Hasta Luego Key West

Ambrosia Guest House, Key West
Sunday morning

I am actually a bit down this morning. First impressions of Key West were awful, but people have been so kind and generous that I, for sure, have a lump in my throat as I pack my final bits and pieces before I head north. My emotional state is not helped by a lovely email I have just received from Captain Victoria, an extract of which is below and that Ben at reception has just told me that Susan has very kindly left me a jar of her yummy 'Lemon Love', which is lemon curd with lemons from Neal and Susan's home in Orlando. I feel very humbled to have been welcomed so readily into this community.

You are an absolute hoot of a character and I am so glad to have met you. I look forward to your return and a lifetime of following you around the world in pictures. I am so thankful that you finally found "Hidden Florida". Big Hugs V

Paradise Discovered at the Purple Island

Moorings Village, Islamorada, Sunday night

I am not sure whether I simply beat the traffic on Highway One, but the journey north was a lot more pleasant than the journey south. It was a weird feeling though going over the Boca Chica bridge, under which, 24 hours previously, Captain Victoria had her 'crew' making wolf calls while the imp II whizzed along at 50 knots.
Apart from being stuck behind a mail trunker for too many miles to be fun, the journey to Islamorada was actually not as bad as I had feared. I had set my iPod to 'shuffle' mode, which produced an interesting mix. From an episode of Paul Temple to my favourite song from the Disney film of the Jungle Book, 'The Bare Necessities'. Eclectic, yes?
I just have to stop at Annie's Beach, where kite surfers were making amazing patterns in the sky as they whizzed along in the strong breeze.
I have to take my life into my hands to cross the dreaded Highway 1 for my first appointment. It is at Robbie's Marina where, in warm weather, the large tarpon fish literally jump out of the water to take food. But the water is comparatively cold, so the spectacle is a bit of a damp squib. Even worse, something has gone wrong in the planning and Captain Michael is not expecting me for a 1200 boat trip. When I tell the man selling tickets that I am a journalist, he tells me that 'photographs are not allowed for commercial purposes'.
Eventually Annie, Michael's wife is produced. She tells me that the boat is 'a party boat' for 50 people that will be departing at 2pm for a four hour trip. But my name is not on the list and my contact, Mark, is off till Tuesday.
Four hours fishing on a party boat? I think not!
Luckily, my bacon is saved, because, anticipating just a short boat trip, not a four hour drinking binge, I had organised an early check in at Moorings Village, just four miles further north.
I am lucky to have been to some of the world's greatest hotels and resorts, the Orient Express's Napasai on Samui Island in Thailand being among my very special favourites. Well Moorings is up there , and maybe beyond. Apart from the previous occupant's kirby grips being left on the shelf above the bath, this resort is perfection in every way. The sand is raked, there's not a sound apart from the wind through the trees and the superbly equipped 18 villas and cottages are set amongst lush coconut groves within a few steps of a perfect white beach. Of all the places I have stayed on this trip, this is the one I would choose for a week of total relaxation. I would stock up with groceries at the supermarket and not move until it was time to return to Miami. The $450 a night you would pay for the Orchid House, off season, is to me, a small price to pay for a resort which prides itself in peace and quiet. I am in absolute heaven.
Thomas Gibson, the Moorings' guest services manager has made my reservation for dinner and looks slightly surprised when he spies me heading off on a beach reconnaissance mission. For the first time in my life, I have been completely oblivious of the clocks going forward and far from having 90 minutes to potter about, I am due to dine in only half an hour!
I have been invited to Pierre's restaurant, which I have been told is 'across the road from the Moorings'. I have envisaged it being just a few steps from the villa, but no, it's across that bloody awful Highway 1 and I literally have to take my life in my hands getting to the eating venue. Very scary on foot.
Pierre's is only open for dinner and is a very seriously 'Fine Dining' restaurant. Thomas has advised me to wear something 'Keys casual' which seems to mean longs and a sports shirt. The table next to me is taken by a couple in their 20's, the lady very smartly turned out and beautifully made up, the man, unshaven in jeans, t shirt and sandals. It's the Keys I guess.
The wine list includes a Chateau Latour 1986 or a 1995 Margaux, both priced at $1200, which I think my hosts might not appreciate me choosing, so have a very acceptable glass of Chilean cabernet for $7.
I choose the $22 pan-seared foie gras and the Australian rack of lamb, on the menu at $38. Both are excellent but, with French fusion being the style of the restaurant, the portions are unusually small for this part of the world.
The young waitress suggests a dessert wine with my foie gras. I remember Jilly Goolden telling me years ago that good sommeliers should first ask what suits your palate before masking any suggestions. But, after bringing me the wine list so I could see what was available, the girl disappeared, never to be seen again.
The young man at the next door table was, like me, taking photos of the beautiful sunset, so I lend him my tripod. We chat for quite a while. Zak is in finance in New York, while his girlfriend, Heather, is in fashion. They are both from Philadelphia, a historic city I really must visit. I don't have the heart to suggest to Heather that she should get her boyfriend to dress rather smarter to take her out to dinner!
There's a full moon party on the beach in front of the restaurant this evening, but it's past my bedtime and I finish my meal before the fun and games starts. There are some seriously beefy black-clad security men skulking about, which always makes me uneasy. I can never understand why such classy places need to recruit security staff who are quite so intimidating.
I'm delighted that the local police have set up a street-crossing patrol and take advantage of it. I mention to the cop that Highway 1 is a seriously dangerous road. 'Yup', is the monosyllabic reply.
The full moon lights my way home to my wonderful villa. I shall write this, upload my photos and then go for a walk on the beach. I never do that at home which perhaps says just how special the Moorings (www.themooringsvillage.com) really is.

