Rock-tober 10, 2016

Key West's anti-establishment attitude is alive and well. April 23rd is proudly celebrated every year in the Conch Republic as the anniversary of its tongue in cheek secession from the mainland US. If there were a Troubadour of State, it could be none other than Jimmy Buffett. There is a Conch Republic National Anthem, but surprisingly, it's not "Margaritaville." Personally, I'd propose, "A Pirate Looks at Forty," because you can't get much more anti-establishment than a pirate.

We made a pilgrimage down this past winter. As refugees fleeing 4 foot snow drifts back home, we were graciously granted asylum within the Conch Republic's borders of sun drenched beaches. With the car radio pegged to Margaritaville, Jimmy's brand of Caribbean rock and roll became the soundtrack to our adventures. The drive down Route 1 and A-1-A, one of the most hallowed road trips you can take, was a constant display of tropical scenery. Portions of the Overland Highway span open stretches of water, and on either side from horizon to horizon you have the expanse of endless skies and water that vacillated between green and aqua before adamantly deciding on the deepest cobalt blue. We lost 15 degrees of latitude between Laurel, MD and Key West, and yes, it had a profound effect on our attitudes. How could it not. This was the land of Hemingway, free range chickens, free flowing rum, and hauntingly beautiful sunsets that'll break your heart.

One evening, after sampling the rum d'jour and a cigar, "A Pirate Looks at Forty" was playing somewhere in the background. Elsewhere on this blog I've quoted Buffett's lament from "A Pirate" that, "My occupational hazard is my occupation's just not around." For me, this was a rueful look to the past, regretting the demise of the age of adventure and exploration. There are times I feel like a walking anachronism, and wonder if I really was born too late.

And yet, the song still looks forward hopefully.

Mother, mother ocean, I have heard your call. Wanted to sail upon your waters since I was three feet tall.

Some of my happiest moments have been on the water. The fantail of a frigate or the cockpit of a little daysailer, it didn't matter. I was reminded that the open ocean was vast and while there may be no undiscovered horizons, they would be new to me.

Key West reveries are surprisingly profound. Maybe it was the local rum.