Key West to Marathon
Key West to Marathon
Key West to Marathon Key West to Marathon
Destination in review. A summation of our brief trip to the Florida Keys, from Key West to Marathon, and the adjoining communities we encountered. What we saw. What we loved. Where you should go.
It had been an early flight out of Tri-Cities Regional Airport. A layover in Atlanta, then on to Key West. There was an impending thunderstorm, and our disembarkation was delayed three hours. Disgruntled, we crossed a flooded tarmac and entered the arrivals wing of the airport. It was another hour in the terminal and our rental car was ready. We left the parking garage through nearly a foot of floodwater, and I was concerned the compact car we were driving would become swamped before we left the parking lot. Once on the street we headed into the heart of Key West. There was a little hole-in-the-wall Cuban place called El Siboney, where we crashed to recuperate from our flight.
I tried a beer called Palma, and Keri got a Sangria, both were exactly what we needed after being cooped up in a plane. I enjoy thunderstorms in tin cans. Kidding. For food, I got the roasted pork with fried plantains, rice, and beans. Keri got two tamales with rice and beans. It was great food. Nothing fancy, just really good. After we recharged, we set out to explore Key West.
To start, we headed to Ernest Hemingway’s old house. There was a line out the front gate and halfway down the street. It was a beautiful home with stone walls and tropical plants growing all around it. We decided to return later in the week. It was the one place in Key West I’d intentionally planned to see.
We drove to the southernmost marker for the continental United States. That too had a long line of tourists. So, we moved on to the Clarence S. Higgins Memorial Beach. This is a public beach to the south. We went on a stroll down the sand. It was a breathtaking place with beautiful clear water and stone outcroppings, mangroves were growing out past the main swimming area. After an hour or so, we walked back to our car under the shade of palm trees. There was a man weaving hats from the palm fronds. It was a unique and intriguing thing to see. He saw us and smiled then went back to his work.
Leaving Key West we headed towards the Isla Bella Resort, leaving the soggy streets, with tourists wandering into the roadways interspersed with the occasional rooster, or cat. There were all manner of pedal-powered craft drifting on and off the streets. We left this low-key chaos on Highway One, which was a flood of gleaming coastal views with bridges that seemed to drift up into the sky. There were patrol cars everywhere, lurking with no place to hide, trying to catch traffic violators. Petty crime on the Keys seemed almost nonexistent. A history of smuggling permeates culture here, a cultural similarity to our home in the hills of East Tennessee.
As I drove, occasionally shadowing the glistening water were remains of old abandoned bridges decaying like dead dragons or perhaps whales, sometimes highlighted by the sun and other times shadowing the waters below like skeletal ghosts suspended between earth and sky.
We reached Isla Bella around five in the afternoon. we were greeted at the gatehouse by a welcoming member of the security staff. He had been expecting us and guessed who we were before we had a chance to introduce ourselves. He registered our vehicle, and gave us a parking tag, a brief overview of the resort map, and welcomed us through the gate.
The main lobby of the resort was breathtaking with large windows overlooking the beach. A smartly dressed woman greeted us at the front desk. She stood before a striking, white cut marble wall that towered above the lobby. We were given champagne, bracelet room keys, and directed toward the location of our suite.
Our suite decor was a clean white, with sand and driftwood accents that emphasized the vibrance of palms and mangroves that define the key landscape. There was an elongated entryway with a door to an adjoining suite to the left, then a bath to the right a bit further in. An elegant soaking tub beckoned, adjacent to a his and hers sink. with a large walk-in shower in the back.
The bedroom area was large with a king-size bed to the right as you enter. A large television sat above a dresser on the opposite wall. Passing through the bedroom, a large glass door opened onto our private balcony, with white wicker couch and coffee table, side table, and two armchairs of the same design. The view overlooked the Manatee Saltwater Pool, and beyond the Marathon/Knight Key Bay. Coconut palms and salt grass adorned the land between the pool and the bay, perfectly framed by low-growing mangroves, then a shallow bay of crystal-clear water. A narrow channel leading to the harbor on Marathon ran through the center, with marker buoys clearly designating the route.
