I’ll begin my Everglades diary for the 2007-2008 adventure season with the following quote from President Harry Truman, spoken during
his address at the dedication of Everglades National Park, December 6, 1947:
No one can describe the Everglades more poignantly than he did. These words that I have read several times and will read several times
more inspire me to explore this mysterious area of the world. To explore the Everglades thoroughly takes more than a lifetime and as I
only have one life as far as I know, I have dedicated my leisure time to exploring a portion of the Everglades known as The Ten Thousand
Islands.
The Ten Thousand Islands is a mangrove swamp, a mind-boggling complicated pattern of islands born from oyster bars that provide the
nutrient base for red mangroves. From oyster bars come mangrove islands, it’s as simple as that. The area known as the Ten thousand
Islands extends about 25 miles; about 2 miles south of San Marcos Island all the way to the Lostmans River, give or take a few miles.
There is no man-imposed border line for the Ten Thousand Islands because this is a naturally changing environment. Rather, the Ten
Thousand Islands covers a significant portion of two man-made parks; the northern portion which is the Ten Thousand Islands National
Wildlife Refuge and the southern portion beginning near Everglades City, the Everglades National Park. All told, this is protected area, both
land and water.
As always, I spend my leisure time in the winter season of south Florida exploring the Everglades mostly from a kayak but sometimes from
a canoe. The season begins in November when the threat of a hurricane becomes meager and the average high temperatures have
dropped to a warm 82 degrees and the average low to a brisk 64 degrees. The summer afternoon storms have subsided with the cooler
temperatures and the increase in average wind velocity now helps keep the biting bugs at a tolerable level. It is camping season in all its
glory; cool air, bright blue skies speckled with fluffy oval-shaped cumulus humilis clouds, countless fish and mammals swimming with the
tides, brilliant sunrises and sunsets and thousands of nesting birds. During the winter months, The Everglades comes alive.
This year, I began the season during the Thanksgiving holiday with a 3-day trip. The first day’s destination was Picnic Key, an old familiar
haunt followed by a gulf route to Rabbit Key for a second night’s stay. On the third day, we headed back to Everglades City; a total round
trip of 26 miles. We added a few miles to our first day’s paddle by taking a detour to Fakahatchee Island, where we would relax for lunch
and wait for the in-coming tide to become an out-going tide.
It’s all about the tides
The moon controls the water in the Ten Thousand Islands. All matters related to water are influenced by the tide. The tides give and
sustain life in the mangrove swamp, like air in and out of the lungs. Nature keeps rhythm with the tides and it never loses a beat. The tidal
influence is most evident, sometimes painfully so, during a new or full moon phase. It is during these few days when the tide differential is
at least 2 feet. When you are surrounded by water that is typically no deeper than 6-8 ft, 2 feet is a significant change. During our trips, we
inevitably encounter paddlers that lack significant appreciation or understanding of the tidal influence in this area. One only needs to fight the
tidal current on a river in a mangrove swamp to understand the travesty of not researching the gulf coast tides for this region before coming
out here. Many experienced river paddlers leave the Ten Thousand Islands with a respect that would have spared them much grief had it
existed in the first place. Fighting a tide, especially at new or full moon can be spirit breaking, or at least give you good reason to pull up to
a mosquito-infested mangrove shoreline and wait it out. Many trips have been delayed as a result of these currents. On the other hand,
with some research and flexibility built in to your plans, the tides can work for you. Lesson number one, plan your trips according to the
tides when ever possible. An out going tide in the morning means you are best served by beginning your journey into the gulf in the
morning and letting the tide carry you out through one of the passes. Relax and enjoy the easy paddle. Reach your destination early, set
up camp and explore the area by foot or from your boat.
This weekend, we would have a full moon in-coming tide all morning, not the best conditions for heading out to the gulf. It would reach its
final minute sometime after noon at Everglades City. Because of the conditions, we took our time loading the boats and waited until 9 am
to leave the Rangers Station. And we took a more westerly route across Chokoloskee Bay into West Pass Bay and eventually
Fakahatchee Island, thus avoiding the brunt of the in-coming tide. In the open bay waters, the tide is diffused and not so confrontational.
Our plan was to reach Fakahatchee Island before noon, eat lunch and head out to the gulf at the beginning of an out-going tide.
Launching from Everglades City and why you should not mind the mud
Most people begin their kayak/canoe journey toward the gulf islands at the Everglades National Park Ranger Station in Everglades City. It’
s a good location for such trips; parking is free and camping permits are obtained here. The only problem is that it is the dang muddiest
launch site in the Ten Thousand Islands. And there is no place to clean your boat afterwards. In the recent past, the Ranger Station had a
water hose available to wash your boats after a trip. But, it was decided that it was being overused by the outfitters and large Outward
Bound groups and consequently a waste of government money. Perhaps they are right, but an alternative would be to offer a pay-as-you-
go water hose. The government would get that money back, and maybe get some pocket change too. But it’s the government and
running efficiently is not one of its reputations. Nevertheless, if you can get past the mud and lack of a water hose, you’ll find the
convenience of the location well worth putting up with ankle deep mud as you trek back and forth to load the boat. A word of caution as you
are loading your boat during a relatively low tide; as you pull your boat into the water, the mud below 2-3 inches of water is more compliant
and you will quickly find yourself knee deep in it.
We are a party of five, all experienced Everglades kayakers and campers. We are five very different individuals with individual methods of
loading and unloading our boats. When you are on a trip with others, the slowest person in the group sets the pace. And so we began our
journey together while adapting to each other along the way. By 9 am the temperature was above average, reaching 80 degrees by mid
morning. The wind was coming from the northeast and did not seem to reach more than 10 knots throughout the day. Because we were
avoiding the full impact of the full moon tide, it would be a very nice paddle this morning.
The first few miles or getting the rust out
As we paddle through Chokoloskee Bay and cross the channel that leads to Indian Key Pass, we watch several brown pelicans in the
distance diving and fishing. There is an oyster bar in the middle of the bay where several pelicans and cormorants resided. I would not
get close to them today, but a lot of flying activity was emanating from that island. Our compass bearing as we head toward West Pass Bay
was approximately 285 degrees as we carefully maneuver through a shallow area where a large oyster bar lays, exposed at low tide.
As we approach West Pass Bay, the compass bearing changes slightly to a more westerly direction and just as you head into the bay,
there is a funny shaped island that looks like an amoeba on the marine chart. Once you reach that island, you are in West Pass Bay. A
usual route is to continue into West Pass and head in a southwesterly direction toward the gulf. Today, we would pass the opening of that
route and skirt around an island that sits on the north edge of the opening. On the other side of this island is a smaller entrance which leads
you in a westerly direction toward Fakahatchee Island.
Map & compass or GPS?
One thing that has become clear to me while exploring this complicated area is that there are two kinds of navigators in the Ten Thousand
Islands; those that make the best use of a map and compass, and those that rely almost totally on a Global Positioning System (GPS).
Maybe there is a third type, the type that makes good use of all three tools. In our group, we have 3 GPS users and two map and
compass users. Of the three GPS users, one relies equally on her map; the other 2 kayakers rely totally on their GPS “way points”. I am
one of the map & compass users. I have no problem with GPS. In fact, I believe it is quite useful and may be necessary under certain
circumstances. For instance, if I was navigating in open waters at night, a GPS would be a comfort. But I rarely am in that situation (once I
paddled in the dark from Turkey Key to Pavilion Key in open water). My philosophy is that reading a map and compass while paddling
and having compass bearings drawn on the map is THE best way to navigate the Ten Thousand Islands. What I see with the few
kayakers I know who rely only on their electronic GPS is that they hold most of their attention on that device and rarely pay close attention to
their surroundings. And this is where I part ways with my GPS friends.
When I am paddling, I have the map right in front of me at all times and I frequently look at it and “calibrate” my brain according to my
surroundings and the map. I look for specific land formations or landmarks and find them on the map. The greatest challenge is that one
mangrove island looks much like another. Three separate mangrove islands in the distance can look like one big land mass. There are
no varying levels of tree lines, no mountain peaks, no difference in colors; rather, the islands blend together into one long thin green line.
You may be paddling toward 3 distinct islands according to your map, but you see a single land mass in front of you. You begin to doubt
your navigational skills. But then you remember that you have a compass bearing and with a bit of trust in your navigational skills, you
continue in the intended direction and eventually come close enough to the land mass to identify three separate islands and the opening
you are looking for.
Ever since I started photographing out here, I pay much closer attention to detail in my surroundings. The challenge is to find identifiable
markers among the thick monotonous mangroves and oyster bars. I spent a great deal of time navigating in a 4-sq mile area near
Chokoloskee Island and can almost always tell where I am just by looking at the mangroves or oyster/sand bars without looking at my
compass and map. It took me several trips to get to that level and still, I am not quite ready to throw away the map and compass. The
point is, you must be aware of your surroundings at all times. I truly believe this is the best place to hone your navigational skills and it can
even sharpen your brain. You witness more wildlife, you notice the change in cloud patterns and you know where you are at all times. You
strengthen your awareness and as a result, you are handed wonderful gifts of nature, each unique from the next. And if you decide to
change your route for whatever reason, you can do so with confidence. On the other hand, GPS users are watching a small screen with
dots, numbers and a moving arrow. They are programmed into a pre-designed route and frankly, this is a major limitation and it’s just no
fun. For me, a GPS is a back-up and nothing more. I will say one positive thing about the GPS, I do like the breadcrumb feature for those
“just-in-case” situations where you find yourself on the wrong track. The best thing is to avoid that situation. The key with successful use of
a map and compass is to study it beforehand, work out the routes, and record your compass bearings for those long distances when you
are crossing bays or the open gulf to get from one point to another.
One of my GPS-using companions devised a route before the trip that, according to his GPS, would shave off ¾ of a mile from our normal
route. That seemed to be an important improvement to him, so we went along with it. Today, we would head into a small opening near
West Pass and continue through a few narrower openings through the mangrove swamp that would be running perpendicular to the
direction of the tide. By taking the GPS-planned route, it diverted us from our usual path of continuing west through more open waters in
Gate and Fakahatchee Bays. The tide pushes water through the various channels and narrow passages and it doesn’t much care that a
passage makes a turn in a southerly or northerly direction. It’s going to push that water regardless because it has no other place to go.