'Hidden Florida' at last and an induction into the Conch Republic Navy

Key West
Saturday Night

After last night's splendid dinner with Finnbar and Julie, I wake as refreshed as I have in three weeks of travelling. But I don't have a long time to linger. Neal and Susan from next door are picking me up to go on a boat trip which promises much. So, there's not much time to enjoy the excellent breakfast at the Ambrosia before the appointed hour. But Susan is taking time over her hair, which benefits Amy the Ambrosia cat, who I am planning to catnap if nobody is looking. But while Amy dutifully purrs while Ben at reception chats to Neal, it's quite clear that our relationship is going nowhere.
I've checked out Captain Victoria Impallomeni's website (www.captainvictoria.com) and I am a little bit sceptical. Coming from a seafaring family, Floridian Vicky has salt water coursing through her veins. But I've done so much eco tourism stuff recently, that I have had a long chat with her beforehand to ensure we'll both get something out of the day. As Neal drives, Susan works out how best to pin her hair back for the boat trip.
Vicky has invited two couples to join myself and Art, her partner, on the trip from Murray's Marina, five miles north of Key West. With a 200 horsepower engine, the Imp II speeds through the turquoise water at an impressive fifty miles an hour. I'm impressed at how the Captain steers the boat expertly through some pretty narrow and shallow channels while Art, another salty sea-dog, regales the passengers with some pretty incredible local seafarers' tales.
It's when we get to Boca Grande, an island 12 miles from Key West, that i realise that my search for the 'Hidden Florida' has finally been realised. We've only been nosed into a channel into a mangrove swamp for moments when Vicky spots a Mangrove snappeer fish who has got his head trapped in the tree roots. She lifts him out and he swims away, none the worse for his ordeal.
Vicky leads us on a wonderful walk along the beach. Susan is collecting 'treasure' and we all end up carrying bags stuffed full of shells, seaweed and assorted pretty objects.
Vicky's knowledge of the flora and fauna is truly astonishing. she just appears not only to know the answers but importantly, why things are as they are.
But she keeps his party trick for our return trip. She stops the boat and, with the motor which raises the outboard engine, makes a few low frequency sounds which are carried into the water. Within moments, a pod of Dolphin come to say hello. Vicky even has special marine loudspeakers mounted into the hull and plays music that she believes can attract the dolphin to her boat.
It's a truly special day. Boca Grande is spectacular and it's been a real privilege to have been taken there. But it's been pretty windy travelling at high speed and Susan's hair is a mess.
But there's another big surprise. Finnbar, the First Sea Lord of the Conch Republic Navy, has decided that I am to be inducted into the force as a Captain, as a flotilla commander, and as an envoy to the Spanish Navy. A ceremony is held on the dockside next door to the flagship in which I have to swear allegiance. After 38 years full time service with the Royal Navy and Reserve, it's a fitting extension to my long association with the sea. As a bonus, Susan's agreed to be my mate and I have agreed to make no more jokes about her hair.
We adjourn to the Hogfish, a local Stock Island hostelry (another little 'Hidden Florida' gem) for drinks and a celebration lunch, there's just time for a quick swim back at the Ambrosia before sunset at Mallory Square.
As I drove into Key West, I really did wonder why I was spending three nights here. The approaches are gaudy and run down, Highway One is no fun at all.
But now I don't want to go. Yes, there are parts of Duval Street which are tourist tat at their absolute worst.
But the locals have bent over backwards to really help me discover that there is a lot more to the area than that image presents.
It's been a rare insight into the people and the place and it's been truly special.
Now I'm part of the fleet command structure, they want me back for the Pirates in Paradise Festival in the Autumn and something else in the Spring.
Now THAT's a welcome.

