| Bringing in 2009 on a 9-day canoe exploration of the Everglades Backcountry |
Last year at this time I had just come back from a Flamingo to Everglades City coastal trip and I wrote "I doubt I will ever do a 7-day trip
again". Today, it is January 1st, 2009 and I have just returned from a 9-day trip in the backcountry of the Everglades. When I wrote that
statement a year ago, I had a false feeling of contentedness thinking that I would never exceed 7 days in the Everglades again. Deep
down, I guess I really meant to say "Seven days are not enough. I need more days than that to explore this wilderness." And so a longer
adventure was planned for this holiday season.
I love the Everglades. When I am out there I am soaking it up by paddling to various remote places of the wilderness. The water and sky
dominate the environment each day as we paddle miles from one destination to another. We pass islands, oyster beds, and cross large
backcountry bays that seem to expand before our eyes. We meander through creeks and rivers and look at our compasses and maps
often. We navigate through an intricate weave of mangrove jungle that confuses even the most experienced boat captain. And with that,
here is a story about a 9-day canoe trip in the Everglades backcountry. Below is a day-by-day account of the trip including descriptions of
the paddle routes, remarkable events, weather patterns, people we met along the way, camping experiences, wildlife, and of course
photos. The trip itinerary was:
Day 1 – Chokoloskee Island to Watsons Place (15.1 miles)
Day 2 – Watsons Place to Darwins (4.4 miles)
Day 3 – Darwins to Willy Willy (17.6 miles)
Day 4 – Willy Willy to Camp Lonesome (10.4 miles)
Day 5 – Stay over at Camp Lonesome to explore area
Day 6 – Camp Lonesome to Rogers River Chickee (12.2 miles)
Day 7 – Rogers River Chickee to Darwins (17.2 miles)
Day 8 – Darwins to Lopez River (13.1 miles)
Day 9 – Lopez River to Chokoloskee (5 miles)
The story begins:
Day 1 – Chokoloskee Island to Watsons Place (15.1 miles)
Becoming a canoeist and letting go of my kayaking ways, meeting a lone kayaker on a misguided trip
This morning with mild temperatures we reached our launch site on Chokoloskee Island and began loading our boats (2 solo canoes and
2 kayaks) at Outdoor Resorts Marina. My paddling group included Vivian, Michaeleen (Mike) and Fred. The excitement was high among
the four of us as we organized our gear and loaded our boats. I experienced sheer joy with the ease of loading a hatchless boat. I
attached my new Cookes Custom Spray Deck and with several snaps to connect the covers to the hull, all my gear would be protected
and I could use a spray skirt if needed. I was packed and ready to go as my kayak buddies continued to fill their boats through their "tiny"
hatches. By the time we finished shuttling cars and loading boats it was 8:30 am. The temperature was unseasonably warm at mid-70s,
intending to reach low 80s before the morning completed itself. It would stay pretty much that way the remainder of the trip. The winds
were easterly and were expected to pick up to a steady 10-15 knots. Dark clouds were already forming in the eastern sky and heading
toward Chokoloskee Bay as we began our southeast journey across the bay and into the mouth of the Lopez River. An incoming tide
would be awaiting us to gently push us up the river.
It didn't take long for the clouds to bring rain and before reaching the shoals near the river mouth, I was putting on my rain jacket and getting
my spray skirt tightly around my waist. The winds picked up, with some gusts about 15-20 knots, making the air a bit coolish. Fortunately,
the down pour did not last long and as it turned out, would be the most rain felt on this trip. The assertive east winds would continue
throughout the day and would be felt significantly as we crossed the large Sunday and Huston Bays.
The paddle up Lopez River and eventually Crooked Creek provided an up-close opportunity to watch clusters of birds wading in the
shallows. There are certain places along these rivers where birds tend to congregate. It is usually at the inside of a river bend or where
narrow and heavily canopied water passages lead deeper into the mangrove forest. Here is where egrets, roseate spoonbills, herons and
wood storks can easily catch bait fish in the eddies and tidal flows. On this particular trip, I saw more wood storks than I have ever seen
among all my previous trips put together. The wood storks are considered to be the indicator species for the south Florida area and if my
observation is any indication, things are looking up for the birds of the Everglades. This would become more evident over the next 8 days.
This would be my first extensive canoe trip beyond a couple days of paddling and camping. I brought 2 canoe paddles (carbon fiber ZRE
bent shaft and a heavier Bell Voodoo straight shaft) and kayak paddles. The idea was that I would use the kayak paddles when crossing
the large bays, especially in high winds. I thought the kayak paddles would afford me more power, and thus, I could keep up with my
kayak buddies more easily. Accordingly, I switched from my bent shaft to the kayak paddles as we entered the channel past marker 125
that leads into Sunday Bay. I used them to cross Sunday Bay with a strong head wind coming at us and it soon became very clear that my
shoulders would not take the wear and tear of the heavier kayak paddles if I was going to use them in such conditions. I switched back to
the lightweight bent shaft canoe paddle and happily used them with ease crossing the Huston Bay. What I discovered was that I had
enough skill and power with my canoe paddles to cut through the waves and the winds. Even better, the lightweight carbon fiber 10 oz
paddle (used for canoe racing) placed no strain on my shoulders. I smiled continuously while crossing Huston Bay as I proclaimed myself
to be a canoeist in the purest sense. I took delight as I powered through the waves 3 strokes on the left, 3 strokes on the right. My canoe
was officially validated for Everglades paddling.
