Day 80 - The Key Saga

Author - Grant

From - Key West, Florida

To - Saratosa, Florida

Via - Fort Lauderdale, Florida

Miles Driven - 395

Today's Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157612917413524/

We have a recurring argument that has been on the go for over 11 weeks since we checked into the first hotel somewhere just north of New York. We are always given two keys upon check-in but, by the end, one has almost always gone missing. Now in your average budget dump it doesn’t matter because they are the disposable credit card jobbies but in the nicer places we get an actual key so losing it is a bigger deal. If Kate were writing this blog, she would either tell you that it is me that always loses a key or she just wouldn’t mention it as she is a nicer person than me and is less likely to wash her dirty linen in public. Anyway, today’s three hundred and ninety five (written longhand for emphasis) mile car journey locked in a warm metal box started with just such a barney. The good thing about these tiffs is that the after-effects don’t last too long these days as we both realize that 6 hours on the road without conversation is unmanageable. Still, I’m secretly looking forward to rubbing it in her face when the missing key falls out of her pocket within the next 24 hours…even if I have to plant it there myself.

Anyway, despite the potentially explosive start to the journey, the rest of it can be very quickly summarized, leaving space for a couple more mildly interesting Key West musings. 1) We saw our first car crash of the journey as a 4x4 in the opposite lane wobbled into the centre lane before swerving and flipping over. 2) Lunch was a bowl of cereal in the parking lot of a Fort Lauderdale gas station…not the culinary high-point of the trip. 3) We got attacked by a swarm of bees outside a grocery store on the outskirts of Sarasota.

Now that the dullest paragraph of the blog so far is out of the way, let me tell you a couple of things about Key West that hopefully you’ll enjoy…despite one of them falling into the “history” category. There are “Conch Republic” flags all over Key West which is a good tale that hopefully helps reiterate the inhabitants whackyness. In 1982 the US government set up road blocks in and out of The Keys to curb the flow of immigrants and drugs from Cuba. The impact on the number of visitors to The Keys, which relies almost entirely on tourism, was devastating so with the support of it’s 30,000 residents, the leaders of Key West did what any collection of insane authoritative figures would do…secede from the US, declare war on them, break a loaf of Cuban bread over the head of a man dressed in a US army uniform, immediately surrender and then demand $1 billion in foreign aid. The most surprising thing is that it worked and the US removed the road blocks. The moral of the story is; if things aren’t going your way…throw a tantrum. If only all history was this interesting…

The final thing to mention about Key West that I forgot to include yesterday (which almost seems sacrilegious) is our experiences with Key Lime Pie. Despite its inclusion on almost every dessert menu south of Washington, Kate has been saving herself until actually being in its birth place before giving it a try. The result…a bit disappointing really. The first version we tried (a meringue topped pie) was incredibly tart and could have done with a thicker base. The second version was probably illegal in the eyes of the locals as it was a frozen segment of pie speared on a stick and dipped in chocolate. Is nothing holy? I often say that I would rather have another starter in place of dessert and this hasn’t done anything to change that opinion.

So the reason for the monster drive to Sarasota was because we are taking part in the New Balance Ringling Bridge Run VI at 7:30am on Saturday morning. One of Kate’s new year resolutions is to take part in five to eight competitive races this year (a strangely vague resolution) and it would seem that I am going to be dragged along for the ride. Is this really her subtle way of putting me on a fitness regime? The crafty bugger…

Days 77, 78 & 79 - Musings From Down South

Author - Grant

Based In - Key West, Florida

Mildly Interesting Fact - We're closer to Cuba than mainland USA (a poxy 90 miles)

Childish Fact - America and Cuba aren't speaking cos Cuba spilt America's pint

Photo’s Link - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157612838157269/

First and foremost I think it’s important to apologise for the previous lazy ass blog entry by my traveling companion. Under considerable pressure, she had agreed to write the blog on the first day we arrived in Key West but clearly this town’s relaxed atmosphere penetrated her soul quicker than any of us expected resulting in a clerical list of actions rather than any sort of descriptive entry. I can’t complain, however, as I too have been dragged in by the relaxing nature of Key West and hence haven’t bothered writing anything for the past few days. So hopefully this entry will summarise the highlights of our stay before we start heading north frighteningly early tomorrow morning.

