Key West

To see Key West fade from view from the airplane window was a sad sight indeed.   We'd just spent a week on Sugarloaf Key, one of the 1700 islands that make up the archipelago collectively known as the Florida Keys.  Not only were we leaving with some fabulous memories of great times with new friends, but we'd discovered another corner of this amazing planet we call home.

The airport at Key West is small, and like some of the outer islands of Hawaii, still a ramp operation. So deplaning is a delightful walk down a flight of stairs, with that intoxicating tropical air greeting you as you negotiate your way around other parked aircraft.  Certainly not hard to imagine the original flying clippers of Pan American Airlines as they launched the first scheduled air service out of this airport in 1928.

The first thing I noticed was a sign welcoming us to "The Conch Republic."  A reference to the time (1982!) when the mayor of Key West  tried to secede from the Union.  Apparently the border patrol set up a road block for all northbound traffic as a deterrent to drug smuggling.  Too much cannabis was getting through the loosely patrolled borderline.  This was quite a nuissance, not to mention a real downer for the tourist industry, so the mayor  declared independence and named the new territory "The Conch Republic."  His first act -- as prime minister of the Conch Republic --  was to surrender to the appropriate authorities and request one billion dollars in foreign aid...don't you love it...?  His stunt had the desired effect and the roadblocks were removed... but the moniker remains even though Key West is still very much America.

BTW:
That's Conch pronounced "konk," which literally is a sea snail with a beautiful soft pink, spiral shell.  You know, the kind you hold up to your ear and hear the ocean.

Our new friends, Doug and Nancy, picked us up at the airport.  The plan hatched by Doug and Charlie in the septic pit they were digging for Habitat in Cameroon in November was now to become a reality.
Doug is a sort of "Jack of all Trades," and, unlike the adage, a master of many, one of which is accomplished chef.  To our immense enjoyment, we had fabulous seafood dinners -- a la Doug -- every night.  Nancy is a very successful artist -- you can see her work at www.nancyaprilstudios.com -- and general life  (and wildlife) enthusiast.  Both of them oozing with a joie de vivre that is infectious.  The four of us had a fabulous time and were indeed sad when Charlie and I had to leave after our all-too-brief week with them.

Nancy and Doug were -- needless to say -- the ones with the inside track to Sugarloaf Key (and Florida for that matter), and this is their second year to rent this fabulous house, complete with a grand piano, right on the water.  They live in upstate New York and drove down with all the comforts of home, most notably their bikes and kayaks.

Our first day there, we rented some beach cruiser bikes and rode every morning.

We had fun racing out to the eastern tip of the island on those bikes for the sunrises, and often we were still on the kayak -- a 2-person kayak came with the house -- for the spectacular sunsets.

So...we spent a large part of each day on the water exploring the waterways through the mangrove-lined canals.  Nancy has a sixth sense when it comes to spotting creatures both in and out of the water.  She was our tour guide extraordinaire, showing us how to get up close and personal with the local wildlife, pointing out lots of birds, iguanas, turtles, and sea life including nurse sharks and Portuguese Man O'War jelly fish.

On the last night we were there, we went for a midnight kayak ride through the inky black waters where the unseen becomes the adversary.  Since I was the lone objector in the group, I had to face my fears... and peer pressure... and buck up.  It was one of the highlights of the trip!  What was I thinking...?

But the best part ...truly... was spending time with new friends.  What a delight.  We can't wait for the next adventure with them!

For more pictures click here.