Two Stories about the Dry Tortugas (Journey Account, early April)
The Dry Tortugas (the name of which comes apparently from having 1) no fresh water, 2) but lots of yummy sea turtles) is a 19th century fort out at the end of the Florida Keys. In a world of sailing ships, it had a number of virtues (besides the yummy turtles). It sits at intersection of shipping lanes coming out of and into the Mississippi River and the beginning of the Gulf Stream. It has a deep water harbor protected from storms coming up from the south. A fort there thus offered a large amount of control over the coming and going of ships, both commercial and military.
The challenge of building such a fort, however, was enormous. The islands are 70 miles west of Key West, have no fresh water, and the highest point is 16 feet above sea level. There are no raw materials to build the fortress walls. Everything had to come in by ship: 16 million bricks, heavy foundation stones, cannon, laborers, food, and water. The result was -- when the United States built Fort Jefferson -- it took them so long that it was obsolete by the time it opened. Started in the 1840s and finished after the Civil War, the fort never fired its guns in anger. Its brick walls, designed to fend off solid shot, would never have been able to withstand explosive shells. It had a garrison only for a few years after completion, with the military giving up on it in 1874. It was mostly neglected after that, used briefly during the Spanish-American War and World War I. It finally became a national park in the 1990s and is now one of the most remote.
Visiting it is really two stories. There’s the getting there and the being there. I took the ferry out, a 2.5 hour ride each way. There’s a seaplane option as well for those of us who have large amounts of money. The ferry leaves at 8 am, which means an early start. I had read warnings about potential sea-sickness so I came well-fortified with Dramamine. That seemed like a good plan from the beginning as the crew member (They all had great names. His was “Hollywood.” There was a “Lando,” a “Jack,” and a “Cap’n Mike”) briefing us repeatedly mentioned the issue, and promised that they had a massive supply of “gift bags,” as he put it, should we desire to throw up. They also had Dramamine for $1 a dose.
The warnings were not incorrect. The movement of the ferry was not too bad at first as we moved through waters sheltered by the barrier reef. But once we shifted into the open channel, we started rocking front to back, side to side pretty vigorously, with the occasional crab-wise shudder as a wave hit at an angle. It was an impressive amount of rocking and rolling. The crew was completely unaffected. The passengers, however, started turning fascinating shades of white and green and the gift bags were liberally utilized. To my shock and consternation (and the same to anyone who knows that I can get motion sick turning my head too quickly), I was not one of them. The drugs plus a strategically chosen seat on the back deck staring firmly out on the ocean kept me just below the nausea level. I could feel it if I looked inboard but otherwise I was fine.
We got there in late morning and the passengers stumbled off and headed to the nearest dry land. Being at the fort is an overwhelming experience. The sun is intense, blindingly reflected off deeply green water, and without much shade from the scrub trees. The island is small and the fort is immense, dominating the entire Key. The fort walls are relatively low (three stories) but enormously thick, and surround nearly 16 acres of land. The planned armament was supposed to be 420 cannons of all size, including 10 inch / 300 pounder rifled Parrotts and eventually 15 inch Rodman smoothbores. It is surrounded by a moat and a moat wall.
It’s not in great shape. A century and a half of wind, sun, water, and storms have eroded or rusted the walls both inside and out. One of the building methods used iron framing for the bricks. When the iron rusted and expanded, the bricks cracked and fell apart. The maintenance work must have been endless and overwhelming even without any fighting going on.
I wandered the top at first, looking out across the Gulf of Mexico. The water really is incredibly green and sparkling in a way I’m not used to at more dour northern beaches. It just glows. Some of the guns remain, in various states of upkeep. Strangely, there’s also a range of antennas, including a Starlink, helping connect the park rangers who live there. There are a couple of them, living in sections of the wall that have been built into studio apartments with the most impressive balconies you’ll find just about anywhere. They have small boats and one larger one to patrol the area, and they’re armed and wearing body armor. The area is visited often, apparently, by folks attempting to get into the US, either to live or smuggle drugs, and so the weapons are necessary if a bit disconcerting.
Inside the walls of the fort the atmosphere changes. It’s dark and cool, the heavy bricks holding the temperature down to a quite reasonable level. Dampness is omnipresent and so too are quick glimpses of the green water through cannon embrasures on the wall. There are brick arches everywhere, the better to hold up the massive structure.
Outside are remnants of the living quarters, kitchens, and privies. They’re mostly foundations with no real sense of the buildings that had been there. The exceptions are the armory where they stored gunpowder and the furnace for heating shot. The interior area is sun-beaten as well, and open to the elements. I couldn’t imagine living there with no air-conditioning and regular hurricanes and storms. There’s no place to really go but the fort.
Outside, you can walk almost all the way around on the moat wall. This is quite amazing. As you walk, away from the ferry and dock, you end up with just the wall and the ocean. It’s quiet and peaceful. You can snorkel and swim around the moat wall (not inside the moat) and I can imagine that would be even more other worldly. I didn’t, as I didn’t want to deal with changing out of damp clothes. Maybe I should have.
You have four hours before the ferry goes and I had finished wandering everywhere with about 90 minutes left. I sat at one of the picnic tables in some shade and just watched: the fort, the ocean, the people, the waves. There’s no cell signal, so you just have to absorb what you can as you sit there. Nothing to distract your attention from the scene around you.
Then, naturally, I went into the gift shop and brought myself a substantial amount of swag. Included were stickers, a fridge magnet, and a key chain. I know this is all highly consumerist but it becomes a living scrapbook that I carry with me and see daily, the experience of the day in a small square on my refrigerator door. Most importantly, I got a stamp for my national parks passport book. The day and date in a collection of experiences, stowed away until the next visit to a national park.
The ferry left at 3 pm. There was a cash bar and a lot of the sickly passengers had medicated themselves against the trip back. Thankfully for them, the waves were much easier this time, though some gift bags still got deployed. We made it into Key West about 5:30 and I got off, having had a singular and unique experience. The crew, which does the trip every day, set about cleaning the ferry.