Home again... home again... 2021 October

Suitcases are unpacked and stored away... until next time.... laundry cleaned, dried and ironed... coziness of home wraps us in warmth and comfort.  

This sense of self, I think everyone senses this after reaching home, whether they have been away for a week or a month.  I know when we traveled in our motorhome, although enfolded in our ‘homestuff’, there would be the proverbial ‘aaaahhhh’ the first night back at home with no limitations of legroom nor strides.  As on Monday evening of our return, the bed pillows hugged us in reassurance and contentment.

But how fortuitous for all of us to be living in this America.  As with our ancestors who challenged these shores and crafted their lives, families and towns from the wildernesses, so we have taken these precious freedoms to broaden our lives with the adventures of exploring these United States.  

Where else can you get-up-and-go to the next state, the other side of the country or to either ocean and discover the distinctiveness of the area’s story; its founders and challenges of growth and discovery; its highest highs to its lowest decline.  And all along feeling a connection to this piece of ground and the people so long gone.

During this trip to the west, we could not help but marvel at the flawless miracle of God’s touch; the hues of autumn water colored across the foothills of massive mountain ranges; the simplicity of horses and bovine grazing; the splendor of watching eagles gracefully soar in the azure blue skies. 

 

We have always loved to travel… not touristy travel.. but trekking along a byway, through hamlets and villages… this is where we experience our real America… the generational farms and ranches, cemeteries reflecting lives lived and loved… the way we hope future generations will look upon us… to know and share in our history, our brief time on this piece of earth… and so, we will plan to travel again… we know not where or when… but rest assured, you will be invited along to experience the meadows and the creeks, the forests and its residents… until then… 

Life is Short…. Enjoy the Ride

 

Driggs

October 4 ~7~2021

 One of our dream wishes during of our fifty-years together was to road trip to Yellowstone National Park and see the regal eruption of the Old Faithful Geyser.  She did not disappoint; her predictability is nearly to the minute.  After arriving just minutes after an earlier display of power we found rock-star parking and ambled to the seating area provided by the park directly in front of the geyser. Although it was off-season on a Monday, there were a few hundred visitors mingling around for the next one hour and twelve minutes before OF’s next performance. I am not sure what I expected… maybe hawkers selling ‘geyser water’ or geyser steam hermetically sealed from China. 

 

However, I was impressed by the naturalness of the area; the inconspicuous attendance of the park rangers; especially those stationed on the boardwalk nearest to the three humongous bison who had rambled their way to the meadow nearest the geyser.  These big hulks of hamburger weighing about 2,000 pounds were not bothered by strangers taking their picture nor by the rumbles of the ground as the geyser was getting ready to steam skyward.  One guy seemed to preen and pose as he heard the ooohhs and aaahhs of strolling tourists.  I would have called him a ham, but I didn’t know if he would take that seriously!  Interestingly is that bison and buffalo are one-in-the-same; over the centuries buffalo has become the acceptable synonym for bison.  One impression I did have as I watched these lumbering beasts was the remembrance of the bison head imprinted on a 1959 ca nickel.  The resemblance was uncanny!

 

Be prepared to spend a lot of time in the car.  There is a massiveness of Yellowstone National Park that one can see by looking at a map. But when following the fingerprint of this park on the roadways it is quite remote to access this 4,000 square mile park...which is larger than Delaware and Rhode Island combined.  The splendidness of this park is the scenery- it is spectacular; topographical beauty of mountainous high peaks that drop to deep canyons and meadows. Sadly, we have yet to see roaming wildlife, but we have a few more days to traverse the beauty of our American west.

 

During our navigating the two-lane asphalt road winding through Yellowstone we saw hundreds of acres of blackened, seared forest floors, survivors of fires are spindles of lodgepole pines that are being reforested and offering new growth and life to this national forest.

 

The Continental Divide weaves its way through Yellowstone as it delineates the drainage flow of the east and west of America. If not for the signage you would not realize its significance as you stepped over what looks like a dried creek bed.  No neon lights or banners or flags. But worth the pull-over to stop for a pic. 

What is amazing about the landscape is that no matter where you are traveling there are glimpses of mountain vistas and bucolic valleys north, south, east, and west. I am sure professional photographers have found their go-to photo op spots, just as Ansel Adams did on the Snake River in 1942.  His critically acclaimed black n white stirred so many to revisit that site and re-make as near as perfect sans some trees.

