Cabbage Key, Florida

Cabbage Key, Florida

Wednesday, January 14, 2009- Fort Myers, Fl.

We were up early this morning. It had rained all yesterday afternoon. The ground was wet and the air damp with a light fog hanging over the coast of SW. Florida. We stowed our bags in the car and set off at 8:00 A.M. for Cabbage Key, a small barrier island in Pine Island Sound.
Daniels Parkway, Six Mile Cyprus and Colonial Blvd. were all choked with morning commuter traffic. It made for slow going and we were glad we had left early. We crossed the bridge over the Caloosahatchee River into Cape Coral.
The broad avenues and sparsely settled swatches of earth here made for a picture of a city still in development. Colonial turns into Veteran’s Parkway on the Cape. We drove across Veteran’s Pkwy. and came to the Cape Plaza which sits just before the turn off onto Pine Island Rd. We had spotted the familiar green logo of a Starbucks. It beckoned us like a signal beacon, promising some of that delicious amber brew. Inside Starbucks, a line of other caffeine addicts was already lined up for their morning’s fix. We stood in line and traded goo goo eyes with the small child in a stroller in front of us. She had the bright blue eyes, radiant smile and blonde curls of a real charmer.
When out turn came, a young lad new to his job fumbled the ball a bit. An older male and female colleague helped set him straight on procedures and we soon had our coffee. In a busy Starbucks, the barrista either had to be good or he/she didn’t make the cut and was let go.
From Starbucks, we drove to Pine Island Rd. and made the left onto that worthy avenue. The first segments of PIne Island are not visually appealing. Barren earth and then some clumps of mangroves hide the beauty to come. We crossed over a small bridge onto the Island. Immediately a riot of colorful one story art shops, tackle and bait shops and former fishing shacks caught our eye. Small motels, seafood restaurants and other commercial attractions compete with each other in a riot of color and style. This is the strip where the area holds its art festival. It looked of interest for a day trip.
Continuing on, we saw small homes and lush vegetation. Pine Island is still pretty much undeveloped. At the stop sign with Stringfellow Rd., we took a right turn. This is the center of Pine Island and about equidistant between the two population centers of the Island, Bokelia and St. James City.
The school crossing guard at the elementary school waved at each car as they passed, friends possibly or perhaps reminding each of
them that his was a 20 mph speed zone while school was is session. We drove slowly through the zone. Having New York PLates on your car is like having a big bull's eye painted on the roof of your car for traffic enforcers to aim at.
About three miles along Stringfellow Road, we came upon Pineland Rd. and took a left turn. The narrow road follows a circuitous path through small farms and rural homes to the coast on Pine Island Sound. The Tarpon Lodge and a huge marina and boat storage place are the main attractions at the end of the road. There is a substantial collection of cottages and small residences sprinkled around them. One of the homes, we later learned, belonged to action adventure writer Randy Wayne Wright.
We found the office of the Marina and paid $20 for overnight and two days parking. They had advised us to be here at 9:00 A.M for the 9:30 A.M. Ferry. It was good advice. You need thirty minutes to park your car, pay the attendant and then ride back to the dock. We parked our car in the fenced lot across the road and a young lad gave us a ride to the marina in a golf cart. In passing, he asked us where we were headed. Cabbage Key,we replied. Cabbage Key, he said. “What do you do there?” It was a fair question for someone his age.
“Well, we both have books,” I said. “And we hope to walk the island and maybe rent a kayak. Then there is great food and a comfortable bar to relax in.”
“Oh,” he smiled. “I guess that will be fun. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself there,” he said honestly. Child of the Attention Defecit Generation, he was probably right, I thought to myself.

