Truman Waterfront

I wanted to post this on my Facebook page (Michael Conchscooter) with a title "Limin' in Key West" but she  was reading a mighty tome so for all I knew she might have been engaged in some titanic struggle of learning and "hanging around" might not have done the business justice. 

I am drawn back to the Truman Waterfront these days in a  desperate effort to see what I have not noticed before because soon this place will change and become  a dreary suburban useful space. 

 I am not looking forward to the conversion but construction has begun and its been a decade and a half since the Navy gave the 34 acres to the city so it has beena fine long run of neglect. And I have enjoyed it.

I wonder if they will keep these bollards as a reminder of the ships that tied up here at the Inner Mole?

 I rather preferred the color version of this second attemtp at framing the Navy ship:

 But the former Navy housing now stark white condos were entrancing under the hot afternoon sun:

A jogger caught Rusty's attention as he sat next to me in the shade:

 I dissuaded him from going to say hello. For a Carolina Dog he is far too friendly with strangers.

 Quite aside from the fact his ears flop and don't stick up like they usually do in this breed:

We sat companionably in the shade contemplating the long trek back to the car and warm clean water. 

Walking Duval Street, And Walking...And Walking...

Duval Street in the sunshine: it makes you want to take a stroll, pick up a Cuban coffee, sit and check out the newspaper and do some people watching...The bugger of it is that there's nowhere on the entire street to do that. If you go to Duval prepare to be a zombie.

You might wonder where a man might be going with coconuts under his arms. Wonder away because he can't stop to tell you. The flow of zombies shuffling along the sidewalks carries all in its wake...

 

Brace yourself because the crowds are intense. This is Key West's most famous street after all, 14 blocks that connect the Straits of Florida to the Gulf of Mexico.

People crowd Duval because this is what the visitor literature talks about incessantly. We all know there's more to Key West than the t-shirt shops and souvenir stalls, art galleries and national chain outlets that pay preposterous rents to have street frontage here.

CVS has nice toilets my wife up informs me and she was delighted to see this familiar name offers one useful thing 24 hours a day. Fast Buck Freddie's is gone and there is nothing to be done. Long live CVS. Sigh.

Actually a toilet open 24 hours has one advantage: somewhere to sit. There is nowhere to sit the length of Duval Street. You can sit on your motorcycle of course.

Or you can bring your own chair, I suppose:

There is Jimmy Buffett's place on Duval, itself one of a chain. As I understand it a cheeseburger in paradise is to be found at Le Select in St Barth's, a French island that is even more expensive if you can believe it, than this town.

Nonetheless they crowd Margaritaville fondly imagining themselves in Paradise.

I want to enjoy Duval, but I want it my way. I want a pedestrian zone crossed at intervals by streets open to cars. I want wide shaded sidewalks, with tables and umbrellas, I want interesting shops and eccentric people. I want places to sit, I want street artists with talent able to amuse and enlighten, I want a place worth visiting and hanging out on.

My Duval Street is out of reach it seems. Grr! They have even screwed down blocks to make the planters uncomfortable to rest on.

I pity the zombies shuffling from end to end of this unremarkable street, struggling to find the street we all know should exist, but this town is too scared to embrace.

 

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Thirsty Mermaid

I had heard voices talking about the new place on Fleming across from Fausto's. We made an excuse to check it out, lunch with a friend, and we found a dining room in the modern light and airy style.

The view is not of ocean or beach but this part of Old Town looks good, picket fences, plans and one hopes blue skies.

This is a seafood joint primarily and they push the nautical theme though a poached pear and cheese sandwich caught my eye - not a menu item you see every day! So we tried the long neck clams first, certainly a winner.

They do offer meat as well so don't be surprised to see a burger from time to time...

And I ordered a dish that intrigued me despite the lack of fish. A snapper sandwich might well have hit the spot but I went for the gnocchi with short rib ragú. The gnocchi really did taste home made, like my great aunt used to roll them all soft and sticky in your mouth.

Like I said there was a nautical motif running through the restaurant but if you look closely you will see small potted plants under the artwork.

Potted mangroves. Brilliant and therefore simple and thus effective.

One complaint I have heard was that this place is pricey. We had two appetizers two main courses and two soups and two beers between three people and the bill was more than ninety bucks plus tip. Pricey yes, but good. Good value? You decide. I thought so.

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Memorial Day

 

Happy Memorial Day of course but it would be best to spare a thought for the reason for the holiday too. 

Dinner en Masse

Rusty wanted to come to and the little tyke makes every trip fun so I left the motorcycle at home and loaded my Carolina Dog into the car. He must be wondering when I am going to run out of new walks to take him on, but this wa s anew one for him, 5th Street on Stock Island.

We walked the old street, now closed to traffic and I could get peeks at the homes afloat anchored in Cow Key Channel.

And I also spotted a rather brilliant home made topsy turvy dinghy landing among the bushes. I can't imagine using this drunk on a dark night but each to his own.

Because Rusty was along we elected to eat out, though I would have been happy to leave him in the car. He was unusually restless for him but I did get a picture of him blending in with the walls at Roostica, the Italian restaurant on Stock Island.

"We"  were the night shift dispatchers gathered in one place. We are almost fully staffed so overtime has dried up and after years of under staffing we are all a bit relieved about that. However this means the two shits of three dispatchers rarely meet anymore as we do our own shits. Every Tuesday is a short shift so we have a chance every few weeks to get together as a group. I'm the only one wearing glasses oddly enough, except for my Trainee in sunglasses.

After dinner I stopped off with Rusty on the way home and we went for a walk on Sugarloaf around the bat tower under heavy skies.

Rusty has become  my shadow, we walk together and he listens to me, he loves traveling but he accepts when I have to leave him at home. He is much better in urban situations, less scared of everything that moves and able  to stick close to me without tugging at the leash. 

I enjoy his company so much I am reduced to riding the motorcycle for commuting most days. Leaving Rusty behind seems like a waste of an opportunity to see the world through his eyes.

Ramrod Tourists

Not too long ago I photographed a version of this sign  that appeared one morning, unbidden at the Ramrod Pool. This picture I took last weekend snagged at a poor angle for the light but which included my inseparable walking companion of course. 

 The thing is,  the last time I saw this sign it looked like this:

"We do not negotiate with tourists" which I thought was rather funny. Instead some delicate soul went to a fair bit of bother to rearrange the anarchic sentiment into the more saccharine and socially acceptable  "One human family" logo, which  crops up everywhere and seems to have lost its meaning in the gold rush atmosphere of modern Key West. Perhaps I am allowing my curmudgeonly instincts to get away from me.

The thing is there was a habit of lighting a campfire in a well formed ring on the "beach" at this undeveloped state park. People come here after work and sit on the shore and slap mosquitoes and drink beer and argue over how many angels can drink on the head of a pin. They are working people enjoying their Key and they are no bother to anybody. Except they were because some visitor or part time resident with not enough to do complained to the county who wrecked the fire ring and stuck up this sign:

The One Human Family ethos would condemn finking about something that hurt no one, was done responsibly and brought people some low cost fun. I don't know who created the sign but I'm guessing the original sentiment was a swipe at that whole :ownership and use" of the Ramrod Pool. Not exactly in the spirit of one human anything. 

So here's a nice picture of a mercifully empty Seven Mile Bridge under a hot sun. For no reason at all.