First thing to note is that we have to head north tomorrow because the simply is no more south left to explore. Well, no more US south that is. As you can imagine, this is a fact that is heavily exploited here with the obligatory buoy denoting the absolute southern most point which has a line of people waiting to get the obligatory photo op despite not actually being at the southern most tip of the country. Still, it’s close enough. I was exploring on my own when I first came across the buoy which may explain why I have absolutely no idea who the people are posing next to it as I was far too embarrassed to stand in line alone and ask a stranger to take a photo of my sorry, lonely ass. The surroundings all claim to be the southernmost something including the southernmost hotel, guest house, deli, house, bar, beach, beach bar but my favourite is the southernmost southernmost house which, I hope you will agree, is clearly the most southernmost house because of its repetitive description.

Kate adhered to this town’s quirkiness in her previous blog but nowhere is this more apparent than in the cemetery. Rather than being a somber, sad place, it is laced with comedy epitaphs such as “I always dreamed of owing a small place in Key West”, “X – Dig Here”, I told you I was ill” and “I’m just resting my eyes”. This is a town that is clearly proud of it’s wackiness which, it has to be said, walks a fine line between funny and tacky. On one hand there is the cemetery and signs like the one outside Bourbon St Bar which reads “On this site in 1897 nothing happened” which is al pretty amusing. On the other hand there are the t-shirt shops sporting such super-tack as “My Pen In Huge”, “I got Duval Faced on Shit Street” and “From My Space to My Face” which is a bit cringeable.

I realise that I haven’t really said much about what we have done but that is mainly because we haven’t really done much. Most days have involved some sort of exercise, walking the pup (who is now fully mobile following her two week vet ordered rest period) then finding a scenic bar overlooking the sea to spend the afternoon getting slowly tipsy sipping on cocktails/wine/beer whilst reading a fine book or ogling sunbathers boob jobs. Despite this seemingly event-free existence, time has absolutely flown by and it seems to have turned dark in the blink of an eye. However, unlike most other town’s we have visited in the last ten weeks, this place certainly doesn’t sleep when the sun goes down. In fact, it takes on yet another bunch of different personas. Let’s get the bad persona out of the way first. At 5pm every night a collection of touristy shows start down in the marina involving street performers…and it’s predictably horrible. Luckily however, you’re only a fire-juggler’s broken arm away from the numerous bars along Duval Street. During the day, these bars are fairly indistinguishable from one another but at night each bar takes on it’s own character. There are a good smattering of gay bars (apparently 40% of the permanent population here is gay), some margarita bars attracting the grey and blue topped clientele and then (my fave) a huge number of live music bars. Our favourite was Hog’s Breath which has a two man band called the Massaccustics playing who were either fantastic or the cocktails were particularly string because one of their CDs was in my pocket the following morning. There are plenty of other decent bars I would recommend but I would have to drag you there by the elbow as I can’t remember their names. Oh, except the Green Parrott which is a little off the beaten track (i.e. NOT on Duval Street) where you’ll be rewarded with a good selection of bar games and a more local feeling crowd.

Final (yet most important thing) to report on is the food. Generally we have been culinarily pampered here with local specialties and regional influences executed with authenticity. We are flanked by the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico so, predictably, the seafood is mighty fine, even in the bars where we had a fantastic platter of locally caught tiger shrimp. The local insistence on calling the Mahi-Mahi “dolphin” is confusing as it is both inaccurate and, in all seriousness, a bit off-putting to the average customer who doesn’t want to eat the cast of the little mermaid. The best we had was at the Caribbean inspired Blue Heaven which is generally considered the best offering in town. Kate’s yellow snapper in a lemon accented beurre blanc with angel hair pasta was nearly as good as my blackened, sesame seed crusted grouper with brown rice in a coconut milk and ginger broth. Their setting is also pretty special as usually the dining is done in the yard where the chickens run free (as they do all over town) but it was a bit brass monkey the night we went so dinner was in the tree-house.

