Egmont Key

 Mouth of Tampa Bay

 

 

In 1848, the US Congress authorized funds to construct a lighthouse on Egmont Key to safeguard the shipping entrance leading into Tampa Bay. Completed in that same year, a September hurricane, with 15 foot tides washed over the island and in 1858, the current lighthouse was reconstructed to "withstand any storm". 

By the late 1850's, at the end of the Third Seminole War, the island served as a camp for the captured Seminoles along with the Seminole chief, Billy Bowlegs. Nearly 10 years later, Egmont Key was again occupied by the Union Navy during the American Civil War as a blockade for Confederate shipping. (Source; Florida Department of Environmental Protection)

In 1898, Fort Dade was established on the island as a means to safeguard the Tampa Bay area form the imminent Spanish-American War. Construction on the fort was completed in 1906. The "city" had more than 300 residents and featured roads, electricity, telephones, a hospital, jail, movie theater, bowling alley and tennis courts.  (Source; Florida Department of Environmental Protection)

 

Today, the island of Egmont Key is designated as a National Wildlife Refuge and rests with the State Parks system as a significant Florida historical site.

 

Myself being dropped off onto the island by the Balaban's (Neve). 

 

An Appalachian summer

McDowell County, West Virginia, Summer 1993

When I think of summers, I often recall the Blue Ridge Mountains of my youthful camp days. 

And when years later I discovered that early European settlers of Appalachia were mostly of Scotch-Irish descent, I thought of my own heritage - and that of the odd chance that there might be other McCourtney families living up there within the Blue Ridge mountain area. 

So, late in the summer of '93, I headed out on long road trip, that first took me to Kentucky, then deep into West Virginia of southern Appalachia. 

On rumor, in the little town of Sandy Bottom, in McDowell County, West Virginia, I did find a McCourtney name on a postal box in a tiny one room Post Office. When I inquired around, the local Pastor told me that the family had, "long been gone, moved on". Back on a rural mountain road, and lost, I soon stopped and asked for directions. A young man seemingly wanting to be friendly - to share some company - waved me over and offered me in.

 

Clarence Daughtery, sitting out on the rail of his front porch, as I first stopped and introduced myself.

 

 

 

Clarence, with his girlfriend, who had recently arrived from Florida to help with the summer's "root gathering", invited me to stay for a couple days.  And from another world, we soon became close.

 

 

 

Clarence taking me way up into the coal mining hills, showing me the tell-tale signs of premium-grade Ginseng root.

 

 

Clarence with his valuable stash of summer Ginseng and dried collected leaves of Devil's Backbone.

 

 

(Eventually I went on to cover a 'labor strike' of the United Mine Workers at a gathering and rally outside of Welch. Then documenting the remaining days of a practicing, reclusive Pentecostal 'Snake Handling' Church in Jolo, West Virginia. Thought about dropping by the Carter (Maybelle) family's homestead in western Virginia, where music was still being played, but never made it.  Over a month on the road before heading home).

  

Hotel Indigo

Downtown Sarasota;

A very Sunny, 95F degrees. 'Heat Advisory/Index' @ 110 degrees.

Last Sunday our home air-conditioning (HVAC) system just quit, went silent. On Monday the 3rd, a service tech was out and told us that the needed repair parts should be available from their own local warehouse. Apparently the "start winding" shorted and killed the outside compressor. 

Yesterday those replacement parts were not located, and supposedly, all are on back order. Too damn hot to sit inside or best, to even try to sleep.

So now we're into our 4th day at Hotel Indigo, our temporary new home - with the possibility of a week before the final repairs are complete. We could use some rain, or possibly run a cold shower, but instead we're here just swirling from the heat, floating hour by the hour.

 Room 416