I'm one of those who try to avoid Christmas. Those who know me well, know why. But for the purpose of this blog, it's enough to know that I choose (no surprise) to avoid Christmas by travelling. And I'm definitely not the only one. On a Christmas cruise I took a few years ago, there were plenty of us, along with families choosing a cruise as their place to celebrate. There was ample room for both groups. Resorts are the same. Good places to be if you want your Christmas to be as low-key as possible.
All of which is a roundabout explanation of why I holed up for Christmas in a place which is completely new to me: Key West, a 3.5 hour drive from Fort Lauderdale at the extreme southernmost tip of Florida's highway system.
As the name implies, Key West is a city on an island, actually a group of islands. How, then, did I drive here? This internet picture of a portion of the Overseas Highway -- the famous Seven Mile Bridge -- gives you the idea.
The road crosses a portion of the Florida Everglades south of Homestead and then hopscotches from island to island down the chain of the Keys until it arrives in Key West.
Source map: Google Maps
Key West is the end of the road but, contrary to popular belief, it is not the end of the Keys. Farther west are numerous islands including Boca Grande Key, the Marquesas Keys, and at a distance of over 60 miles (100 kilometres) from Key West are the last of the chain, the Dry Tortugas. These more remote islands are all either state or federal parks, and are accessible only by boat or seaplane.
Before the road, though, there was the railroad. Oil magnate Henry Flagler extended the line of his Florida East Coast Railway between 1905 and 1912 to Key Largo, and then (as the Florida Overseas Railway) all the way down the island chain to Key West. This was in the days when a railway line was regarded as an automatic guarantee of prosperity for both the railway company and the communities it served. You might still think it was a cloud-cuckooland idea, except for the fact that Key West was, at the time, the most populous city in Florida with 20,000 people -- and the closest American port to the location where the United States was building the Panama Canal.
Here's a historic photo of a train setting out on one of the bridges when the line was still very new.
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Photo published in Russia in 1915, now public domain.
Alas for fond hopes, the extension through the Keys became a perennial money loser. When large portions of the northern part of the line were devastated in the Labor Day Hurricane in 1935, the company declined to rebuild due to lack of funds, selling the remains of the line and all associated properties to the state of Florida. The original Overseas Highway was built in large part on top of the remaining piers of Flagler's line, sometimes even on top of the railway's existing bridges, and opened all the way to Key West in 1938.
More recently, all the sections of road based on the original rail trestles and piers have been rebuilt. In the photo above, you can see the old road bridges remaining atop the old piers next to the more modern road. They make good fishing piers if you can get a boat to take you out there. Even spookier is the sight of the crumbling remains of the old road deck riding on top of the steel trusses of the railway's Bahia Honda bridge.
From this picture at the bridge's west end, it's not hard to see why the structure has been severed from land access at both ends. In the 42 years since it was replaced by the modern road bridge, this relic of another age has deteriorated fearfully.
Photo credit: amazingplanet.com
One thing I can say with certainty: driving the Overseas Highway is definitely not a good idea if you are at all battle-fatigued, jet-lagged, or just plain sleep-deprived. I thought the 17-mile Howard Frankland Bridge across Tampa Bay was bad. I used to call it the Eveready Bridge because it just keeps going and going and going. Well, the Overseas Highway is the Howard Frankland Bridge writ large. There are numerous long stretches without a bend -- the Seven Mile Bridge is only the worst of the lot. There are almost no changes in elevation apart from the raised spans of some of the bridges. There aren't even any traffic signals to add variety, apart from a fair number in Key Largo, Tavernier, Islamorada, and Marathon, the four towns you pass through once you're off the mainland.
Both going and returning, I had to pull off and park, tip the seat back, and have a nap for 20 minutes before I could finish the trip, and that is a great rarity for me these days.
It's also a given that you will find yourself driving this mostly two-lane road in a procession of other traffic, always with someone somewhere in front of you going slower than you'd like. It takes patience to drive the Overseas Highway. On the stretch through the Everglades, passing is impossible.
From the first bridge to the far end of Key Largo, driving faster is still impossible, but this time it's due to the nonstop parade of businesses and intersections on Key Largo's main street, which stretches for miles along the highway -- literally. Once you drive beyond Key Largo, the volume of traffic declines a bit and a chance to pass becomes merely a matter of "the height of the unlikely," also known as "the age of miracles ain't dead yet."
Today, it's also possible to fly to Key West, although I chose driving. At one time, when I was a much younger traveller, the trip could be made in flights with one of several here-today-gone-tomorrow small airlines flying 1950s-vintage propeller aircraft.
Some of the flights in those days stopped over at another airport in Marathon, and I'm sure the brief stop was a relief from the bone-shaking roar of the radial piston engines. Marathon Airport now serves only general aviation. Today's air services to Key West are in modern, single-aisle jet aircraft with several major U.S. airlines, and fly to the major hub airports of those airlines in the eastern and central USA.
