Sarasota Beaches

This morning we had breakfast with Ken and Andrea. We talked mostly about family and children and swapped stories. Ken and Andrea are very funny, with their New York accents and the way Andrea constantly corrects Ken when he tries to tell a story. If he's wrong she tells him and that's that! Like us they love the theatre and we told them about the West End in London - they've never been to England. But they do have a painting by Princess Diana's best friend, who they know, so if they come to the UK they'll be in good company. They talked of the wealth that Sarasota has and the way the wealthy support the very vibrant arts scene. There's so much to do here. Apparently, Oprah Winfrey and Stephen King have houses here. Oprah is hardly ever here but Stephen King is often seen around town. It makes you wonder how he comes up with such dark, gruesome novels when he lives in such a place of light and colour.

So we chatted for a long time, and could happily have chatted all day but we had beaches to explore. We headed for Siesta Beach:

The beach was vast and the sand like powder; a truly wonderful place. And we walked and walked and walked until we could walk no more. There were life guard huts of red, green, blue and yellow along the beach; a picture postcard sight:

Unfortunately the weather was overcast a lot of the time  and the wind was quite cold. We ended up in a place called the Daiquiri Deck for a well earned rest before struggling 2 minutes down the road to the Siesta Key Oyster Bar (SKOB). We listened to live hillbilly blues and ate Shrimp, Scallop and Grouper. By the way, Grouper tastes much better than it looks - trust me!

We returned to the beach for another well earned rest and enjoyed the sight of the very rough sea; maybe a hangover from the storms of yesterday:

Tonight is our last night here and we headed for downtown: more great bars and restaurants with plenty of live music. We ate Sushi and Sashimi and listened to a country band before ending our night in the White Buffalo Saloon. It's a big barn that's perfect for bands and country dancing. Here we saw line dancing like we have never seen it before; a really great place.

And  now it's 1.30am as I finish this blog and tomorrow we drive up the coast to a place we've been before - St Pete's Beach, before heading home. It's been a memorable 50th birthday treat. Our lasting memory will be of the Everglades, amazing beaches and people like Sergio, Ken and Andrea who made us so welcome.

And, oh yes, Sadie the dog!

Dolphins, Tornadoes and a Blind Dog

Today was mainly a travelling day and our journey would be to Sarasota for the final leg of our short trip. It was overcast and cool and the sky looked troubled and ominous. But here, you always expect the sun to arrive sooner rather than later. But today was different. We had decided to stay in Naples a little longer, as we had seen relatively little of it due to the attraction of the islands in the north. We drove in the general direction of 'downtown' and found Naples Pier. We had read about it earlier and decided to stay for a while.

As you can see from the photo there were quite a few people on  the pier. This is to be expected in high season and many were fishermen (and women) casting their lines into the bay.  But what we didn't expect was dolphins. The first sighting felt unreal; seeing them so close, yet in the wild. They meandered lazily around the pier, occasionally popping their heads out to see their audience and, sometimes, leapt from the water as if to show us what they could do. We counted at least 5 or 6 and some were with their young. It was difficult getting a good shot of them due to their unpredictability but here is just one of them:

Pelicans sat beneath the pier, right under where the fishermen prepared their catch and discarded the remains back into the sea. As we walked up and down the pier we overheard rumours of rain, due to arrive sometime between 1pm and 3pm. We had plenty of time and so we walked along the beach road to see yet more spectacular houses of the rich.

This is how the other half live! We recently saw a house for sale: it had 13 bathrooms and cost over $8m. It was time for lunch and so we drove a little further towards town and found a great little bay-side restaurant called The Dock at Crayton Cove. As we parked the car the sky was looking a little darker but we got a table quickly and settled down to fish sandwiches and beer. Mine was Grouper; grilled with nothing added - lovely. Soon the TVs around the bar flashed up a Tornado warning for this and other areas on the Gulf coast:

Within minutes rain lashed down; a deluge of mammoth proportions, overflowing the roof gutters and spilling over the edge. Palm trees bent in the wind, the bar doors blew open and a throng of soaked day-trippers fell in through the opening and huddled, dripping in front of the bar. No matter; the plastic shutters came down, the doors were secured and beer and fine food continued to emerge from the kitchen as if nothing was happening. They had clearly seen it all before and anyway, nothing was standing in between Rachel and her Key Lime Pie! When the storm abated we ran through what was left of the rain, jumped in the car and headed for Sarasota.