 

Today is Thursday, October 7^th; it is the first un-sunny bright day; temp is nearing 48 with scattered drizzly showers.  During a brief weather break, before the storm clouds moved in, we shot up to the Grand Targhee Resort.. only 12 miles up the road but in Wyoming.  We climbed to nearly 9 thousand feet following a mountainous two-laner that gave us depth views hundreds of feet down to meadows and glades and break-your-neck-looking-up-views of the mountain. On the way down the mountainside, we met up with the rainstorm front and a quick glance at a grazing mule deer.  Above is a snow-bound winter day of Grand Targhee.

 We settle into the coziness of the condo we are staying at in Driggs as the cloudbursts pass over and hope the weather breaks to a nice sunny day tomorrow.

 

 

Casual Idaho/Wyoming driving

 

Feeling old? Visit the Upper and Lower Mesa Falls in the Caribou-Targhee Forest. The tumultuous roar of the falls on the Snake River are more than a million years old.  We did not hike down to feel the spray on our faces, as we have experienced at Niagara Falls, but the shuddering of ground beneath our footfalls assured us that these Upper Falls were, as advertised, shattering over the remains of the volcanic conflict of a very long, long time ago.  

Stopping at the overlook a mile south we watched the foamy, billowing foam cascading down the Lower Falls as it continued down to the base of the Snake River. 

The valley floor was markedly green with forests of lodgepole pine, spruce, and fir. Paint-brushed in hues of yellows and oranges are glorious stands of quaking Aspen.  Along the winding roadways the valleys are covered with different grasses and the bluish-gray seas of sagebrush.

 

As we traveled from Driggs north on 33/22 towards the western edge of the Teton Range, we drove along the valley floor amazed at the jagged panorama of the mountain range on our eastern side and the vast valley floor of the Teton Range on our west. The basin is the agricultural mecca for potato farmers and grain producers. With the buttes miles away, we were surrounded by thousands of acres of freshly tilled soil, just harvested of potato and wheat and barley grains.

We have been traveling these past few days through small, rural communities where patriotism is displayed, and majestic scenery can be seen from a rocking chair from a front porch or riding horseback through a meadow.

  Populations stand from the mid-700s to a booming 1,200.  Most of the elevation we have been traveling is between 6-7,000 feet; and the altitude is a challenge for having lived at sea level just a few years ago. One of the smallest communities we have visited is Felt, Idaho. Standing at an elevation of 6,486 feet, this wide place in the road has a population of 20; unfortunately, they no longer have a post office, but they do have a zip code.  A few of the roads traveled have seasonal postings of snowplowing between certain hours and road barricades for the inevitable snowfall.  We learned today the average snowfall is 150-175 inches in the Teton Valley and over 500 inches in the mountains above 9K feet.

 After exchanging an un-user-friendly vehicle at Jackson Hole Airport for a more comfortable Ford Explorer, we visited Jackson Hole Wyoming.  Well-known as a winter resort escape for the rich n powerful, we found a friendly, casual stroll along Main Street, in delightful Fall weather and azure-blue skies.  We lunched at the historic Jackson Drug where Dave ordered a juicy bison burger and I had the ubiquitous salad. 

In the days to come we will be discovering Yellowstone National Park. On an average there are 3-4 million visitors per year. We will be counting ourselves as two of those many many visitors to standing in awe and wonderment... Join us soon.. vicariously....

Going West.... Going West.... Fall 2021

 Going west.....going west.... Fall 2021

RECAP: Over the past fifty years together, between Dave and 
myself, we have traveled to all but one state (Rhode Island) in these our United States.  

One day, we will visit there… but until then… well, we decided we are aging quicker than we would like, so we have this one (probably) last trip to make… and here we are, in Driggs Idaho…. 

At the base of the Grand Tetons and a morning’s overland to Yellowstone…  I have not been here before… other than when I was but nearly five years old and so short I could not see over my shoe tops!  At that time it was a fast breeze from the east coast to the west coast sharing the backseat of a Studebaker with brother and sister.. we stopped at the Brigham Young statue that was standing in the middle of a field... today the statue is surrounded by high-rises and college students. 

 

After experiencing Covid earlier in the year, and since then not having taste nor smell resume, I have been living vicariously through Dave’s palette and senses… today as we traveled from Salt Lake City north 15 to Driggs Idaho, I missed not being able to open the car window and breath in the glorious aromas of rich loamy soil, just cultivated as truck loads of freshly dug russet potatoes bounded down the road through Cache Valley.  

