Red Specks Of Christmas

Tonight is Twelfth Night, not the Shakespeare play but the twelfth night after Christmas and it's an important landmark. That is because tonight must see the removal of the last of the Christmas decorations upon pain of some severe bad luck in the coming year. After 2020 no one needs any more bad luck this coming year.

In the spirit of Twelfth Night I found a bunch of little red odds and ends around Old Town, and I photographed them as a nod to this auspicious date. In some cultures Twelfth Night is the gift giving night as it marks the arrival of the Three Wise Men in Bethlehem bearing symbolic gifts for the newborn King. When I was a child in Italy we celebrated the visit of the Befana, an ugly old woman on a broomstick with a sack of gifts.  One more inexplicable Christmas tradition.  

A fishing float used as a decoration is a common sight around Key West so  I can’t say for certain this counts as an actual Christmas bauble:

The stuff on the fence is decidedly Christmas stuff and therefore in peril of triggering gross bad fortune.

I like these old street signs, cement blocks at the street corners and there aren't many left but this one has a red stripe to forbid parking next to it. Red? Good enough for me to include in an essay on red things. 

I could drive myself mad photographing every red winter flower blooming in Key West so I do try to show some restraint.

I liked this one below; social distancing required but only for humans. I guess wetsuits are free to bunch up. 

The morning after the night before, as usual, but in this case red:

A nice use for a used beer bottle, seasonal too and I think this counts as a way to bring misfortune crashing down on your head. Has to be gone by tonight!

Fantasy Fest beads mixed up with Christmas sounds about right on a holiday celebrated any way one wants apparently:

And to end we have a few official city decorations:

And of course Rusty.

After Hours

Years ago - dare I say decades ago? - I used to spend a lot of time noticing the left overs on the streets of Key West, abandoned by people with other things on their minds if indeed they had a mind left after meeting lots of lovely new friends in bars scattered along Duval Street, the only thoroughfare of any note to hardened Key West visitors.  I can say with some confidence they are back. I have tracked their spoor.

The Waterfront Brewery is a relatively new arrival on the drinking scene, but there again Turtle Kraals is gone along with so many businesses. In the first half of 2020 I wandered around not sure if I was missing the crowds or enjoying the solitude, and now they are back and ready to buy. I suppose I should miss the solitude but...I  don't because I make my own and I'm glad the crowds are here when I'm not and spending their money.

If I walk early enough I can pretend there's no one around because they are all asleep, but I get the dubious benefit of the traces they have left behind.  When I saw the beer bottles feeding the fish I started laughing as all sorts of puns and images came to mind; possibly Ralph fed the fish?

I don't think much is going to change for a quite a while in 2021 and my earlier hopes have been put back behind bars for the time being. I got grumpy for a while when I realized the vaccine isn't coming any time soon for us little people. The people at the top who denied the virulence of the virus are lining up to "set a good example" and protect themselves. Meanwhile their followers spread across Duval Street protesting masks and curfews and, much to our amusement in dispatch, we got lots of angry calls to end a hellish year, accusing us of being "Communists," which gave me some idea of how weird the world outside the Keys really is. The Communist Manifesto, 2020 Edition. I did not contribute one word to it, just for the record.

My wife's doctor told her she can't get a vaccine even were one available for several months as she has to wait since her latest round of medication depressed her already feeble immune system so we have no plans to change our isolation. I wonder what will come of all the end of the year crowds in the next weeks and months and the scientists are telling us nothing good.  Requiring masks means nothing if compliance only comes with coercion.  Compliance in Key West is solid among locals and sketchy among visitors.We have to keep hoping they'll take the virus home with them because better their hospitals are overwhelmed than ours.

I can tell you that nagging about masks gets you nowhere in the long run. Rusty strides past all the signs and refuses to follow my example. He has never put on a mask since the beginning of the pandemic. Non compliant rebel. I still love him.

On the other hand. there are still those mysterious signs of the passage of hitherto unknown customs across Key West. I cannot figure out how a gallon jug of detergent ended up in a trash can in the middle of Mallory Square. I have never seen that before where one usually finds bottles coconuts and food wrappers.

I confess I am tired of seeing people say good bye to 2020. The calendar is just a convenient marker to regulate our lives. I need something rather more coherent than a calendar date to show me that the awfulness of 2020 is behind us.  20 million infected Americans, 350,000 dead and masks are still a struggle. We have learned nothing. Except perhaps that coronavirus does kill more people than the 'flu. Anyone out there pushing that tired old story? Anyone? 

