Wednesday, May 23, 2018
A funny thing happened yesterday morning as I rode home from work. It's been a process of getting around in between rain storms if I'm lucky and yesterday morning was lovely, unlike the night before. My ride to work was a nightmare of incredibly heavy rain that penetrated the collar of my waterproofs, reduced visibility to fifty yards and reminded me why not all Florida weather is considered mild. This was pre-hurricane rain and wind storm material.
Anyway there I was enjoying the ride home just as light was breaking through the clouds to the east, my Burgman 200 was rolling along silently at around 55-60 mph and all was well with the world. Until I came across a bunch of four vehicles crawling along painfully at 45 mph stuck behind someone either distracted or unwilling to drive the speed limit so I set myselkf up and as soon as we hit a set of dotted yellow lines I zipped by.
I passed another outlier also driving well below the limit and then I sat back ready to enjoy my speed limit plus five ride home. In Florida police can't write a ticket for speeding if you are within five miles and hour of the limit. Of course if they really want to they can get you for something else, say "too fast for conditions" or "reckless" but in the grand scheme of things riding at the limit plus five gives you leeway to enjoy a clear conscience and make reasonable progress.
I was feeling daring at that hour and in the 45 mph where there were no homes or cross streets I stepped up to 55 mph - speed limit plus ten - which could get me a ticket but I pay close attention to the road ahead and my speed just in case of lurking guardians of the peace.
My relaxed ride was suddenly enveloped in a burst of air and noise as a big gold pick up truck rent the air as the headlights I had seen barreling down on me never slowed and pushed past on a double yellow line, certainly a reckless ticket if spotted. AS the truck pulled ahead the driver waved at me through the window.
I ride my own ride and I have found much to my pleasure that my Suzuki Burgman scooter even though only 200ccs looks much more imposing than my moped-like Vespa 150 which I loved. The Vespa did not look to the average poorly trained car driver like it should be able to go 65mph but the Burgman not only goes 80 mph but looks like it will. Why the truck driver was angry at being passed I couldn't say. I imagine he felt stupid for not showing his own imitative and passing the dawdling car when he had a chance instead of being shown how it's done by a hairy old Hobbit on a moped...
He didn't get far ahead, they rarely do the angry ones as they run out of steam and initiative when they've made their point and find themselves unsure what to do next. I watched him turn off on a little dead end road, Pirates Cove where fishermen store and prepare crab pots.
Last night on my way in to work a late shift I found myself stuck in a line of cars going ten under the limit. Not one of them passed the weaving car at the front of the line and I had to work my way up past them all to take a shot at getting past the evidently drunk driver in the small dark SUV. At least none of the cars in that initiative-free line took umbrage at my efforts to get to work on time.I wish there were a driving course like the advanced motorcycle riding class I took in England decades ago which taught me how to pass safely and effectively and "make progress" as the British motorcycle police call it. This is the best description I've found of that riding style by an American living in Wales: Making Progress by Chris Cope
Tuesday, May 22, 2018
My sister lives in the far north of Scotland, a lovely place no doubt and I had a fine time visiting last month. I got to see it under unexpected sunshine, very welcome but a rare interlude. That was followed by rain which was quite different.
There however I was on vacation. Here I am not and when the rain can't stay away I am forced to go back to look at the pictures I snapped when the norm was sunshine, when walking was a pleasure. I met JW on the street, a former dispatcher I trained who went to work elsewhere in the city he was born in. If you think you are a Conch my rule of thumb is that you must know JW to be able to make that claim. I am very glad he has put in his papers to become a cop so I will see him around the police station once again.
I try to be nice when I see tourists stuck on the street, I really do. This lot were actually a lot smarter than my rather stupid stereotyping might have first indicated. They were smart enough to be making sure they knew where they parked their vehicle. Being Germans of some sort they were dying of heat poor things so I directed them to an oasis and congratulated them on thinking ahead, Even as I write this I think of my night at work yesterday when we started the evening in dispatch with TWO calls from tourists with lost cars.
There was some bad news last week for Monroe County thanks to lingering problems from Hurricane Irma. The problem concerns canal clean up in the areas hit hardest by the hurricane's 140-150 mph winds. The Feds have loaned the county six million dollars to get the canals cleared of rotting sinking debris, so naturally they went with the low bidder at $55 per cubic yard. Half a million dollars into the contract with just five canals cleared they have bowed out.
It turns out 55 dollars a yard wasn't enough (the high bid was 160 dollars) and the employees after a long days laboring had to sleep in their cars as they couldn't afford the Keys hotel rates. I guess the contractor felt no obligation to house the slaves. What extraordinary times we live in. So much public hand wringing about decency and wealth inequity and so much unseen servitude. Meanwhile the canals aren't getting cleared.
The housing situation gets no better and workers are fleeing the Keys creating shortage that impact the ability of businesses to operate. The wealthy retiree component of the Keys population wants fewer tourists - no problem considering the negative hurricane publicity - which flies in the face of the working segment of the population.