We had no trouble locating our next lodging. It turned out to be a very ordinary (by British standards) house in an ordinary street just off the Tamiami Trail and as we turned into the driveway of the bungalow, which was almost hidden by palms of all kinds, a man came out to greet us. He introduced himself as Ken and we got off  on the right foot when he mistook me for a rock star in his favourite band! And I was sure he was Dustin Hoffman, so we were all square. He showed us inside and his wife, Andrea, emerged from the kitchen and, amazingly, she immediately reminded us of Barbara Streisand; maybe you know the film that springs to mind! She shook our hands gently and kissed each of us and we immediately felt like their long-lost family, coming home for Christmas. Again we were struck by the effortless hospitality of ordinary Americans; we liked Ken and Andrea immediately. Ken wished me happy birthday and offered us a drink to celebrate.

"We've got everything", he said, "Bourbon, Tequila, Vodka?"

I went for the Tequila with ice and Rachel had something that resembled a Pina Colada. We stood in their lovely kitchen, clinked glasses and chatted like old friends. I sipped my neat Tequila and tried to retain my composure as my eyeballs burned from the alcoholic vapour. I thought I might lose my eyebrows. Next time I'll ask for soda too! How cool am I? Next, they showed us photographs of their family, which covered the walls and stood on every shelf. Their kids and grand kids were obviously a big part of their lives and they even had photo albums dedicated to their dogs; one of which had died (a German Shepherd). But they still had Sadie; a tiny 16 year old Chihuahua-Shih Tzu cross. We know that a Labrador-Poodle cross is called a Labradoodle. Any offers for what a Chihuahua-Shih Tzu cross might be called? Answers on a post card.

Sadie is almost completely blind and deaf and her sense of smell  is not what it was but she is beautiful and as long as the furniture is not moved she can find her way around the house. Sadie followed us all around as Ken and Andrea showed us the house. We were chatting in the bathroom when Andrea said "Oh Sadie, not again".

"Is she doing it again?" asked Ken.

"Yeah, she's  doing it again", replied Andrea.

"Get her to stop", said Ken, and we looked down to find Sadie having vigorous carnal relations (I'm putting this as politely as I can) with the shag pile bathroom rug. It was a slightly tense moment as Andrea tried to prize Sadie from the rug. She hung on valiantly and I kind of felt sorry for poor old Sadie: a very old, blind, deaf dog can't have many pleasures left in life. Having said that, afterwards we made sure that we didn't step on the rug getting out of the shower.

After that we needed a drink and our hosts directed us to a nice little restaurant called Knicks, which they know well. And so we ended an interesting day with a nice meal - alfresco.

Island Hopping

It was an early start this morning. We had been told that to get onto the islands of Sanibel and Captiva we would have to get there very early due to the numbers of people visiting at this time of year and also because of the shell fair. So the alarm woke us up at 6.30am and we skipped breakfast. The sky was a little hazy and the air cool, which was very welcome after the heat of the previous day. An hour later we were crossing an impressive bridge from the mainland onto Sanibel, after paying the $6 toll. There was a steady stream of traffic already and we wound our way in single file into the heart of Sanibel.

We decided to hire bikes for the day and started by cycling to a place we spotted on the way in for breakfast - the Island Cow. I had a combo breakfast of eggs (over-easy), bacon (which is always streaky and crisp), fried potatoes, grits (this looks like porridge but is more watery, made of alkali-treated corn known as Hominy and has a gritty texture - I put lots of salt in for more taste), two types of melon and two pancakes with Maple Syrup. Makes a great change to Wheatabix! Rachel went for the more simple bacon and eggs (sunny side up).

