Tag Archives: William P. Tandy

The Straw Market

We arrive at the Straw Market around 9:00 a.m., just as its vendors begin throwing back the blue plastic tarps that shield their wares from the passing tropical showers that douse Nassau, like most else in these latitudes, every few hours.

Opening time, and the most industrious sellers of this bustling city block-size flea market are already hawking their goods to the handful of intrepid tourists that presage the imminent cruise ship invasion. One woman, still unwrapping her stall, draws us in by appealing to Garnet with a wooden folding knife, which she offers to engrave on the spot for a grand total of $10. It’s a cool piece, and a rare opportunity for a kid whose name will never appear on those little bicycle license plates for sale in every seaside five-and-ten from Cape Cod to Key West. Sold.

We walk on, and other vendors begin to swoop in like seagulls circling a bucket of boardwalk fries. They’re hawking tie-dyes and wood carvings, ball caps and bongs, African masks, Bob Marley beach towels and, of course, straw goods. From stall to stall, much of it is redundant, and the same “Bahamian” mementos that 500 miles to the south are stamped “Kingston”. Still, a closer look will reveal some fine locally-hewn crafts.

Just outside the Market’s west wing we meet Winston, a beaming older local who sits with his hatchet, carving rough wooden figures which he sells alongside the mass-produced pieces. We buy one of his masks, and he offers to pose for a picture.

Inside, we navigate the tight aisles which, in some cases, are all that distinguish one stall from the next. Garnet buys me a starfish shot glass for my birthday, before moving on in search of a stuffy. He and Davida advance to the next booth while I run to the rest room, which is remarkably bright, clean, and well-kept.

I catch up with them at a booth where Garnet is considering a blue plush bear with Bahamas embroidered on it while Davida contemplates one bamboo-adorned photo album over another. She steps away to help Garnet with his selection, and somehow, I wind up with both albums in hand, making me a clear mark for the vendor, a fast-talking Bahamian woman who has already moved in.

“Fifteen dollars,” she says. Then, sensing my indecision, shrewdly adds, “Two for twenty-five.”

Why not? Tangible flotsam adrift in a digital sea.

“Deal.” I open my wallet. Nothing but twenties. Goddamn ATMs. I pull out $40, and the woman eyes the two bills like an informant who’s about to put the Jackson twins away for the next five to seven years.

“Tell you what,” she says, grabbing a third photo album and adding it to the pair in my hands, “take this one, too. Ten dollars.”

I laugh to myself, but roll with it. Our philosophy generally runs like this: if we can afford to be here, for nothing more than a few days of fun, we can afford to spend a few dollars – it is part of the budget. Unlike nearby Paradise Island, with its international chains and faux-tropicalia, these dollars will go straight into the local economy.

I nod and hand her the money.

“So – let’s see. I owe you…five dollars.” She pulls a few bills from her pocket and begins counting out singles into my hand. “One…two…three…four…” Hamilton stares back from his ten-spot.

“Let’s see,” she says, scanning the booth. From a nearby shelf, she seizes a small shot glass adorned with cartoon fish which she promptly adds to my stack. “Here – take this.” It’s a done deal. And with that she moves on to the cruise ship invaders now storming the Market. They don’t stand a chance.

As we move on, I reflect on my lesson in Straw Market economics. Know that everyone needs to make a buck and understand you are that buck, nothing personal. Be prepared for toe-to-toe trade in a spirited setting. Enjoy the experience of mingling with locals whose livelihoods, in their own unique way, depend upon the daily tourist invasion.

And bring exact change.

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Why Nassau?

So why Nassau? Arguably, Nassau caters to tourists, not travelers, with its omnipresent cruise ships and Paradise Island’s Disneyfied version of the Caribbean.  As our regular readers know, we attempt to be more travelers than tourists, so why go to a tourist hot spot? In reality, we went to New Providence Island, with Nassau a playing small part of the trip.