Once we were settled. we headed to Mahina, the resort’s primary fine dining restaurant. When we entered, we had our choice of seating. The hostess set a table for us on the veranda overlooking the bay. One of our servers adjusted the shades to block the sun’s glare. He took our drink order. I got a Jai Alai IPA, and Keri got a “Fall Fashion,” which is a take on the old Fashion but with Pilar Dark Rum, Orange Bitters, Cinnamon, and Allspice simple syrup. Another gentleman arrived to take our initial order. We ordered the Kalua Pork Flat Bread as a starter and relaxed for a bit, taking in the palm-framed panorama of the bay. Our appetizer arrived, and it was fantastic. It came time for us to order, our server informed us of the special, a fillet of Hogfish topped with a strawberry salsa with broccolini and mashed potatoes. I was convinced. Keri got jumbo prawns with sticky rice and bok choy. It was all delicious! Both the fish and prawns were masterfully done. We were stuffed and called it a night without dessert. The staff were amazing, and I would highly recommend it!
We retired to our room, having thoroughly enjoyed our first hours at Isla Bella. Exhausted and still slightly cranky from the airport, we collapsed into bed and did not wake till well after dawn the next day.
Tuesday was a slow day. We awoke with nothing particular in mind. Keri had gotten up before me and gone to the resort market to get a coffee. She then headed to a little pedestrian pier that was back towards the Marathon Marina. I had been reading “A Farewell to Arms” by Ernest Hemingway on the porch when she called and told me where she was, so I joined her.
I meandered down the stairs to the picturesque palm-canopied walkway that ran the entire length of the resort. I reached a small breezeway and continued to a sandy walking area between the building and a series of swimming pools that were positioned between the walk and the bay.
Turning right onto the pier I spotted Keri. There were two beach chairs on the end where we sat as she sipped the warm brew. We looked out over the bay. It was very shallow with sea grass growing in large beds all the way to the channel that connected the marina to our left. We watched several fishing boats heading out for a day on the water.
It was a clear day with only the occasional cloud. We peered down into the water. Keri pointed to several small fish swimming about. There were several different types, some tear-drop and some almond-shaped, moving slowly in small schools out from the mangroves and into the bay. A few small jellyfish floated back into the shelter of the mangroves, as the morning sun warmed the shallows.
We stopped back by the room, then headed to the front desk to request a late checkout (I highly recommend it). I sat and wrote down my thoughts for a few moments on the beautiful veranda that offered a magnificent view of the beach below. There was a shallow lagoon that ran for no more than a hundred yards before opening into the bay. Rows of beach chairs with umbrellas to lounge and sunbathe were set back just a few yards from the water’s edge. The main pool was to my right, with a burger bar just behind it.
The resort market was our next stop. We decided not to bring liquids to ease our TSA screening and simply buy what we needed once on the ground. We entered the gift shop, and in the very back corner, there was a rotating display with necessities. We purchased a few things and returned to the room before we decided to hit the road and just drive through Marathon on Highway One. We drove nearly the entire length of the Island, but not before stopping at a Publix that we saw to our right. Bottled water and sunscreen are an absolute must!
From Publix, we continued down the highway to Curry Hammock State Park, which cost six dollars to get in. Once through the toll booth, we followed a short lane to a parking area with a nice bathroom facility along with several picnic shelters and a few access trails to the beachfront, a kayak rack and launch site were to our far left We took the centermost beach access to a thin stretch of sand. We removed our sandals and began to wade through the shallows.
There were several hermit crabs who waddled about on the sandy bottom in an effort first to evade us and then to investigate our toes. We ran across another couple coming the opposite direction who had just come across a small reef shark that had arched its tail fin out of the water to avoid them. They passed along in the shallows, and we came to a school of needlefish also known as long toms. They were darting about quickly between us and the mangroves, and a bit of old coral and limestone out to our west. We reached the coral and turned back. We met our friends coming back down the beach towards us again, and we entered the parking lot together.
Keri and I walked to the kayak launch, where we caught our first glimpse of an iguana. It was a svelte, light green creature who seemed keen to avoid us. We took a brief break and refilled our water bottles at a fountain. Back in the car, we drove to the Ranger station and inquired about renting a pair of kayaks. The park ranger told us that they were not currently renting, but that we could have one of the rental companies drop them at the site. We thanked her and began our drive back to the Isla Bella Resort.
