Showing posts with label River of Grass. Show all posts
Showing posts with label River of Grass. Show all posts

Friday, January 1, 2010

On to Key West


The gate keeper at the campground had advised me, "The showers are cold - but FREE." I'm here to tell you that they were indeed cold! Even at the southern tip of Florida, the cold shower was a chilling wake-up.

People had told me that there nothing to see in Flamingo and that assessment is pretty accurate - as far it goes.

There are no permanent residents in the unincorporated village of Flamingo.
Not only were all permanent residents were relocated prior to the formation of Everglades National Park in 1947, but, in addition, the entire area (including the marina and the historic Flamingo Lodge) was destroyed by hurricane Wilma in 2005.

Today, the marina has been rebuilt; and it, together with the interpretive center and campground, comprises the "village" of Flamingo.

In spite of the above facts, the 38 miles from Florida City to Flamingo is the only highway within the boundary of the Everglades National Park. If you truly want the see the beauty of the Everglades, don't forego this excursion.

In my opinion, the road to Flamingo takes you through the real Everglades, where the "River of Grass" makes its clearest statement; and so, even though there may, in fact, be little to see in Flamingo itself, the trip is well worth the effort.
___________________________________________

It was after 2:00 P.M. before I departed on the on the 3 1/2 hour trip to Key West. My hope was to arrive in time to catch a view of the sun setting over the Gulf of Mexico, but it wasn't to be. Arriving at the city limits of Key West, there was nothing that could be done; I watched over the handlebars, as the sun disappeared below the horizon (as it turned out this would be the last time I would see the sun during my time in Key West).

There was still plenty of day left and after locating a campground on the edge of the city it was time to explore Key West's famous nightlife. Duval Street is the center of it all, and I was quite
surprised to find biker parking on street. Taking full advantage of the opportunity, I parked my bike and walked unencumbered.

The streets were filled week-end revelers, and for the first time I found myself wanting for a drinking companion, but I knew, with my bike still parked nearby "bar-hopping" would not be a part of my evening agenda.

Even so, I drifted into a few of the "finer" drinking establishments, ordered a club soda and listened to the sounds. It was still early evening and I couldn't see myself spending the entire night wandering aimlessly from bar-to-bar drinking club sodas and listening to music - no matter how great the sounds might be.

The next morning I broke campsite and returned back to the inner city to explore Fort Zachary Taylor and the Key West boardwalk.

Construction of Fort Taylor began in 1850 as a part of the southeast coastal defense system. At the start of the civil war the Union quickly secured the fort as means blocking Confederate supply shipments. It remained in control of the Union for the entire the Civil War.

Fort Taylor continued to serve the US's interests throughout the Spanish American War, World War I, World War II and for a brief period during the Cuban missal crisis.

At the time of my visit the fort was hosting the Fort Taylor Pirate Fest, and annual event much enjoyed by the local "pirates."

Following my brief visit to Fort Taylor, I strolled down to catch a glimpse of the famous Key West's Boardwalk.

On the way to the boardwalk, I was treated to the street show of a sidewalk musician. Always entertaining these street musicians and entertainers, are in my mind a vastly unappreciated American Treasure.

Aside from doing my own (unintentional) boardwalk version of the "Wedding Crashers," my stroll was short and uneventful.


Tuesday, December 29, 2009

On to Flamingo

It was late morning before I left Robbie Kennedy and his alligator friend's and began my crossing of the everglades. In actual fact, at this point, Highway 41 crosses the everglades through Big Cypress National Preserve. However, "Big Cypress" seems like a huge misnomer, the scenery more crossly reflects the Everglades
National Park than it does any "Big" Cypress.

Although, officially the Everglades were still a few miles the south, it was already difficult to discern the point at which the everglades truly begin.

I had been told to look for Krome Avenue and then turn south toward Homestead. Surprisingly, the directions proved good and shortly after making the turn I found myself in Homestead.

It was again decision time, I needed to decide whether to travel south for Key West or turn west once again, and travel the short distance to Flamingo. Actually, although I had been told that there was nothing to see there, I knew that it would be impossible for me to not make the trip to Flamingo.

The rode to Flamingo takes you through the heart of the everglades, where the "River of Grass" (as the Everglades is often called) truly comes into its own.

Perhaps, once again due to the fact that it is in the midst of the slowest tourist season of the year, that the traffic is almost non-existent. There are, however, numerous turnoffs to various ponds and sites along the way. Despite the fact that the area is bounded on both of the two lane highway with the ubiquitous "river of grass" there are also ever-changing stands of dwarf cypress and other areas of dense foliage.

At the information center to the Everglades National Park, I picked up valuable information about the "must see" areas of the park, and also, learn that the park rangers are resentful of any disparaging references to the everglades as a "swampland" (trust me, "River of Grass" is the more respectful term).

With over 360 recorded species of birds in the everglades it is impossible to not be impressed, and is further, quite difficult if not impossible to not try to capture that one great photo.

After taking numerous diversions, I arrived at the Flamingo campground at approximately 5:00 PM, just in time to set up camp for the night.

For the first time I was pleasantly surprised to see that there were more tent campers than RV's, but still, mine was the sole motorcycle.

It was too late to do anything more than just set up tent; and although it was December, the mosquitoes didn't seem to take heed.

Therefore, after a short "evening meal" at the marina (the sole option), I took an early refuge from the mosquitoes, climbed into the sleeping bag and went to sleep out of shear boredom.