SR939A

So, the past week and a half have been "taxing". (get it?)
I"ll admit, it takes a little doing for me to get my artistic mind around the annual Infernal Revenue issues but in the end, my girl Louise, the CPA, has seen me through once again. I've sent my checks by certified, rectified, bona fide mail and feel much better having "Rendered to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s. . ." (from Mark 12:17 and/or Luke 20:25) and getting the unconstitutional monkeys off my ass for yet another year.
Now I can get back to the business of living quietly under the radar in the Florida Keys.

Anyway. . .
Out on the long end of Sugarloaf Blvd., on Lower Sugarloaf Key, there's only one way you can go. It's a sharp right turn onto SR939A (a.k.a. Old State Rd.4A). I figure that stretch is just about 1/4 mile before it stops dead at a barricade behind which is a dirt trail into the mangroves. On my last visit up that way I took a little time to check it out.


I parked the convertible and set off on foot not knowing what to expect. That's the adventure on paths (spiritual or otherwise) with no end in sight.


Unfortunately, it was late in the day and while I walked and I walked for the better part of 2 hours eventually I realized the daylight was fading with still no end in sight. (2 hours ingress means 2 hours egress).


I knew if I'd pushed on any longer it would be dark before I got back to the car and I just wasn't prepared for that.


So I didn't get to the ultimate end of the trail (but that's not ever the point of any journey - is it?) but promised myself I'd be back earlier on another day with a dirt bike to revisit
the adventure.


And that will be a ton of fun.
Stay tuned. . .

sugarloaf 's bat tower

During my last visit to Sugarloaf Key, I took a little down-time to visit the "elephant in the room". See, I always knew the
Bat Tower was there; I'd even seen it; but I figured
"what's the big deal".
But, on this particular occasion, the Bat Tower seemed to be calling out to me and I surrendered to the summons. . .

As it happens, Sugarloaf's Bat Tower was one of fourteen
Bat Towers worldwide.
Bat Towers were the brainchild of a Texas doctor named Charles Campbell who's intention was to house bats, that can eat up to 1000 mosquitoes in an hour.
An organic attempt at mosquito control intended to lessen the spread of malaria.

Anyway, in the mid to late 1920's a fairly well-to-do business-guy named Richter Clyde Perky bought a bunch of land on Lower Sugarloaf. On that land he built a fishing lodge (which, I'm guessing is what we call Sugarloaf Lodge today - but feel welcome to check me on that), then cleared and paved what is now called Sugarloaf Boulevard to give his fishing visitors easy access to the Atlantic side of the island.

But even with all that accommodation, Mr. Perky
had a problem.
He couldn't get anyone to stay at the lodge because it was crazy with mosquitoes.
So in 1929, borrowing Dr. Campbell's design, Perky built the 35 foot tall Bat Tower and imported a pant-load of bats
from Cuba and Texas to roost in it and control the
mosquito population,
(remember, 1 bat can eat up to 1000 mosquitoes in an hour).

Unfortunately for Perky though, apparently his bats weren't hungry and when he released them into the tower they flew up and out of the thing and just kept on going, never to return. (oops!) . .
. . .and with them, went the guests at the lodge.

So there stands “Perky’s Folly” (as some locals called it at the time), out in the middle of almost nowhere. An organic attempt at mosquito control that didn't work.
All the same, the Sugarloaf Bat Tower was added to the U.S. National Register of Historic Places in 1982 and for me, yielded some interesting research and a few good pictures.

beer • soda • ice • bait

The more time I spend up on Sugarloaf Key (for my out of town readers, that's about 17 miles north of Key West) the more I like the place.

You've gotta love how the items for sale here are prioritized

Maybe it's because I've got friends up that way, maybe because of the easy access to the water and maybe it's the richness of it's unspoiled natural nature.

Or maybe because it's usually nicely quiet and you can see more stars at night.

It's probably a taste of each of those things. But more than anything else, I've gotta say, it's something in the air.

I haven't really put my finger on it yet but the more explore, I'm pretty sure I'll figure it out.

Reflecting back to my previous life as a mogul monster on the NorthWest corporate corridor, I think that if Key West were New York City, Sugarloaf Key would be Connecticut.

the 6th day of christmas

According to the song, today is "the 6th day of Christmas" and, if had a true love, I should be expecting "6 geese-a-laying" to show up. But since I didn't find "5 golden rings" under my pillow yesterday, I figure "true love" just ain't in the cards this year.
All the same, I'm forever an optimist and I'll be keeping an eye out for those "8 maids-a-milking" to come knocking the day after tomorrow.
Anyway, on Christmas Day I made my way north to Sugarloaf Key for brunch with friends Joseph and Mary; Scrambled eggs, Belgian Waffles and a Sangriento Maria that couldn't be beat. Mary, it turns out, is fairly pregnant. So, it being Christmas and all, there was no shortage of good natured quips and comments about building a manger in the yard, moving to Miami for the census and whether or not to name the baby, you guessed it, Jesus.
We all had a great time.

After our feast I stepped outside to a beautiful day and decided, with nothing much going on until dinner back in Key West later in the evening, I'd explore a bit.
That's when I noticed the skydivers falling out of the clear blue sky and, a few minutes later, the perfectly good Cessna they'd just jumped out of on approach for a landing at
Sugarloaf Airport.

Naturally, I followed my nose down the old road beside Sugarloaf Lodge and past the bat tower to the well worn runway that is home to SkyDive Key West and Fantasy Dan's Airplane Rides.