Back at Isla Bella, we walked down the beach and settled into a pair of beach chairs. I read while Keri began to wander into the lagoon to see what interesting aquatics would catch her attention. A few young men, lanky and pale, walked past, then a boy of perhaps twenty with sandy brown hair and a dark tan took the beach bed in front of me and began napping. I imagined the sound of meat sizzling on a grill as he lay there. Keri came and grabbed me shortly, wanting to show me the hermit crabs, jellyfish, and other creatures she had found. She had discovered several egg sacks that perplexed us for a few minutes until we identified them as those of a polychaete worm. We left the water and wondered to the burger bar for sodas. “The beach is practically empty.” Keri noted. A lady near us turned in her chair and remarked: “Hot out here, isn’t it?” to which I replied, “Yes. Yes, it is.” The heat sticks to you in the Keys. More so than other beaches I’ve been to. I’m not sure why.
A brief time passed, and Keri said, “Hey, let's get some guacamole!” So, we did. It was delivered to us in a round bamboo box with a basket lid. As we munched, the young man I imagined sizzling in his beach bed jumped up and took off in the way of another bar. A beautiful strongly built young lady with curly long black hair and brown skin walked to the edge of the beach. She was joined by a tall man with dark brown well-tended hair, and they began to wade into the lagoon. They looked like a perfect advertisement for the resort. Three kayakers entered the lagoon a few moments later. They scanned the shallows as they drifted through and then slipped back into the bay and disappeared around the island. We finished our snack and to save the server a trip, we set off to the burger bar to return our box. Keri was a bit ahead of me and went through the gate first. I was going to wait for her, but her path was blocked by two large iguanas, and she was bit unsure. A young lady came over to assist me with the gate as I fumbled with my drink in one hand and my book in the other. I thanked her and proceeded to show the iguanas out of the way in the same manner I would a group of turkeys back home, to the amusement of a small group of guests around the pool. We made it back to the bar and then retired once again to our room.
Some hours passed, and we went to the adult-only pool, which was full of adults. So, after a few minutes debating, we went to the next pool down, where Keri was able to swim a bit, and we had a couple of nice beach chairs. I’d have been swimming myself but for an injury to my right arm that occurred only the day before we flew down.
After our swim, we went to investigate the sushi cabana. Our server, Evelyn, was still setting up for the evening, and we were the first guests. She set us at a table that was where she could arrange several umbrellas to shield us from the sun. She was very attentive and an excellent conversationalist. I got a Sapporo draft, and Keri another Diet Coke. We also ordered the pot stickers, which were perfect little chicken dumplings atop a bit of finely curled carrots. They were delicious and fresh, from the steamer. For our main course, we ordered uni nigiri, otoro, tako, an avocado roll, and the Isla Bella Roll, which was a soy wrap with cucumber, avocado, lobster, unagi, spicy mango, kabayaki sauce, and pako.
The uni seemed a bit smokey which was different from what I’d initially expected. The Tako was generously portioned, and the otoro was excellent. The Isla Bella roll was uniquely delicious as was the tuna/avocado roll. Evelyn was very fastidious and eager to make sure we did not get sunburned. We met Chanda at some point during dinner, who managed the restaurant, and we discovered had lived in Newport, Tennessee, for some time. We spoke a good deal with Chanda about Tennessee and the Keys. She suggested dessert that consisted of layers of crêpe with whipped cream icing between the layers. So, we tried it, and it was not bad at all!
Finished with dinner we then moved on to the cabana bar where we got an old-fashioned and an Isla Bella Lager. I wanted to try a few of the local brews while I was there. It was a light lager that had a beachy, sunny vibe. We sat for a while just watching the water, and then we turned in for the night.
