Canoeing the Everglades !

In 1998 at a garage sale I picked up a map called the Wilderness Waterways representing the Everglades in Florida. I didn’t have a clue what might be involved with a water trail that goes for 150 miles through swampy wilderness. I guess you can’t call it exactly a trail since it follows rivers, creeks and large bays according to my new map. I could tell from the pristine condition of the map that the previous owner had bought it on a whim or his wife slapped some sense into him. I was thinking along the same line, how, where and why should I get started on this adventure.

I bought a canoe magazine that happened to have a story about canoeing in the Florida Everglades. It mentioned about a company that rents canoes and runs a hostel for me to lay my head before I started my trip in Everglade City. The article mentioned about marauding raccoons and hungry looking alligators. After looking at my map I knew that the trip like most adventure where going to take lots of planning.

I contacted the Everglade Rental & Eco Adventure Canoe Company and set up a reservation for my canoe rental for eleven days. I also needed a place to lay my head for the first night at their Ivey House. After I finished my adventure in Flamingo I needed someone to have my rental car waiting for me.

Because of the tricky raccoon with their goal of eating all my food, I would need to raccoon proof my food containers. I bought a few thumb screw locks that I could attach to my ice chests. Because I would be away from any forms of ice I would have to carry dry food in my containers. I made two weeks of dried vegetables and snacks. I dried oranges and mixed them with coconuts, nuts and mixed with honey for a quick energy food. In waterproof stuff sacks I packed my sleeping bag and cloths.

Pam my wife was going to celebrate her fifth year on this earth and she didn’t want to be in Denver during that time. I decided to have my trip revolve around Pam’s birthday. So I needed to buy my plane ticket to Miami Florida for the middle of January and then acquire Pam’s ticket for the first week of February after my trip was done, or I was and she would meet me.

When I showed up at the Denver Airport, I had the looks of the Beverly Hillbillies meet the swamp people. Coolers and stuff bags lay in front of the check in counter ready for my agent to raise her thumb or turn it down and then I am thrown to the lions, or gators in this case. After explaining what I had on my pea brain I was allowed to continue with my trip. The agent with everybody else on this giant blue marble had hundreds of questions. “What are you going to do if you wake up with a spiders is on your face and a alligator is chewing on your feet?” was some of the questions. “What if you get lost and all you hear is banjo music and some one is squealing like a pig and hopefully it’s not you!” was another one. My parents must have dropped me on my head but I don’t contemplate about all the hardships, I think of all the new excitement and sights that I can add to the library in my brain.

As I arrived at the Miami airport I noticed it was raining and dark, and now I wish I had bought a earlier ticket. After loading my rental car I headed for the Tamiami Trail with my headlights pointed towards Everglade City. I found out that there was possibility that I might see a alligator or two along this road but I didn’t. By 10:00 pm I pulled into the parking lot of my temporary home. The lobby was empty except for a few people that you might picture living at a Ivey House hostel on the edge of the Everglades. I found a note on the check in desk with a my name and key attached. Maybe the clerk had gone for a walk during the night and had a close encounter with a gator or two. After dropping my bags in my room I returned to the water hole in the way of the lobby. Everybody had some sort of liquor in their hands and they seemed to have years of experience behind their bent elbows. I brought out my map of the Everglades and most people gathered around to see what crazy ass idea I had in mind. Most of the people in audience didn’t have much information or experience in the Everglades but they had more then just a few suggestions. I found out that the man with all information that I would needed for my ten day trip was away but would return tomorrow. During the night I had to get up and use the community bathrooms. As I walked down the hall way I thought I was dreaming when a German girl just wearing a smile came strolling down the hall towards me, since I am married I diverted my eyes of course . What do you say, where do you look, and I thought what a way to start a adventure.

