Motorhome News from North America 31

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Motorhome News from North America 31 16th - 27th December 2006

Florida. Down the east coast to The Everglades and The Florida Keys.

It takes a while to recover from the relentless joy of exploring Disneyworld day after day and long into the night. We’re still standing, still walking, though the pace has slowed, the hiking distances less challenging for a while. The south Florida heat is relentless too. It is not so much the heat - in the upper 70’s and 80’s most of the time - but the humidity: 98%, sticky and sweaty by midday. Our air-conditioning works fine, but we now also own a 12inch electric fan to keep the air on the move overnight. We were dreaming of a white Christmas as we headed down to the Florida Keys. Fat chance of that in the sub-tropics!


The sun was barely up when we left Disney, setting sail down the interstate toll-road at a constant 60mph across open flat land, swampy grass with cattle on the marshes, a handful of orange-groves - an altogether uninspiring landscape.

In 2004, a hurricane hit our overnight campground at Jonathan Dickinson State Park, leaving skeletons of damaged pine trees standing as epitaphs across the skyline. The mangrove swamps along the river withstood much of the fury somewhat better, their Herculean root systems anchored to the Florida limestone a few inches below the surface. Our Loxahatchee River cruise left the dock in the park with the Captain at the helm and just the two of us sharing thirty empty seats, snaking its way along the shallow waterway through dense swamp, lined on either side with an impenetrable tangle of mangroves, sabal palms, cypress trees, bright-green fans of palmetto and the most amazing air plants growing on the branches of waterside trees. Ospreys called from treetops on every corner, taking advantage of the storm damage to build their nests in the tops of dead trees in excited anticipation of spring’s new brood - as we sweltered below in the damp heat of another Floridian winter morning.

Florida’s popular east coast holds little more of interest to us. We are all familiar with the names of Palm Beach, Fort Lauderdale and Miami, aren’t we? We were tempted to give it all a miss, but common sense suggested it would be criminal for us not to at least take a peek at what all the noise is about. In addition, we thought the slower, but more interesting coastal route on the A1A might relieve the boredom of the long journey south into the Everglades.

Before coming to the United States, we were totally unaware of the Intra Coastal Waterway, a ‘small boat’ channel, a canal perhaps, inland of a wafer thin stretch of sand bar and islands along much of the Atlantic coast of North America - so narrow indeed it doesn’t appear on our atlases at home.
Palm Beach sits just on the inland edge of this waterway. It surprised us with its impressive villas, winter homes of the stars, big corporate CEO’s and the aristocracy, secreted behind hedges cut with military precision, and sculptured gardens dripping with palms, stunning bougainvillea and hibiscus. Most of the homes on this narrow spit, in some places a mere 100 metres wide, overlook the blue ocean beyond, or towards the waterway and a private jetty where the luxury yacht awaits its master’s call. Equally smart, but for those of lesser means, are Delray Beach, Boca Raton, Pompano Beach, and Fort Lauderdale, the joggers and cyclists starting their day on the manicured sidewalks of smart walled skyscraper condo developments, twenty storey hotels and pastel apartment blocks. It's beautiful in the sun if it’s a city by the sea that turns you on, but there’s not an inch of ground to call your own. An Englishman’s castle is nothing without its garden, or a park nearby where you can walk the dog. Here, you must walk the dog on the sidewalk, pooper-scooper and plastic bag in hand - and, I’m impressed, they all scoop. Here, the streets and roads are called Drives and Boulevards to keep property prices at a premium. Anyway, what sort of person would live on a Street in Florida?