Wednesday, Keri headed out early to get a coffee as she had the previous day. We had decided we would rent bikes and ride to Porky’s Bayside restaurant and marina for a late breakfast. We walked to the resort market and got a couple of bikes with directions on how to get to the pedestrian bike path that runs most of the Keys. We got on our newly acquired rides and headed out. Traveling down the road towards the water on the side of Key West just below the 7-mile bridge, there was a ramp and a set of stairs that led us underneath Highway One to the pedestrian path. The bridge to Pigeon Key was on our left. Out of sheer curiosity we rode down about a mile before Keri decided we should just go on to breakfast. So, we turned around and headed back into Marathon. Once off the bridge, I suppose it was about another mile of riding before we reached Porky’s. When we arrived, it was an open air beachy-looking place with myriad old license plates and other types of memorabilia and signs used as décor in the open-air bar. We did not see the bike rack at first, and a gentleman yelled out of the restaurant to us that it was on the other side. So, we continued to the far side of the building and locked up the bikes. We headed inside where a young man seated us. Our server was a ruddy, sun-burned gentleman named Kurt who swore the heat the week before was killer. Keri was exhausted from the heat of the ride out and was visibly shaking. She ordered the sausages and home fries à la carte, and we both had water to drink. I got the shrimp and grits with fruit and yogurt to the side. It was all really good. Kurt was from Ohio. I think he said Cleveland. He made it a point to be courteous and friendly, and I would ask for him again if I was ever to return. While we were there, I decided I was going to run the bridge to Pigeon Key once we got back. Keri was refreshed after our meal, but not that refreshed! It was a quick ride back to Isla Bella.
We checked the bikes back in and went to the room. Keri wanted to pick up a few things and went back to Publix while I did my run. I left the room and ran from Isla Bella back to the stairs we had used to bring the bikes to the pedestrian trail. It was in the mid-eighties and the sun was scorching hot. I set to pounding the tar back into asphalt of the bridge. I felt my shoes might melt at any moment. There were a few people walking and some on bikes and scooters. The water was beautiful on all sides. Drivers on the Seven Mile Bridge zipped past some 150 yards to my left, and various boats moved about to my right in the channel that ran under me as they moved between the keys. I noticed that there very few gulls compared to other coastal areas I’ve visited. It is mostly black birds, doves, with a few cranes, pelicans, and cormorants. The mile markers were painted on the bridge pavement in one fifth mile increments. I determined by counting that there were 50 or so segments to the bridge for every fifth of a mile, and they were about two and a half strides for an average person. There were a few trash receptacles along the path that had to be avoided, but not many. After less than a mile and a half, I really began to feel the sun. I felt like an ant running for cover under a magnifying glass. I had on sunblock, but I felt as though it would all either melt off on its own or I would sweat it off. I was sweating more than I would on a 10-mile run in Tennessee. I felt gross and could tell I was getting dehydrated quickly. Approaching Pigeon Key, I stopped running and took some pictures of the beautiful tiny island. The bridge ended, and naught but a ruin continued on, a skeleton of the old highway. I turned down a wooden ramp to my left to visit. I was greeted by a lady who informed me the Key was a historic site and cost $15 to enter, but I could stay all day. I paid and signed the liability waiver to be there. She also told me it was a marine research site. The little key was beautiful, even being overshadowed by Highway one, the ruins of the old road, and the pedestrian bridge. But it meant the island was a relatively shady spot. I stepped into the gift shop where I got a sports drink and quickly left the air conditioning that made me feel soaked and very cold. I meandered about the sandy trails of the Key for a bit and then started to head back. One of the features of the island was an active shark pool that had a sign saying: “No swimming in the shark pool!”
Returning to the resort, bedraggled, I entered the market and grabbed something else to drink. Keri arrived just after I’d showered and dressed, and we decided to go hang out at the main pool and burger bar. When we arrived, a young gentleman greeted us. Keri got a Diet Coke, and I got an Islamorada Ale. Keri went off to take a dip in the pool, and I noted that I had gained the attention of a pair of iguanas and a few blackbirds. Now, many a modern American would say that I am crazy for doing this, but I talk to animals. I have all my life, and I promise you they all understand on one level or another. Now, birds are birds, and birds are intelligent, especially blackbirds. The lone marauder who lit on the chair adjacent to my own was keenly after a snack. Which I did not provide, but I did him the courtesy of saying hello, to which he replied with a cock of his head and a flick of his tail, before hopping off in search of the advantageous crumb.
