Tag: travel

Day Four Marathon Key Thursday, January 23, 2025: Islamorada

Bill Pike2 Comments

If you’ve been following this blog, you know how it will start. Yes, Bill was again up early. Apparently, sleeping-in isn’t in his body’s metabolism.

Another gray, cloudy, windy, unseasonably cool day was awake and waiting for me.

Gray, overcast, cool, breezy morning (Photo Bill Pike)

This morning, I took the short trek to the boardwalk and cove to fish. A different lure dangled from the end of the line.

Overnight, the stubborn winds had pushed lots of seaweed into the cove. Occasionally, the hook on the lure would pick up pieces of this grass.

On a daily basis, the ground crew works to remove the seaweed that washes up on the shoreline. We’ve noted in exploring Marathon Key that when the seaweed clusters up in tight quarters, it can create an unpleasant stench.

If there are any fish hanging around in this cove, they are opting to ignore my efforts to attract one, and that’s ok. When my fishing is unsuccessful, I turn my attention to the surroundings from where I’m casting. Even gray mornings are pretty on this coastline.

After several more minutes no nibbles, I head back to the condo.

Now, I’m going to change into my running clothes and go for a run along U. S. 1 heading toward Seven Mile Bridge.

When I’m out of town, and I go for a run, I try to remember to write down the address for where we are staying. I put that scrap of paper with me on the run. If something were to go wrong with my health, at least the responders would know where to find my family and friends, and dump my old body.

Luckily this morning, my run was uneventful. I ran to the 0.5 mile marker on the Old Seven Mile Bridge. Originally, this bridge was a part of the railroad that Henry Flagler built.

Today, the modern Seven Mile Bridge runs parallel to the old bridge. The old bridge goes for two miles. The bridge is ideal for bikers, runners, and walkers. It views are spectacular in any direction with sunset being its prime.

Overseas Highway on the left, laned pedestrian bridge opposite (Photo Bill Pike)

At the end of the two miles is Pigeon Key. At the beginning of the bridge there is a very nice connector that runs under the new Seven Mile Bridge to the Castaway restaurant.

Additionally there is a paved trail that runs parallel to U. S. 1. On the Gulf of Mexico side, this trail is a good access point for fishermen. Its small park appearance also has some picnic tables.

After my run, I have a light breakfast, shower, and get ready for our ride to Islamorada.

Dan won’t make this trip, as he has some work calls that could not be rescheduled.

According to various sources, Islamorada consists of five keys. Distance wise in the Keys, the village lies between Miami and Key West. Its name in Spanish translates to “purple island.”

For many years, former major league baseball star, Ted Williams, made his home in Islamorada. He loved the area for its fishing.

The Morada Way Arts and Cultural District is a nice shopping area in Islamorada.

Our first stop on this jaunt is the Green Turtle Inn Restaurant.

If you are in Islamorada, I would not turn down a meal at the Green Turtle Inn. I can only speak for our lunch time experience, but I would go back for The Bacon Wrapped Love Sandwich and a side of collards.

This is a meatloaf sandwich on a Brioche bun with Applewood smoked bacon, a meatloaf glaze, topped off with lettuce, tomato, and a slab of red onion.

On the menu, the restaurant notes this sandwich is a favorite of celebrity chef, Guy Fieri. After eating this sandwich, I understand his sentiment.

The collards were just as good. Tender, full of flavor, and cooked in a pot liquor that had me going for every last drop in my bowl.

And I also enjoyed from the Florida Keys Brewing Company their German styled Kolsch beer named Iguana Bait.

My college roommate, Butch, who has wonderful culinary skills, and a much more sophisticated palate, ordered the same meal and loved ever bite.

The ladies at our table enjoyed their lunch choices as well. Before we left, we ordered a whole Key Lime pie to go.

Back in the car, we drove to our next destination, Theater of the Sea.