December 32nd

I needed time away after a hard week at work but my heart fell as I pulled up alongside the parking area. Lots of cars means lots of people and I was decidedly not in the mood for more people. The run up to New Year's Day was hard at work with all sorts of disasters befalling unwary drunken lost souls on vacation. And now here were their more well behaved neighbors fishing walking cycling and photographing.

I pulled out the dog and the camera (the dog actually needed no pulling) and wondered what I could possibly find to photograph after a thousand previous visits. Rusty had no qualms and set off nose down ambling down toward the people fishing on the seawall.

I need not have worried so much as no one much spoke to me, a delightful byproduct of social distancing, and as we strolled down toward the water Rusty and I, a woman came shuffling up toward us. Actually in the distance all I saw was a moving pink splodge through the bushes, that became a woman in some kind of a summer dress that looked completely wrong in that place at that time where shorts and t-shirts rule. She looked rushed and she barely nodded her head as she rustled past me at a steady trot. I think she was not happy at the man who came after her with a worried look on his face. I sort of assumed it was another domestic squabble which at least had not precipitated a frantic call to 911 (no deputies in evidence) but if I was any judge there is nothing to be gained by going on an overnight fishing expedition with a woman in a pink cocktail dress. Poor judgement all round. Not my problem for once.

Rusty seems to be sliding into middle age, and I say that only because he seems to have slowed down a bit. He does run from time to time but he enjoys a slower pace with more investigation as he goes. He jumps as sprightly as ever and is always keen to go for a walk but he is more measured. There again, aren't we all?

There is always something to look at on these outings. Who knows what crazy artist came out to put an owl on a the wall of the old pump house but I don't remember it being there on my last visit.  I lost Rusty at this point as he raced down the hill (he's not always slow and thoughtful) and I plodded down the trail to the low cliff, where without falling I clambered down to sea level. I love having one spot where I can climb up and look down at the horizon. However I had to keep up with my dog.

There was a couple sitting at the bottom of the cliff and I saw them watch Rusty run by unaccompanied. They looked around puzzled, concerned perhaps, and looked back as the self possessed  unaccompanied dog trotted along the trail and started sniffing. Stray or abandoned dogs give themselves away by the way they carry themselves, fearful and ready for disaster. Such was Rusty once, but not anymore. This was another opportunity for someone to declare a disaster, an absconded dog, and start using their wretched portable phones to summon help. But happily we were in a relative wilderness and by the time I hove into view from on high behind the puzzled couple Rusty had decided as he always does, to sit and wait for the slow poke.  they relaxed and he got  up for another solo exploration of the beach.

I have a rather jaundiced view of the notion that if you see something you should say something. Some few things are actual disasters but more often they are just people gone slightly awry. "I think he may be dead!" they say upon seeing someone lying on the sidewalk. Nope, just drunk is the inevitable outcome. However if you do see a dead human being you will know and I will know by the tone of your voice as you come to terms with your own mortality. People react in different ways to the sight fo death; some are totally calm and others lose their lunch but there is always a quality in the voice, a sort of fearful reverence, that I have come to recognize. Next year I retire and I cannot wait.

To be out here and to see nature in action all around me is a glorious change, a rest, a chance to sit and watch and listen and not be responsible for anything, least of all an ambulance siren.  The turkey vultures are back for the winter and they too are looking for dead bodies. Lunch doesn't move so I like t make sure they see movement as they hover overhead. Just in case. 

Tides have been exceptionally low which exposes miles of rock dotted with little pools. Rusty and I sat for a while after our walk. He has taken to spending part of each long walk sitting and watching the world by. That worked for me sitting in the grass at the each of the parking lot overlooking the coastline below us.

It was a great start to the day and I was not ready to go home.

On Friday morning when we showed up for work at quarter to six Keith looked over at me from his locker and said gloomily:"You know today is really just December 32nd?" It turned out that way, twelve hours of more of the same. But a couple of hours watching the clouds and the light and the reflections on the water cured some of that. A few hours of extra sleep completed the cure. This guy's tool is way bigger than mine but I'm not jealous.

This guy used his iPhone to record his moment but he smiled cheerfully and said good morning as he pedaled by. No conversation in the time of virus.

No jealousy regarding men riding motorcycles. I'm a van traveler now. I was driving home from a walk Wednesday night when a motorcycle came roaring round a tight corner, a few exist in the back country, and he took the line perfectly, no wobbling, a nice angle of lean, prefect control of speed. A few seconds later another motorcycle flashed into view. This one missed the turn completely and roared straight past the hood of my car, missing my vehicle by about three seconds and disappeared into the mangroves with an almighty cartwheel, a splash and a flying body. Oh well I thought, here we go again. At least it's not me. I waited a second and turned on my four way flashers. The two riders took off their helmets (good children!), neither appeared to have impaled themselves as I feared and neither was bleeding. She looked about ready to burst into tears and he looked severely embarrassed. "That was spectacular" I laughed, probably not helping. A pick up truck stopped and a big husky man who might have been a relative got out looking serious. He neither looked at me nor spoke. I drove on. No 911 needed please note.