The iguanas hung about my chair like a pair of cats wanting to be petted. One was small and green, while the other was larger and had more pronounced back spines and seemed to have at least twenty-seven or so divergent shades of green, yellow, rust, blue, and brown on its scales. They would look at you when you spoke, and if you reached out an arm, they would investigate the ends of your fingers and then wander around you, settling down for a few moments here or there to lounge in the sun alongside the guests. Keri returned and reclined in her beach chair for a while. The two iguanas became quite taken with her, circling about, lounging under her chair. She had hung her hair over the top of the chair to dry, and more than once the pair of them would sniff at it with what I imagined was a mischievous glint in their eyes. I told Keri, “They are going to grab your hair!” She would occasionally turn and look at them. She developed little voices for them that she would use to describe what she imagined they were saying. The young man from the bar returned, and we ordered some chips and guacamole. Keri came up with lines she thought the iguanas would say in a stylized voice to ask for guacamole, and we both laughed. We remained there perhaps an hour more before Keri grew tired of swimming and sunning herself and making small talk with large reptiles. We got up and walked slowly to the cabana bar and sat at a large round table under the shade of myriad palm trees. The table was white-painted pine with a circular base and a central gas fireplace containing glass drops and encased in a round glass case. Keri ordered an old-fashioned with rum instead of whiskey, and we got some waffle fries. I ordered a frozen margarita. We sat for a while, then we retired to take a nap. That evening, we made an early dinner plan to go walk down the road to the pier and eat at the Sunset Grille and Raw bar, which set next to the trail access to Pigeon Key and had an amazing view of the water. Our walk was short and hot. Keri was a bit cranky and dragged along, comically making the short stroll out as some kind of arduous ordeal. There were very few people at the restaurant when we arrived. After about ten minutes a young man with a long tightly curled ponytail approached us with a greeting and seated us at a four-top overlooking the pool and the water beyond.
It struck me that the place was intentionally cliché with a tiki hut tourist fish restaurant vibe. It seemed most of the guests who were there were locals, which is always a good sign. There was a man with a little boy on the pier loading into a small fishing boat with blue water beyond. The pool was occupied by a small group of young men and one young lady. They meandered about the pool with occasional light horse play, content to waste away the afternoon. There was a small group at the bar adjacent the pool, who like the swimmers seemed content to idle away the remains of the day at their favorite spot.
The restaurant had an extensive menu with a seemingly endless plethora of drinks and seafood, everything from fried clams to sushi. Keri ordered an old-fashioned as usual and pointed out a cocktail to me called a “Bushwhacker” for only nineteen ninety-nine on the drink menu that supposedly came in its own collectible monkey mug. It was basically an alcoholic tribute to the classic chocolate shake, with 11 different liquors included, none listed out in the menu description. When it came, I took one sip and got such a brain freeze that it nearly put me off food or drink for the rest of the evening. It did not come in a collectible monkey mug (which was fine by me). It had hints of coconut rum with a dominant chocolate coffee flavor that did truly denote a chocolate shake. It was so cold, especially compared to the environment that it was painful, and I had to let it warm up. After recovering from my mixed drink, I didn’t feel like eating much. Keri ordered the seafood fettuccine, and so I got the blue crab mac and cheese. The mac was good, really good, and pulled me back from being “Bushwhacked” so much so that I ordered key lime pie for dessert. Keri was in a much better mood after dinner and was laughing and joking about a multitude of different things on our way back to Isla Bella.
Thursday. Is it Thursday already? It seemed like so much had happened in the last three days. There was a coffee shop in Marathon I wanted to visit before we went home. It was a used bookstore, and a coffee shop owned and not operated by a 14-year-old cat named Mr. Beans, who was a little black and white tuxedo cat, and Muffin, his accomplice, was a 2-year-old Calico rescue, and was not out of her kitten stage by a long shot. Together with their human, an older gentleman who struck me as one of the kindest-hearted people I’d met in a long time. They operated Mr. Beans’ Books and Beans, which was formerly known as “Keys News and Coffee”. I ordered a mocha, and Keri got her usual latte conflagrated precisely to her custom specifications. I also got a sesame bagel with schmear. The place was small with a few tables and wall-to-wall books. There was a small children’s section that had a few Florida authors that looked very vibrant and entertaining. There was, of course, a Hemingway section, and I ended up buying a copy of “Islands in the Stream”. We got to feed Mr. Beans a snack and pet Muffin, who went a little spastic and then attacked Mr. Beans, who was just too mature at fourteen for such antics.