Definitely worth a mention is the Creperie run by a crazy yet lovely French lady who slams out sweet and savoury crepes to adoring hoards of on-lookers who are there half for the food and half for the show. A favourite of ours was Louie’s Backyard which we found due to it’s location backing on to the tiny dog-friendly beach. They throw out a decent enough selection of lunch staples but it’s the well spun cocktails and the unbeatable setting (on the southern side of the island and protected from the arctic wind currently passing through Florida) that keep you here for hours.

I nearly forgot to mention conch fritters which appear on every menu in Key West. They are basically a crab-cake but replace the crab with conch...the tropical gastropod best known for it's spiral shell that doubles as a horn. Whilst the quality varies from venue to venue, they are generally a really tasty snack with the tiny pieces of conch adding more texture (a bite not dissimilar to soft bone) than taste.

Oh, and we saw Michael Ruhlman here; the guy who is wrongly most famous for being the nemesis of Anthony Bourdain but should be known for being a mighty fine culinary author. I went a little weak-kneed like a school-girl backstage at an N-Sync concert as I’m always a little star-struck on such occasions.

So, in summary, good times were definitely had in Key West. However, as per the rest of Florida, I’m not sure I could live here as it all seems like short-term, unsustainable enjoyment. Add the fact that it gets unbearably hot and is filled with mozzies in the summer and I’m not too sad that we are heading northbound tomorrow morning. Apparently Kate had signed us up for a run over a bridge in Saratosa which is nearly 400 miles north of here. Apparently this trip isn’t all fun fun fun…

Day 76 - Just A Quickee

Author - Kate
From – Naples, Florida
To – Key West, Florida
Distance Driven – 270 Miles

Today’s Photos – http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157612750265427/

The blog today is going to be a quickee as we are in Key west and it feels wrong to be sitting at a computer (even if I am doing it next to a pool). We should be sipping Mojitos and so once I’ve finished this we are going to pack the lap top away for a couple of days or until Grant gets bored of lounging.

We got up at the crack of dawn for the 6 hour drive to Key West. The spectacular drive starts with the familiar alligator lined road through the Everglades and ends with us driving across a 7 mile bridge with the Atlantic Ocean on our left and the Gulf of Mexico on our right. By that time we hit the bridge we had Cuban music blaring out of the radio and the passenger in the car in front had their feet hanging out of the window. Things are going to be a bit more relaxed down here.

The idea of getting up at the crack of dawn was that we have the early afternoon to explore the little island we’d just arrived at. The problem with getting up so early is that by the time we’d arrived I was knackered and so went to bed for a quick 2 hour nap but Grant and Molly had a wander around to check out the scene. Key West is closer to Cuba than the mainland and so has its own special vibe going on. Someone reportedly said it’s like someone shock America and all of the nuts fell to the bottom. From what we can tell so far the 4x2 mile island is one big bar and everyone is uber relaxed.

Our rather nice B&B is in the historic part of town and so are close to the nightlife. Refreshed from my nap and a run with Grant (who was doing 2 laps of some streets as I’m so slow) we hit town. I think Willie Ts bar was my favourite because they had a Bret Michaels look-a-like singer (think the lead singer form Poison) who rather surprisingly turned out to be German. Cow Boy Bills was a close 2nd because of the fully kitted out cowboy on the door but the band there was singing their own songs rather than the American classics that everywhere else in town was playing and noone likes not knowing the words. There is definitely enough in town to keep us occupied for a few nights.

The Keys are meant to be sunny but the weather is being pretty schizophrenic flipping from flip flop to umbrella weather so we are not too sure what the plan is for the next few days other than lounging. Wish us luck.

X Kate, Grant & Molly

Day 75 - And Make It Snappy

Author - Grant
Based In – Naples, Florida
Why? – 30 Miles From The Everglades National Park

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157612679392353/

This was a crazy day. Seriously insane. I don’t even want to build up to the punch line – you can just have it right from the start. In fact I wouldn’t even bother reading on; just flip through the photos and you’ll understand why it was nuts. We were literally a few feet from dozens and dozens of huge alligators for the majority of the day. This is no exaggeration and there was not a single safety barrier in sight – a surprising twist considering we are in the land of the law-suit for uneven manicures. I’m getting goose-bumps typing this – it was that mental.

