Hurricane Effects

I was standing on Whitehead Street taking a picture through some trees when it occurred to me the window awnings on La Concha, the venerable old hotel on Duval Street, are all blown out.

 I saw the plywood over the upstairs door, a reminder of those frenzied preparations...

I took a walk with Rusty after I started getting over my severe head cold and we ended up near the old wooden mystery bridge at the end of Niles Road. It has been turned to matchsticks by Irma, who knew...

 Look at what's left of what used to be a powerful wooden structure apparently strong enough to support a tank. The weird part was that it led nowhere.

 There was no reason for it's existence. It attached a rough old footpath to another footpath and I never found any foundations or signs of construction at its distant northern end.

 Why it was put here I guess we'll never know. I even hoisted 100 pound Cheyenne onto it once for a walk to the island at the other end.

Someone who used the bridge built a convenient ladder too. Prior to this one had to use the metal spikes as footholds on the post to the right hand side of the picture. It was a scramble. Now it's all gone.

I wrote up a pretty complete photo essay of the bridge and the other end of the bridge here:

A Wooden Bridge. 

Sunny Days

A few pictures of Key West basking in the sun.

 I'd like to think this abandoned glove was waving good bye. For now.

Sunset On Sugarloaf

Like all side roads in the Lower Keys it's a dead end and it takes determination to drive it to the end.

 For me the bridge at Sammy Creek  is a place to let Rusty loose to follow his nose while I play with my camera.

 I imagine the crowds at Mallory Square at about this hour. 

I recently finished re-reading Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. It's a bit of a stretch but the rapidly flowing tidal creek put me in mind of the river in that atmospheric story. 

 The road from somewhere to nowhere...

I was photographing the lacework created by the leafless trees against the darkening sky when a car pulled up. The previous camper drove away without  stopping to talk but this young coupe wanted to know what I was doing. Amusing the dog. He pointed out the bats to his slack jawed girlfriend, I nodded solemnly. I was suddenly a part player in his local knowledge play. 

We talked, I deferred, to his recitation about the bat tower now flat on its back on the other side of the island. I swatted mosquitoes. Rusty stopped leaping around his new friends (they encouraged him) and sta waiting for me to do something. I opened the car door.

I paused on the drive back to US One to take some not terribly good pictures of the sunset across the salt flats. The breeze was cool and Rusty found the ditch fascinating.

 It got dark shortly after six. We left.

Sunset Walk

A few menacing clouds gave way to clear skies as the sun approached the horizon.

 Hurricane Irma debris hasn't come close to being cleared in the furthest backwaters...

 American Shoal light hovering far in the background:

 Wind blown coconut palm:

 Pelican can:

 take offL

 and:

 fly:

 and look at ease doing it:

 I caught him with his eyes closed. He hates the camera and screws me up all the time.

 They shouted a lot as they went but I thunk they were having a  good time. It looked tedious to me:

 Time to think about maybe going home?

Free Rides

I got to see the new free bus service in action this weekend. It's called the Duval Loop and it runs continuously roughly between White Street and Duval. Rides are free and the stops are marked by big pink lollipops.

This stop was at the main library at Elizabeth on Fleming. The bus was heading away from Duval toward White Street where it would loop back to the fleshpots of Duval Street. 

 This bicycle sign, below, is the only one of its kind I can think of in the city. Testament to the ever simmering feuds between cyclists and car drivers in the human family.

 I think a scooter would do just fine:

And there are lots all over the city:

Still Cold

This  cold snap needs to go away.  The shrimp boats as of yesterday were still parked on the horizon under the protection of the island of Key West, whipped by winds but facing small waves. When the shrimpers gather its always a sign of a strong north wind on the way.

I know 58 degrees (14 Canadian) seems paltry compared to what Minnesotans and Mainers face but they are prepared. We have three blankets, one fleece each two wool caps and extra socks. And we are used to 80 degrees. People from Up North bitch all the time when they venture here in the summer in temperatures I find tolerable and they expect me to empathize...

 Check out the clothing on the mob scrambling for hot coffee at Sandy's on White Street:

Wind proofing is the  trick. In the sun outside of the breeze it's quite comfortable but my house is on stilts and that doesn't help. I remember commentators in New Orleans after Katrina bridled at the suggestion the 9th Ward rebuild on stilts to avoid future floods. They said stilt houses looked like cocktail olives on toothpicks. Maybe so but they would have been dry...nonetheless my olive on a  stick gets wind shipped from all sides and underneath. It's an elevated ice box.

I saw the cruise ship in town yesterday, a huge hulk looming over the little chain stores at the end of Duval Street. More to the point check out the heavy winter clothing on the passersby.  Arctic blasts not anticipated by vacationing cruise ship travelers, I'm sure. Welcome to the tropics where we spend winter bundled up and summers getting battered by hurricanes. 

 Frankly I don't know how people cope without electricity Up North when ice storms strike. It's miserable sweating in the summer without electricity but being without electricity in a winter storms seems positively dangerous to me. I guess it's all in how you want Mother Nature to beat you up.

Supposedly we are supposed to be back in the eighties this week. Can't come soon enough for me.