Chilling at Key West

Key West
Friday March 6

I have a wonderful night's sleep at the Ambrosia and am greatly refreshed by the cool air on my terrace at 6am, aided and abetted by a lovely cup of Typhoo.
There is, of course, not a soul about and, with breakfast still three hours away, I pile into the mountain of brochures I have already accumulated and plan the day ahead.
By the time breakfast is out in the gazebo below, I have a pretty good grasp of the day in front of me, rather different from the originally-planned itinerary.
Not being a fan of driving, I have decided to leave the car parked where it is until Sunday and spend my day trying to really get a feel of Key West. I am supposed to drive 30 miles north, but after yesterday, am going nowhere except on the saddle of my bike.
Breakfast is, by some distance, the best I have had, since Apalachicola. The variety is hugely impressive, from wonderfully fresh fruit to excellent tasty breads and pastries. It's impressive, but then everything at the Ambrosia is. It's well run with particular attention to detail, while the level of equipment and thought that has gone into your room is truly amazing. I've even found books to read, never mind the tea and coffee making machine, microwave and fridge. My travel kettle is temporarily redundant!
After breakfast, my US mobile telephone starts to ring. Julie has clearly been busy and all sorts of local folk are buying into the 'Hidden Florida' agenda.
My first port of call is to the Fort Zachary Taylor historic State Park. (www.fortzacharytaylor.com and www.forttaylor.org). I am honoured that my guide has come in on his day off to see me, but also that he is a General in the Conch Republic Army. I am anxious that Harry Smid will be in his full dress uniform, but today he's in Key West relaxed kit of shorts and t-shirt.
Begun in 1845, to guard the entrance to the harbour against the British, French and Spanish, it remained under federal control during the American Civil War and was in use for almost a hundred years. I remark upon the similarity to European firsts but am told by the General that a French architect, Simon Bernard, had been recruited after Waterloo.
There are some amazing cannon, including an 1865 Parrott rifle, which could propel a 300 pound shot between 4 and 5 miles.
In a later phase, the fort was equipped with 145 cannon and when it was decommissioned, to save time and money, the weaponry was simply buried deep in the walls, where most remain to this day. Once a year, a volunteer brings some special equipment, which finds more and more hidden deep in the concrete.
The General needs to attend to some important Conch Republic duties, so I am left to explore on my own. I stumble into an area that I thought was public, but is clearly not. The supposedly peace-loving Republic has a huge stash of cannon and other live munitions. I feel honour-bound to report it now, in case the Republic does decide to declare war on the mighty USA to the north. I just hope that the CIA, the Conch Intelligence Agency, does not read this.
At my time of visit is an excellent sculpture trail. On the beach, widely regarded by locals as the finest in Key West, I spot an amazing mirror sculpture. A passing seagull is just as fascinated as I am. He struts back and forth wondering why another gull is starting back at him.
At the Eco-Discovery Centre, I meet with Craig Wanous. This excellent centre, built at a cost of $6.5 million only two years ago, does a really good job of interpreting the offshore wildlife habitat. There's a nice introductory video, except that the director clearly has an eye for the ladies and concentrates on the female swimmer almost as much as the fish and plant life.
Craig tells me that they are already up to 30,000 annual visitors. I am not surprised, the exhibits are very well presented, with a lot to interest both adults and youngsters alike.
Nearby is the USS Mohawk, a former WWII coastguard cutter. (www.ussmohawk.org). Fritz Zivic shows me around. Mohawk was rescued from a scrapyard in a totally dilapidated state. But piece by piece, a loyal band of volunteers are bringing her back to life. It's a costly business. Just towing her to Key West cost $60,000. The Captain's sea cabin has been converted into a rather bijou three-berth room to let, although there's a lot of work still needing to be done to the bathroom area to make it ready for paying guests. I am fascinated by some of the memorabilia they have amassed, including a lot about the ship's dog, Ricky, who seems to have been quite a character. Apparently Ricky did not like the Captain and was prone to biting him!
As I cycle towards the waterfront to catch a better view of the two enormous cruise liners that are in port, I discover the Truman Annex complex. Used for guests of the then President, this is a charming sand beautifully-maintained area, some of which now available for rentals. www.compass-realty.com.
I've steered clear of the Mallory Park area until now because of the visit of the huge cruise liners, Carnival Destiny and Celebrity Century. Between the two, some five and a half thousand passengers will have been allowed ashore.
As I watch the two leviathan liners prepare to leave port, I get chatting to a young American, Ben MacMillen, who knows nothing about shipping and is pleased I can explain some of the intricacies of what he is seeing happen. Ben, who is the son of a baptist missionary, is passionate to travel and questions me interminably about where I have been during my travels. On his way back to meet his brother and sister in law, with whom he has travelled from Atlanta, he pops by for a beer and to marvel at my wonderful terrace at the Ambrosia.
I have had to get my smart trousers, shirt and shiny shoes out of my main suitcase. Word has reached The First Sea Lord of the Conch republic Navy, Admiral Finbar Gittelman, that I am in town and I am invited to dine with him and his good lady.
I am regaled with salty sea stories and a somewhat frightening tale of losing a ship in a hurricane, then riding through the storm in a rubber dinghy.
The Admiral, looking all the world like Captain Birds Eye, very kindly invites me to visit his flagship, the schooner Wolf, tomorrow and I have much pleasure in accepting.
When I first drove into Key West, I thought what a horrid place it is. Well, for sure on Duvall Street, it's a party town. But scratch under the surface, get off the main drag and, quite clearly, the 'Hidden Florida' is right there waiting to be discovered.