The next morning I noticed a large fella behind the lobby desk that had the looks of knowing how to handle the swamp. After introducing myself, he suggested that I eat breakfast and then we would meet and plan my trip. After wolfing down my breakfast I found my savior outside his time and again my plans was put on the back burner behind my guides other obligations. Then after walking a few miles around the lobby trying to keep my anxiety in check, my path founder made a appearance. I followed him to a room beside the lobby and as I opened the door and flicked on the light, I noticed maps with a curled over edges attached to the walls. On tables lining the walls sat artifacts from past adventures. Jaw bones from alligators without many pieces of tourist stuck to teeth sat on the table beside turtle shells without the original owners. On a empty table I proudly spread out my map of the Everglades Wilderness Waterway. Just as quickly my guide roughly curled them up into a ball and threw them into the waste basket. “If you used that map you would be so lost that gators and snakes would send out thank you notes to the map printer!” he said as he brought out a two navigational maps. I found out from the man with the knowledge that some of the chickee where in different places then were on my map. By the way a chickee is a raised wooden platform above the swamp, that has been constructed by rangers in the Everglades to keep campers from becoming some animal’s bile movement! My new best friend helped me set up my ten day trip through the swamps and to see everything that needs to be seen. Now I needed to drive to the ranger station and reserve chickees and land sites with the National Park Service.

As I drove to the ranger station, I was also able to stop by a sporting good store to buy a fishing license. The store was a great place to start to come in contact with local flaunt and flora. A man with a beer belly that could be a poster child for sumo wrestling was standing behind the counter, with half his stomach covering the glass top. “Where are you going to fish besides the water, the ocean, lakes, rivers or just swamp?” asked the ton of fun of a man. After buying the right licenses, to keep the southern sheriffs from boarding my canoe, I got to hear all the horror stories about swamp travel.
“One time I caught a mess of fish and had them tied to the back of my canoe with the thought of my wife gutting and cooking this batch for my dinner, when I noticed the front of the canoe was being lifted skyward.” he said. “ An alligator had swallowed all my dinner of fish attached to the boat and was pulling the canoe down to the bottom of the muddy bottom.” said the salesman. “Then luckily the rope snapped and the canoe with me came back to the water surface with a boom.” said the fisherman. With the weight of this fella it’s close to a miracle that the canoe didn’t sink like a rock with him as ballast.

The ranger station only had one car in it’s parking lot which would be good for me. As I entered the station, the lone ranger was sitting at his desk with his head laying on the top. As he sat up his eye’s looked like they had rolled back in his head. I found out that the all night party with Jungle Juice as a the host, packed quite a punch. I tried to keep my voice down and the lights turned low, as we looked over my newly bought map. Hopefully the ranger wouldn’t decorate my map with last nights party food as we discussed my plans. I was able to reserve all my campsite which made my day. I found out that the park service has the policy, if you see a alligator don’t get into the water. The ranger was really glad to see me leave so he could lay his head back down to where he had left it and roll his eyes back in his head.

I made it back to the hostel where my canoe and gear had been loaded in a pickup truck. With my new maps in my front pocket and hope in back pocket I was ready to head out. The owner’s son would drive me to the Turner River where I would get this show underway. It took us a more then a few minutes to get all my gear in the canoe. I had four five gallons containers that would hold my fresh water, since most of the waterways are brackish or pure salt. I loaded it in the front of the canoe to hold down the bow in case the wind decides to play spin the canoe. After saying my goodbyes I started my trip with just one paddle in the still water. With my map I knew I had to make Sunday Bay and the chickee before the sun said adios. I noticed a few people walking along the river bank and got a occasional wave of their hands as a way to wish me good luck or a way to say what in the hell are you doing! After a couple hours of paddling I came to Cross Bay and their was group of boats fishing in the neck of the bay. I thought it might be fun to paddle by and exchange a greeting or two. This was going to be the start of my education when I noticed the water getting very shallow. I was going to learn about the different colors of water and what to look for when the tide was going out. I came to a sliding stop on top of sticky mud with a full load in my canoe. As I looked at the fisherman I tried not to have the appearance of a trapped rat. I slowly started to back paddle and slide backward since I couldn’t get out without sinking up to my arm pits in baby poop mud. I got quite a education in a short time, don’t get stuck in mud and my next lesson would be in navigation.