A family owned and run business since 1946, Theater of the Sea offers a variety of demonstrations and learning opportunities featuring sea life, reptiles, and mammals. Sea lions, sea turtles, dolphins, sharks, stingrays, alligators, and parrots are among the entertainers.

Don’t relax around this lethargic looking gator (Photo Betsy Pike)

On the nicely landscaped tropical grounds, guests move to assorted locations in the park. In each space, a captive audience appreciates the trainers as they direct the stars of each show through their scripted routines. Even on this partly sunny, cool, windy afternoon, the trainers were friendly, knowledgeable, and patient.

Most impressive were the dolphins. Gentle, yet quick and powerful, the dolphins and their very agile trainer put on quite a show.

Back in the car, we made a stop at the Publix in Islamorada. Then, we drove back to Tranquility Bay.

For dinner that night, we had an assortment of light snacks, and the Key Lime Pie from the Green Turtle Inn.


The pie was delicious. We noticed the crust was different from the usual Key Lime pie crust.

After our trip, I followed up with the kind folks at the Green Turtle Inn about the crust. I learned the crust is a combination of crushed macadamia nuts and Rice Krispies cereal. Jenn who responded to my question pointed out that crust is gluten free.

Thursday showed us that our “creative flexibility” could nudge us to have fun on an imperfect day of weather.

Without question, we had a good day.

Day Three Marathon Key Wednesday, January 22, 2025: flexibility

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I was up early on Wednesday morning.

Downstairs at the dining room table, my usual routine took place.

I skim the Bible verse of the day from Bible Gateway. My prayer script/prayer lists traveled with me as did the Upper Room.

I honestly don’t know if my prayers make a difference. Some days, I ask myself—why do you keep this regimen?

My answer is my old heart. Its softness will not let me cease this daily ritual.

Besides someone must keep poking at God before this rotten old world wears us out. I hope, and yes, I pray we wake up.

Slowly, the house wakes. Butch and Dan are early risers, but not as early as me.

That quietness in the early morning is like my comfort zone. I cherish those minutes.

This morning, the landscape is gray at Tranquility Bay on Marathon Key, Florida.

Much cooler air is in place. Gray clouds block the sun. Blustery winds ripple through the palm trees.

Dressed in shorts and layers above my waist, I make sure I have everything I need to make the short stroll to the sandy path that leads to a boardwalk.

At the edge of the boardwalk is a small cove. The cove is fed by a restless channel with water from the Gulf of Mexico.


This conduit is not wide and probably not very deep. Yet, I’m hoping the rip it creates might send fish into the cove

In prepping to leave Richmond, I thought I had packed three small fishing rods in my new carrying case. In the hectic atmosphere of packing, I brought three reels, but with my moony mind I only packed two rods.

This morning, the lure I was casting worked well. Sometimes, the wind caught the lure and carried it further into the cove. Fortunately, my casts were accurate, and the lure skimmed across the water.

On a point across the channel, I noticed what appeared to be a night heron. This bird had been keeping a watchful eye on me.

Can you spot the heron? (Photo Bill Pike)

The heron’s posture reminded me of commuters standing on the subzero shoulders of a Chicago street corner. The bird’s hunched stance aligned it with the uncomfortable commuters on this unseasonably cool Florida morning.

Overhead, pelicans glided with the stiff wind, and a couple of seagulls teased my lure by diving down for a closer look.

While I enjoyed my hopeful casting, no fish was foolish enough to chase the lure on this chilly morning.

As I walked back to the condo, I hoped Butch would fix a pot of his rib sticking oatmeal. He did, and the winter intrusion I felt while fishing was melted by the hearty oatmeal.

While eating breakfast, we noted some activity out on the lawn. Turns out a photo shoot was taking place on the grounds today. Models were wearing summer clothing to promote a fashion line. It was interesting to note all of the preparation taking place behind the camera to capture just the right photo.

After breakfast, Butch and Marian took the short walk to a store on our side of U.S. 1 named Mr. Beans Books and Beans. It is a bookstore and coffee shop. They browsed around and asked the owner about local restaurant recommendations. He told them about Burdines.

