EXPLORING WITH THE CAMERA--

As you read this we likely are somewhere between Mobile, Alabama and home after enjoying our first-ever, 3+ month, snowbird experience in Vero Beach, FL.

On one of my last evenings in town I had some time to wander around and explore with my camera.  That produced the image of the memorial island which appeared Tuesday—plus those that follow.

Delightfully tiled pillars (right) highlight a small, town park at Royal Palm Point; at the end of a boulevard of that name which extends into the intercoastal waterway.

(Remember, you can click on the image to see a larger version.)

I was lying on the sidewalk to do the next photo—really enjoying the architecture, the lighted palm tree and the deepening blue of nightfall—when I heard a man’s voice inquire if I was okay.

I rolled over and looked past my feet.  Yup, there was an older gentleman and his two small dogs, out for an evening stroll when they encountered me.

 

I promptly thanked him for his concern for my welfare and showed him my image to add a little credence to my otherwise strange behavior.  He seemed to understand.  I think.

But, it didn’t take him long to disappear into his very expensive condo which happened to be the subject of my effort.

The photo below is a peek south along the intercoastal toward Vero’s 17^th Street Bridge; one of two that connect the town and route A1A to the barrier islands.  The family in the photo had just enjoyed dinner at a nearby Lobster Shack restaurant.

These photos were done with the camera’s manual setting which allowed me to use the fastest possible shutter speed in the declining light while maintaining hand-held, camera stability.  Careful control of the exposure also achieved nice results in the sky—detail not readily visible to the human eye.

MAY WE NEVER FORGET--

Storm cloud remnants paint the evening sky over Veterans Memorial Island in Vero Beach, Florida.  Nearby, the swish of the intercoastal waterway adds solace to the soul of quietly wandering visitors.

This artificial island was built from the soil, first dredged in the Indian River during construction of the intercoastal waterway in the 1930s. 

The island memorial was dedicated in 1964 and today, this huge American Flag, visible from the mainland and the barrier island, salutes the country’s veterans 24 hours per day.

Miami, Florida’s downtown skyline backdrops our snowbirding friends Dee and Dick Weeks and ladyfriend Sue Brooks (above center) at the Bayside shopping district on Miami’s waterfront.  In the lower photo Dick, Dee and Sue are headed for one of our Tri-Rail trains which will speed us on our way through that densely populated portion of the state.

RIDING THE RAILS

Southeast Florida Style--

We were riding the interurban railroad between West Palm Beach and Miami, Florida recently when it dawned on me train wheels don’t go clickity-clack any more.   The rails used to be laid in sections and each joint squawked when the steel wheels rolled by.

Now, the rails are in continuous or welded lengths—and mostly silent.  That’s progress; I guess. 

But it sure made me think longingly of those overnight train rides from Mansfield, OH to Altoona, PA years ago and being lulled to sleep by the metallic rhythm of the rails.

Earlier on this story’s morning we drove about an hour from Vero Beach to West Palm Beach where we parked at the Tri-Rail station (where the automobile fire occurred that was shown on the blog a few days ago.)

Tri-Rail serves commuters up and down the densely populated southeast coast of Florida.  In our trips down and back the trains ran on a remarkably prompt schedule.

In fact, often we ran adjacent to I-95 and the train easily kept pace with the highway traffic which usually ran with a 70 mph speed limit.   But, who knows how fast the vehicles or the train was moving.

And, our entire day was a free ride.  I think it was because of our lofty status as senior citizens.

There is one station where the service begins at Magnolia Park, north of West Palm Beach and 13 more to the south until you reach Miami’s Metrorail Transfer station which scoots passengers along their way until you arrive at the downtown “people mover;” an elevated rail system that wiggles through downtown…in our case, to Bayside, a very trendy shopping area on Miami’s waterfront.

Along the way some of life’s painful realities slid by.  Several times I noted homeless camping areas in the scrubby brush trackside. 

And the visual gruel of Miami’s impoverished neighborhoods was often back-dropped by the sparkle of the downtown’s high-rise architecture.

