Around Duval

Today I am posting a few pictures from a walk with Rusty which was one our usual jaunt. Something of a sentimental journey perhaps but also a reminder that I think I’ve photographed everything there is to photograph in Old Town! You decide if it’s repetitive. 

Who abandons a structure on Whitehead Street near Eaton? And why… a disputed inheritance? Too much stuff to manage? The mind boggles. Rusty loved it. I thought it disgusting. 

Maybe my memory is fading from too much travel but I don’t remember this historic market discussing the cigar business in Key West. 

Like everything else land even then was too expensive to sustain cigar factories so they went north and founded Ybor City near Tampa where land was plentiful at the end of Plant’s west coast railroad. 

I parked opposite the Tropic as usual  and then noticed the garbage bicycles clogging the rack. I guess drunks amusecthensrlvesvipdnding them and the owners … who knows? Rather unsightly. 

I have found the rooster population swelling and rather aggressive. It’s as though they expect a treat from passersby. I prefer the quiet and dignified native ibis patrolling the streets but other tourists think these pests are delightful. 

The madness of blowing dirt around at the expense of serenity continues and seems to increase. Recycling and renewable energy remain baffling incongruities in Key West, a city determined to ignore anything new fangled.  But these old fangled blowers are everywhere working hard to improve the ambiance. 

A solitary homeless woman in yellow and myself on Duval. I saw her later on Front Street glaring at me. She’s making Key West work for her and I admire her tenacity. 

I try not to play the history game but I can’t help myself. I can’t remember anymore what it was before Starbucks but the charcuterie extravaganza has gone. Two other tourists stood staring at it wondering if it might open.  I wanted to tell them to check Google who knows everything but I thought better of my impulse. Either they would be annoyed at me or start asking if I live here. A no exit gambit. I shut up. 

Another quixotic venture selling art on Duval. 

Bagatelle is still there selling meals at 115 Duval.  Further down the Harley Davidson clothing store lost it’s display motorcycle but it too continues to function. How they do it selling nonsense I don’t know rents being what they are. 

I saw an ad for a “cute but cozy” two bed one bath townhouse at the golf course on Stock Island. NO PETS. $3700 a month with First Lady and deposit which means more than ten grand to move in. It has “more than ample” parking though described in a horribly brutalized use of the English language. “More than ample” parking. WTF does that mean? 

There it is: Duval Street. 

There’s a good old memory when the owner of the Rick’s complex and former city commission member wanted to be mayor. It was a hopeless tilt at the windmill that is Mayor Johnston. She has taken up the wishes of the Spottswood family and is driving Key West to attract higher end tourists. Poor old Rossi tan on a platform supporting the common people. Mind you how real that was will never be known. 

I don’t suppose anyone else finds  the building of the former rooftop café covered in a horrid blue hurricane tarp to be the least bit ironic. 

Rising sun,

Peeling paint, 

Key West colors. 

Stop Wall Street indeed. 

The Pez Garden always worth a visit to learn some history. 

I’m telling you the chickens are taking over. 

Front Street filled with a front loader took me by surprise so my picture was a bit wobbly. I wouldn’t mind leading a procession driving a contraption like that. 

That evening Layne and I took Rusty to our favorite seafood restaurant, Alonzo’s and with some trepidation. Luckily e en though staff wear a uniform t-shirt now and the interior is remodeled outside seating still works. A and B. Alonzo and Berlin’s. 

The food was still good. 

Clams and mussels and my favorite fried fish bites. 

This and two beers was fifty bucks so you’ll be glad to know prices are still going up. We will get a lot of seafood for a thousand pesos in Mexico when we park the van at a taco stand in San Carlos next month. 

Rusty enjoyed the view as we ate. He is no bother at all in public places. I am glad to spend every day with him. 

Morning At Mallory

I no longer have to be up at night which makes it highly unlikely I will ever see Old Town Key West at three in the morning ever again. I’d like to say I’m sorry but I’m fine being abed and Rusty never protests. 

Watching the sun come up over the harbor was early enough for both of us. 

I sat and watched people and boats and had a thoroughly peaceful time. Everyone else was being useful exercising or fishing or using their phones but as Rusty napped I watched the world, mostly rather empty and took some pictures from where I sat with my Lumix G95. 

What do you suppose future generations will think of this already quaint sign?

In the background, behind the fully equipped angler you can see the landing craft bound for Sunset Key with a work truck onboard. It’s how they manage the rather sterile and uninteresting retreat for the rich and famous where cars aren’t allowed (nor is much of anything else for hoi polloi). 

The ever lovely jet ski tours. These pests were abroad astonishingly early. 

The eight o’clock ferry bound for Fort Jefferson three hours away. It didn’t seem to be crammed with passengers. 

And so the morning drifted away. No rowdy homeless though there were a few tough looking characters sitting quietly alongside me doing pretty much what everyone does: checking their phones! A very nice morning. 

And so eventually we wandered off. Another lovely quiet Key West morning. 

Going Home

They ask me if I miss the Keys and the question provokes some thought! It’s not a “yes” or “no” answer for me. 

Once you have lived in the Keys you have a before and after split in your life. Some people leave resenting the fact they couldn’t hold on anymore while others are glad to be gone. I was glad to leave when my time came because much planning when into our departure but I am glad to come back as a visitor as that seems to be the best way to enjoy the good and ignore the bad. 