As lunch time approached, we piled in the car and made the short drive to Burdines. In this industrial looking section of Marathon, we found a place to park.

At the top of the stairs, we entered Burdines to find a nice, but open to the elements restaurant. The breeze whipping into the seating area was too cool for our aging bodies who were looking for warm Florida weather, so we departed.

Back in the car, in the same neighborhood, we found another tucked away restaurant, Castaway Water Front Restaurant and Sushi Bar. The good news was the main sitting area was inside, protected from the unfriendly chilly wind and gray clouds.

We hustled in where we were greeted by a friendly staff. With our lunches ordered, we admired the cluttered, but interesting interior. Additionally, we learned that on warm days manatees show up in the waters just off the dock of Castaway.

After lunch, we did a bit more exploring, and then we drove back to Tranquil Harbor.

The rest of the afternoon was quiet. Yet some comparative chatter did surface about the three restaurants where we had eaten. Our comments noted what worked and didn’t work in each unique setting.

Gradually, the afternoon slipped away. Before we knew it, we needed to figure out dinner. Once again the winter like feel in Marathon pushed us to order pizza. An order was placed at Driftwood Pizza.

Though it took Butch and me a second call to our braintrust to verify the location, we were not disappointed in the pizzas.

Toward the end of dinner, we were given in depth insights about the need for airplanes to be de-iced in harsh winter weather. Our resident private pilot, Dan, knew the technology and science behind how important it is to keep airplane wings ice free. The ingenuity of how engineers design these safety systems varies in each airplane, but getting this snapshot was fascinating.

Since we are all older, health is another topic that surfaces into our conversations. Again, we learn from each other’s experiences in coping with the ups and downs of aging.

Before drifting off into sleep, we reviewed the weather forecast. Not until Saturday would the sun fully return, so we worked on a plan for the next two days.

Unwilling to let the weather hinder us, we made alternative suggestions to counter the weathers gods for Thursday and Friday.

In our over fifty years of friendship, I’ve developed an appreciation for how we ponder and respond to the inconveniences of life. I’m reminded of Dan’s important aviation wisdom for emergency situations—aviate, navigate, and communicate.

Figuring out a plan for Thursday and Friday, required us to aviate—keep flying the plane, or in this case keep the focus on our trip—keep it moving.

For the pilot, navigate means know your location. The same applies to us in planning. We need to know the options that will be available for us in the Florida Keys.

And with communicate, the pilot talks with the people who are monitoring his flying. Knowing our local options for tourists helps us to communicate what will best meet our needs and get us moving in this non-typical Florida weather.

Of course, in this planning for two days of sightseeing, it helps to be flexible.

I like this quote from former Xerox CEO, Anne M. Mulcahy: “Even under the most difficult circumstances you can have creative flexibility.”

Granted our inclement Florida Keys weather wasn’t a trip ender, but this nuisance did require us to assert our “creative flexibility” and we did.

Day Two Marathon Key: exploring

Bill Pike1 Comment

Day Two Marathon Key Tuesday, January 21, 2025

Well, after our day of travel, we slept. Some longer than others, but we slept.

My internal alarm clock had me up by 4:30, but I did sleep.

It was a quiet start.

Before breakfast, Butch and I explored the grounds of Tranquility Bay. We came upon an egret in the high grass who was possibly stalking for breakfast too.

Egret in the tall grass (Photo Bill Pike)

After breakfast, we piled into the car.

We drove toward Seven Mile Bridge.

We quickly discovered that the bridge is seven miles long. Once you are on the bridge, there is no getting off until you reach the other side. I think when we reached Veteran’s Beach, we were able to turn around and head back to Marathon.

Back on Marathon Key, we were curious to check out Sandals. This was a store that we had seen constantly along U.S. 1 on our drive into Marathon.

Turns out that Sandals is a beach store. It is not unlike the Wings stores that we find on every other corner in various beach towns along the mid-Atlantic coast.