Coordinating with a clever system of shuttle buses and scheduled bus routes most of southeast Florida’s attractions are conveniently available via this service.

I strongly suspect there are more Miami-area train rides in our future snow birding experiences in southeast Florida. 

 

At least I hope so.

   

Sue (above in purple) prepares to board Miami’s elevated train which allowed us to romp through that city’s cavernous downtown completely oblivious to traffic snarling the streets.  That’s her below in one of the train’s modern and cool passenger cars as we meander through the city.

MUSINGS—

Why is it Wal-Mart seems to insist on posting their slowest, most antiquarian cashiers in the express lane.

 *          *          *

I arrived early at the walk-in clinic and sat by the front door to read my book until the clinic opened.  Naturally, the door was locked and the lights were off.  Soon, a lady customer arrived, walked past me and tried the door.

Then, apparently noticing my presence, inquired if I was in line.  I assured her I was which temporarily diverted her away from my choice place in front of the door.  Soon, she was back and tried the door again.  It still was 15 minutes until the facility opened.

I took another look at the clinic’s sign—to be sure its specialty was medical, not mental.

*          *          *

"Congratulations" to Comcast—the local cable TV outfit—for earning the position of lousiest business establishment in Vero Beach.  It would be fitting punishment if their executives were sentenced to having to deal with their own telephone representatives on a daily basis.

HOT TIME IN WEST PALM BEACH--

We were walking to our car after a recent train-ride visit to Miami when this fire truck arrived to deal with a very near-by problem.  We were grateful for our good fortune and sad for the commuter who would return to find this loss.  Please stop by someday soon and we will tell you the story of our shopping and munching romp in the big city. 

Not sure when that story will appear, however.  After all, we still are on vacation schedule--and, when you take a vacation in the middle of retirement, calendars are not terribly important.

A SLICE OF COAST GUARD HISTORY—

The Gilbert’s Bar House of Refuge, Stuart, FL

Imagine for a moment, the east coast of Florida being sparsely populated.  

That’s the way it was just 135 years ago; except for black bears, jaguars and mosquitoes in swarms they had to be physically whisked away before entering a dwelling—or even some primitive sleeping accommodation.

Sailing ships of that era plied the coast with maritime commerce sometimes foundering in storms and plunging their surviving crews onto a desolate shoreline where they were exposed to the above terrors of insects and animals plus starvation and thirst.

Further north, the young country’s coastline was then more populated and a predecessor to the US Coast Guard, The US Life-Saving Service, was handling the rescue service for shipwrecked mariners.

Because of the continual loss of life and property due to shipwrecks along Florida’s desolate coastline, the government in 1876 constructed 10 houses of refuge about 26 miles apart up and down the coast.

They had no lifesaving crews like those at stations farther north, but were manned by a keeper and his family and kept stocked with clothing, food, water and medicine for shipwrecked mariners who found their way to one of the houses.

 

After storms the keeper and his family would walk the shoreline as far as possible from their house searching for shipwreck victims.

In 1915 the lifesaving service and the US Revenue Cutter Service merged to form the US Coast Guard and the Gilbert’s Bar house became coast guard station #207.

During World War One there was a crew of five stationed there.  During World War ll German U-Boats were torpedoing shipping along the coast so a lookout tower and other buildings were built on the property.

Today, this House of Refuge near Stuart, Florida is the only one of those ten houses that survives.

It sat empty after the war until 1953 when local officials bought the building and 16.8 acres of land from the US Government for $168.  In 1955 what is known today as the Historical Society of Martin County went to work to preserve the building for use as a museum.

In a pleasant irony it still maintains its role of being a place of refuge—this time and continuing to this day as a refuge for sea turtles.

Visitors enjoy displays at the Gilbert Island House of Refuge on a barrier island near Stuart, FL.  This facility was constructed in 1876 and was a forerunner of today’s US Coast Guard.

As I pondered its history it occurred to me I entered the coast guard for four years of service just 82 years later. 

Please stop by Saturday and we will share the story of this historic refuge.

Meanwhile, quips about the age of the author will be ignored. < Smile >