Actually, the key we anchored by has no name; for
the sake of this piece, I will call it Party Island. It is a very small island used by tourists
and locals as a great party spot.
Someone had placed a grill for everyone to use and there were chairs
around a burned out spot that had been a campfire. This island has another small hummock behind
it, and a few people were out snorkeling the day we got there.
We took a walk around after we landed the dinghy;
found that a good dog Jesse is buried there with a headstone and memorial. Very sweet!
It was not good snorkeling the day we went, probably
due to the fact that the wind had been blowing and heavy traffic had stirred up
the waters.
After I had gotten our beach day camp organized, a
fishing boat with four younger adults came ashore; pulled that big boat right
up on land. Nuts. Anyway, they seemed like any other group of
kids, drinking and horsing around. A
smaller blond girl, very fit, was accompanied by a brunette, who had some
weight on her. One of the guys was
smaller and dark-haired, and the taller of the two was light skinned and a
redhead.
There was a large family group in the center of the
beach area, shaded by mangroves and sea grapes.
After a while, I watched a middle-aged guy, younger than me, get up and
come over to the kids and offer them tokes off a joint. Yep, right there, even with little kids
running around. He came back later and
gave them more and stayed and talked a while.
The teenagers kept up their flirty bantering, the
smaller guy doing gymnastic flips on the beach.
But then, whether fueled by the pot, I don't know, one of the girls
asked for rap music on the radio. We'd
been brain-deaded by country music up until then. The redheaded guy flips out and starts
yelling about gangsta rap n------s, and Muslims, and how he will not play that
music. The filth that was coming out of
his mouth. And of course, he finished up
by saying, "But I'm not racist."
Every thought he expressed verbally was racists, severely so; lying to
himself won't change that and in about three words, he convinced me that he was
a narrow-minded jerk. I did not want rap
music either, actually I would have preferred no music. I've never quite understood why some people
need to crank up the noise when they've come to a wonderfully quiet and
peaceful place. Maybe the noise helps
them not think.
The allure of the atmosphere died quickly after that
and we returned to the boat for the evening, readying ourselves for a day trip
to Big Pine Key the next day. Gary had
been telling me about this placed called The Blue Hull, which sounded like a
restaurant to me. Blue Hull this, Blue
Hull that.
Well, come to find out, it was The Blue HOLE. I wasn't understanding Baltimoreon
speak. It literally is a blue hole left
from Henry Flagler's mark on the land; an old quarry where he brought up stone
to build roads and buildings. After he
left, it was deserted; fresh and sea water came in and now it has been turned
into the Key Deer National Wildlife Refuge.
The first brush with wildlife was Allig the
alligator who lived in the blue hole; he was big, but sedentary, enjoying the
attention of the little fish forever grooming him. Painted turtles sunned themselves on nearby
rocks. We saw different fish, birds, and
a beautiful red dragonfly. We learned
about native trees, especially importantly remembering the poisonwood. On the way back out of the preserve, a Key
Deer crossed our path, stopping to nibble on leaves as she made her way across
the property. Elliott stopped close to
her and Gary brought over some more of the leaves she'd been eating. Elliott reached out to her and she came over
happily to much on the green food.
We had made plans to dinghy over to another spot to
tie up and walk a little bit down the road to a diner. It was so hot and I almost burst a blood
vessel when we found the diner to be deserted and waiting to be sold. Gary depends too much on the internet for
valid (or in this case, invalid) information; he almost never calls to verify. Argh!
But, we could see more signs of civilization ahead, so we kept walking,
me muttering under my breath about a mutiny or something like that. But then, like an oasis in the desert, we saw
signs for the Good Food Conspiracy, a health food store and sandwich shop.
A cold drink becalmed me and the sandwiches we
ordered were beautiful and healthy and big.
We were happy and I forgot all about killing the Captain (for the
moment). We picked up some tomatoes and
a bundle of sage, which Elliott wanted, and some chocolate goodies for me. Gary was just happy to live to see another
day.
The next day, we lifted anchor and moved to a
beautiful beach park between Big Pine and Marathon while we make arrangements
for a mooring buoy in Marathon, which can be hard to come by.
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