At the end of the dock, we espied our ride out to Cabbage Key. The Tropic Star is a low slung, wooden passenger ferry. Single decked, with wide open windows and wooden benches, she can probably carry about twenty passengers at once. Twin inboard screws propel her. She reminded me of the old African Queen, we had seen at Key Largo last year. She may have been as old as well.
We boarded the Tropic Star and paid the fare taker our $35 each for the round trip fare out to Cabbage Key, returning tomorrow on Thursday at noon. The boat held an eclectic array of passengers already aboard. Two campers, bound for the Cayo Costa State Park, were sheathed in warm outwear and sitting on a mound of camping gear. Several others were headed out to Cayo Costa for the day to hunt for sea shells. We chatted with a guy and his college age daughter. In the real world he lived but twenty miles from us in Western New York, His daughter was a junior at Daemon College in Amherst about a five minute ride from us. I always marvel at what small world we live in. And I never understand tourists.
The dad had on shorts and sandals, his daughter a brief swim suit and light sweater. It was 43 degrees out and chilly even for
denizens of the wilds of Buffalo like us. The family had a vacation place in Cape Coral and were headed back to N.Y tomorrow. They looked cold.
I retrieved a sweatshirt from my bag and handed it to the young girl. She looked chilled. We all chatted for a bit, watching the pelicans dive for fish in the he sound. The iodine smell of mud flats at low tide tickled out noses as it always does. Everyone was happy and expectant with the the day’s agenda except the diminutive Captain of the Tropic Star.
He had tried several times to start the cranky engines of the boat and had only achieved getting one of them to turn over. He and the fare taker walked to the stern and lifted the wooden trap door that covered the engine cowlings. They tinkered a bit with tools and mentioned stuff like solenoids and other mysterious engine parlance while the rest of us looked on unconcerned and enjoyed the rising sun of a brilliant day on Pine Island Sound.
Several more attempts to get both engines running failed. The Captain called for our attention and apologized for the 30 minute delay;
“I can’t get both engines running and I won’t set out with only one,” he explained. “That wouldn’t be safe. We might ended up stranded in the Sound and have to wait for a tow.”
That sounded logical to us, but, now what?
With several walkie talkie calls back and forth, the boat’s Captain and office people debated what to do. Finally, they gave in and announced that the trip was canceled. O.K. now what?
The Fare taker and the Captain gave the day passengers their fares back and told us and the campers that he would get us out to the island as soon as he could. OK., we replied. We have to be somewhere in May, till then we are free.
The fare refunding taken care of, the skipper led us and the campers to a mid-sized power boat docked at the Marina. We climbed down into her after deck. Mary and the other woman sat in folding deck chairs. Her husband and I sat in the cockpit. We needed to balance weight in the shallow sound, the captain said.
It was only 45 minutes late when we set out, motoring first slowly then picking up speed in the marked channel to Cayo Costa and Cabbage Key. The dredged channels here are like a well maintained highway on land. Keep green to starboard, red to Port and you were in safe water.
It took a good sixty minuets on the water to make the approach to Cayo Costa State Park. The island has a six mile perimeter of
beaches. There are no cars or facilities on it except for rough cabins and sites for tents. It is a haven for bird life and nature lovers.
We followed the channel into the docking area and off loaded the two young campers and all their gear onto the high docks.
I wondered at how isolated I would feel being left out here with only camping gear and some very cold nights ahead of us. Well, they were young and could probably survive anything. We waved to them and set off for Cabbage Key.

The skipper must have well known the channels in the sound. He piloted us through back channels. Some were very shallow. His keen eye sight and slow maneuvering avoided several sand bars through the complex of tiny islands. We then emerged into the dredged channel and found our way to Cabbage Key.

At first sight as you approach, the most prominent feature of the island is the white, wooden water tower. It rises seventy feet or so above the island. The tangle of mangrove bushes and slash pines along the shoreline make it look like most of the other islands in the Sound. Then, we rounded the island and came into the dock area. Sitting on a 30 foot rise of the island is the main building of the Inn. She has a small slate patio in front with umbrella tables. On either side of the Inn, you can see the shiny tin roofs of the residence wings. Amidships, houses a complex of a busy restaurant, bar and kitchen areas that feeds an army of lunchers and diners in season.