After Sandals, we made a grocery store stop at Winn-Dixie, a chain that I remember from growing up in North Carolina. They were a Florida based chain. With all of the changes and challenges in the grocery store landscape, I was surprised to see that they continues to live.

Lunch time was approaching. We decided on the Sunset Grill. This open air restaurant sits at the foot of the Seven Mile Bridge. The restaurant is properly named as it is the ideal location to watch a sunset.

I ordered conch chowder and a blackened fish sandwich. It was interesting to note the differences in the conch chowder from my similar order on Monday at High Tide in Key Largo. This version was much sweeter and featured less vegetables in the mix.

After lunch, we were in pursuit of shrimp for dinner and bait for fishing. We found both.

The clerk at the bait shop directed us to a water front seafood market where we purchased three pounds of fresh caught shrimp for our dinner. Bubba and Forrest would have been pleased.

For the remainder of the afternoon, we took advantage of the sunshine and comfortable temperatures.

At the heated, saltwater pool, Dan tried out the snorkeling gear that he brought with him. He was prepping for swims in the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean to view sea life.

Dan in the pool (Photo Bill Pike)

At guest services in the lobby, we picked up golf balls and putters to test our green reading ability and patience on the synthetic putting greens in the open space in front of our unit. Additionally, we reserved three bicycles for a ride back down to the Seven Mile Bridge.

After the putting practice and bike rides, I put together the fishing rods and set them up to use on Wednesday morning. My non-resident fishing license issued by the state of Florida was only good for seven days, so I wanted to try my luck and not waste my pennies.

As we pushed toward dinner with our shrimp, a few of us ambled toward the water in search of a sunset.

Toward the end of day two (Photo Bill Pike)

Thanks to gray clouds, the sinking sun was obscured, but I did capture our brides who are the braintrust for this trip.

The brains of our outfit (Photo Bill Pike)

Prepared by Butch and Marian, our shrimp dinner was delicious, and it was topped off by a Florida favorite—Key Lime Pie.

Our post-dinner entertainment was organized by Marian. We participated in an assortment of games that made us think a bit, but that also generated humorous commentary.

Soon sleep was calling, and we talked about our thoughts for Wednesday.

Turns out that cold air we left back home was going to find its way into the Florida Keys.

Whatever disappointment the gray clouds, sparse sun, and stiff winds would bring, I needed to remember it was much colder back in Richmond.

But beyond the weather, I’m also reminded to be thankful for this opportunity to get away.

And I must always keep in front of me this fact—some people from the day they are born until they make the leap to heaven never have the opportunity to get away.

And maybe there is no better way to ponder this by referencing a song written by John Lennon.

On his 1980 album, Double Fantasy, Lennon’s song, “Beautiful Boy(Darling Boy)” is about his son, Sean.

In the song, Lennon used this quote from Allen Saunders: “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

Amen.

Corporate brewers must learn that loyalty matters

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WISCONSIN STATE JOURNAL


Opinion/letters


LETTER TO THE EDITOR


I’ve never been to Chippewa Falls, but I have an appreciation for the beers brewed by Leinenkugel brewers. For me in Virginia, that appreciation never would have occurred without distribution of Leinenkugel beers initially by Miller, and more recently by Molson Coors.

Truthfully, I’m not surprised by the dumping of Leinenkugel’s original brewery by Molson Coors. Big breweries are focused on two goals — surviving and earning a profit.


When big brewers figured out that the craft-beer explosion was chipping into their sales, the big guys responded by purchasing successful craft breweries.


Not all of these acquisitions were successful.


Leinenkugel loyalists might find interest in learning the story of San Francisco’s iconic Anchor Steam Brewery. A few years after being purchased by the huge Japanese brewer, Sapporo, Anchor Steam historic brewery was closed.


Unfortunately, I don’t believe this will be the end of brewery closings in America. Investors, no matter if they are vested in a craft or behemoth brewery, desire to make a profit. For Leinenkugel, I hope there is a solution.