Hundreds of acres of hilled rows of seed potatoes remain unearthed until these last few days of early Fall, and then are dug and shipped by tractor-trailer-loaded trucks across the country to be planted at the appropriate time. The potato farmer is a healthy contributor to the economics of Idaho and Utah in its billion-dollar business. From personal experience, potato farming is a labor-intensive, financially challenging pursuit. It is a year-round commitment, but oh to dig your fingers into a hill of potatoes and pull outta 2-pounder baking potato… priceless!

 And so, on this first evening at the foothills of this enormous mountain range, we can’t help but wonder what the first pioneers felt as they approached these startling mountain ranges.  Approaching from flat country of the Great Plains the Rocky Mountain range, at least 200 miles in the distance, must have been such a daunting, if not awesome, spectacle to our first courageous pioneers. To even consider the challenges of not only the height and breadth of these mountains but the deepening ravines and dangers. And to be astonished to find the mountains still covered in snow in early June.

March 2017: FLA>NBNC

It is sad getting older… it seems getting up and out of a sitting position becomes measured; climbing a flight of stairs is sluggish and listening skills are challenged. But what is definitely a red flag waving strenuously overhead is when a day disappears and you don’t notice it until it is too late. 

This happened to us on the 31^st day of January. We were so looking forward to our month of February we found ourselves packed up and gearing down (ummm… northwesterly actually) to Bradenton…. ONE DAY BEFORE WE SHOULD HAVE! Arriving at Horseshoe Cove RV Park we were gently informed we were not expected until February 1; and they had no where to put us; our site was occupied and even the overflow was over flowed. Sub-panic began seeping into my toes working its way to my approaching headache.  Where to go? Alas, the kindness of the park staff found us a site at a nearby campground and we returned the following morning to level down for the month of February.

With Bradenton as our port of call we hugged the Gulf for our month of discovery.  Anna Maria Island shared its quaintness with us as we traveled to Bean Point, the northern most point of this barrier island that is only seven miles long and seemed always content in its mellowness with beach and waves. 

Traveling the Gulf of Mexico Drive southbound the sights and sounds of the coastline were ever-changing with the breezes, the waves and sunbeams.  We enjoyed our many excursions during February along this drive, that passes through exclusive resort and residential areas and its sometimes narrowed roads. Always on our westerly shoulder are the placid impressions on the white sands of wave prints, and horizoned aqua blues and golden skies.

We browsed St. Armands Circle, on Lido Key, where ultra-exclusive shoppes and eateries are casual strolls surrounding the roundabout of this fashionable key. We brunched at the Daiquiri Deck where we were able to quench our summer-like thirst with frozen daiquiris and delicious lightly seasoned calamari. In our quest to find the best calamari Daiquiri Deck placed in our top five.  

Venturing to Lido’s southern-most tip is Lido Key Beach. This is a marvelous spot to have picnics under shaded Australian Pines, stroll along its nature trail or just bring a chair and cop-a-squat on the white sands and enjoy the sounds of ocean meeting land and the skyline of Sarasota.

We spent an awesome day at the Ringling Museum and Mcmansion, with its majestic placement on the Sarasota Bay, bittersweet history and world-renown art museum.

Florida is a great state to travel. It offers a unique opportunity to only drive a few hours and feel like you’re in a whole different place. And that’s a wonderful thing.

Our southern most trek was to Venice and nearby Nokomis, where we met up with fellow Harbourites several times, and being treated to local fare. While in Bradenton we shared a day with our good friends from Saint Louis and their extended Floridian family, who have an A+ home in Tara Plantation…if there had been a basement we definitely would have moved in!

Our campground follows the winding Braden River that meets the Manatee River and flows into the Gulf. Within the campground property is a refuge-type area where mid-afternoon manatees move slowly along the walkways. At any given time we would watch up to ten lumbering mammals floating along, submerging and then popping up for a gulp of air.  And being so close to them we could see their little button eyes peering up at us.

One of the amazing visuals of Florida is the wildlife…the manatees, alligators…and birds.  Along the shore lines are the ubiquitous plovers…not exactly sure why they are named snowy plovers but these cute little birdies skitter along sands chasing the waves and the tiny crabs left behind. And Ibis… is the plural ibises? Or like hippopotamus ibi’i? These white wading birds always remind me of Jimmy Durante… and the great blues slowly glide to the water’s surface to catch their brunch.

