We have been in the Keys since late October. Our intent was to be in the Bahamas by now but we're running late, as usual. Lots of reasons: decided to wait until after Xmas so we could have time with daughter Kate (now at Tulane), the death of my sister Sue, more stuff to get finished on the boat, and most recently the dreaded weather.
Smooch is tucked into the mangroves of Lorelei's in Islamorada. Lorelei's is a key's beach bar/ restaurant/cabana/marina that features good protection from winter Northers, live bands each night, terrific conch fritters and fresh fish, local fishing guides, local color and Mangrove Monkeys.
Our first Mangrove Monkey swung by Smooch on his 24 sailboat the first night we anchored here. He wanted to know if we owned the submerged sailboat on the flats. We didn't. "Well," he said, when he finds the owner he's going to offer him 2 cents to pull that boat out of there cause she just needs a little bit of care and she'll be a yacht again. The boat's still there.
2 Cents is a pretty typical middle-class Mangrove Monkey: find an old boat that no one wants, fix 'er up to live on, sail, do odd jobs to feed yourself and life is pretty good. There are, as one would suspect, also lower-class mangrove monkeys. We usually encounter them at dusk as we land our dingy in the mangroves to search for necessities of life (restaurants, laundry, and food markets). From the tangle of roots, in the dark, someone says, "hey." Then another "hey." Then a lit match illuminating a couple of thin bearded faces sucking on a huge doobie or pint. Though tempted, I have not yet sat down with these guys to do an ethnographic interview. I am still a little chicken shit from Greenwich at heart.
The upper class Mangrove Monkey is more like you and I, if you have not moved beyond the 60's. Hippyish. Lives in a houseboat or sailboat that he keeps snugly tucked in the mangroves to avoid both dockage fees and Northers. Works at a trade, occasionally. But also flies on planes and goes on vacations. Civilized, sane, relatively drug free, a bit weird. My kind of people.
The guy at Boot Key who built a Viking ship to compete in the Boot Key Dingy Race (pic above) qualifies, in my typology, as an upper class Mangrove Monkey. Rather than hold down a regular job he instead found an old inflatable dingy, got it so is didn't sink on him, and spent a month converting it into a Viking ship that would, it turn out, place dead last in the race. By a lot.
Dick would be another of the MM elite. He is a ship's carpenter, and had been aboard someone's trimaran anchored out in the bay as he worked on it. That's hard living when you have to row your dog to shore twice a day, in sometimes very nasty weather. Now he has moved up to a very charming houseboat nestled deep in the mangroves in the area of Lorelei's know as the "Poor People's Section." He works occasionally, or spends time reclaiming a 26 foot sailboat named after his ex-wife and "best friend," or spends a day or two helping someone else on their boat. He is smart, well-read, well educated, involved in the world, divorced from his Californian wife who clearly adores him and he her, and the father of two grown daughters.
I don't know Dick's story yet, beyond the superficial stuff. I do know there are some great conversations there.
A final note to avoid confusion: the picture of the old guys at Lorelei's is of the Mayor's Office which is the entrance area to the bar. On most nights ( after 3pm) there are 10-20 of the same locals holding court, telling tales, criticizing the seamanship of cruisers anchoring in the bay, occasionally grabbing ass of a young unsuspecting tourist.
Pictured is Susan and Checkers returning from the search for Checker's lost Frisbee. Occasionally he lets it drift too far before fetching it and then loses sight of it. So he starts swimming for the Bahamas in his search, and we have to get him.