The east winds continued steadily at 15 knots and gusted to 20 knots as we paddled into the arm of the Chatham River that cuts off a large
portion of Huston Bay. Soon, we made the turn into the main portion of the river and Watsons Place was just around the bend. We arrived
a bit exhausted at our campsite around 4:30 pm. A stroke of luck! The campsite, one of the most popular in the backcountry was empty.
We spread out and gave each other some space and set up camp. Soon, we would not be alone. A lone kayaker would share our
campsite that night. Our new neighbor was a young woman named Olga, who was on a misguided trip through the Everglades. Without
a guide, an adequate map or a compass, Olga was going to venture out alone on an 8-day trip through the Wilderness Waterway into
Flamingo. She explained that she had paid an outfitter for a guide service, which turned out to be a disaster (long story shortened). As an
alternative to refunding her money, the outfitter agreed to send her out alone with a kayak and some food and camping gear, all of which
appeared to be suboptimal. Consequently, we spent the entire evening by candle light trying to convince this woman that she should not
be so crazy to do this trip alone in such an unprepared state. Her outfitter service was to arrive the next morning with maps and compass
but we strongly suggested she go back to Everglades City with the motor boat. I think we convinced her.
Day 2 – Watsons Place to Darwins (4.4 miles)
Exploring a concentrated area of magic, meeting Alex and Heather, and a very close encounter with a large reptile
The next morning, we loaded up as Olga waited for her outfitter to arrive. Around 7:30 am we drifted away from the Watsons Place dock
where she stood alone bidding us goodbye and drinking her tea. We felt sad that she might not get to enjoy the splendid Everglades as
she planned. That was the last we saw of Olga, our camp neighbor.
Each morning we awake in our tents excited to begin another journey. We are typically on the water by 7 am when the sun is still hiding
behind the mangroves just before shining a golden light on the water. Usually, the winds are calm during the early morning hours, so we
take advantage of this good fortune and paddle significant miles before the winds kick up after 9 am or so. It is at dawn when the
mangroves come alive in the golden morning light. Reflections on the water are dazzling and the waterscapes are irresistible from a
photographer's point of view. The calmness lends itself to photographing from a boat so I take advantage of this morning with the clear
sky. This was a nice change from the previous day's sky that was mainly filled with dark clouds. We began paddling up the Chatham
River toward the head that would lead us to Chevelier Bay before heading into Possum Creek where our next campsite, Darwins is
located. This would be a short paddle to the camp. The plan was to arrive early and spend the remainder of the day in a magical place
near Darwins.
The Chatham River was a beautiful start to the day as we passed a large mud flat where a lone roseate spoonbill was feeding. The bright
pink feathers were brilliantly contrasted against the dark browns and greens surrounding it as it poked its spoonbill nervously into the mud.
Dolphins passed by riding the tide in their usual fashion. We headed out to the open Chevelier Bay in time to see large dark clouds
forming to the east and heading our way. It appeared we may see a repeat of yesterday. The winds had not increased much yet and
were sustaining at less than 10 knots. Happily, we crossed Chevelier Bay with minimal wave action. By 10:30 am, we arrive at Darwins
and with good fortune, no one was camped there. We set up, ate a little lunch and headed out to the most glorious place in the
Everglades, only ½ mile away from the campsite.
Out west, there is an area near Sedona, Arizona that is believed to contain several energy centers referred to as vortexes. The infamy of
these vortexes really began with the contrived harmonic convergence. I could go off on a tangent and describe how ridiculous that
concocted event appeared to me when I lived in Arizona in 1987 or my last trip to Sedona in 2002 where I found new age gift shops selling
"vortex in a can". I have strong opinions about these things while remembering my whimsical days of youthful new age spirituality. But, I
grew up and learned that spiritual power is not designated to one specific area and you don't have to travel great distances to find it. Call it
spiritual energy, call it God, or call it magic; whatever it is, I see it everywhere in the Everglades. In fact, it is overwhelming at times. But,
like Sedona and its red rocks, there are concentrated areas of power out here and I found one. The Everglades has its own vortex of
sorts. It is a place near Darwins (location will be undisclosed here, but anyone who is familiar with this area will know it) and it is where
energy flows heavily. I call it a biota, a concentrated area of life supported by water, wind, minerals and tides.
I leave Darwins in a hurry to get to the biota. I enter the energy flow in the early afternoon with dark skies predominating. This would not
be an ideal day for photographing. As I paddled through a narrow creek, it began to drizzle. I would not be taking photographs just yet as
snowy egrets flew in flocks ahead of me attempting to stay a safe distance from the visitor. Alligator heads speckled the water and full
bodies lined the muddy shoreline. Most made no attempt to disappear and made it quite clear as I paddled closely by that they are the
owners of this biota. I come into an opening and luckily the clouds moved aside for the sun, but just for a few moments. It was enough
time for me to get the camera out and shoot a scene so common to this area. There was a tricolor heron standing in the water, completely
surrounded by gators whose heads all seemed to point toward the lone bird. The flock of snowy egrets continued to move on ahead,
somewhere around a bend no doubt. Ibises and wood storks flew over head and I could hear their wings beating, they were so close.
