From sending postcards to swimming with dolphin

Wednesday 4 March
Key Largo

I am disappointed to miss the Ivey House's Mangrove Tunnel eco-adventure, (www.evergladesadventures.com) but the bonus is that I don't have to rush around first thing. The six and a half hour trip is a hefty $124, with a $25 discount if you are staying at the Ivey House. Lunch is included.
While the boarding house is certainly not luxurious, it is extremely comfortable and fastidiously clean. My room is one which surrounds the pool with ceramic floors, so I am concerned that passing traffic will mean a disturbed night. In fact, I sleep like a log, so much so that I allow myself the luxury of two cups of Typhoo before my morning shower. Hurrah again for the travel kettle!
Breakfast is a pretty substantial buffet served in an open area with large hostel-style tables, but with the tours having departed at crack of dawn, there's not a lot of folk about.
There's hardly a car on the road as I depart, but I stop a couple of times to take a few snaps.
The old road between Tampa and Miami, US41 or the Tamiami Trail, is at its best here and the drive towards Miami is extremely pleasant. I am heading along a deserted stretch, when I spy a tiny little post office to my right. I think about it for a mile or so, then curiosity gets the better of me, so I make a U turn. My Hertz NeverLost is not pleased and takes a lot of convincing that I know what I am doing. Ochopee Post Office is the smallest in the entire US. Nanette Watson, the postmaster, is busy sorting the morning mail, in time for people to start picking it up at 1030. At this busiest time of year, she will have some 1500 visitors a week, but a quarter of that out of season. She's only the third native Floridian I have met on the entire trip, coming from Chokoloskee Island. I pay $1.33 for a stamped postcard which will get a local frank I am told this is quite coveted by collectors. In my card, my mother is thus told not to throw it away!

JoNell has suggested a couple of other stops en route to the Keys. The first is The Kirby Storter Roadside Park and Boardwalk. It turns out to be an absolutely delightful mile long walk through a Cypress Forest. It's the sort of thing that Americans do terribly well and I am thrilled that I took the time to stop. The walk is utterly, utterly charming.
The second is to visit the Big Cypress Gallery, where the work of Clyde Butcher, widely regarded as one of America's greatest living photographers is on display. While his work, always in black and white, is undoubtedly hugely impressive, the prices of some of his prints are astonishing. One 3 feet by 4 feet limited edition print of a moonrise, admittedly truly wonderful, is a jaw-dropping $8275. There are other prints which cost three thousand dollars more.
Clyde Butcher turned to photography for solace after a drink driver killed his son.
I am taking in the wonder of some of his work (www.clydebutcher.com), always captured on large format cameras, when a rather noisy and overbearing guide from Everglades Day Safari comes in with a mini bus full of sardine-like tourists in tow. The spell is broken, so I pay $30 dollars for a book of Clyde's work and continue my journey east.
The journey gets pretty slow and tedious for the last 10 miles as I approach the outskirts of Miami, passing Miccouskee where the owners of a vast number of cars are hard at work losing their money in the casino.
Turning south, the road is lined with hundreds of nurseries, from where, presumably, the landscaper gardeners of Naples and beyond get their specimens. Near Homestead, I stop to marvel at the efficient way in which a team of Spanish-speaking workers strip a field of tomatoes and load them at breakneck speed into tractor-pulled trailers.
Having skirted round Miami, I join Highway 1 just south of the exit for Biscayne National Park.
A lot of road works are going on, so the journey to Key Largo averages just 45 miles an hour. But I'm in time for my first ever chance of swimming with dolphins. I join a group of six UK tourists, each of whom has paid $185 for the experience. (www.dolphinsplus.com). I am fascinated to learn that the clicking noise that dolphin make comes not from their mouths, but from an area near their blowhole. While they have stereoscopic vision like us, they can also use their eyes totally independently, so are able to keep tabs on two things at once. Kevin the instructor, is very good at explaining what to do once we are in the water and, trussed up like chickens in tight-fitting wetsuits and life vests, we are soon putting the theory into practice.
I am swimming with Nica and Elvis, two Atlantic Bottlenose Dolphin. Kevin, who's from Ohio, tells me that he'd set his sights when he was very young on a career working with animals and, after graduating, spent time with Sea World in Orlando before joining Dolphins Plus.
I feel rather like one of the subjects being trained as Kevin puts the delightful animals (and me) through my paces. I am propelled round the pool, letting Nica and Elvis nose into my feet or my outstretched hands. Their skin feels rather like tough rubber, totally smooth. The funniest bit is when I am asked to sing. Kevin tells me that the animals will respond to something rousing. So, when I belt out a chorus of 'Flower of Scotland', I am surrounded by a whole chorus of clicking animals, others swimming to join Nica, Elvis and I in the fun. Remarkable, quite astonishing and a huge privilege to have been able to do.
I will confess, though, that having to change in a toilet is not what I would expect for a fee of $185.
My home for tonight is Dove Creek Lodge (www.dovecreeklodge.com) further down Highway 1 in Key Largo.
During this trip, I have been fortunate to have stayed in and visited many wonderful properties, but none so far has had quite the wow factor as this. Maybe it's the proximity of the water and the turquoise water of the south Atlantic, but the exceptionally comfortable and stylish Dove Creek has it all.
I should really go and eat out, but I have procured a couple of wonderfully fresh tomatoes from the Mexican workers up the road and have bought some nice bread and cheese. I am glad that I brought my tiny little salt and pepper containers!

