The excitement of a travel day had me up early and walking Cali around the park. We ate breakfast on the patio while watching the fisherman lose their bait to wily grunts as the iguanas warily looked on from the rocks. After everything was tied down, we went for a final paddle and were down the road a little before noon.
Goodbye, Jolly Roger. See you soon!
It was easy drive down the single lane highway. Water, water everywhere. Beautiful and scenic, lots of different shades of blues and greens dotted the shallow ocean as we rumbled past. We crossed the seven mile bridge and before long we were pulling into Boyd’s Campground in Key West. Not the tropical oasis depicted in the pictures online. Down a bumpy road in an industrial area with lots of sketchy characters and rundown trailer homes lining the block. Boyd’s itself is neat and tidy and well run but the biggest bummer is the water. In the promotions they show the sites lined up along the sparkling bay. In reality the bay is full of ramshackle boats that have seen better days with locals that have seen better days living on them permanently. The poo pumped into the water inspired signs everywhere reading no swimming. That and the stinking rotten seaweed that covers the first ten feet or so of the water off shore before you reach a muddy grass covered bottom discourages any use of the shoreline whatsoever.
We got set up and relaxed a while to cool off. We lounged around most of the afternoon slowly setting things up and doing little projects in the RV. After a little nap, we rallied at about five and decided to paddle across the channel to the mangrove area on the other side where some sailboats were docked. The security guy had told me the water there was clean from being flushed out with the tide. We launched from the little dock where they rent kayaks and wove our way through the shallows past the “house boats” and reached the first channel. We paddled across and PJ wanted to continue further north to the main channel so we paddled on. We rounded the corner and quickly discovered that the poo wasn’t the only thing that was going to be flushed out with the tide. We were on our way to the Bahamas as well. I was hoping for another cross channel to get back over to the sailing channel where the current wasn’t so strong but around the corner was just a little cove. Power boats and jet skis were blowing by sending huge wakes that we could have surfed on. Our options were to continue out into the Atlantic and go south until we reached the sailboat channel or turn around and do like salmon and go upstream so that’s what we did with PJ cursing me and anyone who looked like me all the way up the channel.
It was some hard working, but we did make it back and easily crossed the sailboat channel back to our flotilla of junk boats. I’m sure the majority of them haven’t moved in years or are most likely incapable of moving. We paddled around to the boat ramp and checked out the far side of the campground before returning home and settling in for the night.