And so we cycled around Sanibel Island:

We visited a number of its beaches and did a little more beachcombing.

Upon leaving the last beach we saw a strange thing. There's a lot said about the obesity crisis in the States and you do see some very big people. But this was thought provoking to say the least. A very large woman was so large she was unable to get back into the people carrier she was a passenger in. We are not sure whether she had fallen too, but the local fire fighters had been called to assist. They seemed to have lifted her into the car. We wondered why an ambulance had not been called but it may have been due to the fact that the crew would not have the strength to cope. They sent an enormous fire engine too. This is not something you expect to see. But, enough about obesity; what impresses the most is the patient and polite way the Fire and Rescue services dealt with the problem. Is this what they are supposed to do now? I suppose the clue might be in the word 'rescue'. Anyway, back to our day....

We inevitably ended up in a Rum Shack and had some lovely seafood; Rachel had very large prawns and I had seafood Paella. Oh, and maybe a beer or two.

By the time we got back to the car it was already getting dusk and we hadn't seen Captiva yet. Everyone seemed to be leaving the island at once and the road out (the only road) was gridlocked so we waited it out, lying on a bench under some trees until the traffic had cleared.  Then we moved on to Captiva and were again amazed at the splendour of the houses at the top end of the island - right at the edge of the water and a prime location by any standards. We drove to the very tip of the island  and could go no further.

This marks the end of our visit to the Naples area because tomorrow we head for Sarasota.

Beachcombing in Bonita Springs

We headed for the islands of Sanibel and Captiva after making our own waffles for breakfast by the pool. Just a few miles north on Highway 41 we turned off for Bonita Springs. What a lovely place; especially if you have a few million dollars to spend. The houses in Bonita Springs are dream-like: those on the beach side are built on stilts and are literally built on the beach. They all have balconies overlooking the Gulf of Mexico with steps down onto the beach. Many have a very 'beachy' feel to them; timber built and painted in bright colours. Others are far more palatial with grand staircases to the front door, 3 or 4 garages and sometimes 3 or 4 stories high. They resemble hotels more than houses. It was a simple pleasure just looking at them.

Just past Bonita Springs is a state park called Lovers Key. We caught a glimpse of it from a bridge and were drawn to the sweep of white beach and it looked pretty quiet. So we decided to take a look. Although it cost us $6 to park it was more than worth it. You know if you have to pay here, the quality will be high. Lovers Key is a 1616 acre park. It sits between Naples and Fort Myers and is made up of 4 barrier islands, one of which is Lovers Key itself. The beach is about 2.5 miles long and we found the sand to be almost like flour; so white, fine and soft. On Miami Beach we were some of the oldest people on the beach but here we were some of the youngest. This is where the many well-heeled Americans from the north come for months to enjoy their well-earned retirement. So it felt good to be young again!

So we settled down on the sand and swam in the Gulf of Mexico and forgot about time. Rachel started collecting shells. We only found out later that this beach, and the area in general, is renowned for its shells. There are literally piles of shells inches deep, heaped up along the shoreline. People 'in the know' come down to the beach at the right time of day to collect the best shells, before they get broken by people stepping on them. There is actually a shell fair on this week, where stalls are set out in the surrounding towns for collectors and crafts people to enjoy. Before long we were both avidly searching for the best we could find. Here's Rachel engrossed in her search:

And here is the fruit of her labour - a shell fish (i.e. a fish made of shells):

Later, we walked around the barrier islands as the sun began to dip to the horizon and before we left I got all romantic, since we were at Lovers Key, and produced this masterpiece:

An elderly gentleman who was passing by said "I know a song about that". I'm glad he didn't sing it! I'm also glad he liked it as Rachel was more interested in her fish. Such is life.

Part way through the day we realised we would not make it to Sanibel and Captiva.  But no matter; they can wait for another day. The sun was setting and we headed back but it was still very warm so the car roof stayed down. Rachel spotted a beach bar so we stopped and watched the sun setting - spectacular!

A perfect end to a perfect day.