For the next couple hours, the sun would repeatedly come out for seconds and then hide behind large, passing clouds. For whatever
reason, birds concentrate to this area during the day. It provides shallow waters and lots of hurricane-destroyed trees to stand on so as not
to get in the way of a resting gator. I am not sure who outnumbered who, the gators or the birds, but both were in high concentration. I
paddled on past the muddy banks speckled with large reptiles and avian species of several types: snowy egrets, tricolor herons, little blue
herons, great white egrets, great blue herons, and wood storks. The wood storks mainly stayed high in the tree canopies and the snowy
egrets mostly congregated in groups of several. Tricolors seem to be paired up or alone. And of course, the great blue heron is the
ultimate loner. Sometimes I would see a bird standing very near a gator and would conjure up some kind of description of their
relationship in my mind.
I do not wear a watch when I am out here, but I can look at the sky and more or less tell the time (or just ask Vivian for the time as she
fishes near by). I could see that it was time to leave; I needed to get back to camp for dinner. I paddled back through the heavily canopied
mangroves before entering the bay. In front of me was a relatively small gator head in the middle of the creek. There was only a very
narrow passage for me to get through with some low hanging branches. Consequently, I had about 3 feet of water between the gator on
my right and a large tree trunk on my left. I hesitated for a moment, staring at this young gator that could not have been more than 4 feet in
length. I didn't care how long the animal was, it made me a bit nervous. Alligators generally don't make me nervous. I scare them more
than they scare me. People who have an obsessive fear of gators simply do not understand them or have never been around them except
in a zoo environment. But at this moment, this particular gator was getting on my nerves. I couldn't sit there all day, so there was only one
thing to do. I took a deep breath and very quietly and gently paddled past the reptile as far away as I could and never taking my eyes off it.
The distance between it and my boat was measurable in millimeters. The alligator never flinched! I could see its entire body in the water
floating with ease as it held its sentry post. If it could talk, it may have stopped me and asked for a password. Fortunately, I passed safely
by and continued on. Bye bye gator.
Shortly after the close encounter with the large lizard, I came out of the dark creek into the opening of the bay to see a marvelous site in
front of me. About ¼ mile away against the eastern sky was a wall of white birds formed on a mangrove shoreline. By now the western
sun was casting its golden light on the trees with a background sky filled with dark gray clouds; a classic scene if I ever saw one. The bird-
covered mangroves were lit up and contrasted against the dark clouds behind them. I decided to paddle toward the scene before the sun
disappeared. White birds, primarily snowy egrets continued to fly overhead toward the wall to join their brethren. These birds are wary, as
they should be. I did not get closer than 500-600 feet when they flew out of the tree and headed toward a more distant point, out of sight.
Bird by bird, the wall diminished as I paddled slowly toward it. I would not get close to these birds, they would not allow it. I believe their
genetics have programmed a survival instinct since the plume hunting days. Only the strong survive and these birds will not take a
chance. So I left them at that and headed back to Darwins, content that I had spent quality time in a very powerful place.
Darwins is one of the smallest backcountry campsites, with lots of overgrowth surrounding an old foundation of a home built by Darwin
over a century ago. We casually cleaned up and began to prepare dinner when some new camp neighbors arrived. A couple, Alex and
Heather paddled up in a rented double canoe. It didn't take long for all of us to begin getting to know this young and energetic couple from
Virginia who were, like us, in their second day of a 9-day journey. In fact, we would join them again on Camp Lonesome. Alex and
Heather were perfect camp neighbors; fun, friendly, respectful, experienced and intelligent campers, interesting, and lovers of the
Everglades. Like-minded people are not hard to find out here, after all we are generally here for the same reasons. But, not everyone you
meet is experienced or a savvy paddler or camper. So when you share a tight campsite with those who are, it can be a joy to meet people
out here. You can learn so much from them! And so we spent a pleasant evening getting to know our new neighbors and later prepared
for a good night's sleep.
Day 3 – Darwins to Willy Willy (17.6 miles)
An incredible morning scene on the water, 25 knot head winds across Big Lostmans Bay
Today was our longest paddle day and we expected some strong head winds while crossing several large bays. It was our intention to be
on the water as early as possible. Alex and Heather had a shorter paddle to Plate Creek Chickee today so we recommended that they
head into the biota for a little excursion. They were excited about the prospect of seeing alligators up close and got on the water early as
well. I was on the water before everyone else with the intention of heading out to Cannon Bay to capture the sun rise.
As I approached the bay, I saw something amazing happening in the sky. What I was about to watch for the next 30 minutes would be one
of the most incredible sites I have ever seen out here. Whenever I witness something fantastic in the Everglades, such as a dolphin flying
out of the water while flipping a large fish in the air, I figure I had seen it all. But that is never the case, something else inevitably comes
along to top that one. And today, I would watch something so remarkable that I am at a loss as to what could possibly top it.