The Tropic Star tied up at the extensive dock complex at Cabbage Key. We climbed up into the docks. The tide difference hereabout mean you are always either climbing up or down to the docks. I tipped the Captain and thanked him for getting us out to Cabbage Key. He told us he would come early tomorrow if we were agreeable. I agreed and told him a noon shove off would work for us. He let go his lines and gingerly maneuvered the craft into the channel, where he reversed her prow and set off again for Pine Island and a hopefully repaired African Queen.
Across the channel we looked on to the small exclusive private Island of Useppa. It holds another Inn and a complex of very pricey two and three story vacation homes, many of which we could see along its shore line.

The sun was up, the temperature in the 60’s and the day pleasant. We found Tracey, the reservations clerk in the gift shop attached to the dock complex. The area also holds a small suite for boaters berthing here
to shower and clean up in. Tracey is pleasant and friendly. We signed in , paid our $109 per night off season rate, and then walked up the terraced earthen stairs to the Inn.

Bob Fish, the assistant manager of the Inn and his staff greeted us at the door, welcoming us to Cabbage Key. We chatted with him for a bit . Bob is from Akron, Ohio but had lived in this area for decades. He had spent a year on Block Island in Long Island Sound. We had stayed there as well and traded memories. Bob showed us to our room, #5 just off the dining room, down a small hallway.
The room is small but clean and conformable, reminding us of a state room aboard ship. It has rattan furniture and the cottage type appeal you would expect. The bonus for this room, in warm weather, is the small screened porch attached to it. It looks out into the dock area and Sound. We stowed our gear and settled in.
After unpacking, we explored our surroundings. The restaurant complex consists of a screened in front porch, dining area, with wind screens as well. It can seat a hundred or so diners. A similar large screened in porch at the rear of the Inn seats an even larger number. Adorned along every square inch of the walls and ceilings of these rooms are dollar bills inscribed with the owners names and the dates that they had visited. The tourist brochure says that at any one time there are over $70,000 hanging from the walls in a shabby green wallpaper rota of memories from happy boaters and diners. It is an interesting tradition.
One of the staff said the damp of summer usually melted the tape fastenings of about $10,000 a year from the older bills. That money is donated every year to a center for occupational rehabilitation for troubled youths in Fort Myers. The young charges are trained as mecnahics and boat tenders and other nautical trades, hoping to turn their lives around. It was a nice gesture by Bob & Phyllis Wells, proud owners of the Inn for the last 30 years.
In the middle area of the center section is the Inns real treasure for diners. A tiny, darkly paneled, leather- seated bar area. Four tables sit in the small area near the bar in front of a large fire place. It features a warm fire every night when the temps are cool enough to enjoy it, or hot enough to warrant air conditioning. Behind the bar, a larger paneled and comfortable dining room can seat another twenty guests when temp extremes warrant air or heat. A flat screen t.v even hangs in front of the bar for those who can’t manage to exist without their televsion and news programs. It was homey and comfortable.
If the small rooms of the Inn are not to your liking, the Inn also has six two story cottages, sitting on stilts along the shore. Each has its own dock, two bedrooms, bath and screened in porch. It is an interesting
complex. Kayaks and small motor boats are available for rent at the docking area.,
We saw and followed signs for a nature trail. The trail has a sand floor and follows the contours of the island. We walked along it enjoying the rough view of a mixed growth forest on a mangrove island.
Near the trail head sit several houses for the staff. A new A-Frame still glistened with the yellow of raw slash pine. We walked along and read the Botanical trail markers. Red and Black Mangrove trees shared space with slash pines., oak trees, ferns like bushes and a curious ivy like parasite that encircled tree trunks. It was all new and interesting for us.