At any rate, Key West has all the shopping plazas, chain restaurants, gas stations, hotels, and other accessories that you would expect of a major American tourist destination -- but with a difference. For all practical purpose, you are here located in the tropics, even if the actual Tropic of Cancer is somewhat farther south, and the facilities and architecture reflect that fact. For instance, most of the major chain hotels I've seen, even such upmarket brands as Marriott and Hyatt, have rooms accessed from the outdoors only, with no interior corridors.
What Key West is most famous for is its historic district, located at the western end of the island and spreading out east and south from the harbour. There are a number of major resort hotels here, but even more accommodations straddling the boundary between "bed and breakfast guest house" and "boutique hotel." Which, let's face it, is an increasingly blurry boundary in this day and age.
The hotel I chose, although a chain property (Fairfield by Marriott), is actually a 1960s-vintage motor hotel with the small rooms you would expect of that era. However, the owners have done a splendid job of upgrading and improving the property. The public spaces and guest rooms alike have been thoroughly modernized, the bed is particularly comfortable, the bathroom fixtures are all new and modern, and the pool is much bigger than you would normally expect in a mid-market chain property -- with a much bigger deck area around it, too.
Really, the one thoroughly old feature left in my room is the authentic 1960s stippled plaster coating on the walls, which you can plainly see in the next picture. And I absolutely have to give the management kudos for getting ahead of the game (especially compared to many big-city hotels I've seen) with their bedtable lamps -- lots of connections, and even racks to hold your phone or tablet upright while it charges.
If you're wondering, "Why a chain property?" wonder no more. I've paid for this stay on my points and, in line with usual Marriott practice (Hilton too), if you have enough points to pay completely for four nights of reward stay, you get five nights. So, five nights in Key West for free -- I can live with it. To put it in focus, the cash rate for my dates was over US$350 per night. By the way, I have also pulled the same trick with Hilton right off Times Square in New York City -- and that stay was even more a bargain of bargains.
In the normal procedure for this brand, there is a free breakfast each morning. It's pretty basic, but it does the trick. From noon on, though, the outdoor breakfast area is enlivened by the opening of a tiki bar which sells a wide assortment of liquid refreshments, and a menu of eight or nine assorted snack items, from nachos to smoked fish dip, and chicken fingers to french fries and dip.
As is becoming more and more common, this hotel charges a daily resort fee. Unlike some places, though, this resort fee actually amounts to something worthwhile. You get 2 half-price drinks per day at the tiki bar (alcoholic or otherwise), internet, and free hourly shuttle rides (from 8:00 am to 11:00 PM) to downtown, among other things. With that two-drink incentive, I've been perfectly happy to have one of their enormous snacks as a supper, with a couple of glasses of wine. Hot nachos for $8.00, anyone?
And I have to commend the management again for assembling a friendly and thorough team of front desk clerks, housekeepers, and bar staff, one and all of whom have gone the extra mile to make my stay as enjoyable as possible.
But enough of that. Anyone who's never been here will be wondering about the destination, so here we go.
The eastern half of the island divides neatly into a northern region of malls and hotels, a central part of industrial areas, and the southern third which is the airport. The western half contains most of the city of Key West. You breathe a sigh of relief when you realize that, like any good North American city, it has a nice, orderly grid layout of streets. Then you suck that sigh of relief right back in when you actually see it.
Many of the "streets" are too narrow for two cars to pass, little more than glorified footpaths.
Then there are the streets that go only so far and then stop, for no apparent reason, forcing you to zigzag to another one to keep going in the same direction. And finally there is the chaotic situation down by the harbour where two grids intersect at 45-degree angles. Parking is at a premium everywhere, with most streets allowing parking only on one side and many of them requiring pay-to-park -- in the areas between the zones reserved for hotels, restaurants, deliveries, and residents.
The resorts in the eastern end of the island all offer included shuttle buses to downtown, and that's definitely the way to go. So, on the second full day of my stay, I took advantage of a sunny but windy and chilly morning to ride the bus into town, and then walk around.
The key focal point is Mallory Square, right on the harbour. It sits in among several resort hotels, and right next to one of the two cruise ship terminals.
On December 23, there was a ship from Carnival Cruises docked here, and on the 24th it was the uniquely-designed (= eccentric?) Celebrity Apex. Christmas Day brought another Carnival ship (see below).
Mallory Square is the site of a long-standing, nightly ritual of Key West, the sunset celebration. People from all over town gather here for music, eats, drinks, and to watch the sun setting over the Gulf of Mexico (somewhere in the general direction of Cancun at this time of year).
One key thing you are likely to notice about the architecture is that it is predominantly wood. It's not hard to see why. It would cost a sizable fortune to import brick or stone from much farther north, so there are only a few notable public buildings made of those materials -- such as the old city hall, now the home of the Chamber of Commerce...
...or this one, the old Customs House, now a major museum and art gallery.
Then there's this beauty in two-toned brick. With the help of a friend who tracked it down (thanks, Debbie), I've learned that it was the office of the Wachovia Bank when it was built in 1891. Today it houses some shops and offices.
The wooden buildings run to a variety of architectural styles, with a good deal of emphasis on broad eaves and sunscreens of one sort or another -- as would be expected in the tropics before the invention of air conditioning.