They are still working on Miami’s downtown, the bit where the big banks spend their ill-gotten gains and serious big businesses have their headquarters. The buildings are getting higher by the minute, they’re digging up the roads and the cranes are working 24/7 as they say, trying to make the place look like Spain’s Costas (nearly half of Miami’s 2m plus population is of Hispanic origin - they must feel quite at home). Where on earth do all the people in those huge apartment blocks go all day? Imagine - a city crawling with ants if they all came out at the same time, arms and legs flaying, two million ants, jogging, cycling, drinking coffee on the run, walking dogs, pooper-scooping. Apart from that, it’s all rather smart and tidy, the beaches are fab we’re told and the south beach art-deco buildings live the mystique that makes Miami a young and vibrant playground for the rich, the famous, the poor, the very poor and the criminals - it still ranks No1 for crime in the USA. Remember the days of TV’s Miami Vice? Everyone’s friend Tony Blair was on holiday here this week with his family, living it up in a ten-bedroom villa overlooking Biscayne Bay. The locals are up in arms at having to fund the cost of security whilst our PM enjoys his freebie stay in the $10m home of Bee Gee, Robin Gibb - a most unlikely friend. Probably a friend of a friend of Mrs Blair’s manicurist.

Television has tempted us with many images of destinations worldwide; images of far off lands, their scenery, wildlife and culture. Such programmes have helped to fuel our desire to visit Florida’s Everglades, to see for ourselves those vast mangrove swamps, the alligators, crocodiles and exotic birds. We were not disappointed. It is a flat billiard table of wet savannah of Serengeti proportions with a few scrubby outcrops of cypress, mahogany and gumbo-limbo on higher ground. It is mangrove swamp, a slow-moving freshwater river of grass, fifty miles wide and six inches deep, dark narrow rivulets alive with leaping fish, water-birds alert for frogs and insects along shallow drainage ditches - and animals left over from the age of the dinosaurs: anhingas, alligators, snakes and lizards. Most important of all, it is a National Park: 1.5m acres of natural habitat, protected from development and administered for the appreciation of the public at large. We were in our element, birding and walking for almost a week in all. Winnie loved it too - the highest point of land is a mere eight feet above sea level - there were no severe gradients!
The Everglades water is pretty flat too. For several days we had been promising ourselves an outing on the marshes in an air boat. You know the sort of thing; a flat bottomed punt with a three-blade propeller on the rear, racing like the wind across the saw-grass swamps, turning on a penny, spray in the air, wind in your hair, the deafening roar and vibration of an engine akin to that of a light aircraft at take-off - and five passengers hanging on for their dear lives! You’ve got it. Fantastic is the word. Always wanted to do that.

And what of our birding exploits? New bird species are becoming harder to come by after so many months on the trail. A typical Everglades good day could provide between forty and eighty different birds -but perhaps only one new North American species we’d not seen before: a roseate spoonbill one day, a yellow-breasted warbler another, a short-tailed hawk, purple gallinule, great white heron, a snail kite we’d been searching for, for days. Perhaps it’s time we had another golf day.

We are missing the mountains. You know how it is with mountains; they are there to be climbed. Some roads are like that for us, the more intriguing the journey; the more we are drawn to see what’s there. That conviction bought us to the Florida Keys, a sweeping arc of narrow islands resembling a string of pearls, joined to the southern tip of the US mainland by Highway1; 113miles across 42 bridges, way, way, out into the opal green waters of the Gulf of Mexico. When you eventually reach Key West at the far westerly end, you must turn around and do it again - another 113miles. Only the view is different.
If there’s a piece of land somewhere in North America - however small or however beautiful, what do you do with it? Yes, you build things on it - it really doesn’t matter what, though malls and walled housing estates with grand entrances are preferred by the developers. First though, if it’s islands, it’s important to join them all up with a road and bridges - and once completed, the building can really begin. And so it is with The Keys. The US1 is dualled along much of its length and they’re still working on it to cater for the ever-growing population and booming tourist trade.

I’m sure our romantic notion of these islands was one of golden sand, a turquoise sea and swaying palms, but that is not totally matched in reality. A hotch-potch of buildings has been erected along the highway over the years: retail outlets, motels and hotels, mooring quays and fishing/diving outfitters, with little thought to any plan or grand design. Much to our surprise, sandy beaches are few and far between, the majority of islands being surrounded by mangrove margins along the shores. It is the climate and outdoor living that draw winter visitors to The Keys, with fishing, sailing and diving as the prime energetic attractions.
We camped around midway at Marathon, on a somewhat tired and overpriced site destined for development some day soon, but we were moored within six feet of the stunning clear waters of the Gulf of Mexico enjoying the balmy breeze under the shade of our own palm tree and settled in for four days of relaxation and seeing the rest of the Keys over Christmas.