About a mile along the trail we came to its end near the shore. We noticed a ficus tree with many shells festooned on its limbs. We deduced that any one rash enough to walk the trail picked up a shell from the path and hung it on the tree. Perhaps it is a custom like the Trevi Fountain in Rome. You hang a shell for good luck and a hope that you will soon return to Cabbage Key. In any case, our shell now hangs there waiting for us to come back and claim it.
We followed the trail back to the Inn and decided that now was a good time for lunch. An entire array of boaters sat on the back porch drinking and making decisions on lunch. Several were hanging their endorsed dollar bills on a portion of the ceiling or wall. It was in the 60’s and pleasant out.
Krista, our waitress brought us tall glasses of water, a bowl of black beans and rice and a very tasty house salad. The tab was reasonable. It was fresh and delicious.
We enjoyed watching the interplay of a the many visitors all around us. Boaters, day trippers, they came from all points of the compass. Krista said that in the busy season the Inn served over 700 lunches daily in a medley of “controlled chaos.” Cabbage Key is an institution in these parts.
After lunch we had the luxury of settling into a nice warm room and reading for a bit. (Red Skies in Morning- Patrick Culhane) Then we settled in for an afternoon nap. It is one of the more enjoyable customs of my hero Ozzie Nelson.
We rose at 3:30 P.M. shook off our sleep and ventured out for a walk around the dock area. It was 67 degrees and pleasant out. We met and talked with a woman from London, who was sitting on the patio. She and her husband were entertaining her parents for the week. They were staying in one of the cottages. Parents and husband emerged from the Inn and they walked off to the cottage.
Mary and I walked down to the docks watching the many birds flying above, and the passing ships in the channel before us. There is
always something going on around a marina. A forty foot sloop sailed
into the dock and tied up. They would be berthing there for the night. The last Ferry left the dock at 4:00 P.M. We would be alone for the evening. The quiet of the wind whistling through the trees, the occasional squawk of a bird over head made for an enjoyable sound, The sound of silence. It is something we don’t hear often on the mainland.
We returned to our room , opened up a bottle of Cabernet and had a glass while we read on the screened in porch. It was a nice day already. The sun was setting and it was cooling off. It would be chilly this evening out on the Sound. The sun set at 5:49 P.M. that evening.
At 6:30 P.M. Mary and I walked the few steps to the bar and sat down near the fireplace. Bob Fish had already started a nice roaring fire and we enjoyed its warmth and light. We talked with Bob for a bit and were introduced to the bar man from Pittsburgh. He was rooting for the Steelers of course.
A man alone at the next table introduced himself as Dennis Kirk. He owns Nav-a-Gator a marina and campground on the King’s Highway three miles past exit #70 on Rte. # 75. We invited Dennis to join us for dinner. He declined but was seated at the next table for dinner so he might as well have sat with us. We talked with him and the bar man and Bob Fish through out dinner. It is one of the high points of Inns like this, the communal chatter of any one in hearing range of the conversation. We talked of Politics, Block island, Football and any other subject that arose.
Dinner consisted of house salads, a platter of Tripple tail fish with sauce, Mashed potatoes and green beans. It was fresh and delcious. Two glasses of cabernet added to both the dinner and the conversation. Bob, our waiter and a young lad from Lakeland was both efficient and pleasant. We were half in the bag at dinners end.
The three folks from the sloop came in as we were almost done. The fire was roaring and we traded comments with them also about anything and everything.
It was getting late and we were tiring. Mary asked for a magic marker and tape. She wrote an epitaph on a dollar bill and taped it to the wall. Now we were one of 70,000 others commemorating our stay here. We made our goodbyes to Bob, Dennis and the barman and walked back to our nearby room., We read for a time, enjoyed the heat from the furnace and soon drifted off into a heavy sleep.

