Aren't there any bite-sized fish on the menu?Copyright 2007 Lydia Hinshaw
MARATHON, FL -- Once upon a time, I thought the Florida Keys were the best place on earth. That was before I became enchanted by the lovely, lonely and large spaces in Alaska and Western Canada.
Prince Charming and I both have visited the Keys regularly since the early 1970s. Somehow, though, we'd let three years go by without a trip south. A planned Thanksgiving junket in 2005 fell through after yet another hurricane trashed the campground where we'd already paid for a four-night stay. They sent us our money back, and we stayed home.
This Thanksgiving we made it, though we wound up in a expensive motel (there is no other kind in the Keys) because we couldn't find a campsite.
It was a nice weekend. But both of us have grown old enough to be disappointed when things aren't as wonderful as we remember from 10, 20 and 30 years ago. Part of this is hurricane sculpting, which removed many of the trees from my favorite oceanfront campground, turning it into a sweltering place where, if you can succeed in getting a reservation, you'd be prudent to bring your own shade.
Part of it is Florida's favorite sport, the cramming of as many residences, resorts and shopping centers as possible into limited space. All this leads to more and more traffic on one increasingly noisy road.
If you want wide open spaces in the Keys, you need a boat.
But the views are still great from the bridges. Key deer still frolic for tourists cameras. And the water is still clear enough to watch fish from a dock.
At one place we visited, you could buy a bucket of smaller fish to feed to a swarm of tarpon. Naturally, panhandling pelicans had gathered to claim their share. Why go to all the trouble of high-diving into the water for fish when you can float comfortably and wait for humans to toss you lunch?
We didn't feed any tarpon, or pelicans. Lately, we've spent too much time in National Parks, where feeding wildlife is strictly verboten.
We did let the locals feed us stone crab, shrimp, mussels and assorted other sea fare. Whatever changes the Keys have seen, you can still find great restaurants. The best are small and rundown-looking, with picnic tables, water views and stray cats underfoot, waiting for scraps.
They're on borrowed time, these places. Too many of our old favorites have been brought up to code now, and are burdened with cloth napkins and wine lists.
Prince Charming and I both have visited the Keys regularly since the early 1970s. Somehow, though, we'd let three years go by without a trip south. A planned Thanksgiving junket in 2005 fell through after yet another hurricane trashed the campground where we'd already paid for a four-night stay. They sent us our money back, and we stayed home.
This Thanksgiving we made it, though we wound up in a expensive motel (there is no other kind in the Keys) because we couldn't find a campsite.
It was a nice weekend. But both of us have grown old enough to be disappointed when things aren't as wonderful as we remember from 10, 20 and 30 years ago. Part of this is hurricane sculpting, which removed many of the trees from my favorite oceanfront campground, turning it into a sweltering place where, if you can succeed in getting a reservation, you'd be prudent to bring your own shade.
Part of it is Florida's favorite sport, the cramming of as many residences, resorts and shopping centers as possible into limited space. All this leads to more and more traffic on one increasingly noisy road.
If you want wide open spaces in the Keys, you need a boat.
But the views are still great from the bridges. Key deer still frolic for tourists cameras. And the water is still clear enough to watch fish from a dock.
At one place we visited, you could buy a bucket of smaller fish to feed to a swarm of tarpon. Naturally, panhandling pelicans had gathered to claim their share. Why go to all the trouble of high-diving into the water for fish when you can float comfortably and wait for humans to toss you lunch?
We didn't feed any tarpon, or pelicans. Lately, we've spent too much time in National Parks, where feeding wildlife is strictly verboten.
We did let the locals feed us stone crab, shrimp, mussels and assorted other sea fare. Whatever changes the Keys have seen, you can still find great restaurants. The best are small and rundown-looking, with picnic tables, water views and stray cats underfoot, waiting for scraps.
They're on borrowed time, these places. Too many of our old favorites have been brought up to code now, and are burdened with cloth napkins and wine lists.
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