Last month I drove down to my old stomping grounds of Key West for a long weekend fishing trip. I hadn’t been back there in almost a year and it was great to catch up with some of my guide buddies and see a few of the changes on the island that I called home for over a decade.
Change is one thing that seems constant in Keys these days. This string of islands along A1-A are still some of the most valuable pieces of real estate in all of America, despite the fact that the bubble popped almost as loudly down there as it did up here in Lee County. Small motels and quiet little marinas were scooped up and turned into high dollar condo developments overnight, then flipped again and again until the asking prices were approaching the stupid mark. By 2005 the median home price on Key West hit $860,000, and all that would get you was a 1200 square foot cottage.
Another thing that changed in the Keys was the tourists. When I rolled into town in the early 90’s Key West still attracted a lot of serious anglers as well as an interesting mix of bikers, spring breakers, and all sorts of literary types hoping to commune with Hemmingway’s ghost down at Sloppy Joe’s. I loved that part of Key West but it was already on life support even back then. It wouldn’t last much longer.
The problem started down at Mallory Square where the docks had been reinforced at tremendous taxpayer expense and first mega-cruise ships began to arrive. Bigger than Nimitz Class aircraft carriers, those gaudy monsters disgorged an endless flow of bargain thrill seekers to Duval Street in search of $10 T-shirts, lukewarm Bud drafts, and tone-deaf covers of “Margaritaville.” It was a really depressing sight.
Then one day the biggest cruise ship of all showed up with America’s favorite cartoon mouse painted on its bow. That’s when I knew Key West had completed its transformation from a cool island home and into a theme park. I called it quits a short time later and I still hate that cartoon mouse to this day.
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Despite all my irritations with Key West, I’ll always have a strong affection for the island simply because it’s the birthplace of saltwater fly fishing. Legendary anglers such as Zane Grey, Joe Brooks, Lefty Kreh, Stu Apte, and Ted Williams spent countless hours poling the flats around the Lower Keys where they invented the knots, created the flies, and perfected the tackle that we all take for granted today. Those were the men, a few of them still living, who can be credited with actually inventing a new sport.
And no, I don’t include Hemmingway in that group. Ernest was a pure deep sea fisherman. He trolled bonefish as marlin baits and used dead tarpon to chum up sharks so he could blast them with his Thompson submachine gun. He usually did all that between gulps of Chivas Regal. Papa Hemmingway was obviously a different kind of angler and the FWC would probably frown upon that stuff these days.
But it’s once you’re away from Duval Street and back out on the flats that the fishing history of Key West doesn’t seem so distant. You can ignore the cruise ships, parasail boats, and jet skis tearing up the harbor and focus on the abundant sea life that’s right in front of you in the shallows. Great fishing still happens down there just like it did for the bamboo rod pioneers from half a century ago. That’s what keeps me returning year after year.
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I had my back to the island while my buddy Capt. Mike Bartlett poled me across a three foot deep flat in search of mudding stingrays. It was a chilly February day for Key West, only about 70 degrees but much warmer than Pine Island that same morning. We weren’t even trying to find the glamour species like bonefish or permit. All we wanted that morning were some big jack crevalles to nail our topwater flies. I didn’t even think of the Duval Street circus on shore a few miles away from me.
The crevalles were all over the place, hitchhiking on the back of every other ray on the flat. It was effortless fishing and I marveled at the huge barracudas and massive sharks that would charge each jack we hooked. There are still some things that rampant development hasn’t changed down there and no matter what you might hear or read, Key West can still produce some incredible days on the water.
But it’s when I step off the boat that I get homesick for Pine Island. It’s just too much of a zoo in Key West and the folks in charge seem to want it that way. Most of the artists and writers that used to call that island home have migrated up to these parts. There’s currently more charm and culture right past our Matlacha drawbridge than on all of Duval Street. And the only time you have to step over an unconscious drunk is maybe once a month at Bert’s. We really have it good up here and we don’t ever want to duplicate lower Duval.
Both these coasts of Florida share a lot of similarities, including the great fishing, but I’m glad to see that Matlacha and Pine Island are firmly aware of and embracing their past while Key West stumbles around trying to find its future. Our home islands here in Lee County have it right and we really do hold the title of “The Last Piece of Old Florida.”
And we should all be thankful that the waters around here are way too shallow for cruise ships.
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