Consequently, what we had inside this new route was a strong in-coming tidal current that rushed around each bend providing us a rush
as we paddled through. That was fine for the most part and it wasn’t a great distance (a couple miles). We watched some active ospreys
inside one of the rivers, so it was well worth fighting the current to see these beautiful raptors in action. The moral of this story is, if you set
up your routes from a GPS, use a marine map that indicates shoals and pay attention to the tides. Plan your route accordingly.
Fakahatchee Island
Somewhere between West Pass Bay and Fakahatchee Island the Everglades National Park ends and the Ten Thousand Island Wildlife
Refuge begins. For practical purposes, the regulations of these parks are slightly different. You can camp anywhere within the Ten
Thousand Island Wildlife Refuge; whereas in the National Park, you camp only on designated spots and you must have a permit to do so.
Inside the refuge, you don’t need a permit and you can bring your pet with you. Consequently, this area is quite popular with motorboat
campers and fishermen and Fakahatchee Island is one of the most popular camping destinations. The island is a good camp spot
because it holds very high oyster mounds, bringing you several feet above the water line. I suspect it gets very buggy here but there are
two large openings enough for a very large tent or a few small tents. You’ll find a few remnants (tarp, wheel rim used as a fire ring, and a
few assorted camp items) left behind by previous campers. It’s a perfect location for a lunch break on this route. Interestingly, Fakahatchee
Island holds a rich history. In the 1920s or so, a very popular and thriving fishing community existed here. At one time there was a fish
house, a cemetery and a schoolhouse. People were still living on this island in the 1950s.
To Picnic Key
After lunch, we left Fakahatchee Island in a southeast direction leading us to a channel that runs parallel to West Pass. Eventually, it
connects with West Pass about 1 ½ miles from Tiger and Picnic Keys. By now, the in-coming tide had slacked and began to reverse. The
sky was now covered with several dark clouds mostly to the northeast and while it looked like we were surrounded by threatening rain
clouds, we never did see rain. As we get closer to Picnic Key, we enter the more open gulf area of the Ten Thousand Islands. Along the
way we see an occasional stingray jumping out of the water and a dolphin or two here and there. From West Pass you see Tiger Key
before you see Picnic Key. The two are popular camping spots in the National Park and sit side by side. We paddle into the opening
between the two keys leading us to the south side of Picnic Key, the usual camping area. Picnic Key offers a very long beach, and the park
allows 16 people to camp here at one time. As we paddled along the south shoreline, we see that some campers have already staked a
claim. No one was at the campsite but it was obvious that these were powerboaters; large chairs, a grill, several tiki torches, a table and
probably the kitchen sink. Later, we would have a couple canoeists camp near by and further down on the other side of the powerboaters,
a kayaking couple. There were 4 in the party of powerboaters, so for Picnic Key, the beach was under-populated. Consequently, there is
plenty of room to spread out and our group, being the largest, had a nice wide area to our selves.
Upon our arrival, the tide was relatively high so getting our boats onto the beach above the tide line was an easy chore. It would be the next
morning that would present a challenge. One thing to consider when camping on any of the beach sites is that you may have a very long
mudflat to deal with when loading or unloading your boat. At low tide, the shoal in front of our campsite is well over 200 feet. Tomorrow
morning, that’s what we would face at 7 am. If you can avoid the low tide from a beach site, all the easier for you. But, sometimes you
can't avoid it, so don't let that alone spoil your plans.
Our first night out and bug management 101
By afternoon, the sky was quite overcast. I was looking forward to walking the beach and photographing as the sun began its decline over
the gulf waters, but I wouldn't have optimal lighting today. I love photographing on Picnic Key, especially since hurricane Wilma. The
hurricane brought in a 20-ft storm surge that wrecked the gulf-facing shorelines of the Ten Thousand Islands. Trees were uprooted and
thrown about, and a wall of sand and shells was pushed into the mangrove forest of the island, leaving several broken trees buried in the
newly formed beach. Consequently, the beach has several dead tree trunks scattered about and sticking up as if on sentry duty. It's an
interesting place to photograph when the sun begins to sink over the horizon. Today, I would not have that warm sunlight to cast shadows
along the beach. I walked the beach as the tide started its retreat to find anything interesting to photograph. In an area of several exposed
dead trees I noticed some of them had snails on them; lots of snails. I spent some time photographing these little creatures, taking
advantage of an occasional sun ray or using my flash. By now, it was dinner time and because the no-see-ums would be inevitable and
would not waste time come dusk, I headed back to the campsite to prepare our early meal. It was about 4 pm by now.
As I drank my wine and cooked dinner, I wore my mosquito head net (not ideal for sipping wine) and put my sun gloves on to protect my
hands from the biting bugs. The no-see-ums were on time, but unlike other occasions when they are out of control, they were relatively
tolerable. My body was completely covered, socks, long pants, long sleeves, bandana, gloves and hat and head net. I recommend this
attire when camping out here. I once had an allergic reaction to numerous bites I received from the no-see-ums. It was at the Outdoor
Resort marina in Chokoloskee Island and we were loading up our kayaks for a day trip in October. Because I was paddling with my kayak
instead of my open canoe, I decided to wear shorts. I paid for it, the bugs were relentless. I started feeling faint and dizzy and could feel my
blood pressure dropping. I got back in my car and turned on the AC. My legs and hands were covered in bites. My companion had
some children’s Benadryl, which brought me back to normal quickly. We always carry this drug on our trips; it alleviates the symptoms
without the unwanted drowsiness. I get reactions from ant bites but this was the first time the no-see-ums did that to me. I can usually
tolerate some biting and in fact, the itching from no-see-um bites go away within minutes. If you can tolerate a little bit, know that as soon as
you are on the water in your boat, it’s over. With camping you can’t get away except into your tent and that is what we often do at dusk. We
either eat dinner before dusk, or after its dark. Once it’s dark, the no-see-ums usually disappear, but not always. It depends on
temperature and wind. On these trips, we like calm winds while paddling and stiff winds while camping.
I had brought my heavy tripod hoping to capture Picnic Key while the sun set. The sky remained overcast making the sunset quite dull. I
decided to not bother with the camera and tripod. I had my hands full with the meal preparation so I let that go. We had a nice meal,
excellent red wine and good friends to talk with. We all enjoy this time of day, sitting on the beach, feeling revitalized from a day of
paddling. The peace and quiet is what we crave and the islands always deliver. My companions are like-minded in that way, we are all
passing through very lightly. Soon, our mild (another word for old) selves would be in our tents, listening to the tide come back in. For tent
camping, it was a bit too warm for my taste. We kept the tent fly up and that allowed me to watch the full moon through the tent door. I
couldn’t get inside my sleeping bag, it was just too warm. Later though, the winds picked up and the temperature dropped and the sleeping
bag became a warm refuge.
When beach camping, it’s essential that you set up well above the high tide line. It can be a bit unnerving in the middle of the night as the
tide comes roaring in. You hear the waves crashing and they sound like they are right up against your tent. Also be mindful that you bring
your boat up above the line as well. A nightmare is to stick your head out of your tent to see your kayak being washed away. As alarming
as the high tide waves can be, the quietness of low tide is refreshing. It can be dead silent out here, something one rarely experiences. By
7 am it would be low tide and that’s about when we started the day. It had rained a little bit earlier in the morning, just enough to make our
tents a little soggy (on the outside, not the inside). One last word while on the topic of tents, make sure the tent you bring out here has no-
see-um netting, otherwise you may as well sleep outside. If you do get no-see-ums in your tent (and that’s not difficult to do), shine a light
on the tent wall, use a wet bandana and wipe down the ceiling and walls where they are congregating in the light. Gets them every time.
Loading the boats or why I need to trade my plastic boat in for a fiberglass one
I was looking forward to today’s paddle in the gulf but I wasn’t looking forward to loading my boat. Because of the timing of the tide, this
would be somewhat of a leisurely morning since we would take our time getting off the island. We would wait until it started coming back in
and leave about 9 am. As usual, my companion and I drank our coffee and ate our breakfast in the tent. I bring a thermos and heat up
water and bring my breakfast food and utensils into the tent the night before. This way, I avoid the early morning no-see-um raid while
comfortably eating breakfast in the tent. Plus, I don’t have to bring out the cook stove and since I eat out of a baggy there are no dirty
dishes. Once breakfast is eaten, I start packing. This works well with two people in the tent as long as you think alike. Otherwise, you may
find an elbow in your eye.
Once we are packed, we emerge from our tent as our paddling companions are scurrying about getting their gear packed and taking their
tents down. After putting down all the tents and getting the gear piled up on a ground cloth, it was time to move the boats. I’d like to think I
am physically tough, but my heavy plastic boat is starting to wear on me. Two of us in this group paddle plastic boats, mine being the
lightest at about 60 lb. The other paddlers, being much smarter, have lighter composite boats. Nevertheless, a boat loaded with a few
days supplies can be heavy regardless of its material. Our strategy, as always, is to carry each boat to the edge of the water, which would
be about a 200-ft distance over mud, and then load them. Today, I would not tolerate carrying a heavy boat with just one other person, so
we team up 4 to a boat. This is the sensible way to approach this chore and in no time, the boats are near the water.
The violent Everglades
Once on the water, we head in a southeasterly direction toward Indian Key Pass. I love this route to Rabbit Key. The wildlife can be
incredible. Sometimes I see manatee, but not often. As much as I have paddled out here, I’ve only spotted manatee three times. Dolphins
are almost always a sure bet and you can count on the brown pelicans as well. After crossing Indian Key Pass, I spot a cluster of birds in
the distance near Jack Daniels Key. It had been overcast all morning, but the sun was shining intermittently and was already quite high
and washing out the sky as we approached late morning hours. The birds were dark so I figured they were either cormorants or brown
pelicans. As I got closer, it became evident that they were brown pelicans and they were busily fishing.