We went from there to the Turtle Hospital just down the road. There was a lady with blond hair who was taking out trash in front of the facility. I parked and got out. I said: “Hi, when do y’all open?” She turned, and replied, “What?” I repeated myself and she said, “Oh, 9 a.m., just come back in a few and we’ll get you on a tour.” “OK, thank you!” I replied, got back in the car, and left. We returned around 9:20 to a packed front lobby. A group of high school students from Ohio had descended on the hospital for an educational school trip. I waded through the kids to the desk where a woman with green eyes and slight freckles told me I needed to fill out a waiver for myself and Keri and then she could sell me tickets. So, I went back and got Keri, and we completed our waivers then returned through the ocean of Ohio youth to the front desk.
The tour began in a large presentation room where our tour guide, the lady we’d met in the parking lot, gave a presentation. We learned that there are seven species of sea turtles, and the primary ones we would see were green turtles and loggerhead turtles. All sea turtles are endangered, with pollution being the number one cause of health problems. Cancerous tumors are a major issue, and digestive problems due to eating garbage from human dumping are the other. From the presentation area, we walked through an operating room where we learned about how most of the tumors can be safely removed and that turtles possess an immunity to the virus that causes the tumors once they are removed, which allowed them to recover quite well. We then stepped outside and learned that the hospital also had a nursery for hatchlings who were found in human areas and could be nursed back to health before being let out to sea. We then went into a tank area where a loggerhead who was a victim of a boat strike was being treated along with a juvenile loggerhead in a separate tank who was swimming everywhere quite rapidly as if to see what was happening.
We moved from there to another set of outdoor pools where we saw multiple green turtles in various stages of treatment. There was one on its belly in a tray getting its back flippers massaged by a caregiver. It reminded me of a person getting a foot massage.
We got to meet a loggerhead who was being released that day at a big celebration in Key West. Even from being there just a few minutes, you can tell how bittersweet it is. The workers are saying goodbye, but at the same time, they are completing their purpose of rehabilitating the turtles and getting them back out in the wild where they do things like eat jellyfish. They eat a lot of jellyfish. We went onto a third and larger saltwater pool where permanent residents that could not be rehabilitated live out the remainder of their lives. We were given a handful of food and allowed to feed them. They would come to the surface and grab the pellets, then swim away. This is where our tour ended, and we headed back to Isla Bella.
We went to the Cabana Bar for an early lunch. I started with a margarita because the kitchen had not yet opened and then got a Sailfish IPA. Keri stuck with her old-fashioned and Diet Coke. I wanted to try several of the local beers before I left, which were all brewed by the Islamorada Brewing Company or other surrounding breweries. We got some conch fritters, which are a thing there, kind of like a lobster roll is in Maine. We then got some chili waffle fries, and I got a red snapper Po’ Boy sandwich and a Funky Buddha Ale. The po’boy was very good and very large. It was probably the least poor po’boy I’ve ever seen. For dessert, we got a piece of key lime pie and chocolate pie. The key lime was amazing! It had a green apple syrup over it that was a great add-on and enhanced the overall flavor of the pie. The chocolate pie was extremely rich, and a great fix for a chocaholic like myself.
After this extraordinary consumption of junk food, albeit high-end junk food, we waddled back to our room to nap and laze around for the rest of the afternoon. We stayed in our room till about 8 p.m. when we headed back down to the Cabana Bar for dinner. Live music was playing, and we sat at a table on the far end of the bar space with a fire in our table. Keri, done with seafood, ordered a burger and a Diet Coke. I got the fish tacos. We sat and watched the sun set at Isla Bella for one last time, then cashed out and went back to our room.
We stayed up till nearly midnight, watching TV, then went to bed.
In the morning, we slept in, then began slowly getting ready to depart. We checked out at about 12:30 p.m. and headed down Highway One towards Key West.
