Food Feature: Pristine isolation

Keep your eyes on the horizon and if you get sick, go for distance. Wise words from the captain of the high-speed ferry Fast Cat. I hobbled back to the stern, hung my head over the side and waited for the nightmare to end. Then, as if by design, the clouds broke, the waves settled and out came the sun. The boat slowed and made a sweeping turn. Into view came the surreal sight of red brick walls rising 50 feet out of the water. This was Fort Jefferson, the centerpiece of Dry Tortugas, the most inaccessible, least visited park in the country. Actually, this group of seven islands isn’t even in the country but rather 70 miles out in the Gulf of Mexico, due west of Key West.

As much as Fort Jefferson might look like a resort, the place has a sorted and luckless past. Thomas Jefferson considered the Dry Tortugas such a strategic military location that he commissioned the building of the fort that bears his name. After 30 years of construction it was declared obsolete and never finished. They also found out that the fort was sinking — 60 million bricks lain on top of a fragile reef will do that.

Eventually it was turned into a prison — its most infamous resident being Dr. Samuel Mudd (the man for whom the saying “or else your name is Mudd” derives). Mudd was the doctor who set the broken leg of John Wilkes Booth after Booth assassinated President Lincoln. Apparently guilty of following the Hippocratic Oath, Mudd was convicted as a conspirator in the assassination and sentenced to life imprisonment at Fort Jefferson. The reality of life at Fort Jefferson before it was abandoned in 1874 could best be summed up by the sign that still hangs over Dr Mudd’s cell: “Whoso Entereth Here Leaveth All Hopes Behind.” The isolation and mosquitoes were so intense that even soldiers assigned to duty at the fort considered it to be a stint in hell.

Today, thanks to little things like bug spray, life on the island is more amenable — albeit still without amenities. Campers must bring all necessities (including fresh water) with them and pack all trash back out. The only thing you’re allowed to leave in Dry Tortugas is what you would naturally leave in the saltwater latrine.

There are only a handful of campsites and they go for $3 a night, undoubtedly the best bargain in the Keys. Reservations are a must. But keep in mind the only way to get here is by private ferry or seaplane from Key West, which will run you anywhere from $100 to $300. If you’ve priced hotel rooms in Key West lately then you know this is still a bargain.

When we disembarked from the Fast Cat we were provided with snorkel gear. This is what I was looking forward to the most. I had heard that the snorkeling here was among the best in the Florida Keys. One of the crew pointed out the best spots, and off I went into the azure waters. Once I made it into the water I looked more like Barney Fife shooting himself in the foot. Sand kept getting in my soles and the mask kept fogging up. I eventually left the flippers on the beach and went without. I didn’t move as swiftly as the others but the coral and the neon fish and looked just as pretty ... as did that purple leafy thing that kept waving at me.

Back on the beach, my girlfriend and I decided to explore the fort. Walking across the moat and in through the sally port we were greeted in the giant open courtyard by ... silence. Exploring the brick-arched hallways we kept hearing voices but found no one. We came to a giant stone spiral staircase that ascended into darkness; around and around we went until we finally saw light from above. Soon we were on top of the fort. The view was like something conjured out of a fairy tale: the walled moat, white sand, red brick turrets and the open sea surrounding us on three sides with the tiny island of Garden Key behind us. There in the harbor we saw signs of life — a few scattered deep-sea fishing boats and people milling about on the pier.

I thought of Hemingway. The Dry Tortugas were his favorite fishing spot and the scene in the harbor looked like it could’ve been the cover for The Old Man and the Sea. Most certainly his many trips here provided inspiration for the seminal classic. There is no fishing allowed from shore or on the pier, but keep in mind that 98 percent of the park is under water. Saltwater sport fishing, scuba diving and exploring sunken ships are the most popular activities in the park, but on Garden Key the draw is pristine isolation.

Once the ferry boats leave in the afternoon, taking all the day trippers with them, there aren’t more than 10 people on the island. The camping is primitive but sublime. A few steps away from the campsite is one of the only naturally occurring smooth white sand beaches in all the Keys. (Being a first-time visitor to the Keys, I was surprised to learn that beaches don’t exist here unless they are manmade.) Your cell phone won’t work here, commerce is non-existent and nature is in command.

The islands of Dry Tortugas are a major nesting grounds for the sooty tern, one of the many species of birds that stop off here during their southern migration. During the nesting period the island of Bush Key is off-limits but is so close to the island of Garden Key that the top of Fort Jefferson becomes a bird watcher’s paradise. Since 1908 this area has been a wildlife refuge for both birds and the endangered green sea turtle. When Ponce de Leon first stumbled across these islands in 1513 he named them Las Tortugas (“The Turtles” in Spanish) because the beaches were completely covered with them. Today their numbers have drastically dwindled. In order to protect the turtles and other natural and historical treasures of the Dry Tortugas, the area was re-designated as a National Park in 1992.

Leaving the dock from Fort Jefferson is a sad affair, for you know you won’t see such a pristine place again for a long time — a place where the stars reach down to touch you and the noise of the wind and the birds can be more deafening than big city streets, a place where the air and the waters are so clear and the colors so bright you just might be compelled to leap overboard and let them call you crazy as you swim back ashore.

Instead you just sit there and watch the walls of Fort Jefferson slowly disappear over the horizon as you head back over the rough waters of the Gulf Channel, back into the sickness, back to that gritty urban jungle known as Key West.??