There seemed to be two groups of pelicans. One group farther out into the gulf, was spread out more and you could see the usual diving
behavior displayed by the individual birds. What I typically witness are individual pelicans taking off from the water, flying around for a few
seconds and then diving head first into the water from heights anywhere from 5 to 60 feet above water. It’s quite spectacular as they
corkscrew their way to the water and enter it with a very violent splash, like a belly dive. But what interested me most was a cluster of about
10 pelicans grouped closely together near Jack Daniels Key. My understanding is that brown pelicans do not usually group-feed. White
pelicans are the opposite in this regard; you won’t see a white pelican dive bomb the water. But here was a group of brown pelicans that
were fishing without diving. Rather, they would work together to trap the bait fish and plunge their heads into the water to get their fill. I
watched them for some time as my companions continued paddling.
I noticed something incredible happening in the water. The bait fish were running and the birds and the tarpon were there to capture them
in great numbers. I saw two very large tarpon come out of the water. They were about 4-5 feet in length, relatively small. Among the
pelicans were several terns. I learned awhile back that gulls and terns take advantage of a pelican’s fishing abilities and hang around them
waiting for a small fish to fall out of the pelican’s pouch. Today the terns were also diving into the water for their meal. With all that going on
above the water, even more interesting was the bait fish popping up in the air. This was happening all around me, as if the water was
boiling.
When you are paddling in the gulf on a relatively calm day like today, it is gloriously peaceful. You become one with nature, you feel
cleansed by the beauty of your pristine surroundings, and the water is soothing to your soul. Well, blah, blah, blah! Here’s another picture;
under the surface of that water, separated from you by a thin piece of boat material is a gory and violent world filled with marine creatures
that are eating each other alive. It’s a mindless world dictated by survival instinct, period. The extreme violence is portrayed by animals
being eaten alive, fish suffering slow torturous deaths, and short fish lives spent entirely fleeing predators. Adding insult to injury are the
countless birds diving into the water, the powerful dolphins that gang up on and trap the fish before killing them, and the humans with their
life-like lures. Enjoy the spectacle of a brown pelican diving for its breakfast, because if it were not for this violent world of marine life, there
would be no birds in the Ten Thousand Islands. There would be no dolphins and you would never have fish on your dinner plate. Enjoy
the wildlife and the scenery, but appreciate what is going on below you.
To Rabbit Key
Shortly after the pelicans, we landed on Jewel Key for a lunch break. Jewel Key is next to Chokoloskee Pass, which is an area that I
explore during the summer months when I’m out here on day trips in my canoe. There is a tiny island on the other side of the pass from
Jewel Key where my friend Capt. Charles Wright holds his annual paddle-in party for kayak fishermen. On this island at low tide, you can
comfortably fit a couple hundred kayakers, their boats and long serving tables covered with good food and drink. Today, we paddle directly
over the island; the tide had completely covered it with at least a foot of water. We cross Chokoloskee Pass into Rabbit Key Pass heading
in the direction of an opening between Lumber Key and Rabbit Key. The opening between these two islands is not always passable,
depending on the tides of course. Today, we would have no problem crossing it toward the east side Rabbit Key campsite area.
As we head toward the opening, I can clearly see the 2 mangrove trees on the far end of a sandbar jutting out from the north end of Rabbit
Key. In the larger of the two trees sits an osprey nest and last April while camping here, I was able to capture some osprey activity at
sunset. At that time, the parents had an offspring in the nest and they were busily going back and forth delivering food to their hungry baby.
I wondered what I would see today. It’s that time of year that the osprey are beginning to nest and preparing to mate.
Our second night, Rabbit Key with a full moon
By the time we arrived at Rabbit Key, the wind had picked up to a nice breeze on the island, especially since it was coming from the east.
There was no one else on the island, so we spread out toward the northeast point that extends all the way across to the other island at low
tide. The tide would be rolling out now and we would watch the sand bar become larger and larger. There is deep path cut into the sand
that brings water in and out of a large lagoon sitting inside the mangrove forest of the island. Our tent was set up within 10 feet of this
stream and in the middle of the night, I heard the sound of water running through and forgot where I was for a minute. That’s not a noise
you hear out in the gulf, but there it was. I imagined I was camping in the mountains next to a stream; after all, the tide pull is as powerful as
a mountain grade.
On our way to Rabbit Key, we ran into a couple of fishing buddies in a Gheenoe boat. They were camping at Watson's Place and came
out to the gulf to find us, knowing we were heading to Rabbit Key. They came into our campsite and stayed for awhile as we pitched our
tents. They couldn't stay for long, the tide was leaving the island and soon, their little motorboat would be stranded. So, we said goodbye
to our friends as they headed back to their home away from home. One of the joys of being out here is bumping into people we know.
Often, we see our friend Capt. Wright and he's actually helped us out a couple times (or at least delivered ice for any fish we might be lucky
enough to catch). It's always comforting to know we have friends out there in the Ten Thousand Islands.
The winds would continue through the evening, which meant that we would get a reprieve from the bugs. This is a sweet experience; we
saw no bugs on this side of the island the entire time. Before dinner, I walked over to the north side of the island where the osprey nest was
located. I occasionally heard the osprey near by but did not see them in the nest. It was still a bit overcast and I didn’t think I would see the
spectacular sunset that I photographed last April from this vantage point. But, I may get lucky with the full moon rise that would be coming
up over our campsite on the other side. But before that, I would head back to camp and start preparing our dinner, this time without the
mosquito netting.
By now, the tide had rolled out and there was plenty of space for the birds to come in and feed. I noticed several white birds in the
mangroves across the sandbar about ¼ mile away. At one point, a dozen or so white ibises flew over to the sandbar. They seemed to be
a brighter orange than what I see in the summer. I believe they are preparing for mating season as well. I photograph the ibises and also
some flying willets. The flying willets (sounds like a comedy/circus act) are beautiful in flight. Imagine a group of about 30 gray-white birds
taking off in unison from the beach. The birds fly around, turning one direction, than another. From one angle, they appear like dark
specks creating a pattern in the air. When they turn and the sun catches their exposed white underbellies, they look like sparkling jewels.
Imagine seeing this flashing pattern in the sky as the birds maneuver and turn sharply around you. And when they fly closely to the water,
the reflections are beautiful. This is one of the little treasures I look forward to when I beach camp.
Other birds were coming and going as well. There were a couple great blue herons, a great white egret and even a turkey vulture on the
sandbar. I watched several flocks of brown pelicans fly by as the evening wore on. As the sun began to set behind us, we ate our dinner
and of course, drank our wine. I had collected some wood for a fire and soon we would get that started and watch the full moon rise. But
first, I would head over to the other side of the island with my camera and tripod. I could see over the mangrove canopies the sunset
casting an orange color over the cloud filled sky. I headed over there and set up from a few different vantage points. The ospreys were not
in sight, unlike last time I was here. I knew they were around because I could hear their melancholy cries. I took several shots of the
sunset and once satisfied headed back to look for the full moon. The mosquitoes were out on this side of the island as it was quite
protected from our wonderful north breeze. So, I swatted and focused, swatted and focused.
The full moon was nice, but the clouds covered it and it was not the same bright orange ball that I witnessed another time from this beach. I
took some shots of the campfire and my paddling buddies. With the long exposure this gave them a ghost like appearance, which can be
fun to experiment with. I wanted to do something like that on Watson’s Place where ghosts are believed to reside. Watson’s Place is a
popular campsite in the backcountry and was once inhabited by the infamous Mr. Watson, thought to have murdered a number of his
farmhands on that very site.
It was another beautiful evening, much more comfortable than the night before. Every time I camp on Rabbit Key it has been an
exceptional experience. This key, by the way, is a good one for beginning paddlers. From Chokoloskee Island, it is approximately 5 miles
and the route is relatively protected from open waters. It’s a good overnighter for those who don’t want to spend long hours on the water.
Leaving Rabbit Key and another low tide
If Picnic Key is a hassle for loading boats at low tide, Rabbit Key is a downright pain in the a**. It’s a bit muddier than Picnic Key and the
mudflat seems never ending. So, once again we have a late morning paddle ahead of us. This time, we get off the island about 10:30
am. It would be a relatively fast paddle to Everglades City; the tide would be rolling in with us and by the time we got on the water, the wind
would shift and become more easterly. This meant an easy time of it on the open Chokoloskee Bay as we made our way back to the
Ranger Station.
While enjoying a relaxing morning before the loading began, I decided to walk around the island. This would not be difficult at low tide.
There was an osprey near the nest but once it got sight of me, it flew away. I continued walking on past the nest toward the west side of the
island. I saw a raccoon busily hunting for food in the oyster beds. At one point while walking on the packed mud, I noticed hundreds of
hermit crabs scurrying about. As soon as they sense you, they move away from you in unison. The male crab with its one over-sized
claw occasionally stops and raises the claw in your direction. Some crabs will find a hole to get into. They are fun to watch and if you stand
still long enough, they will come out of hiding and come closer to you if you don't cast a shadow on them.
Once back at camp, we were ready to load up. Another 4-man carry strategy and soon we were on the water heading back home. I like
this particular route quite a bit. There is a very large oyster bar that we skirt around to avoid the busy boat channel (Rabbit Key Pass) and
there are always a number of birds there. Further on inside one of the narrower channels are a couple of osprey nests. They have been
there for as long as I remember. The ospreys were busy with breakfast and I watched one carry its catch from one tree to another. The
tide and wind was pushing my boat at a rapid pace making photographing the osprey near impossible. I would have had to work very
hard to get my boat into a close position to get any worthy shot of the bird with its catch. I let it go as my companions paddled ahead of me,
there will always be other opportunities.
Soon, we are in sight of Chokoloskee Island, and the first landmark you spot is the Ted Smallwood’s Store, a large red structure on the
water’s edge. Here in Chokoloskee Bay, I am back in my stomping grounds where I spend a better part of my summers with my canoe.
To my left as I continue on the channel is the familiar white pelican island where I have spent hours photographing these beautiful birds.
Today, there must have been a couple hundred of them huddled on the oyster bar. We passed Chokoloskee Island and make a more
northerly route that will take us across the bay diagonally toward the rangers station in Everglades City, our beginning point. By now the
wind is about 15-20 knots and it is pushing me all the way there. This is a perfect way to end the trip before having to load the car, make
the drive home. Monday morning will be a rude awakening as usual!