I’ll gather myself together now and explain things a little more. It may sound a little weird to drive a 150 mile to do a 15 mile bike ride but we decided to adventure deeper into the Everglades than yesterday to see what we could see. Shark Valley Loop Road is half misleading as there aren’t any sharks but it is a loop and we had read that there was a good chance of spotting alligators here. What they failed to mention is that the 6 foot wide road would be literally strewn with sunbathing dinosaurs that made the ranger’s orders to never get closer than 15 feet to the alligators impossible to obey. And, trust me, I really wanted to obey them. These bad boys can grow up to 13 feet long although I would guess the biggest we saw was about 9 feet. The other piece of advice they give is to always hold on to children as they are about the right size for a gator snack. Something tells me I simply won’t take little Neville (the future name of my firstborn son) anywhere that he is a potential meal – surely that is responsible parenting? Anyway, they are a surprisingly sedate creature that are unlikely to attack unless provoked (unlike their croc cousins) but we didn’t want to test the theory. One guy looked like he did, however, when he skidded off the road into the outskirts of the river where, luckily, there was no hungry gator laying in wait. Shame as it would have been great to see one feeding in its natural environment. He was also lucky that none of this area’s 39 snakes (of which 4 are deadly) were in his path. Still, it was enough to get my heart racing well above 150 bpm so lord only knows what it did to his. Another heart-in-mouth moment was provided by a part of the path that was flanked by two gators on either side leaving a worryingly tight gap though which we had to squeeze. Kate’s average sped increased considerably at this point which accounts for the picture where she is quite far off in the distance. If only France were to line the streets with man-eating reptiles, she may stand a chance in next year’s Tour.

Next it was time to tick off something from the Lifelong Ambition list. Without Jennifer Anniston, Cameron Diaz or a tub of Nutella anywhere in sight, that ambition was going to have to be “Take An Air Boat Ride in The Everglades”. I think this desire originated from watching Gentle Ben as a kid but don’t let that dilute its importance. Whilst we saw nothing that we hadn’t already seen, twisting through the mangroves at high speed powered by a fan big enough to simulate twisters was a truly awesome experience. Our guide had some interesting views on nature (his answer to most questions was “shoot it”) and our co-riders (an old couple from Bath, England) were officially crazy but nothing could detract from the beauty of it all. Well, except for the guide’s story about the snake that fell in the boat from a tree last week…that I could have lived without. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant.

So by this stage we had seen alligators on foot, by car, on bike and by boat. What other alligator related activity could we indulge in? Oh yes, we could eat them. Pinchers Crab Shack is in Tin City (Florida’s answer to the Maine Coast and surreally reminiscent of the early Jaws scenes) and specialises in Stone Crab Claws. Now I didn’t know this but Stone Crabs are a truly sustainable food source as, once removed, their claws actually grow back. Exactly how they feed themselves or wipe their ass during this hand-free time of life is more of a mystery but that’s not my problem. The crabs, served cold as tradition states, were excellent with especially tasty and juicy knuckles. But I’m purposefully leaving the appetizer to the end. As we heard earlier in the day, the tail of the alligator is “where the good eating is at” so we ordered some breaded, fried “gator nuggets” served with a spicy chipotle dipping mayo. It’s a cliché to describe any exotic meat as tasting like chicken but Kate accurately described the taste and texture of the juicy white meat as a cross between swordfish and…you guessed it…chicken. I was seriously impressed and would definitely have it again but it would be good to try a format other than the ubiquitous breaded and deep fried. Sashimi might be a step too far but I think a simply grilled seasoned fillet finished with lemon juice would stand up nicely.

Tomorrow we have a six hour drive to Key West where we’ll be taking life very easily indeed for at least four days. Oh, and Molly gets to run around again now that her two week exercise hiatus if over. Happy days all round.

