Into the Gulf
March 19
I know I’m somewhere else, and that makes all the difference.
The ibises flock like chickens on people’s lawns. Herons of various sizes, both white and gray, stand in storm drains and on rooftops. Avocados, grapefruit, and bananas grow by the driveways. I am only now learning the names of some of the trees. I may be able to identify sea grape, cabbage palm, sabal palm (it produces abundant clusters of small black berries), and saw palmetto.
I spent half an hour snorkeling in the Gulf of Mexico this afternoon. Don’t recall ever having a snorkel on before. Everything under the water looks close up. I saw lots of sand. The current arranges it in small ridges that look like ripples. There were some broken shells and an actual small fish that seemed close enough that I tried to catch it by hand. As you might guess, that was one safe fish.
I haven’t been swimming since I was here a year ago, so after a while, I had had it. I handed the snorkel back to Bob, who went out and pulled maybe three dozen sand dollars off the sand today. They are going to be game props when his grandkids show up.
The Gulf water is chillier right now than bath water, but once you get in, it’s very comfortable. There were very small breakers on the beach. The little birds that you see on the Jersey shore and elsewhere were here as well, running to the edge of the waves to pick in the sand at the bubbles and then running away as the large waves rolled in.
Jamy and I started the day by biking for breakfast this morning, and it was when we came out after pancakes, eggs, and ham at Peach’s that I saw the bird on a wire in today’s photo. You may remember the Leonard Cohen song: “Like a bird on a wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir, I have tried in may way to be free.” This free bird is an ibis. They used to be holy in Egypt. Maybe they came over when the Egyptians discovered America.
Next trip of the day was biking south to the far end of the island. I found the treehouse again and also a vacation rental with Haitian motifs. I had wanted to reach a park at the foot of the island on the channel between Anna Maria Island and Longboat Key.
I mistook the turnoff and wound up on the bridge over the channel. The sidewalk was closed on my side for repairs, so foot traffic and bicycles had to cross the highway, and very conveniently right then, the bridge was being opened for a boat to pass so traffic was standing still.
So happens, the boat passed under the bridge just fine. It carried three antennas sticking up above the roadway level. Rather than arrange to dip the antennas, they raised the bridge.
On the other side of the bridge was a road that appeared to be the entrance to a park. But not so. Apparently I was not the first to make that assumption. It was plastered with “no trespassing” signs, so I left Longboat Key behind.
The trip back went up Gulf Drive until the bike lane ended. At that point, cyclists are directed to turn right onto the “Scenic Bike Path.” It runs past a neighborhood of old fisherman’s cabins and then comes to the Historic Bridge Street Pier, a short block or two from Island Time, where we heard the band yesterday. It is also the neighborhood of the Tidewater Inn, which had Long Hammer IPA on tap. India pale ales are better to tap than they are in the bottle. They have a very crisp fresh flavor on draft, but they are very lively and sometimes the carbonation overwhelms the flavor in the bottled version.
We had supper at Slim’s. When I’m coming up Gulf Drive, I make a right at Slim’s place to find my way back to Bob and Jamy’s. The cheeseburger is excellent. Magic Hat #9 (which makes me think of a slightly sweet IPA) and Sierra Nevada pale ale are on tap.
Joanna and Beatrice’s husband, Alan, have told me that the two bright stars that I couldn’t identify are in fact planets. One is Jupiter; the other is Venus. There is also a vote for Mars.
I will take another look at the sky. Maybe I’ll be able to make out some telltale sign that tells me which is which.
Good night for now.
Jack
March 20
Great trip, glad you are enjoying it! Did not know that Leonard Cohen recorded "Bird on a Wire," one of my favorite songs. Ever hear the Joe Cocker version? Leonard C. is on my iPod with "Suzanne" and "Hallelujah." He did a great "Joan of Arc" song, too, with Jennifer Warnes. I like Cohen a lot but am still bowled over whenever I hear Joe Cocker's greatest stuff from way back there in the Stoned Age.
Harry
March 20
Yes, I have heard the Joe Cocker version. I first heard the song about 40 years ago when a folk singer named Dave Van Ronk did it at a small club in Greenwich Village.
There is another moving version by the Neville Brothers. It plays during the closing credits of the film "Bird on a Wire," with Mel Gibson (back in the days when he was entertaining) and Goldie Hawn.