To the Everglades

The plan was to get up early and head for the Everglades. Our body clocks woke us at 4.20 am. Jimmy's opens at 5.30am so we had breakfast there. Then, as we were leaving, we noticed that we had a flat tyre! It sort of felt right after the day we had had yesterday. We checked with the rental company and they told us put the temporary spare on  and take the car back to the airport. So we left the lovely house we were staying in and headed back to the airport.

Traffic was heavy and it took some time to get there but we eventually dropped the car off and somehow expected trouble in securing another car, as things had not been going well up to now. We arrived at the desk and they said "take your pick", pointing to a long line of Mustangs of many colours, tops down, arrayed before us. It was like being a kid again and being presented with a handful of colourful sweets and not being able to choose! But choose we did and saddled up the grey stallion and galloped out, not quite believing our luck. And all because of a flat tyre.

And so we were now cruising along the Tamiami Trail (Highway 41), from Miami toward Naples, through the Everglades. The weather was perfect and the road stretched on forever. The vast wetlands reached the horizon on all sides. We stopped at the Miccosukee Indian Reservation and took an air boat ride out into Glades. It was a wonderful, exhilarating experience and we saw all sorts of birds and alligators.

We stayed for lunch but decided against the alligator sandwiches and then headed for Shark Valley and into the National Park. Here we walked for a while before taking a 2 hour bus tour into the depths of the park. The wildlife was amazing: truly diverse. I must admit to being a little nervous about walking with alligators but they turned out to be very uninterested in humans, as long as we gave them respect and a little distance. However, about 14 years ago, a little boy was cycling with his Brazilian parents and accidentally cycled into the water, landing on large alligator. Thinking it was being attacked, the alligator grabbed the boy and tried to pull him under. The boy was eight years old. His parents jumped in after him. The father threw his arms around the alligator and attempted to keep the animal from going under, while the mother repeatedly hit it in the face with her binoculars. But still the alligator did not release the boy, who was held right at the front end of the alligator's powerful jaws. In desperation the mother, seeing a gap in the side of the alligator's mouth, thrust her arm down its throat, making it gag and spit the boy out. He survived with broken ribs, a punctured lung and over a hundred stitches. And to this day there are signs placed beneath the water for the alligators saying "Beware! Brazilian Mothers". I made that bit up!

What a great day. Here are a few photos:

Next we will explore the Naples area and the islands.

Late in Miami

Things didn't start quite as expected! We had an immediate flight delay from Manchester as the incoming flight from Philadelphia arrived late. Rachel made the most of the delay by sleeping across four seats in the lounge.

Once on the plane and all set to leave we had another delay - the front door would not close. In the car or on the bus I would not be too bothered, but on an Airbus A330?! The captain put our minds at rest by announcing the problem to be "debris stuck in the door". Ah, thank goodness for that; we felt much better (not). The flight went well and the door stayed shut and we watched films all the way to Philadelphia. We hoped to make up enough time to make our connecting flight to Miami but as we left the plane at Philadelphia a new ticket was thrust into our hands and we had been booked onto an alternative flight. That flight was only an hour and a half away so we were not too bothered, until we realised it was going to Charlotte in North Carolina! Standing in Baggage Claim we thought we might still make our intended connecting flight until Carousel 4 ground to a halt and didn't start again. This time the problem was a "blockage". I was wondering whether it  was 'debris' when the inevitable announcement sent approx 300 grumpy people sweeping like a herd of migrating wildebeest towards Carousel 2, which was apparently working for now. Baggage now in hand we headed out into the airport. Thankfully, we realised we might have to check our bags in again due to the flight change. No one told us this but if we had not bothered to ask, who knows where our bags would have turned up! Anyway, another passport check and another queue, plus yet another passport check, security check (shoes off) and a full body scan and we were feeling extremely safe but very very late and started worrying about meeting our new flight to Charlotte. But meet it we did. One thing I wanted to mention: we are constantly amazed at the reverence the American public has for its military personnel. They get onto flights first and have preferential treatment in restaurants etc. But I was moved to see a complete stranger stopping a couple of young men in uniform in Charlotte airport and shaking their hands, thanking them for their service. I wondered whether this could ever happen in the UK and I think I know the answer. No further checks in Charlotte and we caught our final flight to Miami, arriving many hours later than originally planned. We thought this would be the last of our problems but were sadly mistaken. It took us 2 hours to exit the airport with a car (which was NOT a Mustang, I'm pained to report - we had to settle for what was left due to being so late. I must write and thank US Airways!) and we headed out onto the highway confident that the GPS would take us to our B&B in the north east district of the city. Unfortunately, our intended junction off the highway was closed and the GPS just kept taking us round and round in circles for a good hour. We were a little fed up by now and very tired (and maybe a little grumpy - Rachel that is!) and resorted to calling Sergio, our host, to guide us in, which he did with great patience and encouragement as we were supposed to arrive about 6 hours earlier. I almost threw my arms around him when we arrived, but managed to control myself - just! We crashed into bed about 1am on Sunday morning.

