Tavernier Harbor

17:00
I’m sad to leave my little enclave in Homestead. It’s such a blissful and chilled out place to spend time. Onwards though, to the Keys. I’d be lying if I said I really knew anything about the Keys, except that it’s where a lot of the South American drugs bound for the US are landed, and there’s a lot of fishing to be done there. I’m up in good time, and on the road by 08:30. I decide to head straight down to Key West, at the very tip of the Keys archipelago, and home to the southernmost point of the continental United States.

The traffic’s a little clunky getting out of Homestead and Florida City, but after a few miles, I’m into an easy, fast cruise. It’s about 150 miles, all the way along the venerable US Highway 1 - the 2,370 mile road that runs the entire length of the eastern seaboard of the US. It’s been my constant companion for the past week, and ends at Key West. There’s nothing standout about the drive, but that doesn’t detract from my enjoyment of it. The Keys are a bustling community, and I spend a great couple of hours watching the world go by as I cruise on by. ‘Towns’ here are really just collections of buildings alongside the highway, intersected by giant road bridges between the islands. I won’t pretend that I’m not slightly entranced by it. Even the Sat Nav keeps me entertained - there's something strangely hypnotic seeing the road on which you're travelling stretch for miles, but with only water on either side of you. Likewise, the view of the road bridges stretching out for miles in front of the car is unfamiliar, but inviting.

Arriving into Key West, I’m both hungry and thirsty. There’s a seafood place called Eaton’s Seafood Market that I’ve read good things about, so head there for some lunch, and a massively needed beer. They deliver on both fronts. I have a crab-cake sandwich, some stellar onion rings, and a quite pokey hazy IPA that gives me just a little bit of a a haze.

Key West is an interesting town. My good friend Jolene has described it as ‘New Orleans but with old people.’ I’ve not been to New Orleans, but somehow understand exactly what she means. I suspect in the height of Summer, and over a weekend, this place is a wild ride. Here and now, before the Summer season really kicks off, it’s a slightly circumspect experience. There are countless golf buggies on the roads, and I've seen several hire shops around the town. I can't believe the DUI rules are any different to driving a standard car or truck, so I'm not entirely sure what the point is. This is what Google's for. *HOLD PLEASE CALLER*

Ah, ok - so it's partly because a lot of the roads in Key West are quite narrow (to which I can attest) and that parking is limited (to which I can also attest), ergo - golf buggies.

I set off to find the southernmost point of the USA, and find…. a queue. There are about 50 people queueing to take a picture next to the monument. I mean - I guess it’s a thing if you’re not from here, but I enjoy taking pictures of the people taking pictures. There are a couple of other places I’d wanted to check out while I was in town, but there are reports of rain-storms coming in later, and I don’t particularly fancy a long drive in the rain, so set off for Key Largo. I meet some rain, but it’s hardly a patch on the torrential experiences I had back in Virginia (which feels like an eon ago, by the way) and by the time I’m arriving into Key Largo, it’s sunshine all the way.

I find my accommodation easily enough, and am pleasantly surprised. I’ve got a large, one bedroom apartment, with a balcony overlooking the marina. It’s lovely. I settle down with a much deserved glass of wine, and take the load off.

21:00

I head out around 18:00, conscious that I’ve not eaten much today, and have limited supplies at my apartment. Bizarrely / irritatingly, the place I want to get to is 20m from my apartment. It is, however, on the other side of the Marina, and there’s no obvious bridge across which to pass. I briefly consider swimming across, but end up walking the long way around, which is c. 20 minutes. It’s still hot, even though the sun is kissing the horizon. I arrive somewhat sweaty, and urgently in need of a beer. The beer is quickly sorted. I’ve no idea what it is, beyond a very pleasant IPA. I order another, and perhaps a third. The menu deserves a peruse, so I indulge it. There’s a cracking sounding grouper special, so I jump in. It’s fab. Grouper is redolent of cod, but with more flavour, and better texture. I very fondly remember having ‘grouper fingers’ in the Bahamas about 35 years ago, which my Dad rechristened groper fingers - obvs. These days they’d be called grouper goujons, and be thrice as expensive. The fourth beer is the one that really hits the spot.

I briefly consider popping to the downstairs bar, where there’s some half decent live music playing, but am conscious that I’m jaded, and rapidly approaching refreshed. I check the IPA details on the way out. It’s an 8.2% whopper. Of course it is. I walk (rather than stumble) back to my apartment, which is deliciously frosty, and grab a beer from the fridge, the last of the six pack I bought on about day 2 of my trip. My only fixed plan tomorrow is to be at Miami Airport by 18:00, and the airport’s only a couple of hours away…Read more