"Suzanne" I remember fondly from my college days. "Hallelujah" is used in "Shrek." I can't listen to it any more, though, because it breaks my heart.
Thanks for the reminiscence.
Scrawny Squirrels, Fast Pelicans
March 20
The grey squirrels here are smaller and leaner than the ones back home. That may be because they are different strain of grey squirrel, they go to the beach and work out a lot, or they are competing with the birds for nourishment. If the birds eat any squirrel food, that’s probably the reason.
There was a man on one of the piers cleaning his catch. This is not squirrel food, but it is bird food down here. A brown pelican in the water was getting the best of it because the fisherman was casually tossing the offal and bones in his general direction. A great blue heron was standing a few feet away from the guy and was so intent on getting a share of the action that it didn’t move when I came up and photographed it. When it got tired of waiting for him to throw something in another direction, the bird took off and tried to pick up something up for itself off the man’s worktable.
By then two gulls and another pelican had showed up. I think the other pelican got a little something, but the first was faster and in the best spot.
One of the gulls tried to divebomb the guy but got shooed away. He or his companion somehow got a little mouthful away from one of the pelicans a few minutes later.
Another fisherman at the pier caught a blowfish, which puffed up when he tried to take it off the hook. He had a young boy with him who was fascinated. He may have thrown it back it, but I’m not sure, because I walked down a ways to talk to another fisherman.
We were watching some fair size fish nibbling bait off his hooks. They were razor thin if you’re looking for the top or the front, but oval in silhouette from the side. (When I described them later to Bob, he guessed they were haddock.) The man offered me a pole, but I told him I hadn’t the patience for it. He said neither did he, but he had grandkids, and you learn to be patient with grandkids. I think the boy with the blowfish may have been one of those kids.
Jamy and I went back to the same pier by kayak for lunch. The beer selection was very limited so I had Heineken from a bottle. One of the specials was grouper cheeks. It didn’t specify face cheeks or butt cheeks, but if I can eat beetles, grubs, underfried crickets, and chicken feet, I can eat anything that somebody calls food. Even if it’s for no better reason than to brag about it later.
It tasted like fried fish, but had no bones and was a little fatty, and that was fine with me. Jamy had grilled mahi-mahi. I sampled that and it was delicious. It may have had some kind of tangy marinade on it.
We got caught in a light shower of rain on the way back, but that didn’t matter, because we were already soaked from splashing ourselves with water off the paddles.
We ran into a guy standing on what looked like a surfboard. Jamy told me this is a paddle board, and is designed to be used that way, by someone standing in the middle and paddling. I could see he’d been fishing, so I asked if he dismounted to fish. He said he fished from the board.
If I tried fishing from a board like that, I’d be bait. I slipped on the stationary ladder at the little dock yesterday when I was getting out of the kayak. But that’s all right. I learned how to snorkel yesterday, so I fulfilled stuff-in-the-water learning requirement for this year.
I tried to get lost, just to remind myself that I’m on vacation, but except for maybe going a couple of blocks out of your way, you can’t do that here. A half mile east or west and your somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico or Tampa Bay. And you can always tell east and west. In the day time, you look for the sun and remember that’s always south. At night, you look for Jupiter and Venus (or Mars) and remember that’s vaguely northwest.
It’s half past five here. We’re going to be heading out to a place called Eat Here. It’s owned by Sean Murphy, the founder of the local St. Patrick’s Day parade. He also owns an upscale restaurant, the Beach Bistro, which is highly rated by Zagat.
Eat Here is where the parade started. Jamy tells me the pot roast is succulent, and there are also taps with craft beers. If I remember anything, I’ll let you know tomorrow how it goes.
Be well, all.
Karl
March 20
Astro-floral-keyboard alert. Harry those planets are bright in the Jersey sky this evening. Also Wiley found your house key and is sitting over there tickling the ivories at the piano as we speak. And your daffodils are blooming. Springtime in America.
Harry
March 21
Thanks for all that good news, Karl.
Back Again
March 22
A good trip gives your brain enough exercise to ward off senility. So far, so good.