As I entered the Sunday Bay I noticed how big it was compared to the map. I thought I could figure out where the rivers and small coves where as they entered the bay by looking at them and then looking at the map. I thought I was on the right cove when I came to it’s dead end and there wasn’t any more bay. I came back up the bay with a little more strength in my paddle since it was getting late, when I noticed a fellow canoeist bobbing along the shore line and looking at a map as he scratched his head. “Well I knew where it isn’t, because I have been there!” I said. “I think it’s in this cove straight ahead!” said my new friend. Luckily this time I didn’t turn up the cove and I let this fella try it out. I told him I would give a holler if I found the chickee. Within a matter of minutes, my friend got stuck in a shallow bay. I paddled into the next bay and there stood two chickees and it looked good. Four post sunk into the swamp held up a roof and there was a walkway connecting to a outhouse. I pulled up to the chickee and tied up my canoe. I started to yell to my fellow canoeist and then noticed his canoe come into the bay. I set up my tent and got all my food out of the canoe. It felt good to get out of the canoe and straighten out my legs. I had enough energy to get out my fishing gear and scare a few fish. I didn’t have a good way to cook the fish so I would be doing catch and release instead of catch and grease. The two chickees where about forty feet apart but close enough to talk to my friend. I found out he was going to stay out for just two nights and was from Gettysburg Pa. I caught a few fish and had my line out while I cooked my dinner.

After the sun went down, I turned on my propane light which put out a lot of illumination. After reading a few pages from a paper back book that I brought along, I noticed the bright light had attracted many fish. As I turned off the light you could hear a loud swish noise as the fish drove under the water. Just like people had been doing for thousand of years, but for a minute I thought I had discovered it!
The next morning after hearing everything in the world swim by my temporary home during the night, I got ready to leave. Just like a Country Western song I wrote my wife’s phone number on a five dollar bill and as I handed it over to my partner on the next chickee, I asked him to call Pam when he hits civilization and tell her I am not gator bait yet.

I found out the importance of knowing where the hell I am at in the Everglades and paying attention to where I am going. There are 4x4 post sticking out of the water arranged by the park service with numbers attached that are suppose help us adventurers stay on a steady course. These numbered posts are be followed from Everglade City to Flamingo, the promised land, in my case. The numbers also correspond to the numbers on my spanking new map. It all seems so easy, just follow the recipe for disaster, I mean the way out. I have a compass but who needs a compass, when I get to a bay I just follow the shore line with my eye and get a reference off the map and paddle like a wild man. My first experiment was meet with complete and utter failure. I looked across Last Huston Bay and saw the inlet for the river that would lead me to Oyster Bay. All was wonderful in the world, I would paddle leisurely across and there would be a post with the number 101 attached. When I arrived there wasn’t number or post to be found. Maybe it’s in the inlet a little bit, I’ll just paddle some more, that’s when I slide into the sticky mud. It took me a few minutes to back out and start all over again. This time I went to the next inlet and low and behold was post number 117. Maybe it’s time to break out the rusty trusty compass. The sight of Oyster Bay gave me the feeling of accomplishment, I had paddled two miles and didn’t get lost or eaten. The bay I noticed on my map was cut into two sections. The first section had another post marked 114 and from here I would take a compass bearing. I had one of the cooler sitting right in front of me. I turned it into a picnic table and map table, where I could set the compass and take a bearing. I pointed the compass towards where Huston Bay should be and made a bee line for that point. I didn’t take my eyes off my bearing point and arrived at the right spot. That would be my job from now on, every night after dinner I would make reference compass sightings and write them down on the map.

The sight of Sweetwater Chickee put a little more energy into my paddle strokes. I had made it all the way and only had one little mishap with directions. The chickee was all by itself and there wasn’t soul around, except for birds and fish. It felt real good to get out of the canoe and walk around my ten feet by ten foot platform. I brought out the fishing gear and caught a few salt water fish. I don’t know why they call this place Sweetwater when it’s salt water for miles around.

The next morning I was up and at it with the next chickee on my horizon, I hope! I had to maneuver through Deer Island Creek and then make my way over to Chevelier Bay. The Florida mornings so far have been the same. I would wake to cool weather and then by 10:00 am it would warm up. The wind would also be right behind the sun’s heat. The bay was beginning to get some white caps and this made for a interesting crossing. The canoe that I had rented had a gunnel along the bottom so it stayed on course in a slight breeze, but you still had to paddle like mad to keep from being turned into a spinning top.