Thoughts on photographing from a kayak and what I’ve learned so far
Most of my experience with using an SLR camera on the water has been from my canoe since I just purchased an SLR back in April.
This new camping season will be the first one with the SLR. My day trips in the canoe are nothing compared to the type of paddling I do
from my kayak during a multi-day paddle trip. To prepare for the kayak season, there are two issues I had to think about; where to keep
my camera while paddling and space to pack additional camera equipment, like the 300mm telephoto lens and the Manfrotto tripod and
ballhead. A short trip like this one is not a big issue, I could have packed the telephoto in one of the hatches without any serious
consequences. It’s the longer trips that are more difficult to plan. We are doing a 7-day trip over the new years holiday and I know from
experience there will be no space for that 300mm prime lens, nor will there be space for a large tripod and ballhead. I decided to give up
the prime lens and as a nice alternative, bring the smaller 75-300mm zoom lens. That lens and the A700 camera are easy to handle from
my cockpit. Inside the hatch, I’ll stash my extra batteries, memory cards and a wide angle lens (24-70mm). These are all packed in a
small dry bag. For this trip I had plenty of room for the large tripod, but for the longer trip, I will have to settle for the smaller Slik tripod that I
have used often out here. It’s also much lighter, making boat packing easier. It’s a cheap tripod, but will work fine for sunset shots.
As for keeping the camera dry, my planning began by assessing my comfort level for having the camera easily accessible while paddling. I
thought of using a large deck bag that I could easily open and pull out the camera. Problem is, deck bags are not water proof. So, I
purchased a plastic bag to line it with. When it came in the mail, I tried it out and quickly decided to send it back. It was extremely difficult to
open, making it very inconvenient for quick use of a camera. The other consideration was that despite the location of the deck bag, it still is
not the most ideal spot from which to access your camera. I thought of putting the camera in a dry bag and keeping it under my spray skirt,
but that too would not provide me with quick access. I came up with an alternative solution and thus far, it seems to work well. I keep the
camera and attached lens in a dry bag, securely closed when loading the boat. I place the bag in the cockpit right in front of me as I get on
the water and get all my gear arranged (spray skirt, map, camelback , VHF). Once on the water and ready to paddle, I take the bag out of
the cockpit and place it on top of my spray skirt in front of me. I didn’t use it this time, but normally I would have a rope connecting the bag
to the boat, just in case I capsize (of course this would only work if the camera is inside a sealed bag). To keep the camera readily
accessible, I keep the bag open and put the camera strap around my neck. The camera and lens are still inside the bag and I keep the
open end next to me so that the water spray cannot contact the camera. I keep a towel inside the bag in case water does contact the
camera. When I am ready to shoot, I easily pull the camera out of the bag. If the weather turns foul or if we are in a hurry, I simply put the
camera away and stow it in the cockpit.
There are a couple notable differences between shooting from a kayak and a canoe. First, the kayak puts you at a much lower angle to the
water surface, for good or bad. It may actually make photographing wading birds more desirable given the lower angle, but the
disadvantage is it is much easier for water to come up onto the deck and spray skirt, and thus, your camera. The other difference is the
type of paddle typically used. The advantages of a canoe paddle over a kayak paddle is that the canoe paddle keeps you drier, and it’s less
cumbersome and easier to maneuver out of sight when approaching skittish wildlife. You could interchange kayak and canoe paddles if
you have the right length paddle shafts on them. For instance, I have kayak paddles with extensions, making it easy to use with the wide
canoe. This is great for long canoe trips. On long trips with the kayak, some people interchange canoe and kayak paddles to keep their
muscles from getting overused. A canoe paddle in a kayak while photographing would be an ideal situation, but I would not use a canoe
paddle solely while on a kayak trip. My paddling companion has a cheap plastic canoe paddle that retracts to about 2 feet and can easily
be attached to the deck or kept in your cockpit. This would be a nice addition for a kayaker who has time to spend exploring for the sake of
photography and not just paddling from point A to B.
Once at the campsite, I continue to keep the camera inside the dry bag until I am ready to use the camera. The beach sites pose a greater
problem than the backcountry sites due to the endless amount of sand that seems to get into everything. No matter how hard you try, you
cannot keep sand out of your tent or off your clothes. It’s everywhere. This is why care of your camera dry bag requires a bit of attention. If
you use your camera while on the beach, you will obviously be taking it out of the dry bag. So heed my warning, do not allow an open dry
bag anywhere but inside your tent because sand will inevitably get inside it. No matter how careful you are on the beach, sand will get
inside that dry bag. Move the closed bag from your boat to your tent and back again when you leave. The same would apply to a pelican
case. The last thing you want to do is open your pelican case on the beach, especially if there is any wind. Likewise, you should not
change lenses on the beach, do that inside your tent. Also at night inside the tent, I brush my camera and lens to get any sand off them.
The salt air leaves a lot of smudging on your LCD and viewfinder, so take the time to clean them as well.
I had to think about my upcoming 7-day trip and how much memory and battery power I needed to bring. I shoot in RAW format and with
a 2-GB memory card I get about 150 photos (the new Sony A700 compresses RAW files without loss). On this trip, I shot less than 300
photos (not including those deleted), but was limited by some poor lighting and overcast skies, and plus I simply do not shoot as often when
paddling to a destination. Accordingly, I’ll prepare for about 100 photos a day, mostly from the campsite. On this trip, my battery lasted the
entire first day and didn’t start to wear out until the end of the second day. So, for the 7-day trip, I’ll have 4 batteries and 10 GB memory. I
have small sealed leakproof bags where I keep the memory cards, batteries and cleaning tools and these bags are inside a larger dry bag
kept inside the hatch. I put my covered wide angle lens in the same dry bag. Obviously, I cannot get to them while paddling, so just before
going to bed at night, I’ll make sure I have enough battery power and file memory in my camera for the next day's paddle.
I had to decide which of the two zoom lenses I would use while paddling. On this trip, I used the 75-300mm lens while paddling and kept
the 18-70mm lens in the hatch. I figured that using the 75-300mm while on the water was a nice compromise; I could still get some open
water shots, especially with my paddling companions as subjects and get some close-up shots of wildlife. The only shot I can not get with
the 75mm is one that includes the tip of my kayak in the photo, which I like now and then. For this trip, the 18-70mm lens would be for the
campsite and sunset/rise shots. But, I never did switch my lenses on this trip, I ended up using the 75-300mm for all the shots. For the
longer trip, I think the wide angle lens will be suitable for most of the paddling days. We plan to be on the water most mornings at dusk, so I
think the openness of the gulf with the sun rising over the mangroves is more suited for wide angle shots. Who knows, it’s all an
experiment anyway, and the more trial and error, the more I learn.
his address at the dedication of Everglades National Park, December 6, 1947:
- "Here are no lofty peaks seeking the sky, no mighty glaciers or rushing streams wearing away the uplifted land. Here is land,
tranquil in its quiet beauty, serving not as the source of water, but as the last receiver of it. To its natural abundance we owe the
spectacular plant and animal life that distinguishes this place from all others in our country."
No one can describe the Everglades more poignantly than he did. These words that I have read several times and will read several times
more inspire me to explore this mysterious area of the world. To explore the Everglades thoroughly takes more than a lifetime and as I
only have one life as far as I know, I have dedicated my leisure time to exploring a portion of the Everglades known as The Ten Thousand
Islands.
The Ten Thousand Islands is a mangrove swamp, a mind-boggling complicated pattern of islands born from oyster bars that provide the
nutrient base for red mangroves. From oyster bars come mangrove islands, it’s as simple as that. The area known as the Ten thousand
Islands extends about 25 miles; about 2 miles south of San Marcos Island all the way to the Lostmans River, give or take a few miles.
There is no man-imposed border line for the Ten Thousand Islands because this is a naturally changing environment. Rather, the Ten
Thousand Islands covers a significant portion of two man-made parks; the northern portion which is the Ten Thousand Islands National
Wildlife Refuge and the southern portion beginning near Everglades City, the Everglades National Park. All told, this is protected area, both
land and water.
As always, I spend my leisure time in the winter season of south Florida exploring the Everglades mostly from a kayak but sometimes from
a canoe. The season begins in November when the threat of a hurricane becomes meager and the average high temperatures have
dropped to a warm 82 degrees and the average low to a brisk 64 degrees. The summer afternoon storms have subsided with the cooler
temperatures and the increase in average wind velocity now helps keep the biting bugs at a tolerable level. It is camping season in all its
glory; cool air, bright blue skies speckled with fluffy oval-shaped cumulus humilis clouds, countless fish and mammals swimming with the
tides, brilliant sunrises and sunsets and thousands of nesting birds. During the winter months, The Everglades comes alive.
This year, I began the season during the Thanksgiving holiday with a 3-day trip. The first day’s destination was Picnic Key, an old familiar
haunt followed by a gulf route to Rabbit Key for a second night’s stay. On the third day, we headed back to Everglades City; a total round
trip of 26 miles. We added a few miles to our first day’s paddle by taking a detour to Fakahatchee Island, where we would relax for lunch
and wait for the in-coming tide to become an out-going tide.
It’s all about the tides
The moon controls the water in the Ten Thousand Islands. All matters related to water are influenced by the tide. The tides give and
sustain life in the mangrove swamp, like air in and out of the lungs. Nature keeps rhythm with the tides and it never loses a beat. The tidal
influence is most evident, sometimes painfully so, during a new or full moon phase. It is during these few days when the tide differential is
at least 2 feet. When you are surrounded by water that is typically no deeper than 6-8 ft, 2 feet is a significant change. During our trips, we
inevitably encounter paddlers that lack significant appreciation or understanding of the tidal influence in this area. One only needs to fight the
tidal current on a river in a mangrove swamp to understand the travesty of not researching the gulf coast tides for this region before coming
out here. Many experienced river paddlers leave the Ten Thousand Islands with a respect that would have spared them much grief had it
existed in the first place. Fighting a tide, especially at new or full moon can be spirit breaking, or at least give you good reason to pull up to
a mosquito-infested mangrove shoreline and wait it out. Many trips have been delayed as a result of these currents. On the other hand,
with some research and flexibility built in to your plans, the tides can work for you. Lesson number one, plan your trips according to the
tides when ever possible. An out going tide in the morning means you are best served by beginning your journey into the gulf in the
morning and letting the tide carry you out through one of the passes. Relax and enjoy the easy paddle. Reach your destination early, set
up camp and explore the area by foot or from your boat.
