input and with no clear explanation of exactly what is going on. It's not clear if the housing will be deed restricted or who will be eligible to rent nor how long the rates will stay fixed. Commissioner Sam Kauffman told the newspaper the city's low income housing fund will replenish in time for other more orthodox projects which are supposedly in the pipeline. All taken on trust.

I don't live in the city so I didn't have to decide how to vote in the referendum and the decision on Peary Court (named for arctic explorer Admiral Peary a distant direct relative of Judge Peary Fowler in Key West) doesn't affect me directly. But as a county resident and bystander I scratch my head as I watch this stuff going on.

The newspaper has been full of news as it should, but the news of more shootings was not particularly welcomed by me. This time it wasn't Duval Street but the high seas, more particularly in the area of the Marquesas Keys about half way between Key West and the Dry Tortugas. Apparently a recreational charter boat drove through the chum field of a commercial fishing boat and set off a dispute. Chum is a smelly mixture of nasty fish left overs, blood and guts basically that is used to attract fish in the water to make life easier for commercial fishermen. Driving through the bait field is a no no in the etiquette of boating. As a former recreational notated myself I know how polite one has to be around people who are making a,living from their boats and they have no respect for us amateurs. Apparently the commercial fishermen had a rifle on board and made their displeasure known. The Coastguard and state Wildlife Commission are investigating and no one is offering any details.

It's fashionable under these circumstances to lament the state of the world today and say how far downhill things have gone, but lunch with Robert reminded me NGOs around here have always tended to be a bit edgy, at least they did before the gentry moved in. Robert came to Key West in 1976 and watched the bicentennial fireworks from the deck of his boat anchored out. Over bison/chorizo burgers (delicious at the Bier Boutique) Robert reminded me that shooting and fishing were integral in life and literature in Key West's frontier past. We both remarked how much we enjoyed 92 In The Shade, the movie rather than the book and how that displayed the violence of yesteryear. "And he wasn't an outsider!" Robert protested speaking of the protagonist.

Ervin Higgs died this week. My wife who is well connected on the grapevine heard the news before the paper reported it. He got a fine obituary for his forty plus years managing the county's tax base and evaluating properties and doing it all with finesse and straightforward dealings. Think of him when you walk Higgs Beach and think too how much the city could use his leadership right now. I'd have loved to have heard his opinion about the Peary Court fiasco.

A study shows that coral reefs are crumbling from excess acid in the ocean waters. Scientists say these effects weren't expected for another half century and here they are. Now. Bummer. Apparently the ocean is absorbing more carbon dioxide than ever and the acid it's carrying is wrecking the reef from the inside out. Mote Marine lab has been developing a replacement coral skin to stick on the coral skeletons in the water but if the skeletons are melting away things don't look good. If I were a parent or a grandparent I'd be seriously pissed at our governor for banning use of the term "climate change" by state employees. I think things are going to be grim for your kids unless you start to demand change. I'll be dead and I have no offspring.

If all else fails have a beer and please leave the bottle in the recycling or the trash. Oh and don't drive drunk; but don't be like the Dade County Commissioner who fell over during a field sobriety test after doing 74 in a 30 in Key West. He refused a breath test and got a local jury of highly skilled analysts who voted him not guilty so he gets to ride his Harley once again on our city streets entirely sober. Good man, just the kind of visitor we need. Things aren't bad enough as it is.

What a week for news!

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Rain

I was watching the forecast yesterday, unavoidable really as the sky clouded over ominously in the afternoon and I had to decide whether to ride or drive into town. I had a date with my trainer, an hour of what I liken to being thrown around the room without mercy. After three months of two dates a week I am stronger than I have ever been and I'm eating like a horse but not putting on weight. I am motivated and Sean is brilliant at what he does, even if he doesn't understand my sense of humor. He also hates having his picture taken so I snapped this while he was in the logo... Puff...puff...puff.

The radar showed a huge pile of wind and rain coming up from Mexico so I took four wheels and a small brown dog who wanted to get out of the house.

After the workout Rusty surprised me by wanting to go for a walk in the rain. He used to hate getting wet but perhaps now that he comes home to a watertight roof and his own bed he was ready to get in the rain. So he got his way. I struggled a bit with the umbrella as the winds picked up but I was already soaking wet from the workout. It really is that tough with Sean.

We took refuge at the Gato Pocket Park (a future essay) and I sat for a minute out of the rain. Rusty gave me not much of a break and soon he made his feelings known, pacing back and forth in front of me.

