Boot Key
A quarter mile across Boot Key Harbor from Marathon in the middle of the Florida Keys lies a ramshackle community. Cut off from the mainland when the bascule leaf of the Boot Key bridge was removed in 2010, the island is a lost part of the Keys.
While most of the island has been protected from development since 2011 by NOAA’s Coastal & Estuarine Land Conservation Program, a small section on the western end is privately owned. Along with a small cinder block building housing the transmitting equipment and antenna for a local radio station the key has a U shaped canal system that is only accessible through a sketchy inlet marked by a pair of PVC pipes.
During a windy week, we sought out protected fishing areas and tried the channel leading to the interior of the key. Sitting on the edge of the cut we heard the rumble of a diesel engine. The sound grew louder and finally a lobster boat appeared to be coming toward us.
The area by the Seven Mile bridge and Boot Key Harbor is fairly busy and we didn’t think much of it until the boat appeared to be coming directly at us. It soon became apparent the boat was going to enter the channel. Listing to port it brushed against the bank almost grounding in the shallow water adjacent to the channel and barely missing us as it disappeared into the canal.
The incident could have been a scene out of one of my books and I decided to come back to explore. Google Earth showed the U shaped canal system that appeared to have once been a neighborhood. It was clear from the satellite imagery that the place was in bad shape.
Kayaks seemed to be the perfect mode of transportation to check out the area and on a subsequent trip we headed out from Sombrero Beach with some friends.
The Sister Creek side of Boot Key is well know as is the small creek running into the interior. Both are on the eastern side of the key which is in the NOAA conservatory. Mangrove lined shores prevail through the area attracting birds and fish.
Paddling around the outside of the key brought us to the PVC pipes. We entered the channel and within a hundred feet found ourselves in another world.
Three years after Hurricane Irma roared through the area most of the damage has been repaired, except in here. The neighborhood showed few signs of life beside a couple of lobster operations and the radio tower. Every property we saw was in the process of becoming one with nature. Boats were in all stages of sinking, though several appeared to be occupied.
A rusty steel vessel sits near the end of one of the canals. It became known to us as the Yellow Submarine, but is actually a dracone, a tank meant to be towed in a submerged state
The trip gave me plenty of fodder which turned into Wood’s Hope.