Eight Keys in a Chain

Miles: 9376.3
Gallons Burned: 323.3
Caffeinated Drinks: 55
Gigabytes of Pictures: 24.9

I was reading Don Miller's "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years", and he quoted Steve Pressfield who said that a writer must push through the resistance that he faces when trying to write. The bigger the resistance, the more important the story. Not to say that this blog post is world changing, but I really am not in the mood/state of mind to write. So here goes.
More about Florida:
I woke up at Flamingo Everglades at 7am and started south towards Key Largo the first of the hundreds of small dots that stretch 175 miles into the Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico. The drive was great and I was impressed with the sheer extent of all the causeways so much like a concrete belt keeping them from floating away.

As soon as I hit Key West, I drove around getting feel for the place. When I hit the intersection of Elizabeth and Fleming, I saw and grabbed an open parking space in front of the public library. I walked without any direction, just people watching, until I wandered west to lands end and the entry of Fort Zachary Taylor Historic SP. I had no idea what the park was like, but lots of cars were going in, so I figured why not. So I paid $2.50 (as a pedestrian!) and walked the 1/3 of a mile to the park. This is what I found:

To get a map of where this is click HERE.
I swam in the water that was 69 degrees. Apparently, that is cold for this area! The sun was out and it was 70 degrees (21C), so I guess my farewell to the sun in the Everglades was premature. I was right on the division between the Gulf's waters and the Atlantic. But at this beach I was technically in the Atlantic. This is my first time swimming in the Atlantic, I kinda guess that the rest of it isn't this warm.
I spoke with Charlie from Ontario while riding the waves. He is one of the many snow birds who live the 6 winter months in Florida. He told me a little of the history of Key West. There was a mayor of the city named Charles "Sonny" McCoy who water skied all the way from Key West to Cuba on Sept. 10, 1978. He was a crazy man who was escorted into Havana Harbor by a pair of Soviet-made gun boats. That means he made 105 miles behind a speed boat.
Today the town is the usual mix of tourist traps, bars, clubs, sand and mom-N'-pop restaurants.
After enjoying 2.5 hours in the water and on the beach, I showered off, toweled down, and headed back to town. Once back into town, I saw this rare and sweet BMW X6 M:

I walked to the southern end of Duval Street and recorded this:

The storm was building and you can see the waves are picking up. The only thing was, I didn't know there was going to be a storm, let alone a full blown mini-tropical storm.
By this time, I was feeling hungry. Being so close to Cuba, I felt like I ought to try the local cuisine. As the first rain drops started to fall, I walked north on Duval until I saw a tiny sign pointing to El Meson de Pepe, a family owned restaurant that has been open for 20 years. I really enjoyed the feel of the place, and I asked to be seated near the open square in the back near the Mariachi band. Right after I ordered the heavy rain started and the band quit. The spray came in and hit me in the face as the wind roared and put out the candle on my table. People rushed in to seek shelter and a man at the adjacent table told me that the storm had been forecast for days, and the wind was supposed to gust to 80 miles per hour (129 kph)! This is what it was like:

You can't get a good feel from the storm but it's the best I could do.
Anyways, as I dodged rain blasts, I ate this great meal:


I ordered the Completa de Caballo Grande, Pepe's Homemade Sangria, and some Key Lime Pie. The main course was a sampler of classic Cuban fare. First there was Lechon Asado which is roasted pork marinated in cumin-"mojo" sauce. Then I had Ropa Vieja which is shredded beef stewed with fresh tomatoes, green peppers, onions and red wine; it is translated as "old clothes" (Lili please correct me if I got that wrong). The third item was spicy Picadillo, ground beef steeped in sofrito, olives, capers, and raisins. This was the best of the three main courses. I think the sofrito was the key ingredient. Complementing the meal was a pleasant light Sangria. I admit that I was full, but I promised Eric from Pensacola that I'd have Key Lime Pie on the keys, so I put my pride/good sense aside and dug in. I got only half way through the pie and was feeling pretty good. All in all, the meal was great, the ambiance was great, and the service was great. So I tipped well (No to say that I normally don't tip well) and started walking back to my car though the rain.
The streets were flooded and occasional people ran in the shadows dodging the rain. Police in pairs were sipping coffee under the cover of awnings and chatting quietly. The night was dark and I was feeling good. Just to be clear, I had one glass of Sangria. Just one. There is less alcohol in a glass of Sangria than in a glass of Merlot. Yet my head began to swirl. I felt hot, stumbled, and my vision became clouded. As I leaned against a brick building, I felt my stomach rise. I barely made it to a trash can before I puked the entire meal. A patrol man looked at me suspiciously. After, I felt better. I walked another 20 steps and suddenly found that there was still another half of the meal to lose. So I "washed" the sidewalk in Puréed Ropa Vieja.
Eventually I made it back to the car feeling terrible. I don't know if it was the food, some stomach bug, my pre-meal dehydration, the sudden transition from eating to my ever-brisk walking pace, or just some inexplicable random event. I decided to take a nap from 8pm to 11pm in my car. Afterward, I felt marginally better.
My 9 hours on Key West were fun despite the unfortunate end.
Next time I'll tell you about another Floridian experience...