With these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of my running and all of my cunning
If I couldn't laugh I just would go insane
If we couldn't laugh we just would go insane
If we weren't all crazy we would all go insane
- Jimmy Buffett – Part of the lyrics to Changes In Latitudes, Changes In Attitudes

There is no place, like this place, anyplace. This place is the Conch Republic. This is the Florida Keys

And this is a true story. The Conch Republic got underway as a secession of the Keys (almost all the way to Miami, at least north to "Skeeter's Last Chance Saloon") from the United States, on April 23rd, 1982 in response to a United States Border Patrol blockade setup on highway U.S.1 at Florida City, just to the north of the Florida Keys! At noon, on the day of the secession, the Mayor read the proclamation of secession and proclaimed noisily that the Conch Republic was an independent nation, separate from the U.S. From what I have read, he symbolically began the Civil Rebellion by breaking a loaf of stale Cuban bread over the head of some man in a U.S. Navy uniform. I understand he demanded a large sum of money in foreign aid to repair the attitude damage caused to the Keys by the USA. I don’t know if he ever got any money but the spin-off from the hoopla it caused, has and still does, reap it’s benefits Every year in April there is a weeklong anniversary “Independence Celebration” to commemorate the event and provide conviction to the populace “they still mean business” I think the business they mean is the rewards of commerce. Power to the people.

This is where I diverge to a short communication I had with an elderly tourist couple sitting across from me in the Miami Tri-Rail transfer station after transferring from the Greyhound Bus Line. I can’t be exactly sure where they were from, but she was wearing a Tee shirt that had the New Hampshire slogan “Live Free or Die” slogan emblazoned across her ample bust. They were very friendly and anxious to know about the Keys once they found out I was on my way home to Stuart from Marathon, as they were headed in that direction. Like a lot of people they were somewhat taken to hearing the adventures of a lone sailor. This time though, I tried to maneuver my way around it by asking them questions about how where they had been and were going; for how long, etc. Still they kept remarking my adventure was outstanding. The lady wanted to know where I might go next. My answer off the cuff was; “I didn’t know yet, but it probably was Key West and possibly Cuba” since Key West it closer to Havana than it is to Miami. Her husband came up out of his seat like he was reacting to taking a pole-axe to the fore-head. They both gasped that I wouldn’t dare. “It’s communist you know” they almost said in unison, “We wouldn’t dream of going there”. I don’t know where my reply came from, but I did make them aware that China is communist and thousands of Americans travel there every year; maybe every month. She said “she never thought of it that way before”. I wanted to ask her to read her Tee shirt and now that she knew, if she planned to kill herself. But I couldn’t; they were such a nice couple.

Later on the train north to Palm Beach I sat facing a lady who had been fishing with her husband in Ghana. They were well travelled and well educated; by the sound of things. So I asked her about her thoughts of travelling to a communist country. She was from Chicago and told me that she has been to Cuba (via Canada) more times than I have. Marion, if you are reading this put your opinion in the comments at the end of this blog! Anyway, she agrees that far too many citizens of this great country have been dropping their brains off at the government laundry. Also maybe the one per-centers (without me asking, she appeared to be one) get away with more than just having all the money in America. They can make themselves free as well.

As I mentioned, I had left the boat on a mooring in Marathon and took the Greyhound north to Miami and then the Tri-Rail to West Palm Beach, where Chris was coming to meet me and our friends from Toronto. Before leaving, I had to get permission from the marina and arrange with someone to keep an eye on Chances. Judy, Mike and Murphy planned to stay for at least a week before leaving to go to Key West, so just the kind of people they are; they volunteered immediately. If Chances was left alone for a few days at the end, it might take that long for the marina to find out. I would be back by then. I made sure the fridge was cleaned out and turned off, all the cockpit cushions were put away, the dinghy was up in the davits, the motor locked on its rail stand and everything else was locked up. Mike swung around early, before Murphy’s morning walk and took me into the dinghy dock where I had arranged with a taxi to take me to the bus depot.

I waited in the marina along with eight or ten other Canadian sailors and watched as Sidney Crosby score the second goal in the Olympic gold medal game against Sweden. The day before when I walked by the same area on the way to West Marine I noticed there were a lot of sailors watching the USA / Finland game. On the way back I happened in again for the last five minutes. There weren’t many people left and those who remaining were none too happy. They weren’t just disappointed; they were mad because they felt someone else was better than they were. You find that sordid attitude a lot.

A couple of days before leaving I had been to visit the Marathon Turtle Hospital, which strictly takes care of injured sea turtles. The cost of admission covers a lecture on sea turtles and because it is a non-profit organization the majority of the fee goes towards the rehabilitation and care of injured turtles up and down the coast. Did you know there are only seven species of sea turtles in the world and five of them live along the Atlantic coast? I was interested in knowing a bit about the life and survival rate of these nearly extinct reptiles after seeing the nests that they leave along the beaches in the Stuart and St Lucie inlet area where we live. Because they are a slow motion creature they can’t get out of the way of boats of any size and when hit hard enough their shells break. And because there metabolism is slow, their healing process is slow as well. It takes a year of hospitalization and rehabilitation before an injured turtle can be released. Some were so badly injured they will be life-long residents of the hospital. When I was there were 37 “patients” who required an operation of some kind before being released, if ever, back into the wild. They suffer from amputations because of fishing nets, shark bites and collisions. They are often found floating on the surface, unable to submerge because they are air-locked with the garbage they have mistaken for food; mainly grocery bags, but also plastic from water and pop bottles. It is a darn shame to see what doctors have removed from the guts of these innocent creatures because of our wanton disregard for life forms other than our own. Because they mistake our garbage (plastic looks like jelly fish to them) for food they end up starving to death after eating it because they can’t dive to feed on the grass they require. I’ll never look at a plastic bag the same way again.

And now back to the attitude of this place. Most of the winter sojourners here are retired sailing couples who don’t want the responsibility of taking care of a home or condo and paying taxes on a property that anchors them to one spot. They tell me they have come to a point in their lives when responsibility to others now will take second place. One old-timer summed it all up for himself in that all his life “he was confined, defined and restricted.” This was the time he and his wife had been looking forward to all their working lives, and by the wide smile on his face, as he looked up into the clear blue sky and shuffled his sandals on the sides of his dinghy; he looked to be enjoying it. “A lot different here than it is in Vermont this time of year. You don’t have to shovel sunshine.”
Now that I have again arrived at the furthest point I intend to sail to on this trip, a new reality kicks in – I have to go back home. The part of Jimmy’s song -if we weren't all crazy we would all go insane -is stuck like an ear worm. Maybe it best sums up this crazy escapade I have been on. What can I say but to agree? “With all of my running....if I couldn’t laugh I just would go insane.”

This has been a knock-out of an adventure I am on. I have been hundreds of places, seen thousands of happy faces and it isn’t over yet.

Live free or die.