Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Changing Signs

I am 56 years old and I fear sometimes that I have lived too long already, that the Biblical span of three score years and ten will see me utterly worn out. I don't mean physically so much as mentally worn out. I have grown old in a world where we are assured that change comes faster and faster as electro I'd chips get smaller and more capable of transforming impulses int actions. I'm not yet ready for instance to take my portable telephone for granted. Every time I use it for something that a telephone was never intended to do, I marvel. Then I wonder if in fact this trajectory of GPS, mapping, locator devices, web based information hasn't been planned for longer than we think. People come on vacation to regress in time, they ride bicycles, they talk to each other, they lie under the sun. Key West gives them a brief respite if they want it, from daily electronic labor saving drudgery. Rent a bike, we've got plenty!

I feel stuck in my era in some respects. For instance I find front seat restraints in a car to be as natural as breathing. Yet I recall growing up in a world without seat belts and I was the first in my village to get optional seat belts in the first new car I bought (a 1979 Driving Impression: Fiat X1/9 in case you are interested) and they were the subject of much debate, not that they worked very well at that time. Nowadays I wonder when I see people put seat belts on in the back seat of a car. In Europe where regulation is strict they are becoming required and thats just too modern for my reptilian sensibilities. I have heard it said the electronic books will destroy libraries and I tremble. I am addicted to the Kindle applications on my iPad and my phone and I have found electronic editions of books I could never find in paper since I lost sight of them thirty years ago. Yet I love stopping by the library for books videos or browsing. That the oldest public library in Florida may be supplanted by Kindle horrifies me.
A library is a repository of community roots. There is a large ad growing collection of documents and pictures relating Key West's history for instance. This sign still sits on the wall of the library, asking people not to feed disease spreading chickens and that from a time when public chickens weren't a tourist attraction but a nuisance. So do you believe the stories of the beloved wandering chickens or do you eleven the historic sign on the wall?

I am child-free so a lot of the stuff that happens because of children escapes my notice or my understanding. School buses I know, I used to drive one years ago in California, mostly because I lived in a big school district and they needed lots of drivers, getting the special license was a challenge and I figured one day I could move to the transit district a unionized job with more hours higher pay and similar benefits. That never happened but I think back to the Pajaro Valley Unified School District with fondness when I am stopped for a Monroe County School bus. I can honestly say however that I do not recall cyclists stopping for my bus. Perhaps they did and I didn't notice. They certainly do here.

The recycling failures of this city continue to bug me. Nuff Sed.

Scooters in Key West that are used for deliveries, and a lot are, normally carry the food in ice chests bolted to the luggage rack like this one. I steer clear of these scooters when they are in action as the riders frequently like to prove their localness by talking on the phone while delivering or otherwise not paying attention while cutting corners for tips. In case you are wondering I have discovered ice chests make poor luggage carriers as they aren't properly waterproof and because they are insulated they tend to be hugely bulky on the outside considering the space available inside. And their lids have a tendency to fly open at speed. But I have never delivered good using one.

I liked the reflection in the window and as I looked at the picture I was struck by a doctor requiring appointments until I remembered she's a shrink. Still the reflection looked nice.

The sun still low in the sky became an actual sunburst through the truck windshield which was creating the effect as it was covered in dew, or last nights drizzle or something. Cheyenne just wanted me to keep moving.

I love gold pasta for breakfast. So does Cheyenne apparently.

Appitizers? I had to find out from a friend what might be a fireball or a Dr McGillicudy. A fireball is a cinnamon flavored whiskey and Shanmon says it makes her forgetful. The other stuff is flavored Schnapps which sounds lethal to me. Headache country I suspect.

And in closing I spotted this Italian Aprilia scooter..I can't put my finger on why but it looked distinctive and attractive to me. It's just two wheels and a lot of bodywork like any other scooter but it has some not clearly defined sparkle.
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Another day another few Key West pictures.

Monday, December 2, 2013

Historic Seaport, Key West Bight

There is a particular shade of blue that colors the early morning sky over Key West and I like walking under it. Here is the Galleon a Resort overlooking the marinas of Key West Bight.

A "bight" in nautical language is an indentation in the coastline suitable to use as an anchorage. Or as landlubbers might say in this case, suitable to line with a boardwalk and restaurants. Alonzo's, where locals eat happy hour seafood appetizers and drink rum. Highly recommended.

You can find mind numbing serenity here early in the day before the sun heats the air and causes it to rise creating water ruffling breezes. The water is like a mirror, just as I like it. No crashing waves tumbling on sandy beaches or breaking in a fountain of spume on rocky headlands.

