Frigid December

I haven't stopped commuting to work by Bonneville just because the temperature has dropped and stayed down below 60 degrees.I wear my mesh jacket liner and a sweatshirt and my heavy winter elk skin roper gloves and a balaclava under my helmet, all because the sun, though bright, carries no heat. And the morning ride home in the cold damp air feels like an outdoor meat locker at six in the morning.The colors are washed out at dusk when you look away from the golden sunsets. This was Highway One behind me when I stopped on my way to work Sunday night.Dispatching has been relatively quiet as the cold weather tends to keep people indoors. Alcohol fueled stupidity continues of course, and as one officer put it, the numbers of domestic disturbances go up as the frozen southernmost residents huddle indoors sharing their socks and wishing for heating in this Dickensian spell of discomfort. What else is there to do but drink and allow your relationship's resentments to ride to the surface? This was the view from my desk at work as the latest infernal cold front rolled over Key West. The Bonneville is the speck at the bottom of the picture. Yes I did ride to work despite the promise of 40 mile per hour winds, rain and lows around 47 degrees: It was a promise maintained first thing Tuesday morning when I got in the car to take Cheyenne to the mangroves for her early morning walk.

I can read metric on my Fusion's display. This is for Jack riepe, man of the world:

We got a call at work from a freaked out woman on a boat. She could hear screaming and noises outside on the docks. She felt the need to whisper for she was terrified someone outside was ready to do her harm. At first Noel thought she was alone on her boat but she said her boyfriend was peering out a porthole to see what was going on. She was, it turns out, a visitor from North Dakota of all places (home of the country's only state owned bank, and the only state in the Lower Forty Eight that has a balanced state budget-statism works!). However she had no idea which marina she was in, what slip she was at or the name of her boat. Noel took the call and with the patience of a saint elicited which marina but not which dock: only that they parked their red Ford Mustang (rental car!) at the end of the dock. The man was still screaming for help, she said. I sent four officers to find out what was happening because as luck would have it we were going through a quiet moment, as the bars had closed. They paired up and started walking the docks at four o'clock in the morning. The woman was too scared to hang up the phone and too scared to talk in a voice Noel could hear. Keith and I sat like statues while Noel tried to decipher what she was saying. God knows what she thought would happen if she spoke in a normal voice, buried as she was in the bowels of her boat. But in the end all was well. Sergeant Blasberg advised me laconically over the radio a man was plucked from the water and returned to his boat safely. That was all I knew but as a former long time live aboard let me suggest that coming home drunk is probably not a great idea as people have drowned falling off the docks which are too high out of the water for a fully dressed intoxicated unfit man to climb back onto. It may be ridiculously not cold around here for some people but if the freaked out tourist from North Dakota hadn't called he would have died most probably. Even the herons don't much seem to like the weather. Perhaps I'm anthropomorphizing but he didn't look happy:I am glad Cheyenne is the excuse that I have to drive the car in the cold during the day:Keys Energy has been working on the bases of the cement power poles that live in the waters adjacent to the highway. I guess they are off work for a bit, perhaps for the holidays, perhaps for the cold.My imagination may be working overtime but I thought this rocky foreshore at low tide looked like a frozen snowfield. I have tried to stay out of the frigid north wind and when I find shelter from the breeze the sun is pleasantly warm. But the wind chill is the killer factor these days.

Cheyenne has been quite frisky in the cool temperatures but I have a hard time keeping up. My wife got her a new soft blanket and now she doesn't want to get off it, so I have to drape it on her bed to keep her happy. I'd like to think she's fed up with the cold too.

I was walking in the piled up seaweed along the beach and I realized how pleasant and warm it is now that the cold crisp air has dried it all out. Usually it's a stinking soggy mess, mouldering away on the beach, washed up by the currents and wind storms.In this weather the soft warm seaweed felt great. I am too lazy for cold weather. I forgot to dig out my second pair of jeans and I took to the road in shorts. "I'll be fine," I told my impatient dog, who wanted to get out of the house. I wasn't. The temperatures by the weekend are supposed to be back up to 70 (20C) by day and 65 (17C) by night and that will much better. Some people seem to take the cold in stride and even with a strong north wind blowing there were some eccentrics taking to the water in a not terribly seaworthy craft:I was sitting on the ground with my back to the car in the sun reading Motorcyclist magazine and Cheyenne was sitting next me having completed her check of the area when a car parked across the way drove up alongside me. I thought they wanted directions- left to Key West, right to marathon seemed easy enough. No they were begging. No money no gas and no prospects, down from Alabama for some reason. I don't typically carry money when I go walking Cheyenne so I wished them luck and wondered what they thought they were doing. If you don't have a job Up North, coming down here to look for work is crazy. There is none, even though we have openings always for dispatchers, it takes six months to get hired, a further year to train and even then you have to able to sit still for 12 hours at a stretch all while getting yelled at by drunk tourists down the phone. It's not a job for everybody. The easier trades in the bars are all full up from what I've heard.I don't think the economy is recovering. I am surprised there are as many visitors as there are in the Keys.

