I had a birthday in January. I had expected to be in China on the big day, so my original plans to throw a big wingding were put on hold in the fall and plans to travel in January commenced. Then came the big disappointment about our referral.
I decided about 3 weeks before the big day that travel was still a good idea. I was not up to trying to plan a party in such little time, and I haven't really been in a party mood since our delay in December. What to do? Go with the second plan--travel.
So Dave and I planned a 5 day escape to the Florida Keys for my birthday. I have never been to the Keys, but I remembered Florida from visits to the grandparents when I was 3 and 4. I wanted to go back and see what it was like. I also still had the snorkeling bug from Hawaii, and had heard that the Keys had some of the best coral reefs in the US.
We left another cold Chicago winter on January 24, and after a change of equipment, landed late in Miami at 2:00 am. It was like being parachuted into a different world.
Florida has changed since I was 4. Although Dave and I had opted for the ease of a domestic trip (read: we could speak English), what we found in Miami felt more foreign than American. Our first day was spent in the environs of Miami--Coral Gables in particular. We had a leisurely lunch, and provisioned up, at a gourmet deli run by Argentinians. Sitting in their outdoor cafe enjoying warm temperatures and the leisurely pace of Friday lunch as practiced by the jeans-clad hispanic young professionals crowd, Dave and I felt like we were back in Spain, or perhaps more aptly, Argentina.
Our waitress did not speak much English. Nor did the deli clerks, managers, etc. Same at the CVS pharmacy where poor Dave tried to purchase bug spray. He has picked up some decent spanish in our travels in Europe, which was, as it turned out, essential for navigating 21st century Miami. We were smitten.
From CG and environs, we drove south to Key Largo to do some snorkeling in John Pennekamp State Park, much of which lays offshore and can best be visited by boat with snorkel or scuba gear in hand. We opted for snorkeling.
We motored 30 minutes out to an offshore coral reef, along with 25 other tourists, for 2 hours of snorkeling and exploring. It was remarkable. We got up close and personal with live reef plants (animals?), including thick stands of waving antler coral and branch coral. Depths were no more than 10 feet at this site, so the reef plants were lit with dappled sun, really magical.
We encountered, and avoided, small jellyfish, groups of barricuda (they are large, toothsome, and very prehistoric looking, somewhat disconcerting when you are surrounded by a gang of them), and our very first "live and in person" sharks. I saw a nurse shark (brownish, roughly 5 feet long), and Dave saw a reef shark (dk grey, much longer). There were also many varieties of fish, although they didn't make as strong an impression (there's nothing quite like a pounding heart to let you know you're alive...).
Also discovered on this trip were the joys and comforts of a wetsuit while diving. I've found that shivering can really cramp your style when trying to follow a school of fish underwater. At Pennekamp, one can rent a "shorty" wetsuit along with the snorkel gear. Once used, I was hooked. So I now am the proud owner of my very own "shorty" (see illustration below). I plan to use it for late spring paddles on Lake Michigan and for our next sail with the Portland contingent.
We kept remarking on what a "lark" this trip was. We had no reservations, no plans, only a vague idea of what we wanted to see and do, and just a rental convertible booked ahead of time. But when life throws you a curve ball, throw one back. Something unexpected was just what we needed.
From Key Largo, we drove south along the Keys Highway, stopping in Bahia Honda State Park, with one of the Keys most beautiful beaches. Plans to do another snorkel trip from there were foiled by high seas and rain, but the ride down and the afternoon on the beach were simply beautiful. The Keys are unique to the US and in some respects, to the planet. It is an archipelago of coral islands, adjacent to the great fresh water slough of southern Florida. The area has unique flora and fauna found nowhere else. It felt expansive and exhilarating to be surrounded on both sides by sparkling salt water as far as the eye could see, roads lined with Mangroves and the occasional tall Palm. Sky and sea merged into one endless horizon. (The area is best experienced from the passenger seat of a convertible).
After an overnight stay in Key West (I would not rush back), we headed north, and with our last 2 days ahead of us, debated between more snorkeling, at Key Biscayne National Park, or a visit to the Everglades. The Everglades won out.
I visited the Everglades as a kid. I still have images of boardwalks and sleeping gators (one, maybe two). But those were summer trips, and this was winter, the dry season in the park. Water becomes scarce, and the park reduces to a small number of watering holes. And as we learned, this is where the gators go.
We entered the south entrance and drove to a site called Royal Palm, one of the largest hammocks in the park. Hammocks are small islands created by accumulated runoff soils. They become "high ground" and suitable for plants that are less water tolerant than the sedges of the Everglades' "river of grass." There, we saw dozens of alligators. Dozens.
One forgets why gators become the stuff of nightmares. They are a real throwback to prehistoric times. They are expressionless, unless caught in profile, when they appear to wear very big grins. They slither through the waterways using their tails to propel them, much like sharks and other big fish. Their legs hang by their sides, motionless.
We saw piles of gators, sunning themselves in the tall sedges. We saw gators prowling below a nest of baby Ahnzingas, a large, native bird prevalent in the park. We saw egrets and great blue herons, mindful of the near presence of a gator, hiss and scold until the gator moved on. It was quite a special experience.
Our last hours in the park were spent at outlooks in the middle of the sedge grass slough (as Dave describes it, a river miles wide and an inch deep), and visiting another hammock. We did not get through all of the ecosystems, so we will have to go back. (I wonder how many gators will be too many gators for our daughter Jenny.)
Our last evening--my official "cumpleanos"--was spent in South Beach. We had a relaxing dinner at Novecento, where a friend of my brother Anders, who is Argentine, works as a manager. We had a typical argentine dinner (beef, and lots of it), and enjoyed the company of Hernan, Anders' friend.
Our return to Chicago coincided with one of the now numerous big winter storms of the year. The two hour flight turned into eight, but we at least were fortunate enough to land in Chicago, not Indianapolis, and to benefit from the wonders of modern instrument landings. It was a dousie of a blizzard. We were also lucky to land within minutes of my brother Anders, whose own flight to Buenos Aires was one of hundreds cancelled. We took him home, much to the delight of our neglected cats.
What a lark we had, and what a memorable birthday. It may be our last spur of the moment trip for a long time. At least we hope it is.