Millionaire's mansions to Everglades City

Everglades City, Tuesday 3 March

I've hardly started on the daily paper when Cathy arrives. 'What's a flannel?', she asks. I explain that Americans probably call it a facecloth. But that it could also be trousers, as in blazer and flannels. Susan, the front of house manager passes by and is fascinated. It's apparently been the talk of the office after an English couple asked if the hotel supplied them. They do.
A young Columbian waiter comes to take my order. 'Where is the restroom Camillo?', asks Cathy. He breaks into a broad smile. Apparently another guest had the same trouble as me understanding directions yesterday and both Camillo and his sister Monica, as quoted in yesterday's blog, have both seen what I have written and think it terribly funny. Cathy goes on a mission to her office while Camillo and chat away in Spanish. His family came here 12 years ago, he is hoping to visit Barcelona this year. I enjoy chatting to him, especially after he compliments me on my knowledge of his native tongue.
Cathy returns, and we discuss the Inn on Fifth's important UK market. Europeans account for a third of her client base and while there's undoubtedly a slight drop off in British enquiries, that's more than compensated for by Germans. They are coming back, she says, because they wouldn't come to the US while Bush was President.
I have a lovely mountain bike waiting for me in the hotel store, courtesy of Trek Bikes. http://trekbikesflorida.com/.This is a seriously well-built and equipped cycle, but I need a decent map to go and see how the seriously wealthy live in the Port Royal area. Tourist Information doesn't have one, so the volunteer helpfully suggests I visit a real estate firm, who'll probably be able to help.
I happen upon Raymond Bowie, who seems to be a very bright chap. His elegant card says he has an MBA and a Ph. D. Who my father used to say could be described as a clever doctor, rather than a medical one. He raises his eyebrows when I say I am cycling to Port Royal, but I am sure it's a ride of about 20 minutes or so. His colleague suggests I go to City Hall, who produce an excellent map, totally free of charge. I seem to recall I saw them in the Tourist Information office, on sale for $4.
City Hall is also selling a lady an annual beach car parking pass for $50. With an average daily charge being $8, the pass represents exceptionally good value.
Naples sidewalks are excellent for biking, except when they suddenly stop, are closed for maintenance or have nasty deep gutters, all of which happen often. But Gordon Drive has a proper cycleway and speeds me into the ultra exclusive area that is Port Royal. Hardly anyone is at home, but there are Porches and Rollers scattered about. These may well belong to the gardening contractors who are everywhere, blowing, cutting and clearing. The place is immaculate. Everywhere, there are security cameras, alarmed gates and signs warning of dire consequences if you trespass. I wonder who on earth would want to live in this goldfish bowl? The houses are sensational, often vulgar, but published statistics suggest they are used on average for only eight weeks a year.
I think I shall volunteer to be a live-in caretaker. I'd even volunteer to clean the roller.
I arrive back at the hotel, to find JoNell and Angela from the local Convention and Visitor Bureau waiting to take me to north Naples to have lunch with Suzanne Lennon, who does the PR for the Bay Shore restaurant. http://www.bayhousenaples.com/
The location is wonderful, overlooking the Cocohatchee River. Having literally come from bike saddle to restaurant, I am a bit too informally dressed. But, with the exception of my three hosts and the staff, I am also, by at least 25 years, the youngest present. There are some lovely old varnished wooden boats suspended from the roof and I muse that it would be excellent to have them in the water, with wicker basket picnics and chilled Chardonnay. I claim a commission should they ever do it.
It's an excellent meal and convivial company. I would have loved to have tried some wine, but I have to drive to Everglades City.
It doesn't take long for the urban sprawl of beatifully manicured south Naples to give way to exceptionally lovely national parkland. I stop a few times to take pictures, fill up with fuel with my new American debit card, thus avoiding paying yet more commission to Mr. Barclaycard.
My base for the night is the Ivey House, where I am booked on an early morning eco-adventure. But the people co-ordinating my programme haven't been co-ordinating with each other. I am due back from the eco tour at 2.30 and am due to be in Key Largo 15 minutes later to swim with dolphins. Unfortunately, it's a three hour drive.
So, after consulting with JoNell, the eco-tour sadly will have to go without me at 7.30am, which is a real pity, because it looks absolutely splendid.
I completely unpack the 'trunk' of my car which is in some disarray and fill my main suitcase, hoping not to have to open it again until I get home.
Everglades City seems to have completely gone to bed by 10pm, so I shall have an early night too. I have two King-sized beds in my room, so the biggest decision of the day is to choose which one.
Tough, yes?