Day 74 - Going To The Dogs

Author - Grant

Based In – Naples, Florida
Why? – 30 Miles From The Everglades National Park

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157612679120849/

Waking up the day after being hungover the previous day is like being reborn. Flowers look prettier, water tastes sweeter and even Kate’s morning breath doesn’t seem so toxic. It was with such an optimistic outlook on life that I woke with the larks on the morning of Day 74 ready for some Everglades adventures. Today’s method of exploration was by canoe which may seem an unwise choice given the prolific numbers of alligators in the area but this was a tour led by an Everglades ranger so we had to assume they knew what they were doing. So armed with nothing more than a flimsy tin boat and a couple of paddles we headed out into the swampy marshlands of the Everglades to see what all the fuss was about.

First thing to note is that heading out in a two-man boat is not a great idea unless you have a particularly strong marriage. We witnessed an otherwise sedate elderly couple nearly murder each other and, within our own boat there a few times when it was lucky that neither Kate nor I were armed. Her gripe was that I am a power mad, controlling nag that apparently “doesn’t understand wind” whilst my gripe was that she was merely wetting the paddles rather than trying to propel us forward. So thanks solely to the power of my guns, “we” paddled about a mile upstream, often in water no deeper than a couple of inches, until we entered thick overhanging mangroves where the overpowering stench of sulphur was a small price to pay for the beauty of the surroundings. The tannin in the vegetation that falls into the swamps turns the sludge a unique yellowy shade of brown and hundreds of branches hang down from the mangroves attempting to suck it up. The wildlife in this area of the park is limited to huge blue herons, marsh crabs and some other birds whose names I forget but their shear size takes them way beyond dull ornithology. Oh, and this is all in addition to the hoards of monstrous 6 foot wing-spanned vultures that are constantly circling overhead. You’d think that would be incentive enough to paddle harder…apparently not.

The drive home along the Tamiami Trail (it stretches from Tampa to…I’ll let you work out the rest) was truly spectacular as almost every inch of sun-exposed terrain to the northern side of the road is occupied by wild sunbathing alligators. Much like my other half, they are cold-blooded animals who need the sun’s rays to survive (hence they live in Florida rather than Vermont) but the sight of them just yards from the side of the road was incredible. We pulled over to take a walk along the side of the road for a closer look which was equal parts exhilarating and dumb but we weren’t nearly as dumb as the local fisherman who all looked just one small lunge away from catching dinner to being dinner.

The evening’s entertainment was a night at the local greyhound racing track; an old favourite pastime of both of ours. And bugger me if Saturday night wasn’t their weekly prime rib buffet night. Coincidence? Kate still thinks so. However, in retrospect, I shouldn’t have been quite so excited about a buffet at a dog track as it was always going to be more cordon bleach than cordon bleu. In fairness, the prime rib was really nicely cooked and as melt-in-the-mouthy as you would want. It was the other dishes (seafood ravioli, a creamy chicken thing, coconut shrimp, roast chicken, meatballs in BBQ sauce and sides like mixed veg and mashed potatoes) that were all either cold, tasteless or both. Still, like I say, it’s a dog track buffet so stop whinging, keep nailing the booze and bet wisely. Speaking of which, anyone who has ever been to the dogs with Kate knows that it isn’t something that you do twice. Whilst, admittedly she is very good, unfortunately it is at the expense of being sociable. It is tough to have conversations with her as she ignores the rule that girls should pick dogs based solely on either colour or name and, instead, studies the form guide with more intensity than a debt-ridden addict. Whilst I childishly refuse to ever bet on the dog in track one because it always wears red (Liverpool scum), Kate utters phrases like “I like the 2,4 and 7 dogs in a box quinella” or “the 8 dogs looks tasty as her trainer had a winner 4 races ago”. The result…I won absolutely nothing in 14 races and I think one of my dogs may have been shot after falling heavily whilst Kate managed to more than double her allotted budget. Perhaps we could use her talent to pay for the entire trip? I’m not going with her though. Oh, I forgot to mention that she has to stay sober to properly study the form which meant that I could get tipsy and she had to drive home. Summary – we were both winners in our own minds. I still had to pay for dinner though…

More everglades adventures tomorrow with a 15 mile bike ride round Shark Valley Loop Road and a much awaited airboat ride. Gator-Tastic.