It seems futile to add words to these banal colorful pictures. It was dawn, what else needs to be added?

Down on the docks life is jumbled, crowded and chaotic, defying the serenity of the surrounding waters.

"PRIVATE." Happily the boardwalk isn't and I recommend a dawn walk around here the next time you are in town.

One day at four o'clock I will recall this sign and I will get my phone camera over here. Not so far.

Fifty cent oysters and outdoor seating. A perfect fall evening in Key West.

Cheyenne needed a time out after a long downtown walk. She took it in front of the fancy Commodore, a restaurant whose hearth I have never darkened. My wife cooks a very edible steak for much less money. Plus I don't have to dress up at home.

More dawn nonsense. I am a sentimental sucker for color and simple compositions!

The roofline of the Conch Republic Seafood (not an eatery I would choose) more closely resembles a pagoda at certain angles...

This dawn and all it's colors just won't end will it?

Miraculously there are still a few commercial fishing boats that put in an appearance in the bight, the place that used yo be packed with them. They have decamped to Stock Island today to make room for wealthy amateurs and their plastic gin palaces.

This young lad identifies himself as a commercial fisherman by the style of the footwear he is carrying. His t-shirt is emblazoned with the initials of the Fish and Wildlife Commission, the former Marine Patrol. The white rubber boots are known locally as "Stock Island Nikes" so popular are they among the commercial fishermen now based in the harbors of Stock Island.

I am not alone in enjoying an early morning stroll along the waterfront:

Getting ready for a fishing charter:

Shipshape and Bristol fashion, is the way sailors used to describe having everything in order, including these neat coils of dock lines. I never kept mine like this as they seemed to retain water and encouraged moldy green stuff to grow underneath the line.

I think the city has done a nice job of making the bight accessible and pleasant for visitors.

Norberg Thompson was the man who got the plan going, and here he is with a monument to his name. Apparently he led a now defunct industrial enterprise including fishing in Key West and enjoyed recreational boating himself so I guess he had a stake in developing this waterfront! He was 65 in 1951 when he was killed by a cerebral hemorrhage.

The Key West waterfront is a gathering place for all sorts of characters, just as waterfronts always have been places of disrepute. Though you can't say that about the Key West Bight.

Well, she is a bit disreputable after a walk and several puddle baths.

The former waterfront market behind Cheyenne in the picture is undergoing construction to be turned into the new beer venue much discussed over the summer in a Key West.

Okay, I have a question. Why do people especially those of the male persuasion like to ride scooters while dangling their feet off their floorboards? I don't see any advantage except the possibility of breaking every bone in one's foot if the delicate limb hits the ground at speed or at an angle. The disadvantage is immediately apparent: you ride with your weight on your...gentleman vegetables, which I find painful. So why in the name of all that's sensible don't they put their feet on the floorboards intended for the purpose? Do they enjoy squashing their testicles? Really?

Key West on Dwellable

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Sunday, December 1, 2013

Windley Key Fossil Reef Geological State Park

It's one of those things that happens to all of us; we live right next to this attraction that visitors come from all over to see, and all we do is drive right by every time we go to the mainland. I am a bit surprised I have never previously visited this state park but there it is. I noticed it on the Friday returning from Sarasota, so that Sunday I took the Vespa 58 miles from my house to Mile Marker 85 in Islamorada.

Welcome to Florida State Parks

Windley Key it turns out is one of the higher islands in the chain created out of coral reefs that dried out when seas receded, but it's main claim to fame is Flagler's Quarry, because it turns out the railroad used crushed rock mined here go build the rail bed. So the state park has two components, the geologic history and the human history, principally Flagler's East Coast extension railroad.

 

I have to say I was surprised to see Jack Riepe captured as a young man writing his heart out in a wicker chair in the lounge car of a publicity picture for the 1912 train. He was obviously thinner back then but there he was, penning his immortal prose promoting modern transportation:

The visitor center is full of the usual displays and explanations:

Snails and trains. Flagler bought the Windley Key land for $852 they tell us. Which considering how little people earned, ten dollars a week for trained labor, at the turn of the century it was an enormous sum.

They have excellent historic pictures on display. Unfortunately photography was cumbersome so all people in the pictures have that stolid wooden posed expression to them. The machinery as we shall see is preserved, even if the people have gone to their reward by now.

This model explains the evolution of Windley Key over the past 125,000 years (creationists need to skip this bit for the numbers won't make sense of course) when sea levels rose and fell as polar ice melted and reformed at assorted intervals 100,000 and 20,000 years ago. The coral built up and hot left high and dry until Flagler's engineers came along and dug the quarry as represented by the cut at the left.

