south florida

Sorry about the lack of updates on the site in the last couple of weeks. I’ve had some server trouble and just haven’t had the time to hash it out. Expect updates and some new content very soon. Until then, here’s a picture of a mailbox shaped like a fishing lure.

Sunday Mary and I spent the day bicycling around the glades. Shark Valley to be specific. She was amazed that I, the connsumate Florida boy, had never been to the park. Shark Valley, which I later learned is named after the Shark River Slough, is about half way across the Tamiami Trail west of Miami. I’ve spent quite a bit of time in the area in the past, but mostly fishing and fooling around in the deserted development area north of the Trail that the environmentalists brought to a halt back in the ’60s East of Belle Meade.

This long forgotten area, which I’m sure has a name (if someone knows, please fill me it) became synonymous, or perhaps infamous back in the go-go drug smuggling years in the ’70s and ’80s with cocaine cowboys landing their planes in the middle of the night on the forgotten and abandoned roadways to nowhere. It’s been years since I’ve ventured out into the area, but back then you better be packing and have a jeep if you were venturing in. I haven’t been into the glades since I’ve been back into the ’swamp’ and the one thing I noticed was just how dry the area is. Lots of dead sawgrass and dry mud everywhere. The lack of water in the area was shocking. Shark Valley is kinda cool, but a little overpriced for a park trek.

The park charges you 10 bucks just to get into the gate and then you can either take a tram or rent bikes. We rented bikes and peddled around the 15 mile loop. Perfect time of year for it, not too hot and just a little overcast to keep you from frying. The bike rental worked out to about 40 bucks for the both of us. So figure 50 bucks for a three hour excursion. Bring lot’s of water, sunblock and with summer rapidly approaching, plan on wearing shorts. Lot’s of European tourists were in abundance, (as they are all over South Florida, with the dollar being in the crapper) but foreign languages are the norm in South Florida.

The park staff generally seemed to want to be somewhere else, not the friendliest bunch of folks I’ve ever met. You would think that being in the great outdoors would make them happy, instead they all just seemed grumpy. Good day trip from anywhere in South Florida. At one point Mary and I just stopped and listen to the silence for about 10 minutes, the wind blowing through the sawgrass, a gator barking in the distance, birds and no automotive or airplane noises. Nice.

Random fort lauderdale phone pic of the day.

Originally uploaded by spootiespoothead

Last night I went and saw local blues guitar slinger Albert Castiglia downtown in Himmershee Village. A couple of my buds have been trying to get me to see him play for quite a few years now. He played his little heart out. Certainly a fine player in this vast wasteland of no respect for talent South Florida. Albert plays that kind of electric blues that attracts the middle-aged white-collar crowd. You know, the same kind that hold down respectable jobs during the week and play biker outlaw on their custom Harley’s on the weekend. Albert has a lot of soul. A very fine player. On a bizarre side note, in his third set, Dennis Rodman walked into the bar and wanted to sing a song. Albert consented. To make a long story short, Rodman wouldn’t get off the stage and screamed and puked into the mic for about a half and hour and made a total ass of himself. It was embarrassing…. Mostly for him, although I’m sure he didn’t realize it or would even care if he did. The downtown barflies gawked. Something you wouldn’t see in New York. There no one would give a shit. The whole scene reinforced to me just how much I don’t fit in here anymore. Not that I really fit in anywhere. ha. Listening this morning to Blind Willie Johnson-”Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground.” It’s got to be the most soulful piece of music recorded in the 20th century.