As I was watching the Cessna taxi in for re-fueling before taking another group of jumpers up while the divers in the sky were growing larger as the fell closer to their drop zone, I got into a conversation with Ed, who I gathered, was one of the pilots at Fantasy Dan's.
Ed and I solved as many of the world's problems as we could in about 20 minutes until he mentioned that Christmas dinner would be served up pretty soon but there was plenty of time for a Christmas cup of rhum and something if I had a mind to join him.
Naturally, in the spirit of the season, I was obliged to accept.

Back behind Dan's I found a trailered old boat, the stripped fuselage of an even older airplane and an RV/trailer home from which came the delicious smell of the coming feast.
I was met also by four of Ed's friends; Beverly, Keith, Len and Tibo and with Captain and Coke in hand, I joined Len, Keith and Ed leaning on the bow of the trailered old boat to shoot the breeze while Beverly worked away on dinner in the RV and Tibo laid down at my feet.

The four of us spent the next hour or so giving up our background stories, finding common interests and solving a few more of the world's problems.
I enjoyed my afternoon visit to that anonymous little corner of the universe very much. . .

. . .As nearly perfect weather as you could hope for, the peace and good cheer of Christmas in the air and the welcome vibe of new friendships.

from left to right: Beverly, Len, Ed, Keith & Tibo down in front

At the end of the day, Len said it best (and I'm paraphrasing here), "in this world, the best you can do is find a quiet place to be and carve out a niche where you can live an easy life under the radar.
As for the problems of the world, it's really too late
to fix anything."

white street pier

Every so often I enjoy and hour or two sitting out on the end of the almost 1/4 mile long fishing pier off the Atlantic end of White Street with a sketchbook and con leché to watch
the sunrise


Out among the few joggers, bicycle riders, dog walkers, homeless folks, fishermen and seagulls, it's calm and quiet, the air is cooler than it is inland and the new day's sea breeze carries fresher air.


Well, on one such a morning I got to pondering the pier's backstory. (the why and when of it, you know?)
So when I got back home I climbed on-line to try to find the answers. To my chagrin, there wasn't a whole lot of anything about it. So the next day I got myself over to the library on Fleming Street to ask Key West's history guru,
Tom Hambright, about it.


What I learned was that back in the mid to late 1950's Monroe County had a little surplus money laying around and decided to spend it on infrastructure projects.
What they came up with was construction of a series of "roads to nowhere" like Loop Road and County Road 939 up on Sugarloaf Key.
In 1956, when some of that surplus money was allotted to Key West, the voters decided they wanted a fishing pier and the "unfinished highway to Havana" (another road to nowhere) was proposed and finally built in 1960.


These days the White Street pier is something of a tourist draw, every once in a while there'll be a fishing tournament out there or it'll be part of the course for one of
BW Promotion's official 5K runs and on special occasions (the 4th of July or New Year's Eve) the city uses it for fireworks displays.

postal networking

Doing business at our Sonny McCoy designed Post Office, especially around Christmas and tax time, has always been an adventure. Lately though, it's more like science fiction; Step inside and run the risk of not being seen again for hours;
like going over the event horizon and into the black hole.

If I go by there and the length of the line sets off my mind's "you've gotta be kidding" alarm, forget it - nothing's that important. But yesterday I got there during one of those rare postal customer traffic lulls. I was 4th in line and, I was 4th in line for 20 minutes.

It was enough time to get on a first name basis with the lovely woman, MaryBeth, who was 3rd in line. MaryBeth and I chatted intermittently, I pulled out my sketchbook and started noodling a few quick sketches until I heard Ester's voice ask, "can I help you?" Then I was 3rd in line; and I was 3rd in line for another 10 minutes.

Turns out MaryBeth works in an office on Southard St.
I mentioned that my friend and lawyer, ConchBob, had an office there too and said she knew him but not well.
(Everyone knows everyone in a small town.)
The Cuban gent behind me, 4th in line, grumbled, "it'll be good when FedEx takes over this mess." I smiled at the thought and nodded in agreement.

"Can I help you" asked Ester again. The line shuffled forward and MaryBeth and I were now 1st and 2nd in line. 1st and 2nd in line for another 15 minutes.

MaryBeth, I learned, had 2 kids who were still very young and she made the commute to her job on Southard from her home on Sugarloaf Key. She likes the job, the pay's o.k. and she's lucky that her husband's mom lives with them so they don't have to pay for daycare.

By now the line growing behind us snaked it's way back to the door when Carolyn, another postal employee, appeared from the bowels of the post office to announce in a loud voice, "anyone just picking up doesn't need to wait in the line, just come to this window." Everyone looked at everyone else but no one moved and Carolyn disappeared behind the wall.
Some guy further back in the line grumbled an exasperated, "Jesus Christ!" and just left.

"Can I help you?" MaryBeth turned and gave me a smile, it was her turn and now I was 1st in line. "See you around campus." I said.
She handed Ester the certified mail card she'd been holding, Ester left the window to retrieve the package, my heart sank and there was a quiet groan from the line behind me.
My heart sank and that groan went up every time Ester left the window. I mean, how could we be sure she'd come back? She was facing a long line of people waiting for what was seeming like forever and some of them were getting a little ornery. Who'd really blame her if she left town?

But Ester did come back and MaryBeth was on her way back to the office. "Can I help you?" The line shuffled forward and now the Cuban gent who stood behind me was 1st in line.