January 6th, 2022 was our first full day in Key Biscayne. When we first arrive somewhere we usually just start walking around aimlessly and decide where to go as we walk. This time we began by walking the trail in Bill Baggs State Park and came across a historical infographic for a group of 30 structures built on stilts off the coast of Key Biscayne, called Stiltsville. Only seven remain after the wrath of Hurricane Andrew in 1992. These were mainly places of business, some were bait shops and fishermen hang outs and others were a little more risqué, where gambling, partying, and other activities took place. Later that week we took the dinghy and fishing poles out to Stiltsville and guess what? Not a single bite.
We continued wandering past the lighthouse and down the beach where we passed a man, alone and probably in his fifties, practicing hand stands. It was close to noon and we had walked about six miles and worked up an appetite. We realized we had walked beyond the state park lines and onto the beach where resorts and condos line up; where public access seems to end. Our idea was to walk towards a resort like we own the place and make our way out to the road to find lunch. We walked to a pool and rinsed off our feet and then discovered that the gates were locked. So we went out the way we came and followed a narrow winding sidewalk to what we thought was a hotel but turned out to be privately owned condos. We had locked ourselves into this complex.
It was a maze of pristine landscaping and locked gates. Finally, we followed a man with a key card out of a gate and made our way alongside a parking garage where we had to walk around a gate arm to get on a road. I start noticing that the vehicles are all pretty high value; Maserati, Rolls Royce, Tesla, etc. We see tennis courts, valet, and a security guard in a guard shack, followed by a sign that read Ritz-Carlton. We were on foot with backpacks and probably looked like a couple of hillbillies. Regardless we made found Crandon Street where we could finally find a place to have lunch and scope out our resources for provisioning and whatever else we need. It turns out, Key Biscayne had everything but a laundromat.
That evening we made our way back to No Name Harbor, in the state park before the park closed and decided to dinghy back to the boat and paddleboard to The Cleat, a bar owned by Boaters Grill, the restaurant directly in front of the harbor. They let us sample their pina coladas which were delicious and I said, “Oh I’ll have that!” Blake has grown wiser though and asked how much it would cost and it would have been $15! I went with a White Claw which was $7…ridiculous but we paddled there and felt like we earned it. After two drinks each and $30 later, we paddled back to the boat and took the dinghy out to watch the sunset.
When arriving back to the boat, Blake and I had a disagreement. It was minimal but it made me realize that in those moments and in every moment, I want clarity. I want to be a person that is calm, rational, and clear. Alcohol in any amount does not move me towards being that person. So, January 6th would be my last time to drink and I felt relieved. I also felt relieved that this was not due to anything catastrophic, but in a moment when I could see how alcohol no longer served me, my relationships, and how I want to live my life.
Two days later my mom came from Boynton Beach, where she lives, for a visit. Since she had a car, we took this opportunity to explore Miami. You hear all this talk about the strong Cuban influence in Miami, which is true, but I’ve never heard anything about the strong Peruvian influence which I observed. We ate at the most delicious Peruvian restaurant called Cvi Che, where everyone except me, tried pisco sours for the first time. With full bellies, we waddled to Wynwood art district to check out the murals that reflect the vibrancy, creativity, acceptance, and resistance that runs through the veins of this city.
My mom was kind enough to let us use her car the next morning to run some errands, like grocery shopping, picking up boat supplies, and picking up our “new to us” aluminum folding bicycles. If you know me or read the bio, I don’t know how to ride a bicycle. I have horrific memories of trying to learn as a child and gave up. Despite this, I know that it is not sustainable to live this lifestyle by walking everywhere. It’s limiting and I’m not sure if my knees can handle another mile long grocery trip. So, I put the demand on myself and Blake supported me and I’m now a rider of bicycles.
This was not easy. For whatever reason the thought of riding a bicycle makes me tremble and sweat. The thought of looking stupid in front of others makes me cringe and the word “SHOULD,” haunts me, like “I should know how to do this because small children can do it.” I realized with the guidance from my yoga teacher that this thought is not helpful. Children can actually do lots of things that adults cannot or do not do. And most importantly, I made a resolution to not be afraid of being afraid and this is an opportunity to honor that.
On the second day of riding, I noticed that my bike goes towards anything I look at and I nearly hit a female pedestrian. This sent me mentally spinning and had a mild panic attack but soon after was able to calm my nervous system and get back on the bike. I realized for now, I need to be an antisocial cyclist and not look at anyone or anything but what is directly in front of me. Two days later, I rode two miles in the city, on a street (in the bike lane), with cars and people, in what seemed to be effortless.
