Islands In The Sun

Thanks to its unique location at the bottom of he Florida Keys, USA, getting to Key West is half the fun.

- Robert Kiener

THE SUN’S BL A ZING, the early morning sky is impossibly blue and the waters of the Atlantic Ocean—to my left—and the Gulf of Mexico—to my right—are patchworks of glistening aquamarines and brilliant turquoises. Sailboats dot the horizon and game fishing boats head for the nearby Gulf Stream where sailfish, marlin and other trophy fish hang out.

I am cruising in a rented convertible with the top down along US Route 1, the 182-km-long Overseas Highway in the Florida Keys, that necklace of islands that hangs off the southern tip of mainland Florida. My destination: Key West, America’s southern-most, quirkiest and most uninhibited town.

As I drive, I am reminded of what Craig Cates, the mayor of Key West, said when I told him I was planning to visit his hometown.

“Sure, you can fly down to Key West,” he said. “But you’d be missing one of the world’s most breathtaking road trips if you don’t drive down here.”

He also advised me to “slow down” and stop along the way. The top speed on US 1 is just 45 miles per hour, so I can’t help but slow down, all the better to take in the scenery, from kitschy tourist traps and tiki bars to elegant hotels to cobalt blue waters.

“This is paradise,” I say to myself as I slip a Jimmy Buffett CD into the car stereo. Margaritaville, Buffett’s best-selling 1977 tribute to his former Key West home, begins.

‘Nibblin’ on sponge cake, Watchin’ the sun bake …’ Moments later, I can’t resist and start singing along, drowning out Buffett with my own out-of-tune warbling: Waaaaasted away again in Margaritaville …