Sugarloaf Hike

The skies look a bit bland during periods of overcast but there is an absurd little filter on the camera that increases the drama. It was dramatic enough at ground level hot and sweaty with hardly a  breeze blowing over he mangroves.

Rusty was there dodging through the shady bits checking out the stuff dog check out. I was off that night so I wanted to take him on a long walk and go home ready for both of us to sleep and I ended up putting myself out at least. And in the morning let it be noted it was I that woke the dog up at fully 8:30,  two and a half hours after he usually sticks his snout in my face ready for a walk. A success then, this nearly three mile walk.

As you can see it was a calm afternoon, the ponds among the mangroves were flat and still. It was quite beautiful. The trail is at the very end of Sugarloaf Boulevard at the opposite to the more well known and frequented Sugarloaf Loop wherein lies the jumping bridge.

In the distance to the north I could just make out Highway One shimmering in the heat.

There's not really much to photograph in this wilderness especially as the greenery tends to tower over the trail and cuts off any possible views at sea level.

It was hot and sweaty, which I like especially if the alternative is snow or frost or fog.

I wanted to prove to myself I could walk a decent distance as i have been feeling more secure on my feet. So I took my cane and ambled my way about a mile and a half out, and it was rambling, as the walk took an hour and a half each way.

You make your fun where you find it. And pretty soon it found me. Rusty came back to me quivering with excitement and stared down the trail expectantly. I had no idea what was coming but sure enough a man and his dog appeared up ahead. We exchanged pleasantries and the dogs did the same and he walked off in the direction I had come. He spoke as though he knew the trail and had his plans to walk all figured out. Rusty and I pressed on toward the car. I wasn't walking that fast and sure enough the stranger and his dog caught up and we started talking. My limp brought up the motorcycle accident and he told me about all the bones he has broken over the years. It was a long and horrendous list of arms legs shoulders and ancillary parts. We then shared commiserations on the standard of driving on Highway One, and the young man told me a horrendous story about a car brake checking him on his sport bike and causing a three vehicle accident on the highway. 

Oddly enough as we walked and talked we found a connection to Santa Cruz where I used to live and where his father graduated university in California. The other truly odd thing was he recognized my voice from calling 911. That was slightly freakish I have to say. We were alone on the trail and it was a pleasant way to spend a few minutes in company when I had expected to be alone. He had a nice young dog too which I forgot to photograph. The sad pat of the story from my perspective was his acceptance that to deploy his own university degree he was going to have to leave the Keys where he grew up. But, as he pointed out hey will always be there to come back to.

A big gin and tonic and a short drive home. And we were both done.

Key West Bight

I was without Rusty, imagine that, and I decided to take the camera for a walk downtown, and before I got back to the car I took a few steps along the waterfront. 

In the distance the Galleon resort defines the northern edge of the enclosed waters which are known as the "Bight." In nautical terms a bight is an indentation in a coastline suitable for use as an anchorage. Which definition was not pleasing to city authorities so they came up with the term "historic seaport" which is what the advertisers call the Bight these days. 

It is where you go to get your pictures, boats and stuff always look good on vacation.

I noticed a splash of stickers on the wall of Jimmy Buffett's music studio which would also overlook the water if it had any windows. He got his start in Key West but most of the time he struts a larger stage than Key West can provide these days.

The stone monument on the left below is in memory of the man who created the Bight as a harbor originally for the shrimping fleet. Norberg Thompson was a Key West big  shot at the time even though you don't see his name much nowadays. I doubt anyone notices him on the monument even though he once created a ton of jobs in town. He lived from 1884  to 1951.

I saw the two flags high over the proceedings below and it always makes me smile to see Key West associated with piracy. There were no pirates in a  town that had no decent harbor, no water, no wood and no- let's be honest here - women. When they got kicked out of Providence Island off Nicaragua they moved to New Providence Island in the Bahamas which put them in a good position to intercept bullion convoys coming out of Havana. Key West was the US Navy base for Commodore David Porter's anti-piracy patrols. But that makes a terrible story for all the pirates cheering up the tourists.

And they line up to go sailing around the harbor, do the visitors.

I was surprised to see so many people lining up for boat tours on such a thundery day.

A tropical wave in the northern Gulf of Mexico brought a ton of rain and thunder this week to the Keys. It dumped a bunch of rain on the panhandle and then went inland. It's hard to image we aren't going to see a bunch of storm activity this year but keeping one's fingers crossed is all you can really do until we reach December. Sometimes the Western Caribbean will spit out a hurricane even in December if the waters are warm enough. Great stuff.

Making my way back to the car I passed Schooner  Wharf the bar that advertises itself as the last little piece of old Key West, and consequently does a land sale business.

There's always a lot of coming and going around here; people who live on boats self importantly and self consciously landing their dinghies and coming ashore  to be among mere mortal landlubbers for a while. Bums passing another boring day with nothing to do. The well-to-do slumming it at the waterfront tasting the Bohemian life before rushing back to table cloths and waiters and reliable air conditioning. It all happens here.

In the shrubbery below lies another landmark, Buddy Owens' Fish Wagon, an open air restaurant, what could also be described as another ast little piece of old Key West. 

Enough of Bohemia, I needed to get back to my own middle class air conditioning and my impatient dog always eager for attention or a walk. 