I hope they keep coming and bringing money with them. And they can take the cold Arctic air back wherever it came from, thank you.

Empty Streets

I was pondering where to take Cheyenne for a walk early one morning and I figured it wasn't too late to enjoy downtown Key West before the crowds started cluttering the streets. By nine thirty we were on Caroline Street ready for some fun and we were almost alone. Cheyenne's idea of fun is trolling the gutters for interesting smells. My idea of fun is spotting oddities; like this oddly ineffective gate lock.We passed this object of controversy at the corner of Elizabeth and Caroline. The former site of the Jabours Trailer Park has become a grassy field following the bankruptcy of the Watermark Development. Only the model home closest to Schooner Wharf Bar got built. The city required the tall wooden fence to be torn down and for now there is this pleasant open space to enjoy. I wish they would turn it into a park. Someone somewhere needs more money I suspect so that will never happen.Only myself and the energetic tend to be abroad before ten in the morning. She wasn't the only jogger I saw pounding the sidewalks. The Cypess House, constructed of Dade Pine (impervious to pests and tropical weather) after the great fire of 1886 burned down the old house which was made of cypress. All that is according to the incessant Conch Trains running down Caroline Street. This was Simonton Street in front of the Federal Aronovitz Courthouse. Quite empty and thus quite delightful. I like walking Old Town much earlier in the morning when possible but because I live 27 miles out of town, and because I am usually rather tired after spending all night at work, I don't often get to hang out down here before the city wakes up. Nine thirty in the morning wasn't a bad time to be out if you want solitude.In an almost empty parking lot Cheyenne made a friend, kind of. She is quite eager and friendly around people but around dogs she is, for the most part, indifferent. She prefers her own company. This little guy ran up and did the sniffing thing. She just stepped over him.Mike and Tuck walked with us around the lot for a while, with Cheyenne showing tuck how to check garbage for food. Mike was rather concerned about Cheyenne's garbage habits but I tried to reassure him she is just a pig in a fur coat. She looks after herself amazingly well.More empty streets as we closed in on Duval Street.I also passed a bar I have never previously heard of. Later I checked the computer at work, and there it was listed at 512 Greene Street. Who knew? Not me...I need to get out more.Behind Old City Hall Cheyenne ducked into the parking lot to check out the garbage situation. We trolled around for a while and ended up sniffing the back of Sloppy Joe's Bar, a much more familiar bar to me than Ernesto's, not that I have frequented either of them.I spotted this guy ducking into the back entrance on some important mission no doubt. Probably busy cleaning up to get the bar ready to open, I thought.Which just goes to show how little I know. It was a quarter to ten in the morning and Sloppy Joe's was open and serving customers already. I hope they have spare livers handy.This lot were racking in the "merchandise" from the store next door. A Sloppy Joe's t-shirt seems quite respectable and quaint even compared to some of the dreck for sale in t-shirt shops on Duval.I managed to drag Cheyenne away from Duval and we took a quiet step or two down Caroline. Cheyenne loves city street walks and she can't get enough of all the action on the streets. I enjoy watching her having fun and a Labrador just seems to bring a smile to the faces of passers by .I was quite content that there weren't actually any passers by for a few blocks. We ambled along until we got overtaken by a train which was packed with more people than I expected to see on such a quiet morning.Cheyenne led me down Rose Lane back towards Duval because she is a dog that knows what she wants. I was happy to oblige as Rose is quite pretty when viewed from the correct angle.Peering through a locked gate I could see the bicycles I had passed on Caroline Street around the block. Downtown Key West is quite a small space when you pace it out.I came across this ironically parked truck. An odd goal for a truck parked on the pedestrian sidewalk. Of course it was part of construction work in reality and the sidewalk was closed...Cheyenne was still stumping along full of energy and determination so I found myself trailing her down Telegraph Lane, a malodorous street behind Rick's complex.I followed my dog down Fitzpatrick Street and got her to turn right on Front Street, pointed vaguely in the direction of the car. Then I spotted the reason for the packed Conch Trains. The newspaper has been full of anonymous comments from residents (and lots of snowbirds no doubt) who don't want more cruise ships, or bigger cruise ships coming to Key West.As it stands the new generation of extra massive ships doubling their human capacity to around 6,000 won't fit down the ship channel as currently constructed. The city is thinking about trying to beg borrow or steal 35 million dollars to widen the channel. One can't help but hope it doesn't come to that. I like my Key West looking quaint.And I don't mind a quaint looking car every now and again even if it isn't as old as it looks. Cheyenne was ready to sit and watch the world go by so I found a low wall and Cheyenne found a nice brick floor. We were happy together.Out of the breeze it was a glorious day, and in the sun it was positively warm. I was glad I had brought herself to the city.A woman walked by and started to make a fuss of my dog, who leapt up for the attention the whore. And then as we were walking back to the car someone started yelling at me. "You write the blog" he said, the words that bring a chill to my shy heart. "I recognized you from the crocs and the dog!" It turns out it was Doug Bennet (with Sassi and Boca) who writes http://thisweekontheisland.blogspot.com/ He also had a rather nifty visiting card to prove it.We talked for a while, and Doug explained his rationale for choosing Key West as a retirement spot. 1) No Winter, 2) No Boredom 3) No Driving all of which sounds good to me. Except of course I do like my commute. I know I should really live in one of the most walkable and cyclable towns in North America. It was nice meeting him and I'm glad he had the nerve to interrupt my reverie and hunt me down.