Sitting there watching the world go by a car stoped and the driver, properly masked got out and excused himself very politely. He sounded European, German perhaps but spoke perfect English asking for directions to Bahia Honda State park. I told him the truth because he was very nice and he backed off to his car. That as when I noticed Rusty had got up and sat down right next to me between me and the stranger. I was impressed. I let him know. 

We went home.

The Meadows

A relaxing walk with my little Panasonic compact LX100. 

New Year's Day in the neighborhood called the Meadows.  

They call it the Meadows because that is what it used to be before development.

It is notable now for pretty and varied architecture, lots of greenery and no shops.

Shadows and light on a  sunny afternoon.

Always worth a walk. 

George Smathers Sunlight

 Happy New Year and may we hope for better things to come. Like sun sea and sand, today's theme.

The idea was to use part of a lunch break taking photos at the beach to take advantage of cool temperatures and bright sunlight. I wanted to see what mood I could engender in black and white. Well, that didn't last long.

The colors are just too vibrant to be ignored.

People who live in the Keys tend to forget how these islands are sold to the winter bound masses Up North. The easiest way to sell a frigid commuter kicking a snowdrift on the idea of a Florida vacation is to promise sun sea and sand. Which is what we have here and you can see why some people prefer it to snow drifts. Other people like their water frozen but we can ignore them for now. 

The thing is: this is the single longest stretch of beach in the Lower Keys rivalled by Sombrero Beach, shorter but deeper and better for swimming in Marathon, and the pay to enter beach at Fort Zachary Taylor, actually the best swimming beach in Key West, even if it is in the state park which requires you pay to enter, not a to but enough to keep the bums out which could be a plus.

Smathers Beach is built of sand imported from the Bahamas and dumped here to be dribbled away over time by the tides and in bigger gulps by occasional hurricanes. Every morning a tractor pulls a giant rake up and down the beach clearing any possible trash while smoothing out the fine grained sand for the pleasure of those frozen northerners finally enjoying their all too brief vacations in Paradise.  

The beach is named for another weird character with only a peripheral connection to Key West. The other odd name involves Mallory Square home of the famous sunset which is named for Stephen Mallory whose greatest claim to fame is as the Confederate secretary of the Navy. The beach is named for US Senator George Smathers (1913-2007) who was a close friend of President Kennedy and had nothing to do with Key West directly. When you read his biography he reminds of the kinds of people who got elected to public office once upon a time, true public servants. He served in the military, rose through the political ranks, retired and then made hefty donations to his home state. He was a popular Florida politician in the old Southern Democrat mode of fond memory, and I suppose that's what got him immortality on this stretch of sand.  Senators didn't cut each others' cross party throats in those happy days.

I don't suppose visitors to the beach much care one way or another who it is named for, such is the fleeting nature of fame. I like to think about Kennedy and Smathers getting elected to the Senate together and then and learning the ropes of their political trade together. And rumor has it they shared the more social ropes of their trade as well, two handsome young well connected men. Ahem.

Back to the present: I cannot fathom getting into seawater at this time of year. Seventy five degrees? I think not especially with a cold north wind blowing. On the other hand I'm not here on vacation and summer swimming suits me best.

It does make for a pleasant lunch break to come out and sit and stare for a little while, even in long pants and closed toed shoes to watch the light play on the waters, to see boats actually deploying their sails, to feel a frisson of cool air on your cheek. Before you go back to the office.

To do nothing in particular except to watch the clouds and the bicycles and the active people being active. To remember Senator George Smathers while at the beach. A pleasant afternoon's distraction.

Showering With Truckers

We set ourselves some goals for our most recent week long road trip and one was to buy a shower in a  truck stop. We did our due diligence and watched YouTube videos and read up online about the experience and decided we two fresh not so young middle class recreational drivers could muscle in on the public showers offered at truck stops, so we did.  Like any new experience you feel rather stupid for not knowing the ropes but the clerk was kindness itself as she took our public shower virginity.