Enough indoor stuff, time to enjoy some trails...outside the visitor center there was a fine example of a channel cutter on its rails. Apparently the machine had a gasoline engine for the oscillating blades on either side that could cut the coral rock six inches deep at one go.

The operator would flush the channel with saltwater and after making enough passes to cut the rock to a depth of say ten feet they would turn the machine at ninety degrees and do the same all over again. Then using wedges or dynamite (!) they would detach the cubes and sell them as ornamental rocks fit for carving.

All this effort they figured out when they had done pulverizing the coral rock for use as filler in the rail bed.

I took far too many pictures of the three trails in the park, but figure it was a lovely warm fall afternoon, clear blue skies, bright sunshine and dry shirt sleeve temperatures around 80 degrees.

I had the park to myself and I spent two very happy hours wandering around and enjoying the different spaces. This is the original Flagler Quarry:

This is what the coral rock looked like after the channel cutter had its way with it:

I confess I stretched out on a picnic table and occupied myself gainfully for a little while doing my favorite meditation, which is looking up through tree branches.
The quarry looks like it would be an excellent spot for a picnic. I believe there is a guppy grocery store in Islamorada near by which might suit that purpose.
My wife and dog were in Pensacola for the Thanksgiving holiday so I was left to my own devices for this little ride. I decided to take the 150cc Vespa for the sixty mile trip up the Keys. I could have ridden the Bonneville but like they say it's more fun to ride a slow bike fastly than a fast bike slowly. Not that the Bonneville is fast by sport bike standards but consider I took great pleasure embarrassing rude mainlanders in their huge SUVs who passed me on double yellow lines in their rush to get to Miami but couldn't shake me off their tails where I sat at a surprising sixty confounding their ideas about "mopeds" lack of performance! Childish I know.
I took the sunset trail first, planning to sit at waters edge and watch the sun descend.

I should like a plant with a silly billy name like "wild dilly." I never remember what they are called after I leave the parks and their handy labels. I did see something special in the visitor center on the subject of labels. Someone, not attributed had put together an exquisite catalogue of plants, delicate water colors under plastic in a binder listing alphabetically all and any plants likely to be found in the park. State parks really are a labor of love, and anyone who tells you government sucks is someone who knows very little of what motivates the best in this country.

Frankly I could do without the eight trillion dollars of debt W's Iraq War generated but he did make Iraqi oil safe for Exxon. I'd rather see eight trillion wasted building up our parks and roads and bridges but that would be government waste... The sunset trail appears to be a work in progress, rough hewn as it were:

Instead of ending up at a splendid overlook at water’s edge I found this rather brusque notice:

I suppose in the fullness of time this too will get sorted. The Hammock Trail is completed and very nice it is too winding its way for 15 minutes through gumbo limbo and...other magnificent trees.

By Florida a Keys standards the land is quite hilly, with dips and rises, elevation changes of six or seven feet, exaggerated by the rock quarrying here and there.

With everything explored and studied it was a quarter to five in the afternoon and time to leave before they closed the gate promptly right at five. According to the ranger it's the time of year these monstrous vast spiders, this one the size of my phone, spin their webs. She said the females are the big ones, the males are much smaller. Nice I said, finally a species where the bloke doesn't have to do the heavy lifting. She smiled, yes but he also dies after only one year of life. Umm... I have naturally forgotten the name of the breed.

I got out in time, the gate was still open, back to the hurly burly of a busy Overseas Highway.

The traffic was mostly headed north back to another week of traffic jams and crowds and big city routines. I pointed the Vespa south and west and opened her up. At sea level with a following wind 55 was easy, sixty felt brisk and purposeful. Cars in my direction were few and we disposed of the below speed limit dawdlers before they realized the moped was crushing their penises by passing them. Then they fell back as though they meant to let the annoying wasp go by. I made good time.

I got home as the sun was setting. I couldn't stop on the seven mile bridge but the sunset was spectacular, orange sun burst through gray clouds and rippling yet smooth water on either side of the bridge. It was good, especially as I got through Big Pine in daylight, barely, before the painful 35 mile per hour limit takes effect.i stopped for gas at the end of my street, 1.7 gallons for 120 miles (7 liters for 200 kilometers) which roughly translates to 70miles per gallon or 28 kilometers per liter. At full throttle much of the time that's not bad. Not bad at all, and great fun.

Finally a picture of my beloved who has spent the past week Up North, by all reports having a grand time without me. Seen here courtesy of my wife walking in Fort Pickens - Gulf Islands. Finally we are to be reunited tonight and I can't wait.

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