Keys Fisheries

It happened that the day of the Big Wind, Monday, Rusty and I drove my wife to her job in Marathon where she had previously left her car. There's a walk Rusty likes past the commercial fishing traps which are full of smells, and I like it especially when I want to look at open water. Monday was good for that and i got a bunch of windy day pictures:

 Waiting out the 30+ mph winds:

 Fishing flaots tied down to not fly away:

Lobster pots by the hundred:

 The pier at Keys Fisheries which is also the breakwater for the marina:

 Last night we came for dinner and it was quite a bit calmer though the sunset was obscured by plastic windows to keep the breeze out of the oyster bar area upstairs. 

 Rusty and smokers (at the table next door) are permitted in this essentially outdoor bar. He was perfect as usual. 

My sister-in-law liked her Funky Buddha beer and oysters, a dish I find about as appetizing as it looks, cold snot flavored with sea salt. The fact the oysters are alive and are to be stunned with lemon makes the whole operation even more ghastly in my opinion, which is not shared by most people, I am aware.

 The crab claws were goodm the smoked fish superlative and the mussels were excellent. 

You turn north at the Stuffed Pig on Highway One in Marathon to find this place at the dead end. It's well worth it. They are famous for their lobster reuben sandwich and it really is quite good too.  

I was sorry we had to leave, I could have lingered over a Funky Buddha too.

Friendly Dog, Unfriendly Human

My favorite trees are pines, preferably aromatic umbrella pines but these guys will do:

I grew up under pine trees in Italy, picking pine nuts off the ground, breaking them open with a rock and they had more flavor than any I've eaten since, despite the best efforts of Trader Joe's. This outpost of pine trees reminds me of those days and I came to photograph it because Rusty lost his mind.

 I had planned a walk through the mangroves after I parked the car but he made it clear he wanted to walk the road, so we did. It's his time and it only seems fair to give him as much latitude as I could. After I get home from work in the morning I load him into the car and we hit up some trail or path in a disorganized rotation so he doesn't get bored. However he apparently got bored with the mangrove trail...

So my plans to go bird hunting with the camera were foiled. I sought other targets a he poked in the bushes. This was a handheld shot of all the moon remaining in the dawn sky. I was surprised how clear it came out with a 600 mm telephoto on the FZ300 camera. 

 The sunrise was crappy, no clouds, no colors no water reflections. I stood in the road avoiding commuters morosely doing the ARAT thing (Another Rock, Another Tree photography). Rusty trotted back and forth on the balls of his feet with his  tail flying like a flag sniffing this and that.

A jogger came into view. She pulled out her earbuds and yelled at me. Friendly?  

Call me old fashioned, by all means, but I like to start a conversation with a greeting not with a hostile one word adjective fired across my bows like I was a drug runner and she was the Coast Guard firing a warning canon shot. Is your dog friendly she spat at me as though addressing a mental deficient, which I was at that stage. Yes he's friendly I said, friendlier than you. I come here everyday she said and I haven't seen you here before. Which made her predictable and boring and unobservant. Rusty was utterly uninterested in the Bismarck in the pink jacket and continued to stick his head into roadside bushes. Well I said I suppose fear is our daily staple, be afraid of everything, and I tried to catch up to my distant dog who continued to enjoy his walk far more than I was. 

The woman came prancing back later, like a horse in a gymkhana and pointedly stared ahead as though I and my fearsome hound of the Baskervilles weren't there which suited me. I found her odd on several counts: I was not the least bit concerned when she appeared, Rusty ignored her completely from the other side of the road and she was thoroughly rude, as though she expected Rusty to be as aggressive as she was. After a night of taking 911 calls from assorted incompetent angry self righteous entitled drunk people (and the occasional true victim) I was in no mood to be addressed like I was the hired help. I'm off the clock lady I wanted to say. And I enjoy my life thanksas does my cheerful little brown dog.

I found a Gambusia trench about which I have written at some greta length previously. I took several pictures.

They put Gambusia fish in these trenches to encourage them to eat mosquito larvae.