In the spring we started planning a trip, our first real family vacation in two and a half years. We wanted to relax for a change. We wanted an actual vacation. We wanted to go somewhere that would make two exhausted adults and one rambunctious 11-year-old happy. We picked New Providence because the travel there was relatively quick and easy and more importantly, our frequent flyer points covered the airfares (but not the taxes and fees*).  We found an affordable cottage with a kitchenette that was mere feet from the ocean.

In those respects, a trip to the Bahamas was cheaper than Utah and Seattle (they were other discussed possibilities). Those areas were in peak high season, while the Caribbean was a month into hurricane season.  We decided to splurge on two things – a rental car, so we could see the whole island, and a boat trip to the Exumas.

We hope you enjoy the upcoming series of posts about New Providence Island and all of the wonderful things to discover beyond Paradise Island.

Photo by Garnet

* The taxes, fees, etc., assessed by the Bahamas came to $287.97 for all three plane tickets.

 

 

Indian Key

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View from the tower on Indian Key

With the prospect of a three- to four-hour drive from Fort Lauderdale to Key West, flying directly to the southernmost point in the US offers a convenient, if costly, option for those travelers on tight schedules. But the balmy, flat, and winding 110 miles of the Overseas Highway that run from the Florida mainland to the bottom of US-1 will yield wild and weird corners for those able (or willing) to take the time.

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Paddling up to Indian Key

From the geological wonders of Devil’s Milhopper to the picturesque sands of Bahia Honda, Florida has a varied and truly amazing state park system. One of its most distinctive parks is also one all too easily overlooked on a drive through the Keys. Located a half-mile, ocean-side, off Islamorada lies the lush but unassuming Indian Key Historic State Park. Accessible only by boat, the uninhabited 11-acre island was, two centuries ago, the original county seat for Dade County.

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The old streets are still evident.

But that simple historical fact doesn’t begin to belie the tranquil key’s colorful and, at times, lurid history. From here, Jacob Housman built a formidable “wrecking” business in the early 19th century, salvaging valuable cargoes from ships that met their ends on the treacherous reefs in the surrounding waters. In 1838, the Philadelphia botanist Dr. Henry Perrine moved to the island, bringing with him a host of non-indigenous flora, including agave (used in the manufacturing of sisal), tamarind, and large yucca plants. By the close of that decade, the island boasted a population of about 60, and even a nationally advertised resort hotel. Later, Henry Flagler would use the key as a base for dredging operations during the construction of his Overseas Railroad.

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Cochineal insects – the red dye carmine is made from them

But Indian Key’s golden heyday drew its last breaths in the wee hours of August 7, 1840, when an invasion force of more than 130 Spanish-speaking Seminoles descended upon the island from nearby Lower Matecumbe Key. Twelve hours later, six people were dead (including Perrine) and much of the looted settlement laid in smoldering ruins. The United States Navy subsequently used Indian Key as a base of operations for the Second Seminole War, but the island’s halcyon days as a thriving, self-sustaining commercial center were effectively done.

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Brad Bertelli and WPT

Today, visitors may rent canoes and kayaks from Robbie’s of Islamorada and paddle out to Indian Key. Make the most of the trip by enlisting the services of historian, author, and tour guide Brad Bertelli of Historic Upper Keys Walking Tours to bring the island’s crumbling foundations and crunching gravel streets back to bustling life. If you appreciate vivid detail, humor, and a healthy overdose of enthusiasm for esoterica in your docent, then the affable Bertelli – who, with co-author David Sloan, recently published Bloodline: A Local’s Guide to 50 Famous Film Locations in the Florida Keys, an indispensable, trivia-packed self-guided tour for fans of the Netflix Original Series Bloodline – is your man.

Small shark resting in the shallows, just offshore
Small shark resting in the shallows, just offshore

Back in Islamorada, at the Florida Keys History & Discovery Center, where Bertelli also serves as the Curator/Historian, a fine scale model of Housman-era Indian Key provides additional perspective.

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Model of Indian Key at Florida Keys History & Discovery Center
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Model of Indian Key at Florida Keys History & Discovery Center

It is worth noting that there are no restroom facilities, nor fresh water, nor trash cans on Indian Key. But there is some decent snorkeling off its craggy northeastern shore. So any which way, plan accordingly.