This weekend, we would have a full moon in-coming tide all morning, not the best conditions for heading out to the gulf. It would reach its
final minute sometime after noon at Everglades City. Because of the conditions, we took our time loading the boats and waited until 9 am
to leave the Rangers Station. And we took a more westerly route across Chokoloskee Bay into West Pass Bay and eventually
Fakahatchee Island, thus avoiding the brunt of the in-coming tide. In the open bay waters, the tide is diffused and not so confrontational.
Our plan was to reach Fakahatchee Island before noon, eat lunch and head out to the gulf at the beginning of an out-going tide.
Launching from Everglades City and why you should not mind the mud
Most people begin their kayak/canoe journey toward the gulf islands at the Everglades National Park Ranger Station in Everglades City. It’
s a good location for such trips; parking is free and camping permits are obtained here. The only problem is that it is the dang muddiest
launch site in the Ten Thousand Islands. And there is no place to clean your boat afterwards. In the recent past, the Ranger Station had a
water hose available to wash your boats after a trip. But, it was decided that it was being overused by the outfitters and large Outward
Bound groups and consequently a waste of government money. Perhaps they are right, but an alternative would be to offer a pay-as-you-
go water hose. The government would get that money back, and maybe get some pocket change too. But it’s the government and
running efficiently is not one of its reputations. Nevertheless, if you can get past the mud and lack of a water hose, you’ll find the
convenience of the location well worth putting up with ankle deep mud as you trek back and forth to load the boat. A word of caution as you
are loading your boat during a relatively low tide; as you pull your boat into the water, the mud below 2-3 inches of water is more compliant
and you will quickly find yourself knee deep in it.
We are a party of five, all experienced Everglades kayakers and campers. We are five very different individuals with individual methods of
loading and unloading our boats. When you are on a trip with others, the slowest person in the group sets the pace. And so we began our
journey together while adapting to each other along the way. By 9 am the temperature was above average, reaching 80 degrees by mid
morning. The wind was coming from the northeast and did not seem to reach more than 10 knots throughout the day. Because we were
avoiding the full impact of the full moon tide, it would be a very nice paddle this morning.
The first few miles or getting the rust out
As we paddle through Chokoloskee Bay and cross the channel that leads to Indian Key Pass, we watch several brown pelicans in the
distance diving and fishing. There is an oyster bar in the middle of the bay where several pelicans and cormorants resided. I would not
get close to them today, but a lot of flying activity was emanating from that island. Our compass bearing as we head toward West Pass Bay
was approximately 285 degrees as we carefully maneuver through a shallow area where a large oyster bar lays, exposed at low tide.
As we approach West Pass Bay, the compass bearing changes slightly to a more westerly direction and just as you head into the bay,
there is a funny shaped island that looks like an amoeba on the marine chart. Once you reach that island, you are in West Pass Bay. A
usual route is to continue into West Pass and head in a southwesterly direction toward the gulf. Today, we would pass the opening of that
route and skirt around an island that sits on the north edge of the opening. On the other side of this island is a smaller entrance which leads
you in a westerly direction toward Fakahatchee Island.
Map & compass or GPS?
One thing that has become clear to me while exploring this complicated area is that there are two kinds of navigators in the Ten Thousand
Islands; those that make the best use of a map and compass, and those that rely almost totally on a Global Positioning System (GPS).
Maybe there is a third type, the type that makes good use of all three tools. In our group, we have 3 GPS users and two map and
compass users. Of the three GPS users, one relies equally on her map; the other 2 kayakers rely totally on their GPS “way points”. I am
one of the map & compass users. I have no problem with GPS. In fact, I believe it is quite useful and may be necessary under certain
circumstances. For instance, if I was navigating in open waters at night, a GPS would be a comfort. But I rarely am in that situation (once I
paddled in the dark from Turkey Key to Pavilion Key in open water). My philosophy is that reading a map and compass while paddling
and having compass bearings drawn on the map is THE best way to navigate the Ten Thousand Islands. What I see with the few
kayakers I know who rely only on their electronic GPS is that they hold most of their attention on that device and rarely pay close attention to
their surroundings. And this is where I part ways with my GPS friends.
When I am paddling, I have the map right in front of me at all times and I frequently look at it and “calibrate” my brain according to my
surroundings and the map. I look for specific land formations or landmarks and find them on the map. The greatest challenge is that one
mangrove island looks much like another. Three separate mangrove islands in the distance can look like one big land mass. There are
no varying levels of tree lines, no mountain peaks, no difference in colors; rather, the islands blend together into one long thin green line.
You may be paddling toward 3 distinct islands according to your map, but you see a single land mass in front of you. You begin to doubt
your navigational skills. But then you remember that you have a compass bearing and with a bit of trust in your navigational skills, you
continue in the intended direction and eventually come close enough to the land mass to identify three separate islands and the opening
you are looking for.
Ever since I started photographing out here, I pay much closer attention to detail in my surroundings. The challenge is to find identifiable
markers among the thick monotonous mangroves and oyster bars. I spent a great deal of time navigating in a 4-sq mile area near
Chokoloskee Island and can almost always tell where I am just by looking at the mangroves or oyster/sand bars without looking at my
compass and map. It took me several trips to get to that level and still, I am not quite ready to throw away the map and compass. The
point is, you must be aware of your surroundings at all times. I truly believe this is the best place to hone your navigational skills and it can
even sharpen your brain. You witness more wildlife, you notice the change in cloud patterns and you know where you are at all times. You
strengthen your awareness and as a result, you are handed wonderful gifts of nature, each unique from the next. And if you decide to
change your route for whatever reason, you can do so with confidence. On the other hand, GPS users are watching a small screen with
dots, numbers and a moving arrow. They are programmed into a pre-designed route and frankly, this is a major limitation and it’s just no
fun. For me, a GPS is a back-up and nothing more. I will say one positive thing about the GPS, I do like the breadcrumb feature for those
“just-in-case” situations where you find yourself on the wrong track. The best thing is to avoid that situation. The key with successful use of
a map and compass is to study it beforehand, work out the routes, and record your compass bearings for those long distances when you
are crossing bays or the open gulf to get from one point to another.
One of my GPS-using companions devised a route before the trip that, according to his GPS, would shave off ¾ of a mile from our normal
route. That seemed to be an important improvement to him, so we went along with it. Today, we would head into a small opening near
West Pass and continue through a few narrower openings through the mangrove swamp that would be running perpendicular to the
direction of the tide. By taking the GPS-planned route, it diverted us from our usual path of continuing west through more open waters in
Gate and Fakahatchee Bays. The tide pushes water through the various channels and narrow passages and it doesn’t much care that a
passage makes a turn in a southerly or northerly direction. It’s going to push that water regardless because it has no other place to go.
Consequently, what we had inside this new route was a strong in-coming tidal current that rushed around each bend providing us a rush
as we paddled through. That was fine for the most part and it wasn’t a great distance (a couple miles). We watched some active ospreys
inside one of the rivers, so it was well worth fighting the current to see these beautiful raptors in action. The moral of this story is, if you set
up your routes from a GPS, use a marine map that indicates shoals and pay attention to the tides. Plan your route accordingly.
Fakahatchee Island
Somewhere between West Pass Bay and Fakahatchee Island the Everglades National Park ends and the Ten Thousand Island Wildlife
Refuge begins. For practical purposes, the regulations of these parks are slightly different. You can camp anywhere within the Ten
Thousand Island Wildlife Refuge; whereas in the National Park, you camp only on designated spots and you must have a permit to do so.
Inside the refuge, you don’t need a permit and you can bring your pet with you. Consequently, this area is quite popular with motorboat
campers and fishermen and Fakahatchee Island is one of the most popular camping destinations. The island is a good camp spot
because it holds very high oyster mounds, bringing you several feet above the water line. I suspect it gets very buggy here but there are
two large openings enough for a very large tent or a few small tents. You’ll find a few remnants (tarp, wheel rim used as a fire ring, and a
few assorted camp items) left behind by previous campers. It’s a perfect location for a lunch break on this route. Interestingly, Fakahatchee
Island holds a rich history. In the 1920s or so, a very popular and thriving fishing community existed here. At one time there was a fish
house, a cemetery and a schoolhouse. People were still living on this island in the 1950s.
To Picnic Key
After lunch, we left Fakahatchee Island in a southeast direction leading us to a channel that runs parallel to West Pass. Eventually, it
connects with West Pass about 1 ½ miles from Tiger and Picnic Keys. By now, the in-coming tide had slacked and began to reverse. The
sky was now covered with several dark clouds mostly to the northeast and while it looked like we were surrounded by threatening rain
clouds, we never did see rain. As we get closer to Picnic Key, we enter the more open gulf area of the Ten Thousand Islands. Along the
way we see an occasional stingray jumping out of the water and a dolphin or two here and there. From West Pass you see Tiger Key
before you see Picnic Key. The two are popular camping spots in the National Park and sit side by side. We paddle into the opening
between the two keys leading us to the south side of Picnic Key, the usual camping area. Picnic Key offers a very long beach, and the park
allows 16 people to camp here at one time. As we paddled along the south shoreline, we see that some campers have already staked a
claim. No one was at the campsite but it was obvious that these were powerboaters; large chairs, a grill, several tiki torches, a table and
probably the kitchen sink. Later, we would have a couple canoeists camp near by and further down on the other side of the powerboaters,
a kayaking couple. There were 4 in the party of powerboaters, so for Picnic Key, the beach was under-populated. Consequently, there is
plenty of room to spread out and our group, being the largest, had a nice wide area to our selves.
Upon our arrival, the tide was relatively high so getting our boats onto the beach above the tide line was an easy chore. It would be the next
morning that would present a challenge. One thing to consider when camping on any of the beach sites is that you may have a very long
mudflat to deal with when loading or unloading your boat. At low tide, the shoal in front of our campsite is well over 200 feet. Tomorrow
morning, that’s what we would face at 7 am. If you can avoid the low tide from a beach site, all the easier for you. But, sometimes you
can't avoid it, so don't let that alone spoil your plans.
