1. 68 ftl + may/june ftl + may/june 69
go south, way south.
our writer uncovers a slew of secret
gems both on and offshore that unveil a
side of the island few even know about.
There is an emerald green plain that seemingly stretches to infinity before
me. I see it as I peer out the Plexi window of a five-seat seaplane on my way
to Dry Tortugas National Park. The 40-minute flight is carrying me 70 miles
west of the southernmost point in the continental United States, but all I’ve
seen thus far is the quick-moving shadow of a reef shark and the intrigue of
shipwrecks waiting to be explored below the surface.
Just as a massive hexagonal structure appears on the horizon as if rising
from the sea, the pilot, Lou, goes in for a most graceful water landing — alone
worth the trip — and then maneuvers our bright yellow plane to the beach. As I
hop down from the pontoon, he hands me a small cooler filled with drinks and a
mesh bag with snorkel gear. He tells me to be back at the plane in precisely two
hours and 20 minutes. I take off for a self-guided tour of the park’s historic Fort
Jefferson, leaving time to snorkel around the outer walls of an actual moat.
beyond
west
key
story megan padilla photography jon whittle

2. 70 ftl + may/june ftl + may/june 71
This is the return trip to Key West I have long imagined. Like
many, I’ve explored its storied streets, dipped into its quirky muse-
ums,handsomelytippedthestreetperformersandfurthersmoothed
a few of its many barstools. I always knew that when I returned, I’d
be ready to hopscotch beyond Old Town and the hustle and bustle
of Duval Street. I’d longed for days spent on water, exploring be-
yond Key West, and nights dining in chef-owned bistros where drink
specials come in martini glasses rather than fishbowls.
As I stand on the grass-covered roof of the fort and watch the
graceful black terns fly just beyond my arm’s reach, a peaceful feel-
ing washes over me, and I realize my Key West experience is in the
midst of redefinition.
I discover curved stone stairwells and climb cautiously to reach
the cells built into the six-sided fort. It’s like a giant honeycomb
where I earn a history lesson with almost every step. Fort Jefferson
is built on Garden Key, one of seven islands that were named the
Tortugas (turtles in Spanish) by Ponce de León in 1513 for the abun-
dance of sea turtles that nested here. A lack of fresh water prompted
mariners to mark them “dry” on their charts.
It wasn’t until 333 years later that the U.S. Army began
building the fort to control navigation in the Gulf and protect
Atlantic-bound Mississippi River trade. It was put to new use dur-
ing the Civil War when captured Union deserters as well as the
four Lincoln assassination conspirators were imprisoned here as an
alternative to the death sentence. In one of the bastions, there are
six cannons aimed directly at the drawbridge over which I crossed
to reach the fort. Not one shot was ever fired; soldiers’ written ac-
counts allude to gun cleaning as a way to pass the time.
Building was abandoned 30 years later, and in 1908 the site be-
came a wildlife refuge to protect the sooty tern rookery. Fort Jeffer-
son became a national monument in 1935; the entire area was desig-
nated the Dry Tortugas National Park in 1992. As I explore this piece
of living history, I recall reading about the wife of a resident doctor
who couldn’t wait to visit Key West — a dream escape, even then.
BELOW THE SURFACE
There’s a pretty white-sand beach that abuts the moat. From there I
can snorkel in most any direction, putting Lou’s gear to good use and
adding another dimension to my day trip. I follow the foundations out
from the beach and then to the right until I reach the next bend in the
wall. The farther I go, the better the view. Purple gorgonian fans dance in
the surge. A dozen colorful parrotfish chomp on the coral, busily making
the sand on which I rest before heading out in the other direction. This
time I see a lone barracuda holding perfectly still and hundreds, maybe
thousands, of silverside baitfish forming a swirling ball.
Although I hate to leave, Lou makes it worthwhile. After he
motors the pontoon plane across the water and positions it at the
beginning of the “runway,” the sound of the engine becomes deafening
as we gain power for takeoff. A thrill rushes through me when water
sprays up over the windows and the plane separates from the water.
It’s a quiet trip back; I, along with the three other passengers, use the
time to catch my breath and daydream about my new experience.
When we approach Key West, I perk right up. I look down and
see the tight grid of streets that make up Old Town as well as the
dividing line to New Town and the last bridge of the Overseas High-
way. Even the pastel cottages on Westin’s Sunset Key, an island just
offshore, are neatly lined up below like an architectural model of the
perfect beachside community.
Once we land at the airport, it’s less than a 10-minute drive to
the newly opened Beachside Resort, resting directly on the Gulf and
Modern-day conquis-
tadors explore Fort
Jefferson. Opposite
clockwise from top
left: a sunset at sea;
Bésame Mucho owner
Michael MinKhin; Café
Marquesa; hoisting
the sail aboard Danger;
a curved stairwell in
Fort Jefferson; Lou,
the seaplane pilot;
Croissants de France
pastries; scented soaps
at Bésame Mucho; Café
Marquesa’s rack of
lamb (center).

3. 72 ftl + may/june ftl + may/june 73
chosen as my home base for this return trip to the Conch Repub-
lic. The unassuming exterior belies the comforts found within. My
one-bedroom suite has a spacious kitchen big enough to entertain a
small dinner party. A wonderfully plush king-size bed wins the battle
of should I nap indoors or out at one of the poolside cabanas.