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Florida Keys History & Discovery Center

Breezin Charters

13669847_10157106853055702_1711600339449912319_nShortly after clearing Key West Harbor, bound for the reef at Sand Key Lighthouse some six or seven miles offshore, came that most cherished moment when, with sails full and neatly trimmed, you kill the diesel grumbling beneath your feet and, like 300 generations of your forebears, give yourself over to the power of the wind.

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Unlike today’s hard-chine powerboats, the sailboat’s traditionally curved hull rides the waves like a duck, and one momentarily reverts to that evolutionary stage when mankind pursued its own ends by harnessing the forces of nature rather than trying to dominate them.

13754342_10157106852945702_8921155845293474025_nOf course, modern sailboats offer amenities your ancestors never could have foreseen – global positioning systems (GPS), refrigeration, roller furling, autopilot, self-tailing winches, and satellite radio, to name a few – but the tried-and-true fundamentals of sailing remain the same. And sea-legged visitors to Key West can enjoy the best of both worlds aboard Breezin, a 42-foot Catalina sloop that offers full- (seven hours) and half-day (four hours) charters on the balmy surrounding waters.

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But what really sets Breezin apart from the competition is her skipper, Dennis Krinitt. We first met “Captain Dees” about a decade ago, when he worked for a nearby sailing charter company. While that all-day snorkel excursion was everything we’d hoped for, it was the smart, good-natured, soft-spoken Krinitt – whose conversation shifted from jazz standards to Tom Robbins to basic seamanship as naturally as the changing tide – that really shone. And despite his credentialed profession, the native Californian may well be the most productive-yet-chill human being I’ve ever met: calm, collected, unflappable.

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So impressed were we by Captain Dees that we went out with him again before that trip was up. And thereafter, on each return to Key West, we made a point of booking only those trips he was scheduled to helm, including one sunset cruise on which Captain Dees – also a licensed notary – officiated our renewed wedding vows.

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Eventually, Captain Dees landed Breezin a slip in the Key West Bight Marina, at the foot of William Street, where he now offers sailing charters, lessons, sunset cruises, and more. (And those modern amenities also include the ability to book your reservation online.) On your way there, stop by the nearby Cuban Coffee Queen for a café con leche and pan cubano, or anything from their extensive menu. But get there early, as the line quickly builds – and you don’t want to miss the boat!

Breezin Charters

Historic Seaport Walk

Key West Bight Marina, Slip E-7

201 William Street

Key West, FL 33040

P: (305) 797-1561

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Cuban Coffee Queen

284 Margaret Street

Key West, FL 33040

P: (305) 292-4747

Downtown Location

5 Key Lime Square

Key West, FL 33040

P: (305) 294-7787

Out and Back

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The official motto of the United States Coast Guard is “Semper Paratus,” or “Always Ready.” But, since the heyday of the United States Life-Saving Service (which merged with the Revenue Cutter Service in 1915 to form our modern USCG), at least, another phrase has adorned the flipside of that figurative coin: “The rules say you have to go out, but they do not say you have to come back.”

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On February 18, 1952, four young men with those words in mind set out from the Chatham (Massachusetts) Lifeboat Station in a 36-foot self-righting, self-bailing wooden motor lifeboat – clinically named CG36500 – into a hellish nor’easter, and the annals of lifesaving lore. In what has since been considered the greatest small-boat rescue in USCG history, Boatswain’s Mate First Class Bernie Webber and his crew of three – Andrew Fitzgerald, Richard Livesey, and Ervin Maske – battled at-times hurricane-force winds and frigid, 60-foot seas to rescue the crew of the S.S. Pendleton, a 500-foot World War II-era tanker which had broken in half several miles offshore.

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En route, the CG36500’s engine briefly quit, and the angry seas smashed the boat’s windshield and tore away her compass. Yet, somehow, Webber and his crew successfully reached the stern of the mortally wounded Pendleton, and despite the odds, successfully rescued 32 of the ship’s crew in a boat designed to hold a maximum of 12 (including its own crew).