 The sun came out and made it almost impossible to see anything through the lense. ARAT was  my refuge.

Rusty and my camera were enough; the rest was noise.

Key West Homes

There are times when I forget what a scenic little town Key West is. There are days I want to enjoy a view, to look across a field or down a mountain valley and of course there aren't any. All those natural features that people tend to take for granted aren't anywhere within a thousand miles of where I am sitting right now.  Mainland Florida has rolling hills and thick forests and lakes but the highest point in the peninsula is barely 300 feet high...so one gets used to what one has. And then you look at what we have on the streets of this town and you remember that this is the largest working, lived in, wooden home community in the entire country.

I like Florida, a state that I frequently can be heard to describe as  "subtle." Compared to California where I lived previously you have to look to see the features of this state. It's flat and hot and sticky and full of bugs and alligators and all that and the people who choose to live here are eccentric and frequently poor but if you look around there's more to see than beaches and sunsets.  

I like the wild variety of homes in Key West even though I'd rather not live in such close proximity to people with no patience and not much consideration.  It's expensive and the homes though picturesque are poorly equipped with modern conveniences like central air or high speed reliable Internet and even today sometimes the power unaccountably goes out. Not nearly as often as it used to, but it does. So I don't have Yosemite or Big Sur in my backyard anymore but I do have this, in a town where tolerance paradoxically is a fine art among strangers. 

It's not a good climate for metals and woods and paint. The sun and salt air and moisture are relentless, but I just treat that as a problem for people who like to live in old houses. It's their paint, let it flake. Seriously though a camera is a great tool to remind you to look and really observe what Key West has to offer. These homes may be overpriced, uncomfortable and impractical but they look great.

On first contact everyone likes Key West especially if they come this time of year when the sun shines and the shirt sleeves are the order of the day when snow is piling up in drifts everywhere else. The practical side of life can push some people away, the high cost first of all, followed by the lack of amenity, no bowling alley for instance unless you are in the military, limited recreation unless you like fishing, not much shopping and Walmart appears to be bailing from construction proposals (Yay!).  What has kept me here is my job oddly enough as Key West isn't  a first choice to develop a career, but also the ease with which I can live ina town that turns a blind eye to oddness. It's okay to dress badly even a badge of honor perhaps. Riding a bicycle to work is sensible not wilfully eccentric. Dressing up in women's clothes by people other than women produces no visible reaction. Failing to recycle is a personal choice not an anti-social statement and falling down drunk on the way home is simlarly nothing to get excited about. I like that level of toelrance even though I find too many people moving here who find tolerance a difficult trait to develop. 

Lots of these homes, especially the neater better painted ones are rentals or part times residences which is a shame as lots f people would like to live closer to town than the commutes that are forced on them by rising prices. Short term rentals which are illegal without a license can make a lot of money for a homeowner. Much more money than a long term rental.

I like living in the suburbs where I get more house for the money, fewer drunks, no parking problems, a canal to swim in and long quiet days and nights. But it's not terribly scenic all these little boxes on stilts. This isn't my house which is actually painted a bilious Pepto Bismol pink, a color I inherited, but it is a typical manufactured home raised above potential flood limits:

Cycling around Key West is a popular activity but I like to walk because I can then spend the time to stop and look if something catches my eye, and something always does. Night time is pretty nice too, cooler quieter and more intriguing.

Walking Duval Street

Imagine it's a sunny January day in Key West with a slight breeze, perfect for a walk.

 This is what you might see, random shots on Lower Duval

 Of nothing in particular, and everything as dozens of tourists swim past you on the crowded sidewalk

 "Merchantile"? Really?

 Properly spelled outside:

 "Mamosa"? Either  a misspelling or a mimosa with mamey?

 The most comfortable toe rings. So they are as uncomfortable as they look?

 Yay! Electric cars as toys! Key West as Disneyland! Not Yay!

And you walk through the Hog's Breath parking lot, cross Front Street and find yourself in Mallory Square seeking out a water view across the harbor. It's a cruise ship day...