Our first night out and bug management 101
By afternoon, the sky was quite overcast. I was looking forward to walking the beach and photographing as the sun began its decline over
the gulf waters, but I wouldn't have optimal lighting today. I love photographing on Picnic Key, especially since hurricane Wilma. The
hurricane brought in a 20-ft storm surge that wrecked the gulf-facing shorelines of the Ten Thousand Islands. Trees were uprooted and
thrown about, and a wall of sand and shells was pushed into the mangrove forest of the island, leaving several broken trees buried in the
newly formed beach. Consequently, the beach has several dead tree trunks scattered about and sticking up as if on sentry duty. It's an
interesting place to photograph when the sun begins to sink over the horizon. Today, I would not have that warm sunlight to cast shadows
along the beach. I walked the beach as the tide started its retreat to find anything interesting to photograph. In an area of several exposed
dead trees I noticed some of them had snails on them; lots of snails. I spent some time photographing these little creatures, taking
advantage of an occasional sun ray or using my flash. By now, it was dinner time and because the no-see-ums would be inevitable and
would not waste time come dusk, I headed back to the campsite to prepare our early meal. It was about 4 pm by now.
As I drank my wine and cooked dinner, I wore my mosquito head net (not ideal for sipping wine) and put my sun gloves on to protect my
hands from the biting bugs. The no-see-ums were on time, but unlike other occasions when they are out of control, they were relatively
tolerable. My body was completely covered, socks, long pants, long sleeves, bandana, gloves and hat and head net. I recommend this
attire when camping out here. I once had an allergic reaction to numerous bites I received from the no-see-ums. It was at the Outdoor
Resort marina in Chokoloskee Island and we were loading up our kayaks for a day trip in October. Because I was paddling with my kayak
instead of my open canoe, I decided to wear shorts. I paid for it, the bugs were relentless. I started feeling faint and dizzy and could feel my
blood pressure dropping. I got back in my car and turned on the AC. My legs and hands were covered in bites. My companion had
some children’s Benadryl, which brought me back to normal quickly. We always carry this drug on our trips; it alleviates the symptoms
without the unwanted drowsiness. I get reactions from ant bites but this was the first time the no-see-ums did that to me. I can usually
tolerate some biting and in fact, the itching from no-see-um bites go away within minutes. If you can tolerate a little bit, know that as soon as
you are on the water in your boat, it’s over. With camping you can’t get away except into your tent and that is what we often do at dusk. We
either eat dinner before dusk, or after its dark. Once it’s dark, the no-see-ums usually disappear, but not always. It depends on
temperature and wind. On these trips, we like calm winds while paddling and stiff winds while camping.
I had brought my heavy tripod hoping to capture Picnic Key while the sun set. The sky remained overcast making the sunset quite dull. I
decided to not bother with the camera and tripod. I had my hands full with the meal preparation so I let that go. We had a nice meal,
excellent red wine and good friends to talk with. We all enjoy this time of day, sitting on the beach, feeling revitalized from a day of
paddling. The peace and quiet is what we crave and the islands always deliver. My companions are like-minded in that way, we are all
passing through very lightly. Soon, our mild (another word for old) selves would be in our tents, listening to the tide come back in. For tent
camping, it was a bit too warm for my taste. We kept the tent fly up and that allowed me to watch the full moon through the tent door. I
couldn’t get inside my sleeping bag, it was just too warm. Later though, the winds picked up and the temperature dropped and the sleeping
bag became a warm refuge.
When beach camping, it’s essential that you set up well above the high tide line. It can be a bit unnerving in the middle of the night as the
tide comes roaring in. You hear the waves crashing and they sound like they are right up against your tent. Also be mindful that you bring
your boat up above the line as well. A nightmare is to stick your head out of your tent to see your kayak being washed away. As alarming
as the high tide waves can be, the quietness of low tide is refreshing. It can be dead silent out here, something one rarely experiences. By
7 am it would be low tide and that’s about when we started the day. It had rained a little bit earlier in the morning, just enough to make our
tents a little soggy (on the outside, not the inside). One last word while on the topic of tents, make sure the tent you bring out here has no-
see-um netting, otherwise you may as well sleep outside. If you do get no-see-ums in your tent (and that’s not difficult to do), shine a light
on the tent wall, use a wet bandana and wipe down the ceiling and walls where they are congregating in the light. Gets them every time.
Loading the boats or why I need to trade my plastic boat in for a fiberglass one
I was looking forward to today’s paddle in the gulf but I wasn’t looking forward to loading my boat. Because of the timing of the tide, this
would be somewhat of a leisurely morning since we would take our time getting off the island. We would wait until it started coming back in
and leave about 9 am. As usual, my companion and I drank our coffee and ate our breakfast in the tent. I bring a thermos and heat up
water and bring my breakfast food and utensils into the tent the night before. This way, I avoid the early morning no-see-um raid while
comfortably eating breakfast in the tent. Plus, I don’t have to bring out the cook stove and since I eat out of a baggy there are no dirty
dishes. Once breakfast is eaten, I start packing. This works well with two people in the tent as long as you think alike. Otherwise, you may
find an elbow in your eye.
Once we are packed, we emerge from our tent as our paddling companions are scurrying about getting their gear packed and taking their
tents down. After putting down all the tents and getting the gear piled up on a ground cloth, it was time to move the boats. I’d like to think I
am physically tough, but my heavy plastic boat is starting to wear on me. Two of us in this group paddle plastic boats, mine being the
lightest at about 60 lb. The other paddlers, being much smarter, have lighter composite boats. Nevertheless, a boat loaded with a few
days supplies can be heavy regardless of its material. Our strategy, as always, is to carry each boat to the edge of the water, which would
be about a 200-ft distance over mud, and then load them. Today, I would not tolerate carrying a heavy boat with just one other person, so
we team up 4 to a boat. This is the sensible way to approach this chore and in no time, the boats are near the water.
The violent Everglades
Once on the water, we head in a southeasterly direction toward Indian Key Pass. I love this route to Rabbit Key. The wildlife can be
incredible. Sometimes I see manatee, but not often. As much as I have paddled out here, I’ve only spotted manatee three times. Dolphins
are almost always a sure bet and you can count on the brown pelicans as well. After crossing Indian Key Pass, I spot a cluster of birds in
the distance near Jack Daniels Key. It had been overcast all morning, but the sun was shining intermittently and was already quite high
and washing out the sky as we approached late morning hours. The birds were dark so I figured they were either cormorants or brown
pelicans. As I got closer, it became evident that they were brown pelicans and they were busily fishing.
There seemed to be two groups of pelicans. One group farther out into the gulf, was spread out more and you could see the usual diving
behavior displayed by the individual birds. What I typically witness are individual pelicans taking off from the water, flying around for a few
seconds and then diving head first into the water from heights anywhere from 5 to 60 feet above water. It’s quite spectacular as they
corkscrew their way to the water and enter it with a very violent splash, like a belly dive. But what interested me most was a cluster of about
10 pelicans grouped closely together near Jack Daniels Key. My understanding is that brown pelicans do not usually group-feed. White
pelicans are the opposite in this regard; you won’t see a white pelican dive bomb the water. But here was a group of brown pelicans that
were fishing without diving. Rather, they would work together to trap the bait fish and plunge their heads into the water to get their fill. I
watched them for some time as my companions continued paddling.
I noticed something incredible happening in the water. The bait fish were running and the birds and the tarpon were there to capture them
in great numbers. I saw two very large tarpon come out of the water. They were about 4-5 feet in length, relatively small. Among the
pelicans were several terns. I learned awhile back that gulls and terns take advantage of a pelican’s fishing abilities and hang around them
waiting for a small fish to fall out of the pelican’s pouch. Today the terns were also diving into the water for their meal. With all that going on
above the water, even more interesting was the bait fish popping up in the air. This was happening all around me, as if the water was
boiling.
When you are paddling in the gulf on a relatively calm day like today, it is gloriously peaceful. You become one with nature, you feel
cleansed by the beauty of your pristine surroundings, and the water is soothing to your soul. Well, blah, blah, blah! Here’s another picture;
under the surface of that water, separated from you by a thin piece of boat material is a gory and violent world filled with marine creatures
that are eating each other alive. It’s a mindless world dictated by survival instinct, period. The extreme violence is portrayed by animals
being eaten alive, fish suffering slow torturous deaths, and short fish lives spent entirely fleeing predators. Adding insult to injury are the
countless birds diving into the water, the powerful dolphins that gang up on and trap the fish before killing them, and the humans with their
life-like lures. Enjoy the spectacle of a brown pelican diving for its breakfast, because if it were not for this violent world of marine life, there
would be no birds in the Ten Thousand Islands. There would be no dolphins and you would never have fish on your dinner plate. Enjoy
the wildlife and the scenery, but appreciate what is going on below you.
To Rabbit Key
Shortly after the pelicans, we landed on Jewel Key for a lunch break. Jewel Key is next to Chokoloskee Pass, which is an area that I
explore during the summer months when I’m out here on day trips in my canoe. There is a tiny island on the other side of the pass from
Jewel Key where my friend Capt. Charles Wright holds his annual paddle-in party for kayak fishermen. On this island at low tide, you can
comfortably fit a couple hundred kayakers, their boats and long serving tables covered with good food and drink. Today, we paddle directly
over the island; the tide had completely covered it with at least a foot of water. We cross Chokoloskee Pass into Rabbit Key Pass heading
in the direction of an opening between Lumber Key and Rabbit Key. The opening between these two islands is not always passable,
depending on the tides of course. Today, we would have no problem crossing it toward the east side Rabbit Key campsite area.
As we head toward the opening, I can clearly see the 2 mangrove trees on the far end of a sandbar jutting out from the north end of Rabbit
Key. In the larger of the two trees sits an osprey nest and last April while camping here, I was able to capture some osprey activity at
sunset. At that time, the parents had an offspring in the nest and they were busily going back and forth delivering food to their hungry baby.
I wondered what I would see today. It’s that time of year that the osprey are beginning to nest and preparing to mate.
