We had wild indigo seas for most of the 70 miles to the Dry Tortugas, and strange, calm, green, glassy seas as we returned to Key West. Flying fish, sea turtles, and sea birds were all riled up—even a suicidal amberjack tried to land in my arms as I stood at the bow of the ship like a masthead in order to avoid all the poor wretches retching all over the place inside the cabin.
As for Hurricane Charley, this morning, the eye of the storm passed over Fort Jefferson, situated on an atoll, some 22 acres barely above sea level, with blustery 125 MPH winds, after wreaking havoc last night in Havana where it made landfall.
As for Hurricane Charley, this morning, the eye of the storm passed over Fort Jefferson, situated on an atoll, some 22 acres barely above sea level, with blustery 125 MPH winds, after wreaking havoc last night in Havana where it made landfall.
Fort Jefferson's sixteen million bricks, myriad arches laid by Irish workers over 150 years ago, how will they hold up in the eye of the storm? The tiny drainage channels in Dr. Mudd's cell, the man who tended John Wilkes Booth, useless in this rain. The moat, a frail buffer against rising seas.
We didn't get very much snorkeling in at the Civil War fort, Fort Jefferson, though it's considered to be one of the most pristine snorkeling areas in the US, as the lightning was striking faster than a frenetic fly fisherman. The fish weren't jumping, but we did see jumping conchs. They jumped right at us. Didn't know they could move that fast. Imagine a neon red garden snail, his shell covered with algae (6-9 " l/w/h), crawling wherever he pleases.
Hemingway once went on a fishing trip to the Dry Tortugas and got stranded there during a storm; it took them 17 days to get back home to Key West on a makeshift raft. The Dry Tortugas are almost the same distance from Key West as Cuba. No water in the Dry Tortugas, other than rainwater. Port in a storm. We had no trouble fantasizing about being shipwrecked there, the catamaran was our white salvation to more clement shores. It made Alcatraz Island seem civilized & urban.
In a small boat, in a rough sea, where it goes from indigo to midnight blue in an instant, is awesome indeed. Gives you a perspective on things. Awesome to see the first sighting of land after being pitched about on a rough sea: one of the Tortugas lighthouses flashed on the horizon like a laserbeam of blinding light cutting through the darkness, a momentary shaft of sunlight on a white coral sandy beach. Gave me a new perspective on Key West: Cayo Hueso, Bone Key.
This morning on TV, we watch huge waves breaking over where we stood in front of the memorial marker dedicated to all those Cubans who swam ashore to embrace freedom at the Southernmost Point in the United States, in Key West.
The outer arm of the eye of the storm embraces Key West in a bone-crushing hug, and passes on, The other night I gathered coconuts knocked down by the impending storm, we had piña coladas and salmon simmered in fresh coconut milk, and listened to an ancient ritual of palm trees lashing a cadenza to the harkening storm. The incessant rage of cicada song that followed us everywhere, was silenced only by the heavy torrents.
The Dry Tortugas are one of those out-of-the-way places you get to go to once in a blue moon. You have to really want to go there. It's not an accidental tourist attraction photo op. OK, so the blue moon was at the end of July, but we were on Key West manaña time.
The Dry Tortugas are one of those out-of-the-way places you get to go to once in a blue moon. You have to really want to go there. It's not an accidental tourist attraction photo op. OK, so the blue moon was at the end of July, but we were on Key West manaña time.
While in Key Largo, we even watched "Key Largo" again, just to see a clip of the old Seven Mile Bridge at Pigeon Key, where we'd snorkeled, and to steep ourselves in the calm before the storm with Bogey & Bacall with a slew of friendly furry Florida Keys cats perched on our hips and heads.
When two manatees cruised up Taylor Creek, like torpedoes with a pink leprosy bloom, we grabbed one of Brad and Susan's kyaks and hit the water in record time. We won't mention the myriad clouds of mosquitoes that so elegantly dined on us. We had to pay attention both coming and going to keep track of the main channel as there were myriad channels leading off into the mangroves—and everything looks alike after a while.
An obligatory stop at the "African Queen" moored in Key Largo was in order. Hard to believe that famous little boat has been around the world twice! Our catamaran was a white elephant by comparison. It was hot as Africa in the Keys, calm before the storm. Equitorial sun punishing our Celtic skin. Red sky at sunset, red enough to roast you. Here's lookin' at you, kid!
We were idly wondering where all the descendants of Hemingway's 62+ cats (named after movie stars, politicians & gangsters) go in the Conch Republic when the hurricane comes—as pets are not allowed in the hurricane shelters. It seems everyone in Florida has cats galore. The Key West chickens are feral. So where do the all go? Many of Hemingway's cats have six toes. Apparently it gives them extra adaptive advantages.
It seems some of our cat questions have been answered. Here are some photos hot off the press of Florida Keys cats preparing for Hurricane Charley. Hopefully all our friends in Miami Key Largo will weather the storm as elegantly as these cats. (AOL email did not preserve the cat images).
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