The next bay was called Cannon, which I didn’t see or hear any thank goodness. Then I entered Tarpon Bay that would lead me to Alligator Creek. The creek was very narrow with just enough room for my canoe to slide through the mangrove. I was paddling along when I spotted my first gator. I got out my camera and just let the canoe coast up to my quarry. The one thing I didn’t notice was the fact that another gator was sunning itself a few feet closer. As the canoe coasted into the mangrove it rubbed against the branches and made a loud squeaking noise. Lucky for me I wasn’t standing up because the sleeping gator woke and came towards the river like he was shoot out of a cannon and smashed into the front of the canoe. It was a like a giant had taken a play canoe and turned it completely around in the opposite direction. The gator that I was trying to take a picture of joined in on the fun and made a big splash into the river and disappeared into the depths of the river.

After I changed my undies I continued into Alligator Bay but didn’t see any of the critters. Then I paddled across Dad’s Bay and went down Plate Creek. On a small island in the end of Plate Creek Bay I found my next chickee. I had just emptied the canoe and had my tent set up when I heard this noise like a large flock of birds was flying towards me. I stepped back under the roof of the chickee when the rain came pouring down. The noise was the rain bouncing off the leaves of the mangrove as the storm made it’s way towards me. I was glad I was able to sit under a shelter and eat my dinner instead of being out in a open canoe getting soaked.

This morning the map pointed out the fact I had to cross over Lostman’s Five Bay and I hope it wasn’t going to be me. I was heading to Willy Willy campsite that was on solid ground. I would be staying here for two nights, that way I could explore around the mangroves and possibly get myself into more trouble. I crossed Onion Bay and then continued to Third Bay without much trouble. My compass readings seemed to be working out. At Big Lostman’s Bay I had to follow the Rocky Bay Creek to my campsite. The creek was narrow for thirty minutes of paddling and then a small bay signaled my campsite.

I stayed here for two days and this gave me time to fish and take the canoe out onto the water empty and do some exploring along the creek and small bay.

This morning I would take my canoe into waters hardly made for a canoe, the Gulf of Mexico. First I had to paddle down Rock Creek River until it emptied into Rodgers River Bay. Then for the rest of the afternoon I would follow the Rodgers River until it spilled into the sea. The delta was dotted with small islands just before I entered into the Gulf of Mexico. I saw some dolphins and sharks in the water directly in front of me, but by the time I got to the spot they pulled a Harry Houdini and disappeared.

I followed the shore line until I found a good spot to beached the canoe. Swaying coconut trees in the wind decorated the shore line. I pulled the canoe up far enough to not lose it to incoming tides and set up camp. Then came time to explore and beach comb for lost treasures, I figured a few gold coins could come in handy. I did find the spot where Horseshoe Crabs come up on shore to breed and croak. There was hundred of empty shells from over sexed crabs that must have made some hungry raccoon very happy.

This morning could prove to be very interesting with a waterway called The Nightmare between me and my next campsite. It is only passable during high tide and then very quickly, or you’ll be left high and dry in the middle of the wilderness. I was sitting in my canoe and as soon as first light made appearance and was paddling, like no tomorrow, which might be right. The Nightmare connected to the Broad Creek, which sounded a tad better. I was paddling along though this narrow passage way that had heaps of large trees all around. Some times I would have to back my canoe around into a side creek, just to make a tight turn. By noon I noticed the tide going out and taking my water source with it. My last obstacle was a fallen tree over my passage way. I had to get out of the canoe and by standing on the log lift the canoe over the tree. Most of the Everglades is pristine clean, because the tides come in everyday day and washes out the swamp, except for this part. The water here because it couldn’t drain all the way, was the color of Mountain Dew soda pop.
From the Broad Creek I paddled into the Harney Creek and at the intersection I saw my next chickee named Harney Creek! On the mud flats along the river sat large logs rested in the mud, except these logs had legs and teeth. Five large alligators had pulled themselves up on the shore line and was soaking in the sun. I thought maybe I could paddle over and take a great picture or at least put on some sun tan lotion. I decided the chickee was close enough to have my Kodak moment. Wouldn’t you knew it, but this chickee had seen better days or the gators had chewed out the supports and it swayed with the breezes. I had visions of while I was sleeping that a big wind comes along and push the chickee over and I become a gator’s midnight snack.