Blake and I decided to test out the Miami public transportation and explore South Beach. We began with a Cuban lunch and Cubanos (espresso) and there happened to be an Art Deco festival happening with vendors lining the street.
We ran across a couple selling these things called Puff Packs. This couple and their new baby travel in an RV across the country. They make money by selling these Puff Packs which is a parachute like material that self inflates by swooshing it through the air to inflate, then you roll it like a dry bag. It conveniently fits into a small bag for storage; a great alternative to bean bags that take up way too much space. It also floats! Needless to say, we are now owners of a Puff Pack that we named Puff Daddy.
With Puff Daddy on my back in it’s matching bag, we found our way to Mac’s Club Deuce Bar, highly recommended by Anthony Bourdain when he went to Miami. It’s a dive bar.
Blake ordered a Highlife and I ordered a Sprite and the bartender asked me, “Are you in the right place?” We didn’t know it but it was buy one get one free; we thought Blake was charged $7 for one Highlife at first but he got two for $7 which was a refreshing change from the high prices of The Cleat at Key Biscayne. We completed our exploration with a walk down the beach.
It was the weekend again, January 14th, and there were storms and strong winds predicted starting the evening of January 15th and all day on the 16th. We decided that we were too exposed in our anchorage and went to the South Basin, a cove around the corner from No Name that was protected on all sides. This little anchorage is surrounded by multimillion dollar houses who we hoped would be okay sharing their backyard with us. Shockingly, it was just us and three other sailboats tucked in for the upcoming blow.
My mom came down for another visit and this time stayed on the boat with us. We spent all of Saturday and Sunday on the boat, enjoying Puff Daddy, paddleboarding, and fishing. We caught and released lots of gruntfish. On Saturday night, I had the unfortunate opportunity of catching an eel, which we thought was a snake at first sight. I thought Blake was going to pass out as we watched it wriggle around. The next day, we got in the dinghy before the winds picked up and rain began, and tried our hand at fishing by the mangroves. We had a little run in with some iguanas and one nearly fell in the boat from a tree. We quickly relocated. The two catches of the day were when I caught the rare Bluewing Searobin and my mom caught a Checkered Puffer. Both were too pretty and too small to eat so no fish tacos for us.
As the rain came down, my mom surprised us with face masks which will now result in giving me nightmares for days to come. Thanks Blake.
The next day, with fresh faces, my mom took us to a laundromat not only do some laundry but also eat breakfast, Mary’s Coin Laundry and Café. People rave about the steak sandwich but my mom and Blake didn’t seem impressed. I lucked out with the Honolulu smoothie, which I’ve been craving since I had it.
After chores were done, we ventured out and explored Calle Ocho in Little Havana. Again, like downtown Miami, it was vibrant and colorful, reflecting Cuban heritage and hope for a free Cuba. I found it fascinating how some Cubans we met say that Cubans welcome Americans and blame the U.S. government while others blame the Cuban government. The two common themes I see are blame and government, but I won’t go down that path here.
Beyond the politics of it all, we experienced the Domino Park where residents 55 and older can become members and participate in domino games; and Cuban music at the Ball and Chain where I thought my mom was going to be invited to join the band. Our time ended with more grocery shopping for our upcoming voyage to the Bahamas and burgers from Juanchi’s which I highly recommend. I had a burger with a tostones (mashed green plantains that are fried) instead of a bun. I’m now determined to recreate that.
On Tuesday, January 18th, we decided that we would leave for the Bahamas on Thursday, January 20th. This means we needed to get rapid COVID tests, complete our travel health visa, and obtain a cruising permit. Wednesday would be busy and it was. We biked to the grocery store which would be our final stop of the day and hopped on the bus to the Miami Marine Stadium testing site to get our rapid antigen test. There were us and one other car and they refused to test us without a vehicle which was frustrating. We called an Uber and he was thankfully willing to drive us through. We then caught the bus, grabbed a bite, and went to the public library for wifi and printing to complete the health visa and cruising permit. Three hours later, we hit up the grocery store and biked it all back to the boat before the park closed. The state park is the only place with dinghy access if you are anchored. With all that said, we did it, and set sail for the Bahamas at 5am on Thursday.