But what I really hope is that Molson Coors executives have learned a valuable lesson from the brewery in Chippewa Falls — loyalty still matters.


Bill Pike, Richmond, Virginia


From the author: Friends, I’m honored that my letter to the editor about the closing of the Leinenkugel Brewery was published in the Sunday, January 26, 2025 edition of the Wisconsin State Journal.

Photo by Bill Pike

Richmond to Miami: “de-icing”

Bill Pike2 Comments

Internally, all I could think about was getting to January 20, 2025 in good shape. That was the launch date for our trip.

After months of planning and fine tuning, our departure morning was finally here.

My body’s alarm clock woke me at 3 a.m.

By four the Commander Supreme was awake.

Prior to 4:30, the house’s thermostats had been properly set.

With the approaching bitter Arctic air, one bathroom sink faucet was left dripping.

Our iced over car was warming up.


Each piece of luggage was accounted for more than once. Phones, wallets, IDs, glasses, once last bladder stop, and we were departing.

The drive to the Richmond airport was quiet.

Up in Highland, Maryland and down in Greensboro, North Carolina similar logistics were in motion from our college friends the Callows and Sherrills.

If the travel gods properly collaborated, by late mid-morning, we would meet in the Miami airport.

At the extended stay parking lot, a nice young man with his warm van got us loaded up. Our reliable car would sit for two weeks. I pray it will start upon our return.

I was surprised at how many cars were dropping off groggy travelers for departing flights at this early hour.

We were flying American Airlines.

At the American kiosks and check-in counter, there were already lines. I hoped we survived the craziness of navigating this confusing maze.

Whine #1, whoever designed the kiosk area did not take into consideration edgy, sleep deprived travelers toting bulky luggage. No matter how we moved, we bumped or nudged other travelers.

Whine #2, the check-in counter was understaffed.

To counter the whining, I, Whining William, have stated at least 479,958 times: airlines should hire elementary school teachers to handle the logistics for checking-in, boarding, and unloading airline passengers.

We cleared security with our TSA Pre-check with no hitches.

At our gate, lines had formed for loading the plane.

When my ticket was scanned, the agent suggested that I ask a flight attendant to store my fishing rod case. She recommended a special storage compartment used by the flight crew.

That was a good tip. As we stepped on the plane, the flight attendant who greeted us graciously stored the case.

We found our seats, and we were granted a rarity in air travel—the middle seat was empty.

Soon, we were ready for departure.

Via the PA system the Captain greeted us. He described the Miami weather, our estimated flying time, and informed us about the amount of fuel we would burn as we flew south.

Our departure time was 6:15. We were on schedule.

Then the Captain came back on the PA. He informed us that because of the cold overnight temperatures the plane would need to be de-iced.

Starting the de-icing in Richmond (Photo Bill Pike)

Internally, I grumbled, but I understood the reasoning—safety.

By seven, we were zooming down the runway.

From my window seat, I could feel the pilot turn the plane east. With that turn we started winging our way toward Miami.

As we worked our way down the coastline, I was treated to pretty views of rivers flowing through coastal plains. The rising sun cast golden hues on the sleepy bays and sounds.

Coastal plain along the Atlantic Coast (Photo Bill Pike)

River water turned brackish at this point of entry, and soon the dominance of the ocean fed sound consumed any traces of the river.

Gradually, we stopped hugging the coastal plan. It disappeared.

The Atlantic Ocean was its replacement. At some point the ocean vanished. A blanket of clouds covered the ocean’s dark gray.

I think the pilots burned extra fuel trying to make up time in the air for our late departure out of Richmond.

This morning, I absolutely despised the descent into Miami. Part of that scorn comes from my aging impatience—land this big bird.

The plane’s engines kept plodding us through an impenetrable cloud layer that was the color of cold gray ashes.

The choppiness made for an uneven ride until we broke through the cloud cover.

We caught glimpses of Miami as the 737-09/21 revision drifted down to a rainy runway.