This morning I would head up Harney Creek and make my way across Tarpon Bay. It was early in the morning when I got under way and as I was paddling along I noticed a gator swimming towards me and we crossed paths. It reminded me of that German girl I saw in the hall at the hostel, I didn’t know what to say to either one of them! As I entered Tarpon Bay I noticed a couple boats. Two boats were bobbing along with one fella standing on each platform above the engine. He had along pole that he used to push the boat along and was giving instructions to a older fella monkeying with a fishing rod. “Look over there to your right, it’s a big one cast that way!” yelled the guide. I paddled up close enough for the guide to inform me that a giant Tarpon was in these waters and if they caught him he might come right thru my little canoe. In other words get the hell out of the way, I got a paying customer here, you granola eating canoeist!

I had Cane Patch Mangrove on my mind and it would be my camp site for two whole days. The Avocado Creek would lead me to my temporary home. The creek was small but it lead me into a bay that held a dock and my campsite. I noticed a few gators on the far right side of the bay as I paddled in to the mooring. There was a picnic table and out house, the only thing missing was cable TV. I unloaded my stuff and headed down to the dock. Maybe I was getting a bit cocky being out in the swamps for all of five days and still being alive, but damn it I was going to wash off! I dropped my cloths and stepped into the water. I kept my eye on the far shore to see what Mr. Alligator thought of my foolish idea. As soon as I placed one foot in the water the two gators turned and started to slowly swim towards me, maybe they where a welcoming committee. I did a complete wash off in ten seconds maybe shorter, because I didn’t want to become shorter, not any part of me! I made it back up on the dock and made the choice of leaving the swimming to the gators. Being a fine clear day I decided to try my hand at fishing off the dock. My fishing rod was in the canoe and as I reached in to the vessel for the rod I looked down in the water and saw a twelve foot alligator just laying on the bottom. It looked like a prehistoric monster, with large legs and a larger snout. His back was covered with sharp scaly points that where colored white like the broken oyster shells that lay beside him. This gator was the perfect specimen of camouflage blending into the back ground. I had found a large lure along the mangrove and I came up with even a crazier idea then swimming with the water monsters. Why not hook a gator and see how it feels at the end of my fishing rod. I dropped the lure directly in front of the alligator but because the water was a bit cold his reaction time was just had been slowed down. He would open his big mouth while slowly trying to bite it and at the same time I would try and set the hook with all my might. I missed his big mouth but did get the lure stuck in a over hanging tree branch above my quarry. I thought this could be a blessing in disguise, because why would I want to piss off a gator and I have to be here for two days.

I got into my canoe and paddled up the Rookery Branch River with some serious fishing in mind. I was casting my lure when I caught a Northern Pike, which lives in fresh water. I tested the water and it was fresh water. I must have caught forty Bass and was having a grand time just catching and releasing the fish. I noticed over by the mangroves a fish would come to the surface occasionally. I threw my lure in the exact spot that I had seen the ripples on the water and wham my line went tight. The lure must have hit a nerve because this fish with a attitude came straight for the canoe. I reeled in the line as fast as I could until the rod bent under the boat and the then the line snapped. I didn’t know what I had caught but it was big and mean. I put on another lure and after a few more casts caught another killer fish but this time I was able to land him and it was a Snook. The fish has the reputation of putting up a great fight and they proved it.

As I paddled my way back to camp I could hear talking coming from that direction. A guide with a helper had brought a couple of fisherman into the area to fish for Snook. I told them of my luck with Bass and Snook and that only wetted their appetite. It was getting close to dinner time and I got invited to a cookout with steaks and beers. As soon as the guides helper fired up the stove the raccoons came out like they had heard the dinner bell. As soon as the steaks hit the hot grill the raccoons almost came swinging out of the trees like Tarzan. The raccoons would come up to the cook making snarling noises and showing their teeth in the most menacing way that a creature the size of cat could muster up. This barbecue jockey would get so shook up he would throw pieces of steaks to the raccoons. Then the marauders would carry their prizes back into the cane forests, as they give each other a high five. I didn’t have to show my teeth to get food but I did have to sit on a chair and talk with the group about my trip, which I was glad to do. The two fisherman where more interested in the fish I been catching then where I had been and going. The story of the Snook really got their juices flowing, since they had come all the way from Ohio to catch a few.