NEW DISCOVERIES
The next day I devote the bulk of daylight to exploring a few of
Old Town’s more than 3,000 historic buildings. “It reminds me of
Nantucket,” I say to Frank, my Conch Tour Train guide, and he un-
derscores the point. “Both were largely built by New England ship
captains and both have relied heavily on tourism since the 19th cen-
tury.” He goes on to say that much of the architecture is a tropical
adaptation of wood-framed New England design with features such as
widow’s walks. Truly unique to Key West is the eyebrow house whose
steep roofline covers the second story to keep out sun and storms.
Fortified with a chocolate almond croissant from Croissants de
France, I’m ready for a walk. Key West is meant for random discovery.
One find off the beaten path is Bésame Mucho just a few blocks from
Duval Street in the area known as Bahama Village. One of the owners,
Michael MinKhin, is fourth-generation Conch (the affectionate term
for a local). The shop has a “historical island” look and feel and the
items are mostly from Europe where the married co-owners do most
of their buying. Bésame Mucho is Spanish for kiss me mucho and is
the title of a Mexican song from the ’30s to which the owners fell in
love. That romance translates through every corner of the shop where
antique silver mercury Christmas ornaments share space with Italian
cameos and Belgian linen.
Throughout Key West, I encounter traces of Papa nearly
everywhere, from passing the writer’s home (now a museum on
Whitehead) to reading his framed correspondence at the South-
ernmost House museum. I’m inspired to read his work and find the
entire Hemingway collection at Voltaire Books. I’m hoping it will
help my Key West glow linger long after I get home.
I try a new take on the beloved Mallory Square tradition of toast-
ing the setting sun alongside everyone in town. Aboard Danger’s Prize,
the crew pours a full complement of good wines that veil a “tasting”
as a grown-up version of a happy-hour sail. There are two newlywed
couples beside me: One is young and just starting out; the other has
weathered the loss of former spouses and has come to Key West to
step together into a new life stage. The dolphins that accompany us
back to the harbor seem drawn to the hopeful energy on board.
I carry my buzz on to dinner at the charming Café Marquesa.
Two walls of windows, mirrors and plenty of candles ensure my din-
ing experience sparkles as much as chef Susan Ferry’s food. Hers
may be the best crab cake I’ve ever tasted, same for the rack of lamb
with a goat cheese crust. The service is standout too. When I want
only one glass of wine but can’t decide between two varieties, the
server suggests a half glass with each of two courses. Saluté!
My trip wraps as it begun, at another preserved habitat, the Key
West National Wildlife Refuge. So impressed with Danger Charters,
I return for their half-day sail aboard Danger, a 62-foot, two-masted
schooner, and a little snorkeling and kayaking through what the lo-
cals call the backcountry. Along with about 25 other guests, I learn
this is one of the nation’s earliest refuges for wild birds, designated in
1908. Only one percent of this 200,000-acre area is landmass, the
rest mostly scattered mangrove islands. We have the corner we’re
exploring to ourselves since navigating it requires experience and a
boat with a shallow draft. Between the crew and Danger, a skipjack
designed to navigate the shallow waters, we have both.
We help hoist the sails and then relax on deck, watching the
beauty of the wind fill out the crisp, white sheets and squadrons of
pelicans perform their synchronized dive-bombing stunts.
“Do you know what the number-one cause of pelican death is?”
asks crewmember Hague.
“A broken neck?” I suggest.
“Starvation from blindness [which I presume is caused by re-
peatedly smacking the water],” he says.
And so goes all of our bird and wildlife sightings, each one paired
with a mini ecology lesson.
When we reach what the crew calls Mule Island, Danger anchors
a good distance offshore and we divide into two groups of about
six tandem kayaks each to circumnavigate this mangrove island.
My guide, Tony, urges us to watch the water’s glassy surface for the
silver tip of a dorsal fin or the ribbon-like flow of water off a stingray’s
wing. He captures our attention by pointing out the pulsing seafloor
and explaining the science behind the upside-down, bottom-
dwelling jellies called Cassiopeia that thrive here. We follow him
into an inlet within the mangrove to learn
more about this fascinating ecosystem
while cormorants and osprey alight on
the branches nearby. My ears fill with the
sound of their beating wings.
The return sail comes with light snacks,
free-flowing drinks and that inexplicable
feeling of sun-kissed bliss — and new dis-
covery — that we’re blessed with only from
time to time.
From top: Mysteri-
ous passageways add
intrigue to Fort Jef-
ferson, onboard wine
tastings redefine sunset
cruising. An isolated
outpost, the fort sits in
the Gulf of Mexico west
of the Keys (opposite).
Standing on the grass-covered roof of the fort,
a peaceful feeling washes over me as I realize my
Key West experience is in the midst of redefinition.
STAY
Beachside Resort & Confer-
ence Center 800.546.0885,
beachsidekeywest.com
SEE + do
Seaplanes of Key West
305.294.0709, seaplanes
ofkeywest.com
Dry Tortugas National Park
305.242.7700, nps.gov/drto
Southernmost House
Museum 866.764.6633,
southernmosthouse.com
Danger Charters
305.296.3272, danger
charters.com
EAT
Café Marquesa
305.292.1244,
marquesa.com
Croissants de France
305.294.2624,
croissantsdefrance.com
SHOP
Bésame Mucho
305.294.1928,
besamemucho.net
FT+L musts
+ key west