Day 73 - Recovery

From - Fort Myers, Florida
To - Naples, Florida

Today's Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157612658823480/



11:45am - Woke up
12:00 - Checked out of hotel
12:05 - Ate BLT Bagels from Mel's Diner
12:15 - Set off for the 35 minute drive to Naples
14:00 - Arrived in Naples after sitting in a traffic jam for the majority of the journey.
14:00 to 16:00 - Laid on bed, wanting to die
16:00 - Pottered round Naples main drag (5th Ave, no relation to its namesake in New York)
16:03 - Put pottering on hold to eat greasy comfort food in an Irish bar. Kate had a beer and the sight alone nearly made me puke
16:12 - Pottered round the high street at the same pace as the grey-haired natives of this retirement town.
16:37 - Found a restaurant with a name that my childish, hungover state found too amusing.
18:00 - Back to the room for a night of sitting, watching TV, planning and rehydrating.
23:30 - Sleep.

Off kayaking in the aligator infested Everglades tomorrow. Surely that can't be safe?

Day 72 - The Fort Myers Freak Show

Author – Grant
From – Orlando, Florida
To – Fort Myers, Florida
Miles Driven – 205

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157612658808852/

My My. What to say about Day 72? It all started normally enough with a sedate car journey from the east coast of Florida to the west coast, leaving behind the surreal Orlando area where even the electricity power lines are Mickey shaped. The destination was Fort Myers where honourable Brit Chris has set up tent after leaving New York a while back. To be fair, I only met Chris a couple of times when he was in New York but any tentative link is enough to have us turn up on their doorstep so let that be a warning to any of you who have, out of politeness, invited us to call in on you when we’re passing through…WE WILL. Anyway, fellow Brit and Thursday Club co-founder Teddy was visiting Chris for a week long drinkathon which sounded like the perfect storm for an impromptu large night out. And so it was.

But I have to prepare for a big night out these days as I’m not the beer-to-urine processing machine I once was. Step 1 – drink enough water to drown a cat in. Check. Step 2 – Line the stomach. Our hotel was blessed with having Mel’s Diner in the parking lot. God clearly wanted me to have a foot-long hot dog topped with chilli, cheese and onions and I, as his loyal servant, obliged. Check. Step 3 – Have an invigorating shower and splash on some pure lady magnetism (Brut). Check. Aaaaaaand…showtime.
Chris came to pick us up in his stunning, yet package-compensating Maserati which was clearly the first time a car of such ilk has been on the forecourt of any of America’s La Quinta budget hotel chain. His house is equally impressive with it’s own pool…but we’ll come back to that later as you’ll not be surprised to hear that it features heavily after a night of heavy drinking.

Dinner was at H2 Tapas & Wine Bar and what fine fare it turned out to be. I think the four of us managed to get through twelve plates by the end of the meal, of which a good eight were home runs. Especially noteworthy were the delicate lobster ravioli and the creamy/dreamy pan-fried foie gras with a berry and pistachio sauce…all washed down with some sizeable refreshing margaritas. And then it all got a bit weird. Bar one was having an eighties night which is always good for a giggle but we became a little self-conscious after thirty minutes of staring at spandex. And so on to bar two which was a laser-filled, hip-hop (I think that’s what the kids call it) joint where the clientele had suspiciously star shaped pupils. We left after the obligatory single drink because the informal drunk girl show had finished. The finale was a spectacular dance floor rugby tackle resulting in the two of them being escorted out without even having time to pick up their dignity from the cloak room. Bar three was the best of the bunch with a decent band pumping our various anthems which provided a good backdrop for the vast amount alcohol we were putting down our throats. It gets a bit blurry from here onwards but we headed back to Chris’ palace for a truly hilarious session of Rock Band (Teddy’s insistence that the drums experience wasn’t realistic was followed by him berating us for never having played in a real band…I thought it best not to bring up my high-school UB40 tribute band that practised plenty but never actually performed to a crowd) whilst Kate wisely slept through the 100 decibel noise. There was skinny dipping. There was bleeding and a suspected broken arm. And then somehow it was 6am. Thanks to Chris for his hospitality and thanks to Teddy for his abuse.

Clearly tomorrow is going to be dominated by recovery…