Finally, we were on the ground.

I am convinced that a slug can beat a commercial jet to the gate where the jet is to be parked for unloading. This morning, getting to that gate was slowed even more by an unattended fuel truck that was parked in our space.


The plane temporarily parked on the tarmac until the absentminded driver could be located.

That stall for the fuel truck set off an urgent rush of bladders to the plane’s restrooms. The chief flight attendant wasn’t happy with this chaos. I was one of the last minute dashers.

Several minutes passed, but finally, the plane inched to the gate. I could imagine the smirking slug helping to guide the plane to the jetway connection.

Whine #3, since the plane was late in arriving, many passengers needed to make connections. Instead of the crew apologizing profusely, why not ask the passengers who had no urgency to make a connection to remain seated so that those panicked passengers could depart.

My fishing rod case was waiting for me to grab as we made our way off the plane. Now, we started to navigate the Miami airport.

Our North Carolina friends had texted us that they had landed.

We followed the posted signage to the luggage area, and eventually we found the Sherrills. Our suitcases showed up. We organized and found a place to sit.

For a little over an hour, we chatted and waited for our Maryland pals to arrive. Eventually, the travel gods sent them to us.

With the Callows present, we started our journey to the car rental area.

Dragging luggage and following signs, we found our way to the monorail that would take us to the terminal for car rentals.

Luckily, Dan’s pre-planning for securing a vehicle worked.

With a few more steps, the towing of ourselves and the luggage came to a stop, we found the SUV.

The next several minutes was like a Marx Brothers’ movie.

We loaded, unloaded, and rearranged bags based upon size. Some bags were relocated into any open space in the seating area. After lots of squeezing and repositioning, the trunk door safely latched.

Our driver, Dan, and navigator, Butch, got their bearings and their devices isync, and we cautiously crept out of the parking lot.

It took us two attempts to exit the airport’s grounds, but we did.

We were headed south towards Key Largo. There we would stop for lunch.

As we drove and took in the ever changing landscape, we chatted, made our “are we there yet” comments, gave back seat driver advice to the driver and navigator, but most importantly we laughed.

Nearing Key Largo, there was a mad search to find a restaurant.

We settled upon High Tide.

In business for three years, its appearance was deceiving, but its food wasn’t.

Nourished, we piled back into the SUV.

The push to Marathon Key was a determined one as our driver and navigator smoothly adjusted to the whims of other drivers and US 1, the Overseas Highway.

Eventually, we edged into Marathon Key, found our destination, and were greeted at the check-in desk by the staff at Tranquility Bay.

At unit #60, we parked, pried out the passengers in the very back, and unloaded all that junk we had toted from Maryland, North Carolina, and Virginia.

For a few minutes, we organized ourselves inside. Next, we finalized a grocery list, and Judy, Butch, and I set out to find the Publix we had passed earlier.

After the run to the grocery store, everyone helped to unload the groceries. When the groceries were properly stored, our early wake up times caught up to us.

We were ready to collapse.

Before giving up to sleep, we chatted a bit more.

That chatter was focused on Tuesday.

Tuesday was to be our orientation day about our temporary home in Marathon Key, Florida, at Tranquility Bay in Unit 60.

We all knew that Friday, January 31 would be upon us in a blink. We didn’t want to waste a minute of being away from our homes.

A few weeks ago at Trinity UMC, I asked an exhausted church member how she was doing in providing care for her husband following his second surgery.

Quite honestly, she stated, “I need to get on plane.” Perhaps with a twinge of guilt, she quickly and lovingly retracted her statement. I understood her feeling.

I hope I never lose sight of how lucky I was this morning to get on a plane.

Gratefulness for that luck includes having a wife who tolerates me, the loyalty of these college friends and their wives who will barely endure my bad habits for two weeks, and the indispensable wit and wisdom of their cherished humor which always rejuvenates my needy and weary soul.

Also, included in that appreciation is the good Lord, who for lots of unknown reasons has continued to keep me vertical.