By Suzanne G. Beyer
Special to The Seattle Times
Our family celebrated Christmas in the Florida Keys, where those cute
little Key deer replace reindeer and Florida's famous sun and sand rule.
Before the trip, daughters Sabrina and Kalisa researched the area
looking for activities and sights to see during our two-week stay.
I could easily write about life in Key West, which I found to be a
combination of N'Orleans French Quarter, Mobile's Mardi Gras and
Disneyland U.S.A. But sometimes it's the unexpected that becomes the
real story.
From Key West, we sailed on board the Yankee Freedom II, a catamaran
ferry, 70 miles west, out to sea, which felt like the middle of nowhere.
Our destination that day was the Dry Tortugas to snorkel on colorful
coral reefs and explore Fort Jefferson. We learned that the fort was
built in the 19th century to protect the United States coastline; it
also became a prison.
Ponce de León came across the seven islands in 1513 and named them Las
Tortugas (The Turtles) after the sea turtles. They became known as the
Dry Tortugas because there was no fresh water.
At Garden Key, the main island, the clear, aquamarine waters beckoned to
me and I quickly found the perfect spot on the white sandy beach to make
camp. Sabrina and Kalisa snorkeled on the colorful coral reefs among the
angel and parrotfish, as frigate birds and pelicans soared overhead.
When they emerged, I jumped in.
The sky blackened. Sabrina yelled from the beach, "Mom, get out of the
water!" Rain pelted us and we ran for the ferry, where another story was
developing.
"Forty what are coming?" I asked.
"Forty Cuban refugees landed on the island last night," said naturalist
Colleen Murphy. "And, since there's no Coast Guard in sight, we're
transporting them to Key West."
"Consider this your cultural experience!" she said.
The winds the day before blew from the south, making their trip from
Cuba in the deep-sided, old wood boat a quick one of 13 hours. The 1825
lighthouse on Garden Key served as their beacon, guiding them to shore
in the middle of the night.
"Sometimes two boatloads a day arrive," Colleen said.
The group of well-guarded Cubans assembled in government-issued white
jump suits. I couldn't help but look at their fresh young faces — men,
women and one pajama-clad child — thinking how they risked their lives
crammed into this boat, now abandoned on the beach, to reach American soil.
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They had made landfall, but refugees met at sea by our Coast Guard are
turned back and there are many who lose their lives during the dangerous
voyage.
I was happy to be a bit more squashed on the ferry for our return trip,
a boat now carrying a cargo of brave souls, desperate men and women. I
remain humbled.
Suzanne G. Beyer lives in Bothell.
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/travel/2004295056_travessay23.html?syndication=rss
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