Our second night, Rabbit Key with a full moon
By the time we arrived at Rabbit Key, the wind had picked up to a nice breeze on the island, especially since it was coming from the east.
There was no one else on the island, so we spread out toward the northeast point that extends all the way across to the other island at low
tide. The tide would be rolling out now and we would watch the sand bar become larger and larger. There is deep path cut into the sand
that brings water in and out of a large lagoon sitting inside the mangrove forest of the island. Our tent was set up within 10 feet of this
stream and in the middle of the night, I heard the sound of water running through and forgot where I was for a minute. That’s not a noise
you hear out in the gulf, but there it was. I imagined I was camping in the mountains next to a stream; after all, the tide pull is as powerful as
a mountain grade.
On our way to Rabbit Key, we ran into a couple of fishing buddies in a Gheenoe boat. They were camping at Watson's Place and came
out to the gulf to find us, knowing we were heading to Rabbit Key. They came into our campsite and stayed for awhile as we pitched our
tents. They couldn't stay for long, the tide was leaving the island and soon, their little motorboat would be stranded. So, we said goodbye
to our friends as they headed back to their home away from home. One of the joys of being out here is bumping into people we know.
Often, we see our friend Capt. Wright and he's actually helped us out a couple times (or at least delivered ice for any fish we might be lucky
enough to catch). It's always comforting to know we have friends out there in the Ten Thousand Islands.
The winds would continue through the evening, which meant that we would get a reprieve from the bugs. This is a sweet experience; we
saw no bugs on this side of the island the entire time. Before dinner, I walked over to the north side of the island where the osprey nest was
located. I occasionally heard the osprey near by but did not see them in the nest. It was still a bit overcast and I didn’t think I would see the
spectacular sunset that I photographed last April from this vantage point. But, I may get lucky with the full moon rise that would be coming
up over our campsite on the other side. But before that, I would head back to camp and start preparing our dinner, this time without the
mosquito netting.
By now, the tide had rolled out and there was plenty of space for the birds to come in and feed. I noticed several white birds in the
mangroves across the sandbar about ¼ mile away. At one point, a dozen or so white ibises flew over to the sandbar. They seemed to be
a brighter orange than what I see in the summer. I believe they are preparing for mating season as well. I photograph the ibises and also
some flying willets. The flying willets (sounds like a comedy/circus act) are beautiful in flight. Imagine a group of about 30 gray-white birds
taking off in unison from the beach. The birds fly around, turning one direction, than another. From one angle, they appear like dark
specks creating a pattern in the air. When they turn and the sun catches their exposed white underbellies, they look like sparkling jewels.
Imagine seeing this flashing pattern in the sky as the birds maneuver and turn sharply around you. And when they fly closely to the water,
the reflections are beautiful. This is one of the little treasures I look forward to when I beach camp.
Other birds were coming and going as well. There were a couple great blue herons, a great white egret and even a turkey vulture on the
sandbar. I watched several flocks of brown pelicans fly by as the evening wore on. As the sun began to set behind us, we ate our dinner
and of course, drank our wine. I had collected some wood for a fire and soon we would get that started and watch the full moon rise. But
first, I would head over to the other side of the island with my camera and tripod. I could see over the mangrove canopies the sunset
casting an orange color over the cloud filled sky. I headed over there and set up from a few different vantage points. The ospreys were not
in sight, unlike last time I was here. I knew they were around because I could hear their melancholy cries. I took several shots of the
sunset and once satisfied headed back to look for the full moon. The mosquitoes were out on this side of the island as it was quite
protected from our wonderful north breeze. So, I swatted and focused, swatted and focused.
The full moon was nice, but the clouds covered it and it was not the same bright orange ball that I witnessed another time from this beach. I
took some shots of the campfire and my paddling buddies. With the long exposure this gave them a ghost like appearance, which can be
fun to experiment with. I wanted to do something like that on Watson’s Place where ghosts are believed to reside. Watson’s Place is a
popular campsite in the backcountry and was once inhabited by the infamous Mr. Watson, thought to have murdered a number of his
farmhands on that very site.
It was another beautiful evening, much more comfortable than the night before. Every time I camp on Rabbit Key it has been an
exceptional experience. This key, by the way, is a good one for beginning paddlers. From Chokoloskee Island, it is approximately 5 miles
and the route is relatively protected from open waters. It’s a good overnighter for those who don’t want to spend long hours on the water.
Leaving Rabbit Key and another low tide
If Picnic Key is a hassle for loading boats at low tide, Rabbit Key is a downright pain in the a**. It’s a bit muddier than Picnic Key and the
mudflat seems never ending. So, once again we have a late morning paddle ahead of us. This time, we get off the island about 10:30
am. It would be a relatively fast paddle to Everglades City; the tide would be rolling in with us and by the time we got on the water, the wind
would shift and become more easterly. This meant an easy time of it on the open Chokoloskee Bay as we made our way back to the
Ranger Station.
While enjoying a relaxing morning before the loading began, I decided to walk around the island. This would not be difficult at low tide.
There was an osprey near the nest but once it got sight of me, it flew away. I continued walking on past the nest toward the west side of the
island. I saw a raccoon busily hunting for food in the oyster beds. At one point while walking on the packed mud, I noticed hundreds of
hermit crabs scurrying about. As soon as they sense you, they move away from you in unison. The male crab with its one over-sized
claw occasionally stops and raises the claw in your direction. Some crabs will find a hole to get into. They are fun to watch and if you stand
still long enough, they will come out of hiding and come closer to you if you don't cast a shadow on them.
Once back at camp, we were ready to load up. Another 4-man carry strategy and soon we were on the water heading back home. I like
this particular route quite a bit. There is a very large oyster bar that we skirt around to avoid the busy boat channel (Rabbit Key Pass) and
there are always a number of birds there. Further on inside one of the narrower channels are a couple of osprey nests. They have been
there for as long as I remember. The ospreys were busy with breakfast and I watched one carry its catch from one tree to another. The
tide and wind was pushing my boat at a rapid pace making photographing the osprey near impossible. I would have had to work very
hard to get my boat into a close position to get any worthy shot of the bird with its catch. I let it go as my companions paddled ahead of me,
there will always be other opportunities.
Soon, we are in sight of Chokoloskee Island, and the first landmark you spot is the Ted Smallwood’s Store, a large red structure on the
water’s edge. Here in Chokoloskee Bay, I am back in my stomping grounds where I spend a better part of my summers with my canoe.
To my left as I continue on the channel is the familiar white pelican island where I have spent hours photographing these beautiful birds.
Today, there must have been a couple hundred of them huddled on the oyster bar. We passed Chokoloskee Island and make a more
northerly route that will take us across the bay diagonally toward the rangers station in Everglades City, our beginning point. By now the
wind is about 15-20 knots and it is pushing me all the way there. This is a perfect way to end the trip before having to load the car, make
the drive home. Monday morning will be a rude awakening as usual!
Thoughts on photographing from a kayak and what I’ve learned so far
Most of my experience with using an SLR camera on the water has been from my canoe since I just purchased an SLR back in April.
This new camping season will be the first one with the SLR. My day trips in the canoe are nothing compared to the type of paddling I do
from my kayak during a multi-day paddle trip. To prepare for the kayak season, there are two issues I had to think about; where to keep
my camera while paddling and space to pack additional camera equipment, like the 300mm telephoto lens and the Manfrotto tripod and
ballhead. A short trip like this one is not a big issue, I could have packed the telephoto in one of the hatches without any serious
consequences. It’s the longer trips that are more difficult to plan. We are doing a 7-day trip over the new years holiday and I know from
experience there will be no space for that 300mm prime lens, nor will there be space for a large tripod and ballhead. I decided to give up
the prime lens and as a nice alternative, bring the smaller 75-300mm zoom lens. That lens and the A700 camera are easy to handle from
my cockpit. Inside the hatch, I’ll stash my extra batteries, memory cards and a wide angle lens (24-70mm). These are all packed in a
small dry bag. For this trip I had plenty of room for the large tripod, but for the longer trip, I will have to settle for the smaller Slik tripod that I
have used often out here. It’s also much lighter, making boat packing easier. It’s a cheap tripod, but will work fine for sunset shots.
As for keeping the camera dry, my planning began by assessing my comfort level for having the camera easily accessible while paddling. I
thought of using a large deck bag that I could easily open and pull out the camera. Problem is, deck bags are not water proof. So, I
purchased a plastic bag to line it with. When it came in the mail, I tried it out and quickly decided to send it back. It was extremely difficult to
open, making it very inconvenient for quick use of a camera. The other consideration was that despite the location of the deck bag, it still is
not the most ideal spot from which to access your camera. I thought of putting the camera in a dry bag and keeping it under my spray skirt,
but that too would not provide me with quick access. I came up with an alternative solution and thus far, it seems to work well. I keep the
camera and attached lens in a dry bag, securely closed when loading the boat. I place the bag in the cockpit right in front of me as I get on
the water and get all my gear arranged (spray skirt, map, camelback , VHF). Once on the water and ready to paddle, I take the bag out of
the cockpit and place it on top of my spray skirt in front of me. I didn’t use it this time, but normally I would have a rope connecting the bag
to the boat, just in case I capsize (of course this would only work if the camera is inside a sealed bag). To keep the camera readily
accessible, I keep the bag open and put the camera strap around my neck. The camera and lens are still inside the bag and I keep the
open end next to me so that the water spray cannot contact the camera. I keep a towel inside the bag in case water does contact the
camera. When I am ready to shoot, I easily pull the camera out of the bag. If the weather turns foul or if we are in a hurry, I simply put the
camera away and stow it in the cockpit.
There are a couple notable differences between shooting from a kayak and a canoe. First, the kayak puts you at a much lower angle to the
water surface, for good or bad. It may actually make photographing wading birds more desirable given the lower angle, but the
disadvantage is it is much easier for water to come up onto the deck and spray skirt, and thus, your camera. The other difference is the
type of paddle typically used. The advantages of a canoe paddle over a kayak paddle is that the canoe paddle keeps you drier, and it’s less
cumbersome and easier to maneuver out of sight when approaching skittish wildlife. You could interchange kayak and canoe paddles if
you have the right length paddle shafts on them. For instance, I have kayak paddles with extensions, making it easy to use with the wide
canoe. This is great for long canoe trips. On long trips with the kayak, some people interchange canoe and kayak paddles to keep their
muscles from getting overused. A canoe paddle in a kayak while photographing would be an ideal situation, but I would not use a canoe
paddle solely while on a kayak trip. My paddling companion has a cheap plastic canoe paddle that retracts to about 2 feet and can easily
be attached to the deck or kept in your cockpit. This would be a nice addition for a kayaker who has time to spend exploring for the sake of
photography and not just paddling from point A to B.