Thursday, Januray 15, 2009- Cabbage Key. Florida

We arose at 7:00 A.M. It was cold damp and windy out. We cleaned up and dressed for breakfast. Then, we walked to the dining room and sat
down at 8:00 AM. at the same table we had occupied for dinner. Bob
Fish was the only one about. He must work long hours at this job. It looked like we were the only ones in for breakfast. Bob took our orders and brought coffee. The traditional “ island special breakfast “ consists of three eggs, home fries, sausage and bacon with toast., Jose, the cook must be good at what he does . Everything was tasty and fresh. We chatted with Bob Fish through breakfast. He had been a pleasant and agreeable host during our stay. I promised him I would send him a write up on Block island that I had done several years before. We enjoyed the breakfast and then returned to our room, where we read for a time and fell back asleep. Life is good.
At the 11:00 A.M. check out time, we said our goodbyes to Bob and walked down to the docks, It was both windy and chilly out this morning, with a cloud cover and the promise of rain. We stowed our bags in the boaters bath house and walked along the nature trail once again, enjoying the rough cut of nature in the raw. The trail brought us back to the Inn. We talked with a woman from New Jersey on the patio for a time and then walked inside to get out of the wind and the damp. We read all the many plaques and citations on the walls, enjoying the history of such a storied Inn. I hope we come back here some time soon.
It was nearing Noon and I remembered what we had told the skipper of the African Queen. We walked down to the dock and waited for but a few minutes before the sturdy one deck ferry rounded the headland and drifted into the dock. She tied up and we then threw our duffles on board and got ready for the ride back. The windows were down along the sides of the Ferry, but it was still raw and damp.
The Captain piloted us along the dredged channel on a course for Cayo Costa. We had to pick up six campers for the run back into Pine Island. The skies were gray and heavy with the promise of rain. The clouds were a dirty grey and the shorelines near us a dull green. We sat and rocked with the sway of the craft as she made her way to Cayo Costa, At one point we could see the headland of Boca Grande just off to starboard. We were that close to her. Then we rounded the channel and drifted into the docking area for Cayo Costa.
The skipper pulled the chain on the boats horn and a mournful wail alerted those who wanted a ride home to get it in gear. Several figures scurried around the dock area as we drifted close. All had seeming mounds of luggage around them. We saw a canoe in one pile and wondered at the logistics of camping here for a week or so.
Three couples joined us on the African Queen., One couple lived in Windsor, Ontario, Another young couple had just been married and were living In Mississippi. She was a doctoral student in Oceanography. The wife in the third couple hailed from Eden, New York about twenty miles form us in Amherst. Its a small world. The skipper struggled with tthe mountains of luggage, stowing it under the wooden benches. He climbed onto the roof of the deck and dragged the canoe topside. He then secured it with lashings so it wouldn’t come loose during the ride aback. Finally all was secured. The Captain let go our lines and we drifted into the channel.
We set out for PIne Island. Like all such voyages, we chatted with the passengers. The kids were cute. They had plans to camp that night in Naples and then drive to the keys to camp there. I hope love sustained them because it was going to be cold as a well diggers butt for the next few nights.
The Canadian couple had spent eleven nights on Cayo Costa, They said the trip in had been even more awkward because of the mountain of beer and food they had dragged in to sustain them for that eleven days. I couldn’t even imagine. Was it worth the effort? They seemed to think so.
We all hunched down against the chill of the wind and swayed back and forth with the ships rolling motion. The skies were a leaden grey, but we were heading into land and warmer temperatures.
The African Queen docked at her Pineland Rd. berth and we disembarked. A young lad gave us a ride to our car across the road and we loaded our luggage into the vehicle and set off. The warmth of the car’s heater was enjoyable.
Traffic was light on our run across Cape Coral. We followed Colonial to Metro and across to Daniels. We soon pulled into the gate of the Legends complex and made our way to our berth on Woodridge Point Road. It had been a pleasant excursion, but like all such trips, we were glad to be home.

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Joseph Xavier Martin