I was finishing up a delightful lunch visit at the Key West sailing club when I saw a former colleague backing up to the city fuel pumps. “How’s retirement?” Officer Hainey asked when he realized who had blocked him in. “Brilliant,” I said before asking the inevitable. “How long have you got?” Seventeen years he said and my heart sank for him. It’s not so long to retirement he said brightly and he told me his dream is Hawaii, a comfortable climate with mountains, how he remembered the place from his time in the military. It’s good to nurture that hope of a better place in later life even if not necessarily in the Keys. 

I last saw Jonathan in Sedgwick Maine on our way south from our visit to the northern tip of Highway One. His retirement plan is winters in Key West and he likes it. He bought a house in Old Town and fell in love with a local woman who happened to be a colleague of my wife the former teacher. 

He keeps a Stonehorse 23 at the Key West Sailing Club where we ate sandwiches and he reminisced about  his sailing life and talked about how the club has been restored and is busy teaching youngsters about boats. 

I used to be a member here for a while when I lived in Key West.  I sailed the motley crew of small boats around Garrison Bight for fun and to escape the city. It was a refuge for winter street people and car dwellers (the clubhouse has a toilet) and I didn’t make any friendships among the denizens of the club back then. But I did get to sail. I got a twinge of nostalgia seeing the place again. I was too busy working, walking Rusty and living on Cudjoe Key to spend time here lately. 

Rusty as usual ignored the two old men talking. Seeing Key West through the idle gaze of a man with time on his hands makes for an interesting view. We spent the night at Cracker Barrel in Florida City…

…so I could get up at three in the morning and leave the impromptu campsite that is the parking lot and drive unimpeded down the Keys. I usually drive Card Sound Road but at that hour The Stretch was empty: 

By five thirty I was ready to stop so we pulled off at our favorite beach stop at West Summerland Key just past Bahia Honda where I used to come on my days off to sit by the water. That was before hurricanes Irma and Ian which have ravaged the place. 

As Layne pointed out it’s nice to know these spots that aren’t obvious. I in turn issued a challenge which she accepted. When we get back from our drive to Argentina I want to see if we can spend a week stealth camping on the streets of Key West without getting busted. I think I have a few spots in mind where I could pull that off! 

On Sunday we leave for more island life this time a ten day house rental on Ocracoke in North Carolina’s Outer Banks. 

We haven’t been there in a while (Cheyenne liked it on our first visit) but we always thought a winter stay in a house with heat might be interesting. We have ten days booked so it had better be. 

I don’t think I will live on an island again but visiting can be entirely  delightful. 

Travels With Charley

I have been asked to mention books I am reading about my travels. Webb Chiles mentioned John Steinbeck’s travel book which set me thinking a while back. He didn’t talk of it by way of recommendation but I thought about it a bit and found a copy on my Libby app. 

Libby gives you access to your library account online so you can check out audio books or electronic books and read them on your device.  A lot of the value of the app depends on how extensive your home library is, and I’m lucky the Monroe County library has a wide range of titles. 

The funny thing about Libby is that you can only borrow books as they become available just as though you were picking up a physical book at your branch. However this app is just another of the incredible tools that make nomad life so enjoyable and remarkable in the 21st century. 

I do carry a couple of paper books for the pleasure of reading but an electronic Kindle is essential to me. We use Express VPN when outside the US to make it look like we are at home and thus have access to books and movies through our home accounts. We don’t make money off the internet so we haven’t yet bothered with the Starlink connection, especially as it has very limited service outside North America and Europe. WiFi and cell service works just fine aboard GANNET2.  

All that by way of explanation but as far as Travels with Charley goes I am quite surprised how relevant the story is. Steinbeck grew up in Salinas California, a region I am very familiar with as I lived almost 20 years in Santa Cruz on Monterey Bay, but he moved to Long Island away from his home town critics, in an act of mutual rejection. By 1960 he was ready to explore his homeland and he took to the road in a pick up truck with a camper shell. Oh and a dog called Charley. Does this remind you of anyone? 

The astonishing thing for me was how similar our rigs are! He ordered a complete camper from the dealer and as you read the description in the book you discover not too much has changed fundamentally between now and then. Give some latitude for improved technology and of course electronics and the way he traveled that Fall of 1960 isn’t so different from how we travel aboard GANNET2 in 2022, sixty years later. For details about the vehicle and it’s restoration follow this link to a superb description: 

http://www.thecamperbook.com/man-saved-john-steinbecks-van/

I have read some of his novels -and watched the movie versions of his stories. I read his other well known travel book set in the Sea of Cortez and I think among Nobel Laureates (1962) he is among the most readable. Many of the prize winners  I try and find them impenetrable. Steinbeck is very approachable and this story is funny and incisive and meditative by turns. I have felt exactly as he has felt during our recent tour of the United States aboard GANNET2. 

Modern academics dissect the book and argue over the truthiness of the stories contained in his travel stories. They debate the veracity of his descriptions of people met along the way and how much of the conversations he made up and they forgive him because he was a writer and a novelist and he is allowed much latitude. I don’t care about all that intellectual debate. I can tell you his story of driving across America rings true to me, details be damned. 

I see so many of my thoughts and opinions about the road, the general state of the country, the joy of travel reflected in Steinbeck’s writings I find it hard to believe he made the trip in 1960. I empathize with his occasional pursuit of hotel rooms for hot baths ( we use modern truck stops! ) and I rejoice that I have Google maps to stop me getting lost all the time like he does. 

I am astonished to find a brother on the road in John Steinbeck. Webb Chiles pointed me there so I shouldn’t be surprised. You might enjoy his story too.