I took the long way back to the care so we were both nicely wet, but not cold. Winds were picking up, expected to reach 40 miles per hour but it was still in the mid seventies. It looks like winter even if it feels like summer:

Smashers Beach looked bleak, but the seas weren't terribly rough as there was a lot of west in the wind, blowing over the end of the island not the south shore.

Glad I'm not living on a boat in Cow Key Channel today!

I wore Rusty out with all the excitement. He went to bed early. Good boy.

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Sugarloaf 939A South

I am starting to think Rusty expects me to pull a completely new walk out of my head every time we leave the house. These days he waits for me at the top of the stairs when I get home around 6:20 in the morning and I barely get off the Bonneville before this little ball of fur is bouncing off my chest. 

I drive Rusty to the Sugarloaf Boulevard walk at the south end of the island but this time, once we got past the jumping bridge we went straight and ignored the paved loop.

The bridge was the scene of excess, oddly enough several pairs of dainty black socks were lying on the ground in wet heaps alongside empty cans and cardboard debris. 

My goal was a 45 minute walk through the mangroves on the old roadway to the scene of the former bridge. Had that been in place we could have walked all the way back to Highway One at Mangrove Mama's. As it was we paused and when Rusty was finished with his inspection we retraced our steps, a meandering walk back the way we came.

The channel connects Cudjoe Bay to the waters in the middle of  Sugarloaf Key. Head east to go to my house, head west and eventually you will reach the marina at Sugarloaf Lodge. Here it is a deep, fast flowing, desolate salt water stream between mangroves.

The dark gray skies broke and started to brighten bringing warmer temperatures and sharper colors. 

The bushes are closing in on the old roadway making the track a one lane path.

While I played with the camera Rusty ducked in and out of the buttonwood trees sticking his nose imprudently into land crab holes.

As the old roadbed sank closer to sea level the buttonwoods gave way to red mangroves, the ones that like to live directly in the water. These trees are the roots that form the green island blobs you can see either side of the highway. There is no land there, no dirt to speak of, no way to walk properly. 

Many years ago I was caught in the Gulf Stream by a sudden winter storm, half way to Key West from Mexico. We were too far south to reach the Dry Tortugas, and a nearby boat chose to park (heave to) and wait the weather out. My wife and I decided to turn and run before the storm, losing ground but escaping the shipping lanes between Florida and Cuba. The storm blew us into the Cuban north shore at a point of my choosing, a wide open bay, deep enough to get out of the wind and waves, dotted with small islands (Minas de Matahambre, west of Santa Lucia), so we could avoid meeting officialdom and having to explain ourselves. We anchored between some islands and found our dogs a place to walk amidst a profusion of mangrove roots. I came to hate these things, so impossible to walk among, so useless to humans, so important to fish. We spent a week ducking amongst them waiting for a change of weather, we were never discovered and our dogs survived on the leanest of walks at low tide picking their way among mangroves. I think of them when I see these sights.

I also remember walking Cheyenne down here when she was younger and that was such a long time ago. Rusty seemed to enjoy it much more than my old Labrador ever did. He sniffed everywhere, enjoying the woods much more than urban walks.

The walk ended up being two hours long and it was properly sunny by the time we were finished. 

It was hot but lovely.

Approaching the bridge we came across signs of civilization still not quite ready to fade away.

And what would civilization be without graffiti?

And a water swing:

The two hour walk required a day of rest and deep sleep for young Rusty. I had to go to work because I am older and tougher. And because I am not a dog living a dog's life.

Consent To Mosquitoes

I'm pretty sure if the Federal Food and Drug Administration and the local Mosquito Control Board think releasing genetically modified mosquitoes is a good idea, a bunch of angry home owners won't stop them but who, like the cliche says, only time will tell.

 

Oxitec is a British company founded by a  group of Oxford University scientists in 2002 and they have been looking for ways to reduce mosquito populations around the world and by so doing reduce the outbreak of serious diseases. It's a worthy cause but now, for some reason  not explained, they want to test their latest batch of mosquitoes in the ritzy neighborhood of Key Haven, at Mile Marker 5 on the Overseas Highway.

Key Haven is five minutes from Key West, ten minutes from downtown (in light traffic) and has traditionally been the unincorporated subdivision where the movers and shakers of Key West live, outside city limits but close enough to show up when needed. This is an island of broad streets, regular sized houses with yards, and freedom from city taxes and regulations. For instance on Key Haven boat trailers parked on the streets is okay, where in the city it is forbidden. 