While appreciating the treasure of waking each morning to the tropical sunshine and warmth and donning shorts and t-shirts we found that we were beginning to miss our home; the four-cornered, brick-walled adobe where our property taxes are listed. And so we shortened our remainder month by two weeks, visited with good friends, The Glampers, from our summer camping in New York. 

While in their neck-of-the-woods we spent a day touring Crystal River Springs, Homosassa and Dunnellon.  And then we ventured northbound I-95. Expecting to overnite on the way home we found the tires just kept on turnin’ and nearly 13 hours later we arrived at our driveway and put our heads down on our ‘home’ pillows, after one hundred fifty-two days on the road, just over three thousand miles on the Jeep and 2,214 miles on the rig.  

And a good time was had by all!

And in just a few short weeks we will pack ‘er up and boogie westbound to Saint Louis to celebrate the high school graduation of our grandson, Alex, and recapture memories of our nineteen years of living in the Saint Louis region.  From there we journey to Syracuse for another summer of elder care of Dave’s Mom and Dad.

We appreciate your keeping up with the dcnkctravels and look forward to posting again soon on the other side of the Mississip!

LIFE IS SHORT! ENJOY THE RIDE

2017NBNC>CNFL January 2017

The new year has brought us to mid-central Florida where four major industries flourish: citrus growers, cattle ranches, tourism and senior citizenship.

To travel along the rural byways is an interesting perspective; urban-sprawl next to a 45-acre fenced grazing area for the black-faced, bulky Brangus.

During January, with our home-base in Avon Park, we channeled roads less traveled by snowbirds.

A few places driven through appeared ghost -townish, most often settled early 1900-1906, when rural Florida was most especially rural. One such wide-place-in-the-road is Picnic, where on Sunday afternoons in the early 1900s this crossroad of two wooden bridges over the Hurrah Creek became a meeting spot after church meetings, where women would klatch, children would run and play, and men would share fish-tales.

...waiting for a french fry... no ketsup, please

 Balm, whose town was originated in 1902, began as a very small farming area of three families and included a train station and post office where the mail would be hung on a peg and a trainman would grab it while going through town.

Wimauma … sounds like the refrain of a Beach Boys song, was named for the three daughters of the founder’s using the first two letters of their names.  A very remote deserted town we found is Fort Lonesome…visualize a John Wayne movie with a ghost-like silhouette sauntering along the side of the road with a slow gait and cigarette smoke swirling around his shadow.

We found towns and hamlets where people were seen, as well. A non-ghost town is Fort Meade that dates back to 1849 and was an old military road during the Indian Wars and was the victim of four devastating fires by 1890. There is a golf resort named Streamsong nearby. This sprawling resort is a reclaimed mining area covering about 16,000 acres. If we build it…they will come…and they better bring their American Express. This resort is for those who don’t ask how much the caddie charges; nor expect a bowl of peanuts during happy hour. But will expect the bath towels to be warm and the thread count an Egyptian 4000!

 

Central Florida is a land of citrus groves, lakes and citrus groves…and more citrus groves. Right now we are in what is considered mid-season for harvesting. Since oranges ripen only when on trees a grove manager will test oranges from a block, or about 40-acres, to determine the sugar and acid ratio of the fruit.


The experienced pickers will harvest a block of orchard at a time using wooden ladders and canvas sacks. The fruit is then dumped into plastic tubs equaling about 900 lbs, which in turn are unloaded into an open tractor-trailer. The fruit is  trucked from the grove to the packinghouse, where it's sanitized with a vinegar solution, inspected, washed, scrubbed, rinsed, polished with plastic and horsehair bristles, dried in two heaters and waxed. Oranges deemed too small or large, blemished or otherwise imperfect are whisked by conveyor belt to a truck bound for a juice plant. Anything not good enough for juice becomes cattle feed.  And magically, a glass of chilled pulp or-no-pulp juice is sitting on your table waiting for your nodding of the head as it refreshes your taste buds and fills your bones with sunshiny calcium, and you sigh….ahhhhhh.

 

Winding over hills and through the vales, (note: not really hills, not really vales; more like turtle bumps) of thousands and thousands of acres of citrus groves we find places such as Babson Park, a small village tucked between Crooked Lake and surrounding orange groves. And nearby is Doctor Phillips, Florida. The only notable for this lonely outpost is that an old citrus packing plant was used to create the Swiss Family Robinson Tree at Disney, some fifty years ago. Just down the road and around a few curves is Highland Park; there aren’t too many people living here now. It began as a Quaker community and its original dormitory, built in the late 1920s, is now part of the Lekarica Country Club Resort, having survived a hurricane of a decade ago.