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Not surprisingly, this seemingly impossible feat became the stuff of Coast Guard legend, yet Webber, Fitzgerald, Livesey, and Maske did not consider themselves “heroes”, per se; rather, they regarded their actions simply as a fulfillment of duty. By the late 1960s, the old 36-footers, including CG36500, had been decommissioned, and the slick, new 44-foot motor lifeboat became the Coast Guard’s standby.

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The CG36500 languished in dry-dock, neglected, for more than a decade, until a collective of intrepid locals, recognizing her historical value, set about painstakingly restoring her. Today, the fully restored and operational CG36500 is maintained under the auspices of the Orleans Historical Society and Museum, which features an impressive exhibit on the famed rescue in its nearby museum. As the son of a career Coast Guardsman, having the opportunity to visit the boat was a borderline spiritual experience. The 2016 movie The Finest Hours – based on Michael J. Tougias and Casey Sherman’s 2009 book of the same name – faithfully recreates the Pendleton rescue. While the film was not a commercial success, in this era of hyperbolic action movies that inexorably seek inspiration through the spilling of blood, it is good to see the four lifesavers from Chatham Station – and, by proxy, all who have come before or since – finally get their due.

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Orleans Historical Society and Museum
3 River Rd, Orleans, MA 02653
http://www.orleanshistoricalsociety.org/
orleanshs@verizon.net
call 508-240-1329

Hours:
Tuesdays and Wednesdays 9:00 – noon and 1:00 – 5:00 or by appointment

The boat moves seasonally, so please visit the website to check on its location.

The Boys No Man Dares Dun

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We had planned to bypass Limerick completely. Irish friends had recommended skipping the historically industrial hub, given the scale of our trip and improbably limited amount of time, in favor of more epic destinations like the Burren and Newgrange.

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Yet one unlikely nook of Limerick still beckoned – a rough, working-class suburb on the city’s eastside called Garryowen. The area’s Irish name, Garraí Eoin, translates to “the garden of John”, a reference to John the Baptist. Indeed, St. John’s Cathedral, built in 1861, towers fortress-like over the heart of Garryowen, and, at 94 meters (or about 308 feet), boasts the tallest spire in all of Ireland.

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However, my interest in Garryowen was not grounded in religious history or its renowned rugby club, but rather an eponymous tune whose origins may be traced back two or three centuries. Today, the song is probably best known in America as a march favored by the U.S. Army, and it often emanates from bagpipes during St. Patrick’s Day parades. But, in fact, “Garryowen” began life purely as a hooligan’s refrain:

[VERSE]

Let Bacchus’s sons be not dismayed

But join with me each jovial blade

Come booze and sing and lend your aid

To help me with the chorus

[CHORUS]

Instead of spa we’ll drink down ale

And pay the reckoning on the nail

For debt no man shall go to jail

From Garryowen in glory

[VERSE]

We are the boys who take delight

In smashing Limerick lamps at night

And through the street like sportsters fight

Tearing all before us

[CHORUS]

[VERSE]

We’ll break windows, we’ll break doors

The watch knock down by threes and fours

Then let the doctors work their cures

And tinker up our bruises

[CHORUS]

[VERSE]

We’ll make the mayor and sheriff run

We’ll beat the bailiffs out of fun

We are the boys no man dares dun

If he regards a whole skin

[CHORUS]

[VERSE]

Our hearts so stout have got us fame

For soon ’tis known from whence we came

Where’er we go they dread the name

Of Garryowen in glory

[CHORUS]

I was about 12 when I first heard “Garryowen”, on an album of Civil War-era music performed by folk musician Jim Taylor. The rowdy, infectious tune appears, ironically, as part of an instrumental medley that includes “Haste to the Wedding” and “St. Patrick’s Day in the Morning”.