Key Largo to Key West

Key Largo to Key West
Thursday 5 March

I wish I could have stayed at Dove Creek Lodge for longer. Just opening my curtains onto my balcony with the view of the rising sun over Key Largo was a real treat. It's at that point that I realise that, for weeks, I have not seen a sunrise, but a lot of sunsets. Now, as I head south, with the ever-narrowing Keys, I'll be able to see both!
My first port of call is to the John Pennekamp State Park for an early morning snorkelling trip. (www.pennekamppark.com). The Park, and the adjacent national maritime sanctuary, cover 178 nautical square miles of coral reefs, seagrass beds and mangrove swamps. People come here from all over the world to dive on the only living coral reef in the continental US.
There are only six of us, but the checking in procedure is pretty shambolic. Once on the boat, the crew is excellent, with very good safety briefings and snorkelling instruction for the four members of our party who hadn't done it before.
I spend the 30-minute trip to the coral reef on the bridge with Captain Craig Cross. He's another interloper, in fact all three crew members come from New Jersey.
The snorkelling is excellent, although there's a bit of a swell and clearly weather conditions are about to change. The water is pretty clear, we see all sorts of interesting species, including a load of conch shells, the symbol of the Conch Republic as Floridians like to call their piece of paradise. A barracuda or two swim idly by. The coral is not nearly as good as what I have seen at Lord Howe Island off Australia, but it's a nice trip.
On the way back through the astonishingly turquoise water, Craig and I chat about nautical things. He reveals that he's descended from Scots immigrants, so I'll be passing him the information I have already sourced on genealogy for JoNell and Cathy in Naples.
I think the designer of my programme is a helicopter pilot, because there is absolutely no way I can stop for lunch and get to the Turtle Hospital in Marathon by the appointed hour. Even going without eating, I am 20 minutes late for my tour. I can't quite get my head round the fact that, on a former motel site, with the buildings all still in evidence, the owner has chosen to run a 'not for profit' organisation to rehabilitate injured turtles. Selling the land would make enough money to build something totally geared to the job, but nobody I ask will explain to me exactly why. My itinerary allocates only one hour for the tour, but the video and briefing alone takes that up, so I can only take a quick look at the turtles and leave for my next appointment.
Nearby is Pigeon Key, (where 500 workers stayed while constructing the Florida East Coast Railway. You can walk the 2 miles across the original rail bridge between Miami and Key West which, after the railroad closed, became the first road link. There's also a boat, on which I was the only passenger, so the crew stayed while tour guide Dee showed me around. The project was funded by Henry Flagler, who despite owning 31% of Standard Oil, kept his successes pretty private. There are great views of the new seven-mile bridge next to the old one, part of which is maintained as a fishing pier.
The drive south to Key West is ghastly. Nose to tail traffic, 40 miles an hour and tedious in the extreme. I can see why so many people choose to fly one way. Sadly, I have to drive all the way back again on Sunday.
But my welcome at the Ambrosia guest house (www.ambrosiakeywest.com) in Key West more than makes up for the stress of the journey.
Julie and Tina are marvellous hosts, find me a parking space, thrust a cold beer into my hand, book me a bicycle and show me to my room. While without the wow factor of the view of last night, this just has wow factor because of the room. It's colonial style, with a wonderful terrace on which to sit and read, including a wooden swing seat. I'll admit I am totally shattered and my brain has almost shut down completely. It's been a really long and tiring day. But Julie takes over and sorts out all sort of things for me, including various inductions into the Conch republic hierarchy. She's an absolute treasure.
I potter off on my bike to see the sun setting from Mallory Square, where a whole circus of escapologists and tight rope walkers are setting up for their evening revels.
Me, I am going to have a quick beer and bite, then I will be collapsing into my enormous four poster bed.
Julie has given me two keys. Maybe she knows something I don't.