It seems all truck stop showers work the same way, more or less. Designed for road travelers and not reserved exclusively for commercial drivers you are welcome to park your car and walk in with some money and get in line. I wish I had known this decades ago as driving while feeling scruffy really diminishes the pleasure. We decided to go in the middle of the day, at 11:30 am as you can see below, to avoid waiting. My wife had read that you can shower together so we paid $14 for both of us which made the shower seem almost free. She has yet to start investigating the truck stop apps that accumulate points and loyalty rewards and so forth...you can imagine!

The cubicle has a toilet (porta potty users please note if you want private dumping) and per the reviews on Google maps, the facility was spotless. We carry extra wash bags in the van (an idea from YouTube my wife says) so if we stay in a friend's place or a hotel we can carry our wash stuff with us easily without disturbing our wash things in daily use, stored in the van's shower compartment.

Expect the shower cost to include towels and soap and shampoo so even if you are on a  car trip and not organized you can walk in and take a shower with no fuss. It is pretty amazing and well worth $10-$25 for a single driver especially if you saved time and money by snoozing in your car. No time limits here and very hot water. Obviously details and prices will vary but you get the idea.

I grew up in English boarding schools so communal showering was part of my childhood. And I know modern Americans tend to be  so germ-phobic the idea of this kind of showering is a freak show so I'm not here to change anyone's mind. For us we decided having the heat humidity and plumbing for rent away from the van on a  cold autumnal day is ideal. Lots of people think they want to shower in their vans and some road warriors do just that. We decided to reserve the ability to do that with a separate shower stall but with no plumbing we have to use our solar shower in the space which has a porta potty and a floor drain but no built in shower, no water heater and thus no plumbing to break. On pleasant days off the beaten track we hang a sheet across the open back doors and create our own shower stall with the same solar shower warmed with a couple of kettles of hot water. We learned the value of simple showers while traveling by sailboat. In the tropics lay the solar shower in the sun and it will quickly get scalding hot.

The pursuit of simplicity is why I wanted a porta potty. When you have a plumbed toilet you have to dump it at a proper dumps site in a campground or park and naturally pay for the privilege. I spotted a roadside sign to this free dump site courtesy of the State of Wisconsin last summer and it was the work of a moment to dump our five gallon tank. However the porta potty is versatile in that it can be dumped anywhere and I carry the tank in a  discreet shopping bag into vault toilets at trailheads or rest areas or wherever necessary. The downside is you have to be able to handle the job and for some reason it has never bothered me so pouring out and cleaning up is no problem. We use a separate trash can for toilet paper (a hold over from our boating days to avoid clogs) and I make absolutely double certain the toilet is as clean as I found it, if not cleaner after I dump. I am not a fan of foul toilets as much as I don't mind pouring out my own. And if the government says don't drink the water better you don't defy this particular government imposition!

My goal traveling by van is to have a minimal footprint ecologically and socially and I'd rather not make myself obvious by being an asshole to put it simply.  Walmart used to allow overnight parking until the imbeciles took advantage and instead of parking they camped and dumped trash and so forth and now free overnight parking at Walmart is becoming a rarity. I'm not excited by the idea of free parking in a  parking lot at a business so its no skin off my nose but my wife and I are not necessarily drawn to parking in company anyway. We arrive late, park, sleep and leave before anyone notices us or more to the point gets annoyed by us. It's easy to stop later and carry out the life functions in a place designed for them, a gas station or a park to give Rusty his morning walk after the world has come awake and stepping out of a vehicle is a normal activity.

I understand these considerations are a little weird in a  world regulated for the benefit of commerce and commuting and daily habits formed over the decades by people used to living in a  fixed abode. I mention them here for those curious but also as a warning for people who think living a mobile life is a trend worth jumping on. Layne and I are old and we have been travelers together and independently all our lives. If you meet her ask how she and a friend spent a night on a Norwegian freighter docked in Barcelona when she was young and impressionable and wandering Europe on her youthful own. Call her naïve or fearless but she has no concerns about boondocking or parking alone on the streets. However my word of caution is to burn no bridges if the idea of Instagram van life has a certain appeal. We allowed ourselves two years to get used to it and discover if we really wanted to go back to boat living instead. To have moved out of a house into a  van just like that would have imposed intolerable stress on us. Even now we look back at our first extended trip to Michigan and see many ways we could have done that better. Next time...we say to ourselves with our eyes on a Maine trip next (vaccinated?!) summer.

We left the shower feeling suitably refreshed, and I took a quick picture of the car collection that was inevitably mentioned in reviews of the shower stop. Truck stop showers, solar shower inside or outside the van, and body wipes in between. Good enough for you? Probably not and no blame there. Well, now you know and be glad when you flush the toilet it all just goes away to the great big porta potty in the sky. Happy New Year!

The reward is the open road.