Rain, rain go away

I was up at a decent time this morning, planning an early departure for Key West, then head back to the mainland. First drawback, the office didn't open until 8 a.m., island time. I glanced across the parking lot at the adjoining restaurant, which had been closed last night. The "open" sign was lit but the "closed" sign was still in the door. So I finished packing, loaded the bike then figured I'd rest a bit in the room waiting for check out time. I know that a lot of people just leave and lock the key in the room, but I prefer to check out old school. As I closed my door on the second floor balcony I noticed that the "closed" sign had been flipped so, with a half hour to kill, I opted for breakfast.

After eating and check out I was on the road for the final (approximately) 30 miles to Key West. As I rode I tried to take mental notes so I could explain the Keys to anyone that has not been there. When I finally arrived (I never realized that the Navy base was actually on the Key before Key West) I drove down through town, opting to take A1A instead of US 1 at the final split. I know that on the mainland A1A is on the outer banks in several cases so I figured it would put me as far south as one can go. The road did good! I rode around until I found what I figured was the most extreme point on the island, er, Key. I later found a map that showed that I only missed it by THAT much!

Southern most part of Key West. If you stand on your toes you can see... No, you can't see Cuba

I checked out the beach and, I must say, was disappointed. It had debris everywhere (organic, but debris none the less) and it smelled.

Don't they ever clean this beach?

 

I was expecting white sandy beaches with resort hotels glistening in the sun. There were nice hotels, but across the street from what appeared to be 1960's off base housing for Navy personnel, maybe where Jim and Susan lived when he was stationed here in the earliest of the sixties (fact check, isle 3)?

These two pictures were taken from the same street corner

 It looked and smelled like a Navy town, only thing missing was Terrel Jewelers trying to sell me a diamond ring for M-O-M.

I took a few pictures to document that I had been there, then started the 125 mile ride back to the mainland. 

I made three stops on the way. One for fuel and a nice chat with several people from the Homestead/Miami area.

One to buy a couple trinkets for special young ladies and Gentlemen (nothing for the tiniest among them though, sorry). 

The third stop was to take pictures and read about the Hurricane Memorial which contains the remains of 300 victims (many of them WWI veterans on a work program) of the huge Hurricane that hit the Keys in 1935, claiming over 500 lives. Apparently it was before hey gave hem names.

The Hurricane Victims park

The monument in the park. Behind it was a detailed explanation of how it did so much damage

Then I headed back across the series of bridges and causeways that connect everything together on US 1. By the time I was at Islamorada Key it was starting to look a little threatening up ahead (up to this point it had been a picture perfect day, weather-wise).

By the time I crossed Key Largo it was looking bleak as far as riding through Miami without getting wet. I had noticed on my way out of Homestead that there was a Denny's restaurant just off the end of the causeway which would be an ideal place to change into my rain suit because, you know, they're open 24 hours a day!

The final 20 some miles of the ride is on a causeway with cement barriers and "do not stop on causeway" signs everywhere. As bad as I tried to will it so, the storm could not wait till I got off the causeway. It fell like a Gene Kelly movie, only harder. There was nearby thunder and lightning (I had just been cautioned about lightning on Florida's east coast. Does anyone know if a motorcyclist has ever been struck by lightning?)

I rode the final 5 miles without rain gear, then pulled in to Denny's (did I mention that they're open 24 hours a day?). I was literally dripping wet as I walked in. Reminded me of a fishing trip with Tom, Jim, their fathers and I when I was a young lad. Details available upon request. The waitress asked if I wanted a table or booth. I told her a booth with a floor drain would be best. She walked me all the way across their wooden floor to a corner booth. I dripped so much water on the floor they had to put out the caution cones.

After ordering a cup of coffee I dismissed myself and went to the men's room. Each step I took there was water oozing up out of the fabric of my shoes. When I got in the stall I took my shoes and socks off (TMI?) and rung out my socks in the toilet. No, I didn't wash them in the toilet, I held them over the toilet and squeezed the considerable water out of them as best I could. When I returned to my table I was still tracking water but not as much.

It rained so hard that the drain in the parking lot could not keep up with the inflow, backing up into the common area between Denny's and the gas station next door. The water was so deep that it was up to the bumpers on some of the cars that ferried across to get gas. I asked the waitress if that was the Florida version of a car pool.

My plan was to eat lunch, then put on my rain gear, hoping I had at least dried out a little while eating. But it rained so hard, for so long, that I couldn't get back out to my bike to get my rain gear without setting the drying out process back a day or more. I sat there for two hours watching rainfall come down that would be nearly half of Boise's annual total.

By the time I was able to retrieve my rain gear all hopes of making it across Miami before rush hour were gone. I thought about getting a motel in Homestead but there was no guarantee that tomorrow would be any different.

Once underway it made no sense to stop again. I was soaked, no two ways about it. If I stopped I would be soaked and cold, and that would not have been good. So I headed into Miami on highway 1 which brought me to the center of town at almost exactly 5 o'clock on a Friday afternoon.

Traffic wasn't too bad as I was going into town when everyone else was coming out. But when I decided that the sky had cleared up enough to make it worth while to take A1A through Miami Beach, things slowed considerably. Once I was on the outer bank island, or whatever Miami Beach is on, it was stop and go for miles, and the stop part of that was dominant. My problem, besides holding the clutch in forever, was that I never saw a sign telling me how to get back off the island. I finally saw a sign pointing me to I-95, which I knew to be on the mainland so I hoped to get over a bridge, then find a route other than the toll road.

That plan worked to perfection, as I found US1 again just before being forced onto the tollway. Being an older highway though has its disadvantages, like going through the older parts of town. I figured I could continue on my way north until I no longer saw solicitors walking between the lanes of traffic at each red light selling flowers or looking for donations. I stopped at one motel but decided to move on when I found that the office personnel were locked inside and you had to identify yourself before they'd open the door. That and the fact that the rooms had an hourly rate for brief visits made me think better of it.

So I'm in a somewhat better motel (parking not visible from the street and good Wi-Fi) and my room looks like a typical white trash room. Clothes laying everywhere to dry out, socks in the sink, shoes in the tub. Let's hope tomorrow is a better/dryer day.

By the way, I've been meaning to mention that putting on my gloves with anything other than dry hands is very difficult (for example, if your hands are wet, or you're wearing latex gloves. The procedure makes me look like a star witness in the O.J. Trial.