Sunday turned out to be Miami Beach day. We had deliberately planned nothing in advance so we could just do what we fancied at the time. And what we fancied at the time turned out to be beach, bar, restaurant, beach, bar, beach etc etc - you get the picture! Miami Beach turned out to be nothing and everything we had imagined, all at the same time. The beaches lie along a sliver of land adjacent to the bay-side waterways in the north east district called the Intercoastal Waterway. The A1A Collins Ave runs all the way to the end. We headed along this avenue after breakfast at Jimmy's Diner on the Biscayne Boulevard right next to where we were staying. It was a jaw dropping experience to see what can only be described as mansions along the waterway, each mansion having its own yacht costing several times what my house is worth. Very expensive cars paraded along the avenue populated by bronzed beefcakes (and I'm not referring to me in case you were wondering) with the obligatory blonde bombshell in the passenger seat (and, no, I'm not referring to.... Well you knew that anyway !!!). Rap music seemed to scream from every car. We entered the Art Deco district of the city. It was like being in Disney's Hollywood Studios, only for real! Ocean Drive is the "Main St" of the district with numerous symmetrical structures sporting stepped roof-lines, porthole windows and lovely curved edges and corners. And all very colourful too.

The bars and restaurants were spilling out onto the streets, even this early in the morning. And music of a South American flavour filled the air, often drowned out by Rap from a passing car. We headed straight to the beach. These are some of the best beaches we've seen in the States: wide and white against the blue-green sea. We walked for a while before settling down under the sun.

And this brings me to the people. The north beach area is different from the south. The North is populated by fewer people and it's much quieter. The south is thronged by thousands upon thousands of the body beautiful. It's a sober reminder of his mortality to a 50 year old and we must have stuck out like a sore thumb. Most of the 'guys' looked steroid injected or they spent 4 hours a day in the gym 7 days a week (or both). The women were sculptured, with extremely pert, gravity defying body parts, and resembled a honey pot; attracting attention from the male multitude (not me, of course - I hardly noticed). The men displayed their alpha status by performing push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups and other power displays while the women looked on; and I wondered... Is this all they have in life?

I got the impression that it defined them somehow, which made me wonder what they would do in 20 or 30 years time. Well, some of them, as far as I could see, buy skate boards or roller skates and glide up and down the streets listening to music through very large headphones. Am I beginning to sound like a 50 year old? Others ride bikes with huge speakers lashed to the back, the sort of free standing speakers you would have in your front room. There was something absurd about the whole thing. But one thing united them all: the impression that today was everything and tomorrow would take care of itself.

Anyway, it was all a bit much for us oldies, so we headed for the bar!

Half a Century? What will we do?

What do you do when you reach your 50th birthday? I Googled it for ideas. I couldn't believe some of the ideas out there: A pint glass engraved with my name? A personalised Hessian sack? An inflatable Zimmer Frame? Good grief, I'm 50 - not dead! Then I thought... what do I enjoy the most in life? Travel, sun, long sandy beaches under clear blue skies and.... the sea. So here we go again, to a place Rachel and I have grown to love more and more over the years - America......