Once at the campsite, I continue to keep the camera inside the dry bag until I am ready to use the camera. The beach sites pose a greater
problem than the backcountry sites due to the endless amount of sand that seems to get into everything. No matter how hard you try, you
cannot keep sand out of your tent or off your clothes. It’s everywhere. This is why care of your camera dry bag requires a bit of attention. If
you use your camera while on the beach, you will obviously be taking it out of the dry bag. So heed my warning, do not allow an open dry
bag anywhere but inside your tent because sand will inevitably get inside it. No matter how careful you are on the beach, sand will get
inside that dry bag. Move the closed bag from your boat to your tent and back again when you leave. The same would apply to a pelican
case. The last thing you want to do is open your pelican case on the beach, especially if there is any wind. Likewise, you should not
change lenses on the beach, do that inside your tent. Also at night inside the tent, I brush my camera and lens to get any sand off them.
The salt air leaves a lot of smudging on your LCD and viewfinder, so take the time to clean them as well.
I had to think about my upcoming 7-day trip and how much memory and battery power I needed to bring. I shoot in RAW format and with
a 2-GB memory card I get about 150 photos (the new Sony A700 compresses RAW files without loss). On this trip, I shot less than 300
photos (not including those deleted), but was limited by some poor lighting and overcast skies, and plus I simply do not shoot as often when
paddling to a destination. Accordingly, I’ll prepare for about 100 photos a day, mostly from the campsite. On this trip, my battery lasted the
entire first day and didn’t start to wear out until the end of the second day. So, for the 7-day trip, I’ll have 4 batteries and 10 GB memory. I
have small sealed leakproof bags where I keep the memory cards, batteries and cleaning tools and these bags are inside a larger dry bag
kept inside the hatch. I put my covered wide angle lens in the same dry bag. Obviously, I cannot get to them while paddling, so just before
going to bed at night, I’ll make sure I have enough battery power and file memory in my camera for the next day's paddle.
I had to decide which of the two zoom lenses I would use while paddling. On this trip, I used the 75-300mm lens while paddling and kept
the 18-70mm lens in the hatch. I figured that using the 75-300mm while on the water was a nice compromise; I could still get some open
water shots, especially with my paddling companions as subjects and get some close-up shots of wildlife. The only shot I can not get with
the 75mm is one that includes the tip of my kayak in the photo, which I like now and then. For this trip, the 18-70mm lens would be for the
campsite and sunset/rise shots. But, I never did switch my lenses on this trip, I ended up using the 75-300mm for all the shots. For the
longer trip, I think the wide angle lens will be suitable for most of the paddling days. We plan to be on the water most mornings at dusk, so I
think the openness of the gulf with the sun rising over the mangroves is more suited for wide angle shots. Who knows, it’s all an
experiment anyway, and the more trial and error, the more I learn.
Thanksgiving 2007: Everglades City to Picnic
and Rabbit Keys, a diary and photo journal of
a kayak trip in the Everglades
and Rabbit Keys, a diary and photo journal of
a kayak trip in the Everglades
Click on a thumbnail to see the
larger photo and map.
larger photo and map.
At the rangers station in Everglades
City. Step out just to the water's edge
and you'll sink in about 2 feet of mud.
City. Step out just to the water's edge
and you'll sink in about 2 feet of mud.
Three of my paddling companions as
we head toward West Pass Bay.
we head toward West Pass Bay.
My other paddling companion getting
closer to West Pass. Notice the oyster
bar near the kayak, watch out for them!
closer to West Pass. Notice the oyster
bar near the kayak, watch out for them!
A common site out here, an osprey with
a fresh catch. This was shot near West
Pass as we headed to Fakahatchee
Island, off the usual route.
a fresh catch. This was shot near West
Pass as we headed to Fakahatchee
Island, off the usual route.
The beach on Picnic Key littered with
the remains of hurricane Wilma.
the remains of hurricane Wilma.
Tree snails on a dead tree trunk on
Picnic Key
Picnic Key
Morning on Picnic Key, at low tide.
Notice the large mud flat, over which we
carried our unloaded boats.
Notice the large mud flat, over which we
carried our unloaded boats.
Brown pelicans taking advantage of the
bait fish running with the tide.
bait fish running with the tide.
Overlooking the open gulf, where the
brown pelicans were busily fishing.
brown pelicans were busily fishing.
Our friends, the white ibis, come to visit
us on Rabbit Key. Notice the water
behind the birds. At low tide, all the
water is gone and the mudflat is
revealed all the way to the mangroves.
us on Rabbit Key. Notice the water
behind the birds. At low tide, all the
water is gone and the mudflat is
revealed all the way to the mangroves.
Flying willets like these are commonly
sighted from the beaches as they fly
around, turning this way and that. They
sometimes look like jewels flying in the air.
sighted from the beaches as they fly
around, turning this way and that. They
sometimes look like jewels flying in the air.
The full moon over Rabbit Key was
covered in clouds, but a beautiful site with
a campfire, nonetheless. The wind kept
the bugs away, perfect evening in the Ten
Thousand Islands.
covered in clouds, but a beautiful site with
a campfire, nonetheless. The wind kept
the bugs away, perfect evening in the Ten
Thousand Islands.
Sunrise from Rabbit Key. Notice the long
mud shoal at low tide. We waited about 2
hours before loading the boats to avoid a
long trek through the mud.
mud shoal at low tide. We waited about 2
hours before loading the boats to avoid a
long trek through the mud.
Ted Smallwood's Store and museum on
Chokoloskee Island. Easily spotted as you
come out of Rabbit Key Pass into
Chokoloskee Bay.
Chokoloskee Island. Easily spotted as you
come out of Rabbit Key Pass into
Chokoloskee Bay.
Camera equipment and accessories
on this trip:
on this trip:
- Sony A700 camera
- Sony 75-300mm zoom lens
- Sony 18-70mm zoom lens
- 3 lithium batteries (only 2 used)
- 5 GB memory
- Manfrotto tripod & ballhead
- Lens cloth and brush
- Dry bag for camera-in-use
- Dry bag for equipment not in use
- Sealed leakproof bags for small
items like batteries & memory
cards; these all go in dry bag in
the hatch - Surgical gloves (worn when
photographing with bugs)
Paddling gear used:
- Full spray skirt
- Inflatable PFD with pouch for
flares, knife, whistle and mirror - deck bag
- Paddle float
- Paddle leash
- Tow rope attached to bow
- compass, on deck
- Waterproof marine chart
- VHF radio
- Spare paddle
- 50-oz Camelback with Gatorade
- Waterbottle w/ water
- Sun screen & lip balm with spf
- Repair kit
Camping & cooking gear (not in
order of importance):
order of importance):
- 2-man tent
- Sleeping bag
- Thermorest (I roll this up, cover it
in a plastic bag and a nylon bag
and keep it under my thighs
while paddling) - Nylon bags for food items
- 1 gallon water per day in 2-gal
Stearns plastic bags - Alcohol stove with 2 pots
- Alcohol for fuel
- Lighter and matches
- Coffee mug
- Plastic wine glass
- Wine bottle opener
- Eating utensils
- Purel hand cleaner
- Headlamp
- Mosquito headnet
- Tent light
- Emergency first aid kit
- Tarp and extra rope
- Nylon bucket
- Ground cloth for outside the tent
- Ground cloth for sitting & cooking
- Thermorest chair holder
- Thermos
- Plastic coffee filter and paper
filters
Food taken on this trip:
- Energy bars (2 per day)
- Gatorade (1 qrt per day)
- Peanut butter, jam and bagel
(lunch for two days) - Tuna kit (lunch for one day)
- Pasta with homemade tomato
sauce w/ soyburger (1st night,
the sauce was frozen at the start
of the trip) - Crackers with dinner
- Biscotti for dessert
- Homemade pear bread for snack
- Tortellini in olive oil and garlic
(2nd night) - Flatbread with dinner
- Instant oatmeal with added
walnuts and dry milk (1st
morning) - Coffee
- Carnation instant breakfast with
dry milk and expresso, pre-
mixed (2nd morning) - Red wine (keeps better than
white)
Clothing for the trip:
- 2 long nylon pants, one for
paddling, one for camping - 2 long-sleeve nylon shirts, for
paddling - 1 long-sleeve cotton shirt, for
camping - 2 pr anklet Coolmax socks (worn
while paddling) - Water shoes
- 1 pr wool socks, camping
- Sandals, camping
- Short sleeve nylon shirt, for
sleeping - Pajama shorts
- Rain jacket
- Wide brimmed hat
- Cap, camping
- 1 buff, worn while paddling
- 1 bandana, for washing
| All Rights Reserved. Copyright Constance Mier, 2007-2010 |
The map of the entire 3-day route, a total
of 26 miles. We added a couple miles on
to the first day by way of Fakahatchee
Island. The route is not detailed, so don't
use it for specific navigation purposes.
of 26 miles. We added a couple miles on
to the first day by way of Fakahatchee
Island. The route is not detailed, so don't
use it for specific navigation purposes.
| Back to HOME |
I wrote the following story several years ago and since then, one thing has changed. Being the last hold out, I finally have begun to use a
GPS. In the story below, I, being a compass and map user discussed GPS users from the "us vs them" point of view. I've learned many
things since writing that and can now say that GPS mapping software and knowing how to apply them to a GPS in the Everglades is the
next best thing to sliced bread. However, I do not intend to throw away the paper maps!
GPS. In the story below, I, being a compass and map user discussed GPS users from the "us vs them" point of view. I've learned many
things since writing that and can now say that GPS mapping software and knowing how to apply them to a GPS in the Everglades is the
next best thing to sliced bread. However, I do not intend to throw away the paper maps!