Granted, this area of Florida is not for those wanting to step out their door and into an amusement park or stroll on a sandy, white beach.  A sense of pastoral, bucolic, backcountry living surrounds the towns, villages and hamlets, as it probably seemed 120 years ago. And what is ever-present is the tender white fragrance of the orange blossom. These waxy clusters of petals are used in perfumes, cuisines, bridal bouquets and delicious honey. Although the essence of the flowers are captured in oils, there is nothing like approaching a blossomed orange tree and sticking your nose up to a laden branch of blossoms and inhaling the bittersweet delicate scent and hoping you will remember it forever.

Happy 25th Anniversary to the United States Lawn Mower Racing Association.  And this bit of information thanx to roadside signage in the town of Avon Park. Every second Saturday of the month the gates open for the racing season from September through May. Lawn mower racing objectives are simple, no cash prizes, no sponsorship, no modified engines; the meager gate and competitor fees return to the ‘grassroots’ of track maintenance. The regional club in Avon Park is named….wait for it……Nasgrass.  In March Avon Park hosts the Nationals; there is even a Hall of Fame in Marion Ohio. Can’t help but form way too many puns associated with this sport. Can’t help myself…. When they are going around the course and collide do the riders go ‘grass over teakettle’? If someone breaks the rules does the lawn ranger issue a ticket? And is their pin-up model named Mowna Lisa? Okay… I’ll stop… but I bet I got your mind torquing!

Robbie, the feral boar

Butter...the Burmese python

The beginning of February we traveled westbound closer to the Gulf by way of Bradenton.  Leveled down on site DD6 at Horseshoe Cove just 15 miles from dipping our toes into the warm Gulf shore, we will be checking out notable touristy sites like Sarasota, Siesta Key and Sanibel. So far into this second week of the month we have visited with fellow RVers from the Harbour in Nokomis. Nearby is Mixon’s Citrus Grove, where we arrived just in time to hop aboard a tram that traveled through a portion of their citrus grove and got an overview of everything that goes into putting a glass of oj on the breakfast table. During the tour we stopped at their Wildlife Rescue, where reptiles, birds and animals that have been orphaned or injured are rehabbed to be able to be released back into the wild. Afterward the ubiquitous gift shop, where Mixon’s treat you to free juice made on site and all the time you want to meander gifts from fresh made fudges and honey to Florida gifts and local wines.

Bradenton Beach

We have begun our barrier island quest beginning with Anna Maria and getting, so far, as south as Bradenton Beach.  There’s a lot to see and do and we will pace ourselves over the next twenty days.


In the meantime, Happy Valentine’s Day and stay tuned….

LIFE IS SHORT.....ENJOY THE RIDE

NBNC>KWFL: December 2016

Pelicans Briefing

Traveling southbound I-95 is always a challenge, especially when you have 57’ of vehicle being driven/towed. While I am skimming across my expansive field of vision and keeping to the tasks of navigating, Dave is tunnel visioned to the front, sides and rear of his world as pilot.  In my skimming I noticed so many silver poles having cameras and look-like-satellite dishes roadside. I have since learned these are part of a traffic management system that will help reduce congestion by alerting travelers well in advance on electronic signs. At first I was suspect, thinking ‘Big Brother’ was now intruding on our vacations, but having read several articles on the system it certainly makes sense; states from New England to Florida are installing these devices. So look up, open your window and wave!

It is funny…ha-ha funny… to be 9’ above the road and glance into passing cars, trucks and motor homes. Nearly every camper/motor home we encounter the passenger, a.k.a. ‘the navigator’, has some form of map in their hands/lap. Which makes me wonder, even though there were native guides with Lewis & Clark, would they have gotten lost if the little woman was with them? Just sayin’. 

Miami-Dade Landfill (not my photo)

Most everyone knows that southern Florida is pretty much at sea level, if not close, so while on the turnpike on the outside fringes of Miami-Dade, the elevation markedly appeared on the horizon. Come to find out it was Mount Don’t-Breathe-the-Air-up-Here.  What we saw was a landfill that is a 225’ high mountain of garbage, not unlike what our Mom’s used to holler at us when we were kids that our rooms resembled. This particular landfill started as a ten-foot high pile of uck in 1965. I would venture to guess there is no amount of Lysol to squelch the foul orders coming from that thar’ mountain.  Can’t help but think there is a lot of Monday morning trash there.