I entered the bay as the sky was turning a bright orange from the rising sun, which was still hidden behind the mangroves. Shadowy
altocumulus clouds splayed upward from the horizon, spreading infinitely (classic mackerel sky) across the sky. During this trip, the clouds
were a constant fascination of mine, offering so many variations and hints of weather patterns. Moisture drives the cloud formations over
the Everglades and tropical outflows dictate much of the weather patterns in south Florida. Mackerel skies could be an indication of some
kind of weather disturbance in the near future. For the moment, I didn't think about weather systems or tropical outflows, I was thinking
about the birds. As far as my eyes could see toward the distant eastern shoreline of the bay, flocks of birds were flying across the sky in a
westerly direction. Strings of egrets and ibises dominated the sky above me as they crossed the red sky and clouds above the mangrove
canopies. Strings of birds were heading toward a small opening in the mangroves, the entrance to the biota. From a mile wide to 20 feet
in width, these birds flew until they reached their predetermined destination. It was rush hour on Cannon Bay and I was sitting directly
below it. During those 30 minutes, I must have watched over a thousand birds flying into the biota. Among the birds, I could distinguish
flocks of anywhere from 10 to 40 birds. With some rough estimation, I would guess that the average number in a flock was 25-30. If that is
close to being true, I must have watched almost 50 flocks of egrets and ibises fly by toward the biota. Top that one Everglades! I dare you.
By the time the action had subsided for the most part (there were a few stragglers still flying by), Vivian and Fred were on the bay. Not far
behind them were our camp neighbors in their canoe, heading toward the opening of the biota. We slowly proceeded, meandering into
Tarpon Bay, waiting for Mike who would catch up to us easily with her fast kayak as we slowly paddled through Alligator Creek. Once
inside the creek, I heard the strange sound of running water. It seems a fresh water creek was falling into the larger Alligator Creek. Near
by were several royal palms, perhaps an indication of a hardwood hammock with a fresh water source. Finally, our group of four was
complete and we began paddling with more deliberation. It was time to continue since we really didn't want to waste time today with our
longest paddle. We had several large bays to cross and the winds had already picked up to a steady 10 knots. Alligator and Dads Bay
were just what we needed to get warmed up for the long day across the bays.
Eventually, we got to Lostmans Five, the only rest stop opportunity we would have. There was no one there, so we ate lunch at a picnic
table and enjoyed the break. By now, the sun was hot and we had been paddling into it all morning. The winds helped keep us cool, but
the clouds were few and far between and the sun's reflection on the water had been intense all morning. While resting, we were joined by
another kayaker, Alex. He was on his way to Willy Willy so it made sense for him to paddle with us the remainder of the day. Alex is
another kindred spirit who spends as much time paddling the Everglades as possible. It's a small world out here too. Turns out that he
and Mike have mutual paddling friends and Vivian had met him a few years ago at one of the launch sites. What I've learned from
paddling out here is that the magic of the Everglades inevitably brings people together.
The hardest part of the paddle would begin after the Lostmans Five break. Ahead were a series of moderately-sized bays; Two Island
Bay, Onion Key Bay and a third one not named, all leading up to the larger Big Lostman's Bay. We headed across Onion Key Bay toward
the head of the grand Lostmans River. By now the easterly winds had picked up to a steady 15 knots, gusting to over 20 knots. We took
some refuge behind some islands as we paddled toward marker 51. Crossing the next two bays would be directly into the wind so I
braced myself in a kneeling position and dug in. The unnamed bay, which begins at marker 47 and ends about a mile away at marker 45
seems very small on my map. I look across from 47 to where 45 would be located and could see the meaning of "relative" quite well.
This would take some time at a paddling rate no more than 2 miles an hour I figured, but we would all get across this bay with no problem.
I power-stroked all the way, enjoying the lightness of my paddle. My boat, the Wenonah Vagabond has a high waterline and it amazed me
to see the front deck cover staying dry as waves crashed all around the boat. Fifteen minutes later we rounded the corner into a more
protected area before heading into Big Lostman's Bay. Now, for the finale.
With a compass bearing of 70 degrees, I headed straight to the opening into a creek (about 1.4 miles away) that led to our campsite, Willy
Willy. I began the journey with a small peninsula of land near marker 44 close to my left. The direct head winds must have been 20-25
knots steady by now. The waves were 1-2 feet, forming white caps. I frequently looked at the mangroves to my left and it seemed for the
first few minutes or so that I was not making any headway at all. Finally, I passed the peninsula and searched for landmarks along the
northern shoreline as a means of determining my progress. Slowly but steadily my destination point was getting closer. I wanted to stop
and get my camera out so many times, but with such wave action it would be futile. So I waited until I came into a more protected area
where the bay closed in to a point not far from the creek opening. Once there, I took some shots of the cumulus clouds that formed an
upward line across the sky. Such beauty out here! It's a classic paddler's scene; the white-capped water below, separated from the
brilliant blue sky by a line of green. I took several minutes to hang out while Vivian and Mike approached from behind me. Fred and Alex,
being the stronger paddlers of the group had arrived at the mouth of the creek several minutes earlier and were finding refuge from the
wind and waves among the mangroves. Finally, the group of five entered the creek where the paddling would be much more casual.
While paddling the creek it is evident that we are within freshwater creeks. After seeing nothing but mangrove forests on our routes, the
marshy saw grasses that line some of the creek is a refreshing sight. And there are many hardwood hammocks scattered about as well.
