Destination: Key Largo

Travel Date: September 20, 2012

 

Sitting by the pool I have a leisurely breakfast wrap around 9. They are so good. Scrambled egg, onion, salsa, sour cream, on a tomato herb tortilla makes me crave another one before I’m finished the first.

It’s the day I leave Key West behind. It’s undone in my mind. I’ll have to come back, but I won’t drive, they have an airport here. At 10:30 the car is loaded and I reluctantly head north on A1A. My Shuffle is trying to send me a message. I always start a new shuffle at the start of every driving day. Jimmy Buffet sings me out with Margaritaville and Twelve Volt Man, and then Chris Botti comes in with “The Look Of Love” live with Paula Cole. The clouds are thickening as I cross the bridge onto Boca Chica, and head north past the Naval Air Station.

The clouds will lift a bit as I head further north towards Key Largo, eventually it will be a hide and seek game between the clouds and sun. It’s a leisurely drive back through Ramrod and Big Pine, across the Seven Mile Bridge, through Marathon, and Tavernier. At one point I spot a large lizard, maybe an iguana about 5 feet long lying belly down in the turning lane for oncoming traffic. Most of him is in the turn lane, his head is in the traffic lane. So far everyone manages to see him.

I get into Key Largo around 12:30. I stop at a friend’s place to check up on it, and to sit for a bit on their upper porch and to savour their private beach. It overlooks the water of Key Largo, and I’m thankful once again for some peace and quiet, and some alone time being on the water. I am feeling the urge to write fiction again, but I know if I start I’ll never make it home before the end of the month. For some reason tropical environments are boons to writers. Sadly my friends are away for a bit so I won’t be able to visit with them.

Reluctantly I leave the peaceful view and head into “town” such as it is. There are businesses clustered along the road side in buildings that could be used for most anything from a restaurant to a machine shop. From what I could gather there is no organized town centre. There are a couple of shopping plazas, one with a Publix grocery store and a K-Mart, and the other with an Office Depot and Walgreens. It’s still too early to check into the hotel, so I consult my list of ”things local” supplied by my friend. It’s a list of places to see and to eat. I wander back down US 1 to the Rain Barrel Artists Plaza.

When I park the car something on the Nav unit captures my eye.

 

I mean, really? Only in America!

You can always recognize the Rain Barrel by the huge lobster out front.

 

 

It’s a collection of small artisan shops filled with local artists and their work.

After a wander through I head back north to have a beer at the Bayside and write up some notes while I wait for check in time. The Bayside overlooks the Gulf side of Key Largo, and the view is quite nice as I sip on a Belfast Bay Lobster Ale. It’s not local, it’s from Portland Maine. Trying to find a local brew is a hit and miss affair down here.

 

 

I wander off after my beer and check into today’s hotel. It’s the Courtyard Marriott. I get a nice Queen Room with a view of the Canal.

 

I take time to deal with some e-mail, some urgent, most not. Even on vacation I find I have to take some time out every day to deal with my “infrastructure stuff”. It’s not huge, but it’s still intrusive on my time. I anticipated some of this because if you are on the road for any extended period of time, and have an active life at home (even though I try to keep mine as inactive as possible), there are always questions that need answers, plates that need twirling, and people that you just want to stay in contact with from day to day.

One of the dining places on my list is Snappers Turtle Club a few miles back south on Highway 1. I find it after making only one wrong turn, having failed to see the rather large sign out front.

I have my instructions, and a hand drawn map of exactly where I need to go to find a seat. Out through the inside restaurant, through the inside bar, and after the outside restaurant to the seaside rail and the most comfortable bar stools I have ever sat on.

 

 

The cloud patterns are building and promising to develop into an interesting evening for storms.

 

I order a Land Shark and sit for a few minutes to ponder the menu, finally settling on something so different for me, but apparently so normal for here – lobster mac and cheese. It’s a piece of fried lobster with mac and cheese on a toasted rye bread. It’s far better than it sounds, a lot better. I gobble it down and nearly choke because it’s so hot. Except for the slightly overdone rye toast, it’s heaven on bread! I love the thing!

 

However, when I come up for air, reluctantly and wanting more, I order another Land Shark and hope no one noticed my horrible table manners while I was eating. I sit quietly just watching the ocean,

 

the mangroves, the birds just floating on the breeze, and loving the artistry of the colourful cloud sculptures.

 

 

Around 7 I tear myself away to peacefully sit on my hotel balcony with a Plymouth Gin and soda as the sun goes down.

 

After the sun sets I turn on the TV and quickly lose interest. I have 75 channels in this hotel. Not only is there nothing on, but that which is seems banal and inane.

I am saved 30 minutes later when the electrical storms begin in earnest. A pounding rain, a steamy wind, a cold drink, and a front row seat are more entertaining and fulfilling, than any corporate delivered content. It’s a fabulous way to end the day.