Key West, late afternoon, 542 miles.
The last stretch of U.S. 1 rolls slow.
The road through the Keys had been beautiful — sun-bleached bridges, teal water on both sides, old favourites playing on the radio. Watching thunderheads pile high, threaten everything, then slide off to ruin someone else's day.
The road through the Keys had been beautiful — sun-bleached bridges, teal water on both sides, old favourites playing on the radio. Watching thunderheads pile high, threaten everything, then slide off to ruin someone else's day.
Mile by mile, the world unravelled.
Retro motels — some thriving, some hanging on, some already gone.
Old signs selling ice, beer, bait, dreams.
Marinas with rusted railings and high-end boats.
Liquor stores with salt-bitten windows and hand-painted prices.
Upscale resorts behind gates and hedges, the kind of places that keep their distance.
Old signs selling ice, beer, bait, dreams.
Marinas with rusted railings and high-end boats.
Liquor stores with salt-bitten windows and hand-painted prices.
Upscale resorts behind gates and hedges, the kind of places that keep their distance.
The Keys don't match. Not supposed to.
They shimmer, they sag. They seduce. They stall.
You start to wonder if the road ends at all.
But it does, finally, perfect timing for something fried, a frozen concoction and a sunset.
They shimmer, they sag. They seduce. They stall.
You start to wonder if the road ends at all.
But it does, finally, perfect timing for something fried, a frozen concoction and a sunset.
We ditched the car, we're on foot for the next few days, on island time.
The kind of place where no one's in a rush
and nothing needs a reason.
The kind of place where no one's in a rush
and nothing needs a reason.
A make-your-own Bloody Mary joint set Tri right. I had a local beer - strong, dark, reminded me I was hungry.
A rooster strutted by like he owned the place.
We strolled to Mallory Square, a subtle sunset brought the crowd out. In Key West the sun never sets alone.
A rooster strutted by like he owned the place.
We strolled to Mallory Square, a subtle sunset brought the crowd out. In Key West the sun never sets alone.
We ate tacos and watched boats drift by.
Then night took over.
Duval lit up.
And us — somewhere in the soft edge of it all.
Ten years gone, just like that.
Hasn’t feel that long. Not much has changed.
Same lively streets. Same heat. Same stories between songs.
The ghosts are here if you listen.
Hemingway in the shadows, heavy with words.
Buffett in the breeze, barefoot and grinning.
They don't haunt.
They linger.
In the bars. In the breeze. In the way time lets go.
Then night took over.
Duval lit up.
And us — somewhere in the soft edge of it all.
Ten years gone, just like that.
Hasn’t feel that long. Not much has changed.
Same lively streets. Same heat. Same stories between songs.
The ghosts are here if you listen.
Hemingway in the shadows, heavy with words.
Buffett in the breeze, barefoot and grinning.
They don't haunt.
They linger.
In the bars. In the breeze. In the way time lets go.
Mile Marker 0. Southernmost point.
Ninety miles to Cuba.
Key West, baby.
Where the road ends — and something special begins.
Ninety miles to Cuba.
Key West, baby.
Where the road ends — and something special begins.
