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Where nature is Key

You can do battle with big game fish, swim soundlessly along a coral reef or partake of Old World charm - all on Florida's fabled island chain.

BY CINDY LOOSE | THE WASHINGTON POST

March 12, 2006

I wrestle the big bull shark until my muscles are quivering with exhaustion. Just when I think I can't fight it another second, the line goes slack and I reel the shark to the side of the 16-foot boat.

Bull sharks, the meanest of a mean breed, are the most likely culprits in shark attacks against humans. Mine is 125 to 150 pounds, with such an ugly mug that I feel no guilt about luring it.

It would be hard not to catch fish in these teeming waters off the coast of Islamorada, the Florida Key known as the game-fishing capital of the world, a watery paradise where the Atlantic, the Gulf of Mexico and Florida Bay converge.

Plus, I had a secret weapon, my own personal replica of Santiago in Hemingway's "The Old Man and the Sea": Capt. Richard Stanczyk, of Bud N' Mary's Sportfishing Marina, a guy who reads the water like words on a printed page and says things like "See those currents?" or "See those brown ripples?" I, seeing nothing but the clear, baby-blue water of Florida Bay, cast my line where I am told.

Fishing is just one of many alluring outdoor adventures in the Keys, a collection of 823 islands - 30 inhabited - that stretch 108 miles along U.S. 1 from Key Largo, near the tip of the Florida mainland, south to Key West. The majority of the area's 3.9 million annual visitors skip right over the other 822 islands and head straight to Key West. Granted, that's where the party is.

But I, on this four-day driving trip, found myself so in love with the Keys on the first 79-mile stretch, from Key Largo to Big Pine Key, I never even made it to the primary tourist destination.

On Lower Matecumbe Key, I was waylaid by hundreds of giant, prehistoric-seeming tarpon that hang around the docks of Robbie's Marina, hoping for handouts from tourists.

On Grassy Key, at the nonprofit Dolphin Research Center, I spent more time than anticipated visiting Flipper's daughter and two of his grandsons, and swam with some of the former movie star's more distant relatives.

On Key Largo, I met Laura Quinn, a 77-year-old woman who, after retiring, sold everything she owned to buy five acres of marshy land as a refuge for injured birds. There, in a tipsy house with a hospital on the ground floor, she lives alongside a collection of owls with broken wings, pelicans with cataracts and ibises with broken legs.

On Marathon Key, I got to feed Bubblebutt and Rebel, two of more than 800 sea turtles treated at the Turtle Hospital since Richie Moretti arrived here intending to retire. Instead, he ended up operating a 1950s-style motel to raise money to turn a topless bar into a high-tech M*A*S*H unit for the injured and sick turtles of the world.

Old Florida charm

Over the centuries, the Florida Keys have been home to prehistoric tribes, swashbucklers, notoriously bloodthirsty pirates, bootleggers and salvage operators who made great fortunes picking over numerous shipwrecks. Historic remains that can be visited today include what was left of wrecking stations on Indian Key in 1840, after more than 100 Indians attacked the port settlement - then the county seat of Dade County.

Although the beaches on the Keys are few and small - the one at Bahia Honda State Park is the major exception - the islands have a Caribbean feel. Their underwater reefs offer excellent snorkeling and, along with shipwrecks, great diving opportunities. Best of all, they have retained some of the flavor of old Florida. Some areas are as I imagine they must have been in the 1940s. Others must appear much as they did when Ponce de Leon sailed by, carrying treasures home from the New World.

More than a dozen parks and wildlife sanctuaries break up pockets of low-rise hotels, little bed-and-breakfasts and campgrounds. Preservationists have, so far at least, done a good job of keeping the bulldozers at bay - creating, to my mind, the perfect balance of attractions and open space. Although hit by Hurricane Wilma shortly after my visit last fall, the Keys have largely recovered. "The tourism infrastructure is fully restored; all attractions are up and running," says Andy Newman, spokesman for the Keys Tourist Development Council.

The Keys are so laid-back that there is no temptation to rush to see everything. It took me only a couple of hours to ease into the pace.

Here's how it went: On arrival in Key Largo, I headed straight to Strike Zone Charters on Big Pine Key and boarded a boat for a snorkeling tour. When we reached Looe Key National Marine Sanctuary, some of the other snorkelers took so long climbing down the ladder to the water that I had to exercise every bit of patience not to give them a right good push.

That evening, though, I suddenly realized I'd been idling a good five or 10 minutes at a stop sign, waiting without a care for a crab to cross the intersection.

It's that kind of place.

Eccentricity abounds

One day in 1976, Robbie Reckwerdt, owner of Robbie's Marina, noticed a 6-foot tarpon, a species of game fish, flopping on the beach. Reckwerdt put it in a concrete tank until a doctor could come by. The doc diagnosed a jaw plate so torn up that the fish couldn't eat, and he jury-rigged a jaw hinge that he sewed into place with twine. Within a month, the tarpon had healed so well that Reckwerdt released him.