Souvenirs?

I've been to Florida so many times that the cheesy souvenirs don't even register with me when I'm walking through shops. But I will admit that it's always cool to see mounds of shells, starfish, and coral at the shell shops, and every once in a while I'll stumble across some crazy t-shirt, magnet, or shot glass that I haven't seen before. Mallory Square and Duval Street have their share of kiosks and shops, of course, and since I was looking for post cards, I thought, what the hell.

Ocean-salvaged Coke bottles

Coral

Off Duval Street

As 5th Avenue South is to Naples, so Duval Street is to Key West. Because I spent the afternoon snorkeling, I barely made it to Key West in time to watch the sunset. I drove through some persistent road construction, behind rented golf carts, and parked farther away from Mallory Square than I thought I was. So, I had skip the plan to cruise Duval Street before the show. I did, however, manage to see some interesting sites on my way to the Square, none of which I would have seen without my inadvertent hike.

Destination wedding, anyone?

Coconuts on the go

Somewhere just off Mallory Square

Near the Old Town Parking Lot

A mosaic depicting Key West motifs: Sea Turtle, 6-toed cat, and gypsy chickens. 

This is one weird place indeed.

The Southernmost Sunset in the United States

Ships with sunset cruisers off the coast of Key West, as seen from Mallory Square. The schooner Western Union, Key West's flagship, sits left of the sun.

To the point: The sunset in Key West, the United State's southernmost viewing site, is indeed beautiful. You will, however, have to withstand crowds of people mindlessly stepping in front of one another to take photos and sunset cruise boats thoughtlessly sailing right in front of the sun during the last moments of the sunset. But if you are lucky, polite folks will take turns with the photo ops and boats will part just long enough for you to snap a spectacular photo that is more unique than just the sun, the sky, and the ocean. 

Tourists and locals alike start securing their spots for the sunset show

Many western-facing tourist destinations have developed their own sunset rituals and traditions, even if they are as simple as hosting a mass gathering of diverse travelers who line up with bated breath to witness the sun set in this particular place. In Key West the sunset is the main event, observed in silence and followed by cheering applause, and it is preceded and followed by the spectacle that is Mallory Square. The Mallory Square Sunset Celebration is a daily gathering of local food vendors, souvenir vendors, caricature artists, psychics, musicians and street performers all vying for attention and pocket change from the sunset spectators. And a pig. It wouldn't be a street festival without a pig.

A brave audience member hands the juggling machetes to the performer. In the background, Snorkel the Pig looks on.

I love watching street performers because, to me, they're still a pleasant surprise every time I encounter one. It amazes me that these performers come out every day to do their 15-20 minute or so act several times a day with enthusiasm and good spirits. And that they make a living doing it. My PSA for this post: Tip your street performers, and tip them well. Street performance is becoming harder to find, and while I do appreciate the musicians you can find regularly on sidewalks of most cities, I am particularly grateful for the jugglers, escape artists, magicians, and pig trainers who bring their exciting and often unique talents to the streets.

Hey, I found one!

Deftly hidden in a text message to my sister, another photo from the Naples Chalk Art Fest.

Seven Miles in Heaven

This what the Overseas Highway is all about. When it was built, this span connecting Marathon to  Little Duck Key was one of the longest bridges in existence, although the new bridge is only 6.79 miles long. Once a railroad bridge, the original structure was converted into an automobile highway, and now a pedestrian/bike path that runs right alongside the shiny new road to the south. Because it would be expensive to maintain the whole thing, and probably for other political, economic, and engineering reasons of which I'm unaware, there's only 2 miles of walkable bridge branching off the Marathon side and heading southwest. The drive is inevitable if you're heading west of Marathon, or if you miss your turn for the Sunset Grille and Raw Bar. The walk is worth the stop. With a light breeze and only the sound of cars in the highway, boats on the water, and calm chatter of passers by, this was one of my favorite walks to date. And if you're really up for it, at the end of the 2 miles you can descend a ramp to historic Pigeon Key and look at some buildings and probably some artifacts from times when boats were the only way to island hop around here. 

Love locks on the guard rail of the pedestrian bridge. Only a few of the old railroad ties used to make the guard rails had holes in them, and they all had locks attached.