Coco Plum Beach

Chuck and Wayne alerted me to the presence of Coco Plum Beach in Marathon. Driving north on Highway One you turn south at the last light on your way out of town, the traffic light past Key Colony Beach. At the end of a very long drive through suburbs that reminded me of mainland Florida, you reach a turn out.The drive to this beach is lined with nice landscaping, tall condos and tennis courts and lots of keep out signs. It reminded me very much of the tony homes lining Highway A1A along the beaches of Palm Beach County. Not to be outdone:The views south were as always, quite splendid. I wouldn't trade the wildest snow blizzard in the world for this view:Up the shoreline there is the official city beach that we shall get to later. For now Cheyenne and I took off up the rocky shore. We had arrived quite by chance at low tide and had lots of room to walk.A word about the name and I had to go to Wikipedia to get this next picture and some slight information about the Coco Plum. First it can be written cocoplum or CocoPlum but my spell checker prefers coco plum... Secondly it is apparently an edible fruit found growing around the Caribbean Basin and across South Florida. It is an ornamental bush and has been planted in warmer inland areas of Florida. Like me it doesn't tolerate frost. There you have it.This was whence we had come, looking back at the car and the monstrosity behind it:I was not alone.I never take for granted where I live. I know that for some people living at sea level with no hills must seem like a bore but for me, this is perfect.She doesn't seem to mind it either.
It was cold and breezy, with temperatures in the low 60s (16C) and the north wind was honking. Here on the south shore of the island, close in to the mangroves we were well protected from the breeze. I found a trail that led us through the bushes. Cheyenne was having a great time.I had my Zen moment tucked into a small beach with someone's lean to of sticks built up behind me. I felt like Robinson Crusoe.

Cheyenne came to sit next to me and for a while we passed the time in companionable silence.

A man came down the beach minding his own business when Cheyenne saw him and she sat up with a start going all Labrador with her ears alert. I don't think he was much of a dog person because he saw her eyeing him through the bushes and he promptly turned tail and fled. At last! My attack Labrador training has paid off. And she didn't even growl. We passed the fisherman on the way back. His wife had dropped him off for his first visit to this beach, and so far he was having no luck. I told him I admired him for being able to stand in the freezing waters and he gave me a sickly grin as he tossed the lure over his shoulder.Really, it does get aggravating doesn't it, seeing all that sea and sun glittering away- it's just too damned pretty.We made it back to the end of the beach in good order and I decided to cut back to the road directly through this apparently abandoned McMansion under construction.

I was lucky. Not five minutes after we strolled through, with me weaving fantasies about living in such isolated splendor, a pick up loaded with building materials pulled up in front of the No Trespassing sign. You just never know what's really going on; what may appear abandoned -isn't.

This guy came huffing by as we stepped out into the street.He was weird. He kept running down the center of the street like he was glued to the yellow line, even as cars approached he swerved only at the last minute.People and their death wishes.The City of Marathon has quite brilliantly obscured the sign to the proper public park behind the chain link fence so you can't see it as you flash by in your car. Once past you realise what you have done and have to back up to get inside the park, but it's a nice orderly spot when you do make it in.There are lots of billboards explaining the endangered status and lifestyle of assorted sea turtles:Beyond the neatly paved parking lot is the strip of sand, here looking west. Even though there were no signs saying dogs had to be on a leash I kept Cheyenne on hers just...because. Then I saw local dogs frolicking in the water, in front of the Fort Myers Beach-like cement towers.And behind me some dude was walking his pugs off leach so I let my fearsome attack Labrador go. The last I saw one of the pugs was leading it's plaintive owner a merry dance through the parking lot so he have done better to leash the brute. My obedient dog climbed in the car, ready for more Middle Keys adventures.