Willy Willy is a popular spot for fisherman who come to fish in these freshwater creeks. We are at the northern end of what I refer to as the
middle rivers area of the Everglades. Here, we are a short paddle away from three significant rivers that connect the backcountry to the
gulf; Lostmans, Rodgers and Broad Rivers. These large rivers branch out into numerous smaller rivers and creeks that reach deep into
the marshy backcountry, looking like a bad case of vericose veins on the map. One could spend weeks exploring the area between
Lostmans and Shark Rivers.
We arrived at Willy Willy around 3:30 pm, greeted by an empty campsite. We made good time despite paddling against a head wind and
covering almost 18 miles. I felt strong and not too tired. Nonetheless, I did not look forward to my camp chores which included cooking for
three. Soon, we were set up, 4 tents and 5 boats on land. The bugs were out at their usual time as the winds calmed down around
sunset. I am convinced that the winds are on the clock so that the bugs have a chance to feed at specific times of day. We discouraged the
tiny SOBs with mosquito net jackets and hoods and continued into the evening with a fine dinner, wine and conversation.
Day 4 – Willy Willy to Camp Lonesome (10.4 miles), Day 5 – a day off
More head winds, new territories to explore, a gift, and a very bad box of wine
As usual, I was the first on the water, so I took the time to wander around Rocky Creek and photograph the scenery. The gray clouds
thoroughly layered the horizon, dampening the sun rise. After awhile, the clouds took on more distinct shapes and the reflections on the
smooth water were breathtaking. Soon, Vivian and a little later, Fred were on the water. Getting out of Willy Willy took a bit of organization
since only one boat could launch at a time. There is a very small opening that allows you to bring only one kayak or canoe at a time onto
ground. The only alternative to that was to leave the boats in the water, secured to the dock. Loading and unloading a canoe from the
dock is relatively easy, but for a kayak it can be near impossible. Contortionists may have a chance at it, but otherwise, it is always
preferable to load and unload from the water. Because of the winds and potential motor boats, we brought all our boats up on land,
including the canoes. One by one, the boats were lined up on the campsite and this morning, one by one, they were placed back into the
water.
Eventually, the clouds cleared and the winds started to pick up. Temperatures were rising and reaching mid 80s each day on the water.
Eventually, we were out of the creeks and in Rodgers River Bay. We took a short cut avoiding marker 38 and found that there were a
couple discrepancies on our maps. First, marker 37 does not exist on the map and was duly noted as we passed one of the small islands
on our right. We headed to marker 36 which, according to our map, should have been on the southwest corner of a large island. Instead it
was in front of us, on the southeast side. I can imagine that for a paddler who relies heavily on the markers for navigation would find this a
bit unnerving. Fortunately for me, I rely almost totally on my map and compass bearings. This also allows me to take alternative routes
from the marked waterway, as would be the case for most of our paddle back to Darwins in a couple days. How ever way we arrived
there, we were soon passing Cabbage Island and heading into a river that enters into Broad River Bay. From the bay, we would continue
southeast into Broad River until reaching our next destination and base camp, Camp Lonesome.
The night before, I looked at our days route and figured we would have some head winds but it would only be evident on a short paddle
through the more open Broad River Bay. The remainder of the journey appeared to be well protected. By the time we reached Rodgers
River Bay, the southeast winds were a steady 15 knots with some gusts to 20 or so. This was more of what we encountered yesterday,
only this time no wide open bays. But it became painfully clear that we would not be paddling on well-protected creeks. We would be
getting the force of the wind pretty much the entire way to Camp Lonesome. What I believed to be an easy 3-4 mile paddle up the Broad
River quickly turned to the realization that we would be paddling against a strong head wind in a wide river. And true to form, paddling
through the Broad River was long and tedious. What I thought would be an easy paddle turned out to be another strenuous day. I was so
grateful to finally reach the fork in the river where Camp Lonesome is situated on a corner. Thanks to the lightweight paddles, my arms
were not sore and tired, but I did have an overall feeling of fatigue. We were all looking forward to a day off.
Our beautiful campsite would be shared with some fishermen and their power boat. On one side of the campsite, we set up our 3 tents,
with about 2 feet of walking space between them. The fishermen had a large tent that could have held all 3 of ours, as is the case usually
with powerboaters. That and 4 very large coolers, a gas grill and a few other assorted items comprised a third of the entire campsite. We
left the far end of the campsite cleared for all our boats, so we actually used up more space than the powerboaters.
Here’s the thing with most backcountry campsites, they are not canoe or kayak friendly, mostly unkind to kayakers as described above for
Willy Willy. Again, there was barely a space to get a boat onto land, even less so than at the Willy Willy site. And the overgrowth was too
much for the other side of the dock to be accessed. Fortunately, Fred brought his machete and used it to clear some low lying branches so
that he and Michaeleen could get their kayaks up on land one at a time. Vivian and I had no room to leave our boats on the water next to
the dock knowing that a powerboat would need to get in. So we unloaded both of them and hoisted the lightweight solo canoes onto the
docks and carried them to ground.