Traditionally science experiments "in the public interest" are carried out on powerless minority populations. Indeed Oxitec released a version of these genetically modified mosquitoes in the Cayman Islands which reportedly killed off 96 percent of mosquitoes in the islands. All in secret, without any residents' consent. And opponents argue that genetically modified mosquitoes could survive among the four percent and develop immunity and create a whole new generation of problems. The old fashioned way to contain mosquitoes is shown below in a Reuters photograph of mosquito control in Honduras. The human applying the fumes is well protected from their poison which gives you some idea of how this stuff works:

I find this whole situation weird and the big question in my mind is what on earth possessed Oxitec to choose Key Haven of all under educated and backwater communities to test this release? Did nobody warn them that hornets live here and they would not be best pleased to have this sort of intrusion? Let's not forget when the Navy routed training flights over Key Haven the uproar  could be heard all the way to Washington.

So why not release these neutered mosquitoes to kill off the local population? All the bitching one hears about mosquito control you'd think people would be delighted. When one looks at the negatives of this mosquito program one hears speculation that the release of these mosquitoes increased the prevalence of the Zika virus in Brazil. Not that there is any evidence you understand, and despite the fact that it now seems likely Zika spread from Haiti to Brazil. In any event opponents of the release, which they have been fighting since 2012 argue that genetically modified mosquitoes pose threats to everything including humans while other surviving mosquitoes may get the upper hand over the modification and become even more nasty.  

 

As to whether this stuff will work I haven't a clue but I am no great fan of mosquitoes. Oxitec's program is intriguing, as they inject mosquito eggs with a deformed genetic code and keep the mosquitoes alive, only males they assure us though how they know I'm not sure, by feeding them antibiotics. In the wild they mate with the blood sucking females who have offspring who can't find a diet of antibiotics (tetracycline in this case) so they wither and die. End of story. Not so, argue opponents who say tetracycline has been found in wild waters available to mosquitoes so the modified insects could conceivably survive and flourish...Which sounds a bit far fetched to me, more a plot from a novel than realistic, but I have no doubt my attitude is too casual. In my experience these scientific flourishes cause a lot of uneasiness.

I remember when genetically modified tomatoes were grown for the first time in the Pajaro Valley of California. I was a reporter and followed that story for years and stood in the field as the world wondered if we spectators were all going to become GMO zombies in the presence of the unnatural tomatoes. They were grown as planned after endless opposition and became a non-event. Calgene's failure to market FlavSavr tomatoes led nevertheless to most soybeans and corn getting genetic modifications. And no one cares. 

 

On the whole I find the opponents to be flinging all sorts of pasta at the wall, several different lines of argument, as though hoping one of them might stick. Oxitec offers a chance to eradicate dengue and variants, Zika and so forth from impoverished populations who are vulnerable and hugely at risk. No one else seems to have a clue how to control mosquitoes  except by poisoning us all along with our water and food.  Locally mosquito control drops funny little pellets of bacillus thuringiensis  which is used as a genetic modification in crops to inject insecticide properties into plants. It seems to me the genetic modification genie is well out of the bottle. 

 

In the end I suppose Armageddon could come out of this closely observed experiment and we could all end up with Zika injected by marauding super-mosquitoes. Or the mosquitoes could die off for a bit depriving local predators, like bats, of their food precipitating another crisis.  I would not like to think of bats dying off because of this.  

 

In my heart of hearts I want this experiment to succeed because I have seen the misery dengue fever causes. I was caught in central America in an outbreak. For many thousands of Salvadorans it was a death sentence.  For well nourished first world me it was  a nasty fever accompanied by the feeling my bones were breaking. Traveling in Africa as a youngster I had to abandon my motorcycle and fly home from Cameroon when I came down with jaundice and hepatitis A, a lethal illness that kills its mosquito victims. I spent three weeks in an Italian hospital (no bills) and ate a delicate diet for a year and recovered completely. Nigerians and Cameroonians around me weren't so lucky. (Some nice Frenchmen living in Douala shipped my motorcycle, a Yamaha SR500, home to me with the money I left behind for that purpose as I got on the plane).

 

On the other hand we all know that corporations have this nasty habit of not being completely truthful, BP springs to mind easily. And the lure of gold is not a great inducement to be up front about this sort of thing especially when it doesn't work out. The question really is how catastrophic would it be if things went wrong? Who knows. 

For the time being we will have to live with the nasty little things, cover ourselves in sprays with God knows what ingredients and hop that pellets of BT sprayed over our communities will keep the insects at bay. And one other thing let's hope all these nasty diseases stay well away. Zika was last reported in Jamaica, not too far at all.