On our way back, we stopped at the Bahia Honda State Park. It is an entire Key devoted to nature conservation. The park ranger at the gate welcomed us. He was a tall gentleman with sandy hair, probably in his late 40s, with an active tan. He told us park admission was free this weekend and let us in. We were immediately struck by the extraordinary beauty of the area. We parked and walked, taking in the pristine blue of the ocean, the crystal-blue sky, and the gorgeous flowers and plant life. We found our way to the park’s central office, then continued towards the beach. All the varying shades of blue and green were absolutely striking. Turquoise and aquamarine, blue jade, topaz, lapis, sapphire, tourmaline, all blended in an unimaginable array of color that really is just beyond description. We continued to the beach, where we found it covered with sea grass. There is a lot of seaweed around the Keys, which is wonderful, but it takes a bit of getting used to when navigating the shallows and beaches. The upside is it supports a massive array of marine life. We only stayed a short while and were off again towards Key West.
As soon as we arrived, we began to drive towards Ernest Hemingway’s estate. Navigating the streets and alleys of Key West is very much like navigating the byways of another time. The streets are narrow and cluttered. There are pedestrians everywhere. Intersections have limited visibility, and you really should slow down and watch for people.
We were able to park very close to the Hemingway home and made our way to the front entrance. It was not half as crowded as when we arrived our first day, and there was no line to get through the entry to the stone wall that surrounded the property. The ticket counter was in the old gate house. The lady at admissions was very jovial, she had the look of someone who lived for what she was doing. She took our tickets and welcomed us to wander the house and grounds at our leisure. In the middle of the front walkway set a fountain, that was constructed in the same shape as a Confederate ironclad warship which the original owner of the home had designed. His family had sadly died of yellow fever soon after the war and Hemingway had purchased the property derelict and abandoned many years later. The grounds had every kind of tropical palm and flower with an occasional stand of bamboo. The home had thick walls, but the overall square footage is modest in comparison to many luxury homes of today. The primary character of the structure was that it was constructed so soundly, with walls two feet thick, metal shutters, a central great hall and staircase made of stone and brick under the wooden steps that flowed straight into the second level without turning. The interior was adorned with beautiful works from Cuban and American Painters, and family pictures, along with those of friends like Tennessee Williams and many pieces of memorabilia and tributes made to Hemingway in film. Their ads framed and displayed in a second-floor bedroom. There were many authentic period furniture pieces on display, and the cats that live sheltered on the grounds were the only living things allowed to rest thereon. On the second floor, we let a cat through a period authentic glass door and stepped out onto the second-story porch, where we encountered another cat who was white and gray with an extra toe or two on each foot. From there, you could see the tops of flowering trees and some of the fruits on the various palms. We continued around the porch and down a flight of exterior stairs to the stone patio beneath at the back of the house.
We found two cat houses along with a cat graveyard with painted stones as markers. In one of the detached structures from the main home was Hemingway’s second story study which contained many books and an old backpack that contained a cat. And a cat lay on the floor just behind the iron bars protecting the room from human tourists. We exited the study and continued through the gardens to the pool area where there were additional cats. It was a beautiful old school pool that was solidly constructed of concrete and will, if the world holds together be the interest of archeologist in millennia to come, if the sea does not reclaim the entire Island and perhaps even if it does.
We left the Hemingway home and returned to our car. We were determined to find another Cuban restaurant before we caught our flight. We decided on The Cuban’s Corner and went there immediately. We were greeted by a large man with a huge smile and boyish good looks. I got a Modelo cerveza and we both ordered empanadas to start. There has never been, nor perhaps is it at all probable that there will ever be a better food in all the world than an empanada from Cuban’s Corner! The amazingly fried things are indescribably good, and you simply must if you can, go there and try them. Yes, they really are that good!! For my entrée I had the Puerco Asado a delightfully grilled and spiced string of pork medallions with fried plantains, beans and rice and a special salsa like condiment that the smiling gentleman brought to us. It was like chow-chow but a little spicier and sweeter. Keri got the house pork, a slowly brazed stringy pork roast that was beautiful to behold and came with the same sides as my own. You simply cannot beat good Cuban food. It is simple, not especially photogenic and will make a lot of high-end gourmet foodie fair lament in shame that it is not nor ever will be Cuban street food. After consuming as much as we dared, we departed for the airport.
Looking back, this was an amazing experience. I highly recommend Isla Bella, Key West, Marathon Key, and all the wonderful places we were able to visit. I fully intend to return soon. Finally, please visit the Turtle Hospital at https://turtlehospital.org/ and learn about how you too can protect these magnificent and ecologically important creatures.