The Keys, if you please

One of the advantages of a motorcycle is that you don't require much road to pass someone. I made pretty good time along the road from Homestead to the first key, Key Largo.  One of the items on my agenda was to do some snorkeling, and about the first thing I saw was a place to sign up for a dive. Thinking it was the place I had used twenty years ago, I did. I had to be there at 8:00 the next morning, which would mean leaving Key West about 5 AM, but I figured I'd finish my errands there in time. Turned out I should have picked a place in Key West to do business with, but that's a story for later.

So I had a pleasant morning ride to Key West. It's pretty hard to get lost on the way, and I passed two state parks, loads of dive shops and marinas, eateries, tourist traps, and a couple airports offering plane rides to the adventurous, not to mention hundreds of places to live, from condos to resorts, to single-family dwellings large and small. I was told that the keys were relatively unaffected by the economy—if you weren't in the tourist trade in some way you were rich and retired. The houses with for sale signs had high prices and the owners were willing to sit on them until someone came along willing to pay the price. I engaged in a little wishful thinking, but didn't check out any of the places. There's not much call for a technical writer in the keys.

Here is a photo the first person I saw when I arrived at Key West. I saw her as I walked across the bridge to get a photo of the highway sign that said "Key West," which you can find here. I figure you motorcycle riders would prefer I post the picture of the young lady rather than another highway sign. As I returned from the photo of the sign, I saw that she had several companions on similar conveyances, sorry, no photos. Click the picture to enlarge it if you need a better look.

I tracked down the youth hostel, piled my gear on a bunk in the men's dorm, and set out on my errands. One was to get my picture taken at the pillar on the southernmost corner. I already posted that on Facebook , and you can see it at the same link as the highway sign. I finally took off my gear—speeds on the island are very slow, and it was blazingly hot. No wind to cool you off. I decided heat stroke was a greater risk than pavement rash. Spent most of my time walking anyway, with the bike parked safely at the hostel.

After using the services of a friendly local to snap my Mile Zero photo, I parked the bike and set out on foot. Someplace along or near Duval street was, I hoped, a banyan tree that I had photographed two decades ago. I wanted to find it. I stopped at the first place that might give me some directions, and waited patiently while the clerk dealt with the customer ahead of me. (See photo on the right.) She was the first tourist I had a conversation with on the island, and she turned out to be pleased to pose for a picture. I didn't quite catch her name, but it was something Russian. I happened to mention that I had ridden a motorcycle here from Delaware. Her eyes immediately narrowed, and she asked me if I belonged to any motorcycle clubs up there, and did I know anyone named Jack. I hastily denied belonging to any group except Mensa, and the only Jacks I knew were associated with beanstalks, and a Chicago mobster (real person: Jack Friel) from my youth in the Midwest. She relaxed, but looked at me a little skeptically as she left. I saw no more outfits anything like hers. I guess the beach was the direction to head if you're a voyeur.

I didn't find the tree. It has probably been cut down, because I didn't find a parking lot anything like the one I found the tree in. Oh well, I still enjoyed walking around Key West.

I had to get up really early the next morning, so I returned to the hostel to check my email and hit the sack. And that's when I had my next conversation with an interesting tourist or two, but that'll have to wait until my next post.