Sloppy Joe's

I found myself caught in a crowd on the sidewalk in front of the world's most iconic bar...It sounds like the opening line of a joke, and if Sloppy Joe's isn't the world's most iconic it is certainly Key West's. I know this because a woman in the knot of people watching a Conch Tour Trolley getting stuck in front of an obstinate driver afraid of backing up, said loudly in my ear:" Now I can get a Sloppy Joe's t-shirt," with the sort of excitement mixed with reverence I have heard among crowds attending a Papal Blessing in St Peter's Square. I was a bit surprised.

After the red car backed up enough to release the extremely patient professional driving the trolley the crowd started moving but not before several more people around me muttered"Sloppy Joe's" in various tones of excitement. Really? I hesitate to admit it but I have never had a drink far less food at Sloppy Joe's, nor do I really want to as I am not a fan of crowds nor am I very inspired by the sort of food offered to a transient customer base. It seems the bar has done a bang up job of advertising itself.

Sloppy Joe Russell has gone down in history as Ernest Hemingway's buddy in Key West. He ran a bar that wasn't, it was a speakeasy as during prohibition places selling alcohol were not allowed. As odd as that sounds I have wondered from time to time how life might be if the intemperate and incompetent weren't encouraged in their social stupidity by the lubrication of alcohol. I'm not complaining really as they are a form of job security for me, even as they sow discord in families and danger on the roads. Moderation is not a word one associates with Key West and alcohol unfortunately. 

Sloppy Joe created the Blind Pig  which he opened May 5th 1933 when prohibition ended and he became legitimate. That place was located where Captain Tony's is today and that's the reason they claim to be the original Sloppy Joe's... In 1937, by when he had changed the name to the Silver Slipper his landlord increased the rent from three to four dollars  a month and they say he bought the current building for twenty five hundred dollars in 1937.

One of the other legends about Sloppy Joe's involves how all the patrons of the Silver Slipper helped Joe Russell pack up the bar and hauled the entire contents up Greene Street to the current location. The Hemingway House used to tell the story, and still may for all I know that the urinal used as a flower pot in the garden was an artifact from the Silver Slipper on Greene Street taken during the move. Apocryphal but a cute story.

Then the name is anther story. Apparently there was a Jose Garcia who kept a bar called Rio Havana and it was known for being a mess with melted ice all over the floor and Hemingway suggested that place as the inspiration for the name Sloppy Joe's, not directly attributable to Joe Russell directly then. Who knew?

The funny thing to me is how durable the place is and bars around it come and go. The Lazy Gecko apparently had a landlord falling out and  a place that seemed as stable disappeared. IC Doubles claims to have entered into an extended vacation which has prompted Facebook speculation that it isn't coming back and so it goes.

I saw these pigeons keeping the Bull and Whistle (and Garden of Eden, the clothes optional bar on the roof) under observation. Rick's, Irish Kevin's Captain Tony's and Hog's Breath are part of that grouping of apparently permanent bars in downtown. 

But for some reason Sloppy Joe's is the one as Hemingway's pull is as strong as ever.  I remain astonished by the power of the writer's name not least because he only lived in Key West twelve years and claimed his home in Havana as his favorite place to be, which you can see here, Finca Vigia, from an essay I wrote in 2009.

Dog Beach

I'm not sure how to quantify whether or not Key West is a dog friendly town. I'm inclined to think it does pretty well as there is a decent shady dog park at Higgs Beach with a fenced off field  available across town at Trumbo Road. Then there is the off leash beach just east of the Martello Tower at Higgs Beach about which no one says a word but which has a seawall and no easy access to water. Then there is also this peculiar but real opening to the water at Vernon and Waddell Streets.

It's though it was left by default as a space for dogs after no one else knew what to do with it. Frankly I'm surprised a waterfront home didn't sprout here but perhaps in those days greed was less rampant. That can't be true but anyway it is a beach for dogs, be it ever so small.

 The views are splendid.

 The dead seaweed is rather less splendid but that's beach life in the Keys.

The deck at Louie's restaurant is just around the corner, a spot much appreciated by people who like Louie's. I prefer a less exalted tone than I find at Louie's,  when I am eating out.

 Thee is plenty of shade which is necessary in summer.

 An innovation and a rather clever one too:

 A chicken on the dogs' beach.

Looking north toward South Street confusingly enough. Shady Casa Marina district streets looking picturesque. Not that the dogs care.

Duval Pocket Park

The announcement of the creation of a sidewalk cafe and park at the end of Duval Street was not greeted  with universal joy. The complaints focused on the use of public property for a private business but the developer is promising only improvements and not a take over.

 The plans were hashed out almost a year ago in city hall:

This is how the space looked before construction began and we have to be honest, it wasn't that enticing.

The beach cafe will still be there hopefully not facing new competition but something that might draw people down.

Duval Street basically ended in a wall and a small pier with the opening often packed with dead seaweed. 

Now the construction is underway:

 With detours around the construction to the beach:

 The pocket park cafe will be an adjunct to the Southernmost House:

 Looking back north up Duval Street.

Rusty The Hunter

He smelled an iguana hiding in the grass. Before Hurricane Irma the place was overrun by iguanas but they lost a lot of habitat and now it's coming back their population seems to be growing as well, worse luck. They are terrible predators with no natural enemies.

 He knew it was there somewhere.

 He traced it to the gap underneath the power pole, a perfect hiding spot. Rusty worried at the space from different angles for quiet a while.

When his back was turned I saw a bright green streak slip out and dive silently into the bushes. Rusty never saw a thing.

He used to be a fierce hunter but regular food as much as he wants has dulled the edge of his killer instinct these days.

I think once upon a time he survived by eating what he caught. These days his life is a good bit softer. No regrets.