FLORIDA KEYS OFFERS WATERY WONDERS.

Byline: Steve Goldstein Knight-Ridder Tribune News Wire

With a vigorous current tugging us in 1-foot seas, I gripped my son Sasha's hand as we flippered our way above a magical undersea garden of undulating coral gorgonians - those snake-haired sisters of Greek mythology - and through schools of angelfish, purple wrasses and the occasional barracuda.

For a 9-year-old's introduction to snorkeling, the wonders of John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park were pretty awesome.

We were experiencing sensory overload, gesturing exaggeratedly to one another at the parade of fantastic fish, yet trying to be mindful of the reef because the slightest inadvertent contact could kill the coral.

We'd come - my wife and I and our four children - to explore the Other Florida Keys. Which is to say the 126 or so miles of coral and limestone ``cayos'' - little islands - that form a glittering necklace strung out to that jaded jewel, Key West.

Equipped with the requisite map, and a travel book that quickly became indispensable - ``The Florida Keys'' by Joy Williams - we made our way south from Boca Raton and headed to the Lower Keys, the southernmost end of the chain. Our plan was to start there and work our way up. U.S. Route 1, the Overseas Highway, traverses narrow islands and sparkling blue-green channels that make the drive enjoyable.

Our first lodgings were on Little Torch Key at mile marker 28 - the green-and-white mile markers being the lingua franca for Keys geography.

We had reservations at Parmer's Place, a cozy waterfront nest of cottages that sits on the shore of Pine Channel. Our units, named Tarpon and Grouper, encompassed what was essentially a large trailer. We appreciated the beautifully kept grounds, lush with tropical foliage and a small aviary of exotic birds.

It was at Monte's that we first spotted a popular bumper sticker: ``Conch if you love the Keys.'' The conch, a large sea snail, is a tasty morsel inside a beautiful pink shell that is the unofficial symbol of the Keys.

The next morning, after laying waste to Parmer's ample breakfast, we took a short detour south past the beautiful Saddlebunch Keys, and were fascinated by the mangroves putting down roots in shallow water above the limestone formations. Not quite water, and not yet land.

We reversed field and headed back north to the National Key Deer Refuge at mile marker 31 on Big Pine Key. Key deer are pint-size whitetails, barely 2 feet high and weighing less than 75 pounds. These boutique deer cannot be found anywhere else in the world.

Our first stop in the refuge area was Blue Hole, a freshwater sinkhole in the limestone bedrock that is home to alligators and other critters. A couple of years ago, the authorities evicted an 11-foot gator nicknamed ``Grandpa'' after the old guy snacked on a wayward Rottweiler.

Our next stop in the refuge was the Watson Nature Trail, dedicated to a former wildlife officer who also gave his name to a nearby ballfield where the Big Pine Bugs play. The trail winds for about two-thirds of a mile through dense foliage, and provides good cover for observing the bambino Bambis. Along the trail we encountered a better mosquito trap - cement canals stocked with gambusia, a small fish that just adores mosquito larvae.

A detour off Watson Drive took us to secluded No Name Key, the only island of any size that hasn't rated a picturesque moniker. A new bridge to the island across blue and beautiful Bogie Channel is a wonderful place to fish. We saw lots of egrets and herons, even an eagle, but never spotted the rare roseate spoonbill, the keys' poster bird.

The following day, we departed our comfortable haven at Parmer's and set off for an overnight on the Upper Keys. On our way we spent an idyllic morning at Bahia Honda (MM 39), one of the main attractions of the Middle Keys. Bahia Honda is Spanish for ``deep bay'' and marks the geologic transition from the lower keys, which are limestone, to the coral upper keys.

Bahia features the best beach in the Florida Keys, an expanse of sand that seems luxurious compared to skinny Smathers and Higgs Memorial beaches in Key West, where replacement sand must be trucked down regularly.

Though piles of seaweed littered the shoreline, the kids raced into the shallow surf. A breeze took the discomfort out of the humidity and dressing rooms and outdoor showers were available. A nature trail around a lagoon at the northeastern end of the park features the silky silver palm. The beach is family-oriented - very few thong suits.

Hunting for lunch, we left Bahia Honda and drove across Seven-Mile Bridge, the longest of 42 bridges connecting more than 100 islands in the Keys and a miracle of Henry Flagler's engineering. An oil and rail magnate, Flagler built the miraculous Florida East Coast Extension Line to Key West, and the rail bed served as the foundation for the Overseas Highway. Train service virtually disappeared after a disastrous 1935 hurricane, leaving the rail line's mile markers as a legacy.

The beauty of Seven-Mile Bridge yields to Marathon, the ugly stepsister. One of the best-known and least inviting of the Keys, Marathon was once the main camp for railroad workers and has evolved into a string of strip malls that evokes the worst of suburbia.

A host of restaurants, shops and hotels from mile marker 73 up to 88 use Islamorada as their address. After the 1935 hurricane, you could buy land here for about $1 an acre, and some lucky people did. Now beachfront property costs about 100,000 times that. Islamorada is known for partying and sport fishing, the latter being the lure for George Bush, a frequent visitor.

We paid our respects at the hurricane monument at MM 81.5 that marks a mass grave of those who died on Labor Day in 1935. The limestone monument does an artful job of portraying palms bowing to the fierce winds.

Just up the road was the Ocean Dawn Lodge (MM 83), a small motel that has been renovated by tennis pro Hank Brenner. In addition to eight units, Ocean Dawn has a small swimming pool, a tidal pool and a tennis court, where you can play or have a lesson from Brenner. Maura, 7, and Lissa, 11, found large fish waiting in the tidal pool, and hoped for some nurse sharks to swim by.

Daybreak found us departing Ocean Dawn for a 9 a.m. reservation on a snorkel boat out of Pennekamp, about a 20-minute drive away (MM 102.5). Pennekamp is billed as America's first underwater park, and offers dive and snorkel trips, watercraft for rent, and an aquarium. Most visitors come for the reefs, which lie four to seven miles offshore.

After collecting our snorkels, masks and fins, we boarded the Sea Garden with Capt. Mick O'Connor and dive boss Mac McMahon, heading to White Bank Dry Rocks, one of the favored reefs.

Soon we were flopping into the blue-green Atlantic with 650 varieties of tropical fish and coral gardens waiting below.

The kids said it felt as if they had been dropped into a giant fish tank. I told them to be cautious because the current was dragging us inexorably in the direction of Key West.

That, of course, was not where we wanted to go.

On Location

For more information about the Florida Keys, contact:

Key Largo Chamber of Commerce, [phone]; Islamorada Chamber of Commerce, [phone]; Greater Marathon Chamber of Commerce, [phone].

CAPTION(S):

3 Photos, Box

Photo: (1--color) Florida's John Pennecamp Coral Reef State Park features underwater suprises for divers.

(2--color) The wonders of the undersea world captivate divers, who travel to places both far and near on diving vacations.

(3) Divers can experience sensory overlaod at John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Prak.

Tom Ondway/Associated Press

Box: On Location (see text)