Soon, we were settling in and it started to get dark. We began discussing our planned route between Camp Lonesome and Rodgers
River Chickee for the day after tomorrow. We wanted to take the cut-off route, a narrow creek that connects the Broad and Rodgers
Rivers. We contemplated that it might be impassable and the worse case would be to get ¾ of the way through and find that we would
need to turn around. The consequence of such an event would be an additional 3 miles or so. We seriously considered not taking a
chance and kind of left it at that. In the meantime, our camp neighbors arrived, 2 of the 6 that were to be the party. Apparently the other 4
fellows had to leave early, leaving 1 boat and 2 fishermen. They were on their third night at Camp Lonesome and had obviously done a
considerable amount of exploring in the area. So we asked them about some of the areas and where I might find birds and where Vivian
might find fish.
Small gifts present themselves out here all the time. Sometimes you just have to be aware of what is around you to get them. Sometimes
you have to just run into the right people. Our two fishermen neighbors gave us a gift tonight, actually two gifts. Seems they had powered
through the cut-off with ease and reported to us that it was, indeed passable. That clinched it! Yes! We would be going through the cut-off
as planned. Had we not met these gentlemen, we would likely have missed one of our nicest paddles. Kindness sometimes knows no
limits and the fishermen offered us another gift. They were heading back to Everglades City the next day to get gas and supplies and
offered to take our garbage out with them. We were so lucky and grateful! And so, we ended our evening with good neighbors sharing
our site and the relaxed feeling of having a day off and an opportunity to sleep in. Our first night on Camp Lonesome brought us to a
peaceful sleep.
Once we got all our boats in the water, one by one the next morning, we spent the most part of the morning exploring the Wood River
area. Vivian found a mangrove snapper hole but could not capture enough for the 4 of us to eat. She released the one moderate-sized
snapper she caught rather than wasting it. As luck had it, our one day off turned out to be rather calm, never really reaching more than 10
knots. I felt tired and paddled a mere 5 miles today; the others continued further and stayed on the water longer than me. I found few birds
and decided to head back to camp to spend time alone, organize a bit and do some reading. No sooner did I get my boat unloaded that
our previous camp neighbors, Alex and Heather paddled up after an easy go of it from Willy Willy. They took advantage of the calm winds
and arrived early, intending to also spend time relaxing. It seems our young friends were having the time of their lives, taking in the
Everglades with gusto. I respect them very much given that they were traveling in an aluminum barge and with paddles that must have
weighed over 5 lbs each. Luckily, the outfitters did not bother to give them a spare (unbelievable), with the additional weight it might have
really slowed them down. Being strong and agile, they seemed to handle it quite fittingly and more or less made light of the situation. They
were young and in love, and they were experiencing the best of the Everglades.
We would soon find out this second evening in Camp Lonesome that not all was perfect in the backcountry. Vivian and I always bring wine
for our trips so that we can each have a couple glasses in the evening. For this trip, we brought two 3-liter boxes, one merlot and one
shiraz. Each box would last us 4 nights. Tonight, we would open the second box having already polished off the shiraz. We opened the
merlot and relaxed in our camp chairs while enjoying our company before starting dinner. One sip, two sip, it didn't take more than that to
realize we had a very bad box of wine. So bad we could have used it to make salad dressing. I really wanted it to taste good and I kept
sipping to see if it would. But it wasn't going to happen. One bottle of bad wine is tolerable, but when it's an entire box containing 4 nights
worth, it's downright devastating! I mean I'm not an alcoholic, but there is just something about a nice glass of wine while sitting in a camp
chair and preparing dinner on a camp stove in the Everglades that presents a perfect combination of basic wilderness essentials and
excessiveness. Of course one could argue that there is nothing excessive about a camp chair and camp stove! Needless to say, I never
thought it was possible to stay dry in the Everglades, but there you have it. On the positive side, we did get our money back from the store
and splurged on a really nice bottle of wine after returning home.
Day 6 – Camp Lonesome to Rogers River Chickee (12.2 miles)
Beautiful morning on Broad River, alligator drinking water, meeting Rodger Dodger, and chickee camping at its best
Ever since leaving Willy Willy, I was in a part of the Everglades I had never been before. Today would be the same. On this day, we
would separate from Mike as she headed to Lostmans Five for the night. We would meet her again on Darwins the next day. So Vivian,
Fred and I were on the fantastically beautiful Broad River just before sunrise. This river, which was long and tedious during our headwind
paddle into Camp Lonesome two days earlier was now a glorious experience as the sun began to rise and the winds were still. A light fog
covered the area and the view from the water was nothing short of spectacular. I spent time photographing while Vivian trolled for fish. We
took our time riding with the tide toward Broad River Bay. By the time we reached the bay is was light and the tarpon were jumping and
rolling and the ladyfish were biting like crazy. For the first time since I've known Vivian, a fishing fanatic to say the least, she actually
stopped fishing for lack of time and energy. The water was very active with life as we paddled toward the opening of the cut-off. I noticed
several birds, wood storks, snowy egrets and white ibises flying overhead, holding a flight pattern toward the cut-off. These birds were
heading toward a marshy area hiding behind the mangroves that lined the creek. I would see several birds during our paddle through the
beautiful creek and I would see several alligators as well.