“Garryowen” was part of a canon of traditional music that accompanied an unprecedented wave of Irish immigration to America during the mid to late 19th century and, before long, manifested throughout Union Army camps in the War Between the States. It was there, so the story goes, that General George A. Custer first heard “Garryowen”, and favored it so greatly that his Seventh Cavalry took the jaunty air west with them during the Indian Wars, adopting it as its official theme – one which they still play today. Indeed, “Garryowen” (both instrumentally and with lyrics) is ubiquitous throughout the 1941 Errol Flynn vehicle They Died with Their Boots On.

Surely, a rough-and-tumble town with such an inspired musical heritage must merit a brief detour. Hell, for all I knew, Garryowen was now a gentrified hipster haven sporting Thai restaurants and art galleries on every block…

***

IMG_7962We rolled into Garryowen shortly before the local afternoon rush hour, and while I wasn’t sure of the precise whereabouts of St. John’s Cathedral, one thing soon became clear: if 300-year-old lyrics are to be believed, Garryowen has remained true to itself. I’ve lived and worked in Baltimore long enough to recognize a tourist destination…and this certainly is not one. From ubiquitous security cameras and graffiti to ruins both new and ancient, Garryowen bears all the scars and hallmarks of an area still awaiting a ship that is several centuries overdue.

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Yet the towering architecture of Garryowen’s centerpiece, St. John’s Cathedral, remains an awe-inspiring sight for the intrepid (and streetwise) traveler. Garryowen itself stands as a resilient and sobering reminder of the truths that ground the most elaborate mythologies.

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Maritime Museum of San Diego

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Several times each year, I attend work conferences that take me to cities all across America. Between educational programming, receptions, and catching up with old friends and colleagues, it can be quite exhausting. Still, I try to make the most of the small bits of personal time allotted by exploring points beyond the antiseptic confines of a conference hotel.

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Given my limited free time, I assigned utmost priority to visiting the Maritime Museum of San Diego during a recent trip to that city – particularly the Museum’s centerpiece, the tall ship Star of India. The Museum bills the 212-foot “Iron Lady” – launched as the Euterpe from the Isle of Man in 1863 – as “the world’s oldest active sailing ship.” (NOTE: Following a recent overhaul, the wooden whaling ship Charles W. Morgan, built in 1841, left her home port of Mystic, Connecticut, for an extensive tour of the New England coastline. However, even if this fact muddies the superlative waters, that both ships are so well-maintained, never mind operational, is nothing short of commendable.) The Star of India hauled everything from salmon to timber to New Zealand-bound immigrants until her retirement in the 1920s. Following a half-century of idle decay, she put to sea again in 1976. Today, the Star tells her illustrious story (which includes collision and mutiny) through a host of exhibits both below deck and topside. Visitors may take note of the ship’s ubiquitous knot-work, whose decorative aesthetic was in fact secondary, in nearly all cases, to serving practical purposes.

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But for me, the most pleasantly unexpected moment of my visit came aboard the in-this-case-aptly-named H.M.S. Surprise. You see, the ship, launched in 1970, is a replica of an 18th century Royal Navy frigate, the H.M.S. Rose, a name she bore for the next three decades. A substantial portion of that time was spent berthed in Bridgeport, Connecticut. It was during this time that an uncle of mine volunteered on the ship, and in fact was aboard when she sailed for New York in 1986 in commemoration of the Statue of Liberty’s centennial.

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At the dawn of the 21st century, 20th Century Fox purchased the ship for use in the 2003 film Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, renaming her H.M.S. Surprise. The Maritime Museum acquired the Surprise/Rose in 2006. But to this day the ship’s engraved bell belies her original namesake.

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Other Maritime Museum highlights include the 1898 steam ferry Berkeley, which evacuated survivors of the great 1906 San Francisco earthquake to Oakland; the Californian, a replica of the 1847 Revenue Cutter C.W. Lawrence and the official tall ship of the state of California; the B-39, a Cold War-era “Foxtrot” class Soviet submarine; and the U.S.S. Dolphin, a deep-diving diesel-electric U.S. Navy research submarine decommissioned in 2007. Fans of all things nautical will revel in the Museum’s collection, unparalleled, in my experience, this side of Mystic Seaport.

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