As we approached Key West, a large brown bird flew across the windscreen, my brain telling me it was a pheasant; the daft things do that back home, but it quickly dawned on me it might be a chicken - though they’re not known for flying in their domestic role. An hour into our visit we found them everywhere, on the sidewalks, crossing the roads as chickens do (I don't know why) - and under our table in the Cuban restaurant. (Cuba is just a few miles across the water to the south.) A local told us the chickens were left over from the wild days of cockfighting and rum running and there’s much debate over their future - but that debate has been going on for a hundred years or more! Key West is at the very end of the peninsula and we went there to meet Margaret and Phil Schaefer and to collect a bird identification book they were keeping by for us. As you might imagine, we are in need of a holiday after many months of laborious travelling, and Margaret has arranged a trip for us to Costa Rica in March with a small group of American birders. Should be fun!

Key West enjoyed considerable prosperity towards the end of the nineteenth century when sponge harvesting, wreck salvage and cigar making were at their peak. Today it’s a fashionable resort on the cruise circuit, a town of many characters: tacky souvenir shops where the cruiser passengers come ashore, fashionable shops amidst the restaurants and smart bars, and classic craft and art galleries where the sandy shore meets the Atlantic Ocean at the most southerly tip of mainland USA. The quaint and enigmatic Old Town has its share of delightful houses reminiscent of coastal New England; crafted wooden houses in Bahamian style with lush sub-tropical gardens brimming with hibiscus, bougainvillea, palms, and glorious orchids growing in the trees. Our journey has now taken us to the most westerly, most easterly and now the most southerly points of this huge continent. If there’s a reason to visit The Keys, it’s the sun, and it’s Key West. We liked it.
Ernest Hemmingway loved it too. He lived here for a number of years and his home is now a major tourist attraction for the thousands who take the considerable trouble to get here. Perhaps they came, as we did, to see the wide sandy beaches and windswept palms. If you search for long enough they are there, but they’re few and far between. If you’re a Bogart fan (or a Katherine Hepburn fan for that matter), it would bring tears to your eyes to see the African Queen moored beside the Holiday Inn at Key Largo. It is sadly unloved, though undercover, rusting away, poignantly tugging at memories: the old steam boiler, the lack of order, an empty gin bottle by the tiller, but still very much the African Queen we all remember. Pigeons like to roost under the canopy these days - and you know what they do when they roost.


I’m sure I don’t know anyone who doesn’t believe in Santa Claus. What I want to know is; how did he know we were in Florida? He found us at Marathon without the temptation of mince pies (they’re not heard of here) though we did leave a carrot or two out for the reindeer. We unwrapped our presents at 7am and tucked into a hearty breakfast - an old family tradition in the Janice household of her youth. The sun shone its heart out all day with a sweltering 84 degrees. It was too hot for cooking a Christmas lunch. We settled for chicken salad - raised a glass to family and friends, and thought of home. The Turkey joint will keep in the freezer.

The fireworks started late on Christmas evening with a grand Floridian storm. The sky filled with heavy grey cloud and the wind rose off the sea, lashing waves to within an inch of the footpath outside our door. Rain thrashed and rattled the motorhome for several hours to the accompaniment of crashing thunder and loud cracks of golden lightning. Two inches of rain dropped on the Keys that night.

At least we’ve missed the hurricanes (so far!)

Be happy,


David and Janice. The grey-haired-nomads.

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Photos

Fort Lauderdale
Twenty storey condos

Everglades
Mangroves

Everglades
Anhinga - the snake bird.

Everglades
Alligator on the run!

Everglades
One of the bigger airboats. We chose the smaller 'go faster' model of course!

Florida Keys
Key West Chicken crossing the road. Why?

Florida Keys
Bahia Honda Beach - it's a tough life!

Florida Keys
Christmas Eve sunset from our back door

Florida Keys
Key West - The southernmost house in the US

Florida Keys
Remember The African Queen - at Key Largo

Everglades
The beautiful purple gallinule

Comments

[antonio perez]

the tree is mahogany
caoba o mahojani