Eventually, we got into the larger Rodgers River and the sun was now beating down hard. The winds were not too bad and besides, we
were no longer heading into them. It was a relatively easy paddle and we more or less took our time. I watched dolphins feeding with the
tidal current, a pair of red-shouldered hawks, possibly mates, osprey catching fish, and the strangest site I have ever seen. Once again
while paddling through brackish water I hear the sounds of a water fall. There is a rather large stream of water falling into the river. I
decided to paddle over to it and give it a taste. I approached the shadowy area surrounded by mangrove branches and at about 5 feet
away I noticed a very large alligator right next to the water fall. It totally surprised me and I quickly reversed my direction. It backed away
from the water but then floated back to it once I was a safe distance away. I started photographing the scene as best I could with the current
driving me past the gator. The gator seemed to have its mouth right up to the rushing water and appeared to be gulping. Well, this is
interesting and why not? I never thought about it before, but I suppose gators need a dose of fresh water through their mouths, maybe to
cool off, maybe for drinking.
By early afternoon we were on Rodgers River Bay again, this time on the west side instead of the east as we were 2 days earlier. We
followed the shoreline of the large island where we would find the chickee in a cove. Similar to marker 36 from the other day, the chickee
is not where it says it is on the map. In fact, we came up on it sooner than expected. Tonight’s camping experience would be very different
from the rest. Chickees obviously offer less floor space, but when you get 3 parties of 12 people on a campsite like Willy Willy, space
disappears quickly. Since we were the only people there so far, we relished in the idea of maybe having both platforms to ourselves. We
would have an awesome view of the bay, both sunset and sunrise are eye candy from this chickee. As luck had it, we did have both
platforms to ourselves, but just in case, we still set up both tents on one platform. We could use the other for dinner and bathing.
As we worked to get our gear unloaded from our boats, we noticed an alligator coming across the bay toward the chickee. It’s head stuck
out of the water looking like a pair of binoculars. It was eyeing the chickee and its new inhabitants, potential food sources. We continued
unloading and getting our tents set up. We spread our nylon tarp across one side of the uninhabited chickee platforms as the westerly
afternoon sun became intense across the wooden planks. The tarp would nicely serve as shade and privacy for an afternoon bathing
session. At some point, one of us noticed that the gator had gotten much closer to the chickee and continued to take an interest in us.
Clearly, we had a human habituated alligator on our hands. Well, this would make dinner time more interesting.
We took over the entire chickee and spread our chairs out on one platform and set up for dinner as the sun began to dip toward the
mangrove horizon. A gentle easterly breeze blew across the platform as we ate our dinner and enjoyed the evening. The gator was
lurking near by, we could sense its presence.
Soon, while wearing our mosquito netting attire, it was time to wash the dishes. The night was starting to spread out across the bay. To
avoid putting our hands in the water, we attached a rope to a collapsible bucket and tossed it in the water. That was enough to spark the
attention of our resident gator, who by now we had named “Rodger Dodger”. He pronounced himself only a few feet away from the bucket
action. I was not particularly upset by its presence and did not reckon it to be much of a threat. On the other hand, I was not about to stick
my hands in the water. Human habituated gators appear out here now and then, always at a campsite where humans throw away their
food or fish remains. Gators get use to that and consequently, they lose their natural fear of humans and instead of shying away, come
close. It is not the humans I am worried about, it is the fate of the animal. A human-fed wild animal has a death wish and at some point,
the park may decide that this gator poses a threat. Since guns or hunting is not allowed in the park, the authorities will come in and capture
the gator, remove it from the park, then kill it. Vivian believes that shooting this gator here and now would be a much more humane thing
to do. Whole heartedly, I agree with her.
We said goodnight to Rodger and fell asleep quickly on our hard surfaced platform. The sky was brilliant with stars, a different site
compared to the previous 5 nights. In the backcountry campsites you miss the open sky with the trees dominating the environment. But
tonight on Rodgers River Chickee, the stars are covering us and we are completely surrounded by water. The openness of the bay is
refreshing and a nice change of pace as we fall into another dream state with Rodger Dodger somewhere under our chickee.
Day 7 – Rodgers River Chickee to Darwins (17.2 miles)
Charting a new route to shave off a couple miles, calm waters for a change, more info on the lone kayaker
Today, the sunrise over Rodgers River chickee was exceptional. As we loaded our boats, I took the time to set up the tripod and capture
the deep blue bay waters covered with a rosy red horizon, topped with a deep blue sky. Rodger made his presence known as Vivian and
Fred loaded their boats with caution. Once the sun fully appeared over the water, we were on our way again.
Last evening after dinner, we got our maps out and determined a different route that would take a mile and a half or so off this days paddle
back to Darwins. Instead of heading around the large island toward the wilderness waterway marker 32, we decided to head toward
Rodgers River Bay from the west side and continue through some islands before turning into the Big Lostmans Bay. We were expecting
the winds to shift to a northeasterly pattern so we charted a route that would offer a bit more protection from the wind and the strong
outgoing tide that would be leading into the Lostmans River. We passed markers 42, 44 and 46, but with those exceptions we were off the
wilderness waterway for the first 6-7 miles until reaching marker 56 at the northern end of Onion Key Bay. From there we would follow the
usual route through the bays that would lead us back to Darwins. A rest stop at Lostmans Five would break up our 17 mile paddle.