After dinner it was still light and I decided to paddle back up the river and see if I could hook a few more fish. I stopped by my picnic table to gather some snacks, as two killer raccoons made their appearance. I guess the snapping teeth worked so well with the cook why not try it on the canoeist. There is a good reason why they call this place Cane Patch and I had found a cane and knew how to use it. The first Raccoon jumped up on the table and did his best impression of a cat size Grizzly Bear. That is until I hit right between the eyes about three times with the cane, then he had the look of disbelief. Him and his partner are probably still trying to figure out why the intimidation didn’t work.

After my animal training I went fishing. As I was paddling along I noticed a feather resting on top of a mangrove bush, just as a wisp of wind picked it up and set it down on the river surface. The second the feather landed a three foot alligator immediately came to the surface and went swimming over to the feather and then sunk below just as fast. I got a crash course on what would happens if I fall in the water

After two days of actually standing and sleeping on solid ground I was paddling to a chickee. I paddled back down the Avocado Creek and then found myself on Shark River which didn’t sound very good for my mojo. At the delta where the Shark River joined the Oyster Bay I did actually see a few sharks and dolphins. They where doing a porpoise type thing when a fish comes out of the water and you just see it’s back. By the time I got to the playground the critters had said adios, which is probably just as well. I arrived at the Oyster Bay chickee with plenty of time to spare and got my fishing gear in it up right and locked position. Since I was back in salt water, I was catching Red Fish, Sea trout and Rock fish. It had been a pretty easy day and I wasn’t complaining.

Since I knew the winds would pick up across the Oyster Bay by 10:00 am I wanted to be past it and on a river system. I was paddling along very nicely, but he wind must have awoken early because a steady wind came out of the south and I was heading right into it. I was paddling as steady as I could and kept on eye on my compass as I headed to Joe River inlet. I couldn’t stop paddling for one second or the wind would turn the front of my canoe right back where I started. By afternoon I coasted into the Joe River and then it was clear paddling since I left the wind to the open bays. The river banks with birds flying around the mangrove was a welcome sight as I kept one eye open for any manatee swimming around.

By dinner time I arrived at South Joe River chickee, my last platform above the gators. On another chickee sat a two fisherman, with fishing poles in hand as they where sitting on white plastic buckets. I paddled over for a little conversation and any advice about my last leg of my trip. As they turned their heads to talk I noticed a white shine on their faces. I also noticed they wore gloves and long sleeve shirts. One of the fellas stood up and opened the white bucket and asked if I wanted any mosquito repellent. They had made up their bug lotion in the five gallon size and it looked a lot like lard. As the fisherman stuck his hand in the bucket and brought out a white dripping mess, that was draining through his fingers he said. “ Are you sure you don’t want any?” The thought of me in my sleeping bag covered with lard was almost to much to stomach. I told them I didn’t have that much trouble with mosquitos up north. “You have entered bug land and the blood suckers down here will carry you into the mangrove as snack!” they said. I paddled back to my chickee and did notice a few mosquitos. By the time I tied up the canoe I couldn’t get into my tent fast enough, as I heard my fisherman friends falling off their bug buckets with laughter. By the time I closed the tent fly I had killed enough mosquitos to fill a shot glass and maybe that’s what I needed instead of lardo bug lotion!

The next morning while it was still too cool for a mosquito not wearing sweater, to make a appearance I paddled down the lower end of Whitewater Bay. On the bay I saw a tourist couple on a party boat and they where out for a few days of sight seeing. I had a ten day beard that would make Big Foot jealous and as I pulled up a long side the boat a woman appeared and then ran back inside. She came back immediately with all kind of fruit and food. She must have thought I had been out here for months or came off a ship wreck. To add to the moment, just for fun I asked her who was president now and O. J. Simpson, was he found guilty?

The Coot Bay would be my last bay as I entered the Buttonwood Canal. Then within a few hours I pulled into the Flamingo ranger station docks. I tied up my canoe and walked up to the ranger station. The ranger had the keys to my car, since my hostel hosts had delivered it with out any problems. I unloaded my gear which weighted a lot less after drinking and eating most of the food.

It was getting late and I still had to drive back to Miami airport to pick up Pam and celebrate for fifth birthday or is it forty ! I just had enough time to call my dad from a pay phone and tell him I had made it. The mosquitos must have been hiding in my pocket, because they almost devoured me as I told him of my adventure. I wouldn’t have changed one thing and what a experience I had!