Card Sound Bridge

We hit the last exit mainland before continuing across Card Sound and our trek south watching the mile marker numbers decrease. And the seascapes are truly beautiful. Like watercolors of blues, greens, and violets blended in a puddle on paper.  US 1 is a two-lane, strictly enforced speed limits, always visible law enforcement.  A pleasurable ride for the passenger, and white-knuckle for the driver because cars dart in and out from side roads like hummingbirds.

Jolly Roger

We settled at Jolly Roger on Marathon Key, where we will spend Christmas and New Year’s Eve with splendid Gulf views and the gentle sounds of waves.

Bridge to the Clouds

The Florida Keys = aqua blue waters as far as your eyes can see the horizon on the Atlantic Ocean to the east and the Gulf of Mexico following you on the west over ancient coral reef; 200+ varieties of palm trees; a paradise described by those who have spent a weekend to a lifetime;  seasons of humid and hot; forests of gumbo limbo and slash pines; ornamental vines of magenta bougainvillea, the showy red hibiscus. And each Key defines itself from another.

Island Grill

We have become the 21^st century Ponce de Leon’s, exploring each Key and discovering their inlets, coves and bays.  All the Keys were obliterated in 1935 when the historic Labor Day Hurricane, a cat. 5, with gale force winds and high seas stormed the Florida Keys.  Hurricane winds of nearly 200 mph and a storm surge of 18-20 feet destroyed the low-lying islands.

Plantation Key (no my photo)

Plantation Key was settled in the 1870s by immigrants from the Bahamas who raised coconuts and pineapples, which were shipped by schooner to Baltimore and New York City. The plantations of Cuba forced the Keys out of business, but the entrepreneurs of the Keys tapped into Prohibition and its close proximity to the Bahamas and the bootlegging trade. 

Tea Table Key (not my photo)

Tea Table is privately owned by a guy from Chicago who spends just a few days a month at his piece of heaven, which has the price tag of mega-millions.  Tea Table was originally owned by the widower of Laura Ashley, ergo the English moniker.

Long Key Beach (not my photo)

We stopped by Long Key, home of Long Key State Park, where campers are quite literally parked on the sandy beach. Hoping to gander a look-see the park attendant told us that the park will be closed for restructuring campsites because of critically eroded beaches.

Duck Key

Key Colony Beach

Key Colony Beach and Duck Key continue to be our favorite islands along these Keys.  Crossing the causeway to Key Colony we pass through a small town atmosphere with the horizon opening up to beautiful homes and a quiet park offering benches shaded by tall coconut palms fluttering gently with the ocean breezes.  Duck Key actually looks like the head of a duck from the air with its beak aiming southward toward Key West.  With its elevation at 3’ above sea level the exclusive homeowner’s mc-mansions and the ocean combine at the sea’s perspective creating a lovely mirage.

Of course, we have put a dent in Key West, with intentions to visit again this coming week (before the Christmas-ers occupy Duvall Street).  You know how you can travel the same road back and forth and back and forth and by the tenth back and forth you have the trip pretty well memorized, with every mailbox, the terribly painted house, and the vacant lots? Well, when you travel US 1 to mile marker 0 the trip going and coming is never the same. 

  The hues of greens and blues of the ocean and Gulf waters reflect feelings of tranquility, peacefulness, even though the furthest one can see, the immenseness of, the infiniteness of the ocean’s waves, in and out, ripple after ripple, makes one feel slight. Stands of mangroves border the roadway along the Gulf and ocean way on the remote strands of creamy vanilla sands.  

Bo's Fish Wagon

We visited our favorites, Bo’s Fish Wagon and Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville.  We strolled along the uncrowded Duvall Street and meandered through a few neighborhoods.  We will be traveling to MM 0 the week before Christmas to get our last southern-most fix.

Our stay here on the Keys will close on the first day of the new year, when we level up and steer our way northbound to central Florida…home of Citrus Florida, over half million acres of citrus produce, which are handpicked and then processed for you to enjoy with your breakfast or in your mimosa.

So, as you read this ending to the year 2016, we sincerely wish you and your family (ies) a Blessed Christmas Season and a Happy New Year.  See you next year!

LIFE IS SHORT: ENJOY THE RIDE