Modern locks

Antique locks

Pigeon Key, I rename you Pelican Key.

Pelican in flight just north of the pedway. No magnification; this guy was only a few yards away. And there were several pelicans gliding the same way throughout my hike: about eye level, west to east, and straight alongside the bridge. Must have been something about the airflow around the bridge. I only saw one pelican going the other direction, and she was also just north of the bridge.

A building on Pigeon Key as seen from the walkway. I think it was the Paint Foreman's House.

End of the line.

Bahia Honda State Park: Sun, Sand, Shallows, and Snorkling

This is the beach at Bahia Honda State Park. You don't even have to swim to enjoy it because the water is so shallow, and the shallows stretch out for many yards. The tide level doesn't even matter because this sandy shelf of an underwater beach is so large. Perfect for kids, dogs, ocean kayaks, and novice snorkelers. Twenty years ago, at this very beach, my dad taught me how to snorkel. Now, snorkeling is one of my top priorities when I visit tropical oceans with even a little bit of reef action. And the Gulf waters around Bahia Honda are some of the clearest I've seen, right up to the shore.

For a reasonable price, and probably cheaper than the touristy outfits, you can take a snorkeling trip right from the park. They rent equipment (actually, you have to buy the snorkel for sanitary reasons), provide the catamaran, and have two certified divemasters as Captain and Mate. While they won't get in the water with you, they are great at helping you identify fish, and warning you about hazards like moon jellies. That's right; those little bastards can sting. Given the choice, swimming by a barracuda or nurse shark is safer than swimming by a moon jelly that is sometimes tough to see and subject to the currents. Fortunately, they're very slow-moving and pretty easy to avoid if you're paying attention. And  baby moon jellies are cute. And it was cool to see them in the wild where I could observe them from different angles.

The tour takes you 12 miles out to Looue Key Reef, named after an island that is now submerged. And 90 minutes is plenty of time to see all kinds of fish. Schools of barracuda, some black and white stripey fish with bright yellow accents, French Angelfish, Nassau Grouper, really colorful parrot fish, and bunches of other plain and brightly colored fish tucked in close to the coral. Most noticeable on the reef was the purple fan coral. Oh yeah, and the Goliath Grouper chilling underneath our boat. The tiny 80 pound Goliath Grouper. "Just a pre-teen," the captain assured us. Apparently the grow up to be much, much bigger. 

I stayed in the water for the full 90, and of course when they called me in, I was suddenly faced with a minefield of moon jellies. A little patience and good timing, and I joined the others on the boat. The water was 72 degrees F, and I think some folks became a little chilled. The park does rent half-wetsuits, but I found that an hour and a half was just enough time for me with one. I just wish I'd brought a sweatshirt for the ride home.

Cruisin' the 1

Not to be confused with California Route 1, U.S. Highway 1 will take you all the way to mile marker Zero on Key West, if you let it. The Overseas Highway, as it's called once you leave the mainland, is not a highway for the claustrophobic driver (unless you're looking for some exposure therapy) or for the driver or passenger who cannot handle bridges. It is a highway for a convertible (which, sadly, I did not rent due to budget constraints).  And it is also a highway for the most beautiful pure blue ocean driving under the sun. Watch the speed limits as they change frequently based on population, road conditions, endangerd wildlife habitat ("Speed Kills Key Deer"), and whether it's night time. And make cruise control your friend, especially on the bridges. Or don't, and get some Autobahn-style driving in and risk crashing into the concrete barriers just to your right and left. With the ocean surrounding you on the bridges, it's easy to lose perspective and find your foot setting a speed of 80. And did I mention slowing down for Key Deer? Yeah, do it. Because they're endangered, they're tiny, and I totally saw a male Key Deer grazing right next to the road on the outskirts of one of the towns. And apparently there's special Keys marshbunnies around too, so watch out!

Highway 1 on my way back from the Keys. Yep, I drove off the islands and right into a rainstorm.

Driving on the Seven Mile Bridge toward Marathon.

My ride. Chevy Cruse. Not sassy enough to deserve a name. Which is good, because I'm not really a car-namer.