Eat Here says it’s the second-best restaurant in Florida. Or maybe it’s more modest and claims only the island. Anyway, that’s because it’s owned by the parade guy, who runs the top-rated place, the Beach Bistro, where the prices are higher.
The food menu runs four pages, beer and wine are another. For the hamburger, the menu directs you to Duffy’s 200 yards to the right; for chicken wings, to Hurricane Hank’s across the street.
Jamy had tempura-fried beets. Bob had the pot roast. I had “Better than any Frenchman’s onion soup” and “shrimpcargot,” shrimp done like snails with the addition of collard greens and bacon. The place is known for craft beers, mostly bottled, but they had a Dogfish Head 60-minute IPA on draft and that was good with dinner.
The next stop was Old Hamburg, a schnitzel house with a selection of German beers on tap. I had a Hacker-Pschorr summer bock that has a sweet edge but was very tasty. Jamy and Bob each had a crisp lager, and I’m not sure, but it may have been Warsteiner.
We had medium-size glasses. I think they were medium because they weren’t quite a full liter measure.
On the way home, Bob says, “Do you want to see the parrots?” Sure.
So he does a U-turn, pulls into a strip mall, and stops in front of a beach shop. Outside, there are maybe a dozen floor cages with various rescued parrots. There were grey ones, green ones, blue ones, some with yellow heads. There were notes about the species, along with the individual birds’ names and particular skills. I can’t remember much of it, because what do I know about parrots? Some were from South America, some from Asia, some maybe from Africa. I’m trying to sort out if one was from Nepal. Do they have parrots there? I may be confusing it with a tree with red flowers at the Ringling Estate grounds in Sarasota.
According to the signs, all of the parrots bite. Some of them talk, although apparently never face to face. One laughs a little bit like Woody Woodpecker, another can sing “Old MacDonald” (which I didn’t get to hear), and yet another kept saying “hello” when I wasn’t looking. They do stuff like that to get you come back and pay attention to them.
One huge bird, maybe a macaw, entertained us by climbing around the inside of his cage using his beak and claws.
I am trying to recall some of the names, but all I can remember are Yosemite Sam and Tater Tots.
Wednesday is traveling day. I got to walk for a while on the beach in the morning next to the Gulf. I was over 50 before I saw the Gulf of Mexico for the first time, and so, like palm trees, space cake, or people driving on the wrong side of the road, it’s symbolic of being somewhere else. Maybe because it’s so largely enclosed or more likely because of the movies, the Gulf of Mexico always conveys a sense of rich history--pirates, lost Spanish gold (I know, I didn’t find any; but there has to be some, right?), dolphins, shipwrecks, conquistadors, metal hats, and all kinds of interesting things.
And speaking of interesting things: Most people stopped wearing St. Patrick’s Day beads by Monday, but when I left Anna Maria, they were still decking some lawn ornaments--pink flamingoes, wooden herons, and Dianas bathing.
Jamy stopped at the Ringling Estate on the way to the airport. In fact, it’s practically next to the airport. You can drop in and walk around the grounds. There is a fee to enter the house, the art museum, and the circus exhibits.
Before that, we stopped at a couple of commercial fishing docks in Cortez, across the bridge from Anna Maria Island. That’s where local sculptor sells his work. Today’s photo is “Jamy Meets Chainsaw Charlie.”
Cortez is a town of commercial fisherman, and there is a monument near the docks to honor them. Three names on the monument are of fishermen lost in “The Perfect Storm.”
The rest of the way home was fairly uneventful. No drunken skaters, for instance. Sarasota airport still has free Wi-Fi, although it’s not strong enough to e-mail large files. But that’s all right. You don’t have to pay eight bucks a shot to use Boingo.
The B concourse at Atlanta has one of the worst arrays of prepackaged food that can exist at airports or malls. But there was one bright spot, a packed place that may have been called Sweetwater Brew House. It claims to be Atlanta-based, and the taps are all house brands. I don’t know if the company brews them or buys them. There was time to show my ID (in the Bible Belt they harass the wicked for drinking beer) and grab a pint of Sweetwater Georgia Brown. That was a tasty brown ale, and on the dry side for a brown, which is good.
I left the parking lot at Newark at 10 p.m. and was home around half past.
Thanks to Jamy and Bob, another great trip. And senility has been put off to a later date.
Love to all, and to all a great time.
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