A classic example is the old house which became Harry Truman's Little White House. It required an act of Congress to authorize the President to lead the country from this remote location. In that respect, it's good to recall that long-distance telephone was at the time still a luxury item, and onerous to arrange through multiple operators, since direct-dialing beyond your local phone exchange was not yet available.
On the grounds you can see displayed Truman's official Lincoln limousine. Wouldn't I love to have a ride around town in this beauty!
The main shopping artery is Duval Street, and here you can find just the assortment of tourist-oriented shops and restaurants that you would expect in a warm-weather beach resort, but all housed in historic buildings. It can, indeed, seem downright comical to meet the contrast between History and the Present (note the name of the restaurant above the door).
Next to Duval is Whitehead Street, which is the place where U.S. Highway Number 1 begins its multi-thousand mile journey northwards to Maine -- by heading south. Go figure. The highway proper begins several blocks south of the harbour, with this distinctive marker.
Not far away is this classic piece of Art Deco, which at first seems wildly out of place -- until you remember that the Art Deco movement coincided with the first great golden age of the movies. Then you realize that the campy statue of Marilyn Monroe outside the theatre is what's really out of place and time.
Even more exotic is this former movie palace on Duval Street, now a Walgreen's drugstore.
Duval is the main -- but not the only -- shopping street, and contains a wealth of tourism-oriented shops of all kinds, as well as many restaurants.
To help you navigate, the city has these distinctive old street signs, although sometimes they are missing if all the lamp posts at an intersection have been replaced.
Another Key West sight that many tourists wish to be photographed in front of is the marker of the "Southernmost Point."
There's a double irony in the message posted on the marker, because the actual southernmost point is located about 1500 feet farther west -- and south -- in the military recreation preserve of the Naval Air Station Key West. This is the southernmost point reachable by a public road. As well, Key West can hardly be called "continental" when you stop to think of all the miles of bridges over the ocean which you had to cross to get here.
Speaking of the military, Key West has always had a strong military presence. The large fort at the island's western end, Fort (Zachary) Taylor, commands the deep-water channel into the harbour. It was originally built in the 1840s, mainly to reinforce against possible Spanish attacks. During the civil war, it was quickly seized and held throughout by the Union armies. It continued to guard the harbour until the late 1940s, and served one last active military role in the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis as the location of a radar base.
Fort Taylor is impressive but it isn't a patch on the incomplete Fort Jefferson, built in the same time period on Garden Key in the Dry Tortugas. The third-biggest fort in the United States, Fort Jefferson is the largest structure in the western hemisphere built of brick masonry -- and in such a remote location. Kind of mind-boggling. With more time in Key West, and a day that was sunny and not windy, I'd have loved to take the long catamaran ride and go out there myself. Well, another time. Here's a photo from the National Parks Service, since the Dry Tortugas are now a national park.
National Parks Service via Wikimedia Commons.
Control of the island of Key West was reinforced by several other gun batteries and smaller fortresses around the shores, including this one. It's called the Eastern Martello, but doesn't in the least resemble the other Martello towers I've seen in Canada and the United States.
Sadly, a fair part of my visit was dominated by cloudy, cool, windy weather, a by-product of the massive winter storm which wrought such havoc in the north-central and north-eastern parts of the continent. It's far from uncommon for such a major storm to affect everyone clear down into Florida -- in fact, it's happened pretty much every time I've come to Florida during the winter. That less than pleasant weather explains the lack of people on the two major beaches which I photographed: Higgs Memorial Beach with its pier, and Smathers Beach, both on the south shore.
Once you realize that Key West today is predominantly a tourist destination, it's not hard to understand why virtually all shops and restaurants in the centre of town were open for business on Christmas Day. Of course, there was another cruise ship in the harbour, Carnival Dream, shown here in the morning, sailing through the channel towards the dock.
The cruise passengers added plenty of crowding in the streets.
Since I was in the tropics, a standard turkey dinner was really the last thing on my mind. So, my Christmas dinner, which took place in a Key West seafood restaurant, was less than conventional -- but absolutely delicious. The meal began with a bowl of conch chowder, a soup which is traditionally tomato-based rather than creamy. It's also meant to be a spicy soup, although this one was milder than others I've had -- just the ticket for the cool, windy weather.
This was followed by spinach salad with a sizable addition of mango, and topped with seared yellowfin tuna, locally caught.
That leaves just one more sight, the most ubiquitous of them all. And not just as a sight, because the distinctive sound hits your ears everywhere you go as well. At times, this made me feel like I was back in the island of Kaua'i in Hawai'i.
Key West has turned out to be a fascinating destination, as well as a great place to get away from Christmas. It's got some intriguing sights, some great restaurants, some unique museums, and an unmistakable, laid-back "island vibe" which sets it apart from many of the busier and trendier parts of Florida. It's also, as the bar server mentioned, much nicer now that it's no longer a go-to destination for the rich and famous -- and I heartily second that motion after seeing the blatant excess of Fort Lauderdale. I will be back!