Here's what happened. They calculated adjusted median income by adding in the income of the non working element in the Keys, the wealthy retirees and snowbirds, people who would never qualify for subsidized housing. It just seems like the people in charge aren't even pretending to try.
Monday, May 21, 2018
One of the issues that animates the anonymous daily conversation in the newspaper in Key West is he issue of trees. For some reason this subject brings out the attack dog in anonymous in the Citizen's Voice column on page 2. Like parking and the cost of housing trees are an endless source of back and forth. There are the people who support having more canopy trees in Key West, trees that throw shade and create beauty (in the eye of those beholders).
Then there are the voices of those who want more native species, hardy palms that throw less cooling shade but these are trees their supporters would claim that belong on this sub tropical lump of coral rock.
Palmettos and the like. Between these two fearsome groups stands the city tree commission which tries to mediate tree removal and preservation. They get it in the neck from all sides because at every meeting they pronounce sentences of death on a number of trees that may be considered dangerous or intrusive or whatever. Plaintively they point out that trees not being cut down get their reprieves in private; it's only in public session where fair warning must be given do they sound tree death knells which make them sound arboreally blood thirsty. Not the case says the tree commission.
It goes by assorted names, in Key West it's known as the royal poinciana whereas in Africa and parts Australian they call this or something similar a flame tree. Personally I like the Caribbean flambuoyant but it's a poinciana and its distinctive orange blossoms appear in Spring and fade by the Fall. And boy, they don't go out willingly let me tell you. When they fall they create orange snowdrifts which annoy some people. The peanut gallery says the tree is relatively short lived harbors pests and makes a mess but this wouldn't be Key West is every least decision didn't draw massive and prolonged criticism. From 2009 I have this picture:
The funny thing is Key West was not always a city filled with canopy trees, you only have to look at historical photos to see how sparse they were. I was told, and it seems reasonable that there was no piped water before World War Two and rainwater was reserved for more urgent needs. Nowadays Key West is a greener town and all it takes it seems is regular supplies of water, and tree planting.
Sunday, May 20, 2018
I got lucky with the weather Friday morning. I timed my arrival at West Summerland Key, above Bahia Honda with the sunrise on a cloudy humid morning when the air seemed to make the most of the sunshine that penetrated those various layers of clouds.
Rusty was having fun running through the bushes and across that rare hillside which was formed here by Flagler's engineers building up their track (1911) to the bridge across the "Deep Bay." The modern road bridge (1982) is much less dramatic and requires no piled up dirt to cross Bahia Honda:
The old bridge is falling apart and I was quite surprised to have my vantage point to myself. There was one other car in the parking lot and its occupant was snoring.
Rusty decided he had energy to burn so he raced up and down in the dried and not so dry seaweed piled up along the shore:
I try not to worry about him falling off the seawall. He is a dog and needs his wild moments. So far he does well coming back to me only occasionally with a thorn scratch or a torn pad in his paw. It does him good to be a dog exploring out of sight and minding his own business.
For me it's a time to enjoy the scenery and to try to record it, though I am never given enough time or encouragement by my dog to contemplate using a tripod for stability. Luckily my Panasonic has excellent stability control.
As was before the storm, (sigh):
I can't help myself it looked so much richer before Irma:
Friday, May 18, 2018
Sitting at a park bench looking out at an uncharacteristically sunny drenched afternoon, glad to see the rich shades of green and blue all around me, even in the water:
It seems brown pelicans haven't all migrated elsewhere. I'm told they aren't strictly described as migratory but in the Keys their numbers ebb and flow with the seasons.
For some reasons pelicans are often described as goofy birds but I find them quite strikingly adapted to hunting and killing and swallowing whole fish.
The very loud woodpecker. It sounds like someone hammering nails when it pecks a tree:
I couldn't get a clear shot so I watched it for a while watching me through a thicket of mangrove twigs:
Then the very weird dragonfly, buzzing silently and speedily between hand holds.
The further I pushed the telephoto the creepier the thing became; less gossamer and more human.
So I was happy to chase a dreary old seagull for a while as it circled far overhead like a normal bird:
An early morning walk startled me as i watched where I put my feet during a high tide. A snake, motionless underwater, photographed badly using the telephoto function on my iPhone, always a bad idea but I wasn't going closer:
It's head popped up above he water as I backed off and while it breathed I reverted the phone to encyclopedia function and studied water snakes. Turns out the poisonous ones have distinct blocky heads, thick bodies and narrow obvious tails. The harmless guys look thin and uniform, which is I think what we have here. I am not fond of snakes but they serve a useful pest control purpose and I am unwilling to harm them. Equally I want no part of provoking or bothering them whatever they are. It just seems unfair some of them appear defenseless and have to bluff by being aggressive and pretending to be lying in wait. They make me nervous.