A Jan. 15 Travel article on the Florida Keys incorrectly referred to the teeth of the tarpon as sharp and sharklike. The fish has tiny, densely packed teeth on the top jaw and a bony plate on the bottom.
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All Keyed Up
Old Florida
Over the centuries, the Florida Keys have been home to prehistoric tribes, swashbucklers, notoriously bloodthirsty pirates, bootleggers and salvage operators who made great fortunes picking over numerous shipwrecks. Historic remains that can be visited today include what was left of wrecking stations on Indian Key in 1840, after more than 100 Indians attacked the port settlement -- then the county seat of Dade County.
Although the beaches on the Keys are few and small -- the one at Bahia Honda State Park is the major exception -- the islands have a Caribbean feel. Their underwater reefs offer excellent snorkeling and, along with shipwrecks, great diving opportunities. Best of all, they have retained some of the flavor of old Florida. Some areas are as I imagine they must have been in the 1940s. Others must appear much as they did when Ponce de Leon sailed by, carrying home treasures from the New World.
  Tursi and Molly take a dive at the Dolphin Research Center on Grassy Key, near Marathon in the Florida Keys. (Dolphin Research Center) The Florida Keys Florida Keys: The Post trips up and down the chain of islands to highlight the best stops, sites and surroundings.
Photo Gallery: Archipelago-Go
More Keys Coverage: Florida Keys Wild Bird Rehabilitation Center: More than wings and prayers.
Area Update: Rebounding from hurricane season.
No-Name Pub: "The Biggest" -- and most well-known -- "Secret in the Keys."
Budget Tips: Nine ways to save money in the Keys.
Key West: A Buffet-eye view of a wild town.
Casa Thorn: An inn that's "out there."
Dive Time: What you need to know to scuba.
Sleepy Time: 10 places to stay.
Casting Call: What you need to know to fish.
Chicken Dance: What's with all the free-range in Key West?
Find features on skiing in Dubai, relaxing in California and more on the Travel home page.
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More than a dozen parks and wildlife sanctuaries break up pockets of low-rise hotels and little B&Bs and campgrounds. Preservationists have, so far at least, done a good job of keeping the bulldozers at bay -- creating, to my mind, the perfect balance of attractions and open space. Although hit by Hurricane Wilma shortly after my visit last fall, the Keys have largely recovered. "The tourism infrastructure is fully restored; all attractions are up and running," says Andy Newman, spokesman for the Keys Tourist Development Council.
The Keys are so laid-back -- so low-key, if you will -- that there is no temptation to rush to see everything. It took me only a couple of hours to ease into the pace.
Here's how it went: On arrival in Key Largo, I headed straight to Strike Zone Charters on Big Pine Key and boarded a boat for a snorkeling tour. When we reached Looe Key National Marine Sanctuary, some of the other snorkelers took so long climbing down the ladder to the water that I had to exercise every bit of patience not to give them a right good push.
That evening, though, I suddenly realized I'd been idling a good five or 10 minutes at a stop sign, waiting without a care for a crab to cross the intersection.
It's that kind of place.
Turtle ER
Mike Reckwerdt of Robbie's Marina one day noticed a six-foot tarpon, a species of game fish, flopping on the beach. Reckwerdt put it in a concrete tank until a doctor could come by. The doc diagnosed a jaw plate so torn up that the fish couldn't eat and juryrigged a jaw hinge that he sewed into place with twine. Within a month, the tarpon had healed so well that Reckwerdt released him.
Except that the tarpon with the prosthetic jaw hung around. Soon he was joined by another tarpon, then another, and pretty soon Reckwerdt started selling small buckets of fish to tourists who came by to feed them. And that is why today hundreds of tarpon hang around Robbie's Marina. There is something mesmerizing about watching those tourists who, instead of tossing bait, lie on the deck and hold the little fish within fractions of an inch of snapping tarpon jaws lined with sharp, sharklike teeth. It's like waiting to see an almost-certain train wreck.
You might conclude, after a few days in the Keys, that there's something about the place that encourages a charming eccentricity.
Like the bar patrons who started pasting dollar bills to the walls and ceilings of the No Name Pub on Big Pine Key, where tourists and locals alike sit and conjecture about how many tens of thousands might be hanging all around them.
I stopped at the pub after driving into the area to see Key deer -- a unique breed of small deer that, when full-grown, are the size of Bambi. I ended up sitting next to an old guy who lives on his boat nearby, and I mentioned that I'd seen only a few of the deer on my drive.