All day large cumulus clouds formed and the waters were relatively calm. The only slight challenge was a strong outgoing tidal current in
the passage between Onion Key and Two Island Bays. From Onion Key Bay we paddled through very familiar territory, but this time
without the sun glaring down in front of us. I had come out of a few days exploring areas of the Everglades I had never seen before and
here I was back “home” so to speak. I took comfort in knowing exactly where I was, like being among friends and family. I recognized
individual mangrove trees and their snarly branches that make them stick out among the others. I even recognized trees that were
photographed on previous trips. It’s a comforting feeling to be in familiar territory. This place changes constantly in many ways, but it is
also clear to me that many things do not change quickly and it is striking to recognize a lone tree that I remember from a few years ago
somewhere along the paddling route. Part of the fascination of the Everglades is its familiarity; each bay and creek takes on its own
personality and you get to know them well over time. For instance, when I come into the very familiar Sunday Bay I feel I am visiting an old
friend who has new stories to tell, new photos to show, and new experiences to share.
We come into Cannon Bay and saw our friend Capt Wright’s Everglades Area Tour boat at the mouth of Gopher Creek. Today, it was
Jason manning the boat, taking a couple into the creek with some kayaks to photograph the wildlife. We stopped and chatted with Jason
asking if he had heard anything about our Watsons Place neighbor, Olga. He had heard about Olga’s demise from the perspective of the
“guide” who had started to take her into the backcountry. It seems Olga’s situation is not uncommon out here and we later learned that
Capt Wright had rescued some people in the last few days who were sent out alone by their outfitters. As the story went, Olga’s guide was
not really a guide, he was a newly arrived vagabond who worked as a waiter in a local restaurant and decided he could take on guiding. I
mean that’s what people do here in the Everglades, right? Here’s my summary of the situation. On his part, that’s just plain stupidity. On
the part of the outfitter that hired him, it’s nothing short of criminal. We still did not know what happened to Olga and hoped that she at least
got her money back.
We arrived at Darwins where Mike was waiting for us. After getting our tents set up, another couple paddled in and would join us this
evening on Darwins. This couple also rented a double canoe. From Canada, Matt and Heather (a common name out here) were
experienced canoeists and were out for several days heading to Flamingo. We spent a nice evening again with people of similar mind,
talking mostly about boats and gear and places we have paddled. Early to bed, we would be heading out for one more day of long
paddling to our last night’s campsite.
Day 8 – Darwins to Lopez River (13.1 miles) and Day 9 – Lopez River to Chokoloskee (5 miles)
Calm bays, celebrating new years on Lopez River, noisy jet stoves, and reluctantly heading back home
We had been out here for 7 days already and frankly, I was in no hurry to leave. None of us was. Before the trip, I wondered how 9 days
out here was going to feel. I wondered about the mileage and how I would handle it. I wondered how much we would get on each other’s
nerves after several days in relatively close quarters. Other than a minor quibble here and there, we were all doing fine with one another
and having a lot of fun. The paddling only got easier with each day (we were lucky with the weather) and I was relatively clean with change
of clothing and bathing opportunities. The port-o-potties wore on me after awhile and I actually envied our camp neighbors who would be
spending part of their trip on the beaches. The backcountry is an awesome place and the paddling experience is the best there is. But I
did miss the openness of the beach campsites and the break from the port-o-potties. But that was trivial stuff and I was starting to feel a bit
depressed that we would be back in Miami in a little more than 24 hours. So, I enjoyed each second of the paddle to Lopez River.
Chevelier Bay greeted us at sunrise after we got on the water from Darwins minutes earlier. Soon, we would be heading past the head of
the Chatham River and continuing on to Lopez River.
For me, the route from Darwins always ended with Watsons Place on previous trips. But today, we would not make that turn into the
Chatham River, instead we would continue on the marked trail into Huston Bay. I had only done this portion of the bay from a motor boat,
so even in familiar territory I am experiencing a new paddling route. So much so that despite having my map right in front of me and there
being markers, I lost my bearings when passing from Last Huston Bay to Huston Bay. Once again I was ignoring my compass and relying
totally on my ability to look at a land mass on the chart and then determine its location with sight instead of a compass bearing. Always
hard on oneself, I felt a bit defeated. Every time I think I have it figured out and get a bit overconfident, this country pulls me back in. Feeling
a bit unsure of myself now, I agreed with Vivian to stray from the marked path and take a minor short cut around a small island to marker
108, before heading into Oyster Bay. We continued the path of our short cut and the opening we were trying to find never appeared. We
paddled for a good ½ mile before realizing we missed it. I should have known! How could I have misinterpreted the size of the small
island we were attempting to paddle around? I had made a mistake, lost some confidence and one thing led to another! I got over it
quickly and chalked it up to the power of the Everglades. You can never get too sure of yourself out here, you must always be vigilant and
aware.
After a short break in our usual rest stop, we headed into Sunday Bay which looked like a sheet of ice. It was unbelievably calm. The
clouds formed beautiful reflections on the water as we moved easily across the massive bay. Dolphins hung around circling the boats now
and then. Soon, we were passing marker 125 toward Lopez River. We arrived at the campsite around 1pm and relished spending a very
relaxing afternoon here. Mike was leaving us; she was ready to get back home and decided to do the final 5 miles today instead of
tomorrow. We said goodbye to our friend as we set up camp. So far, we had the place to ourselves, but that would change in time. A
couple in a canoe came in and set up on the other side of the Lopez cistern. We only saw them once as they went out on the water for an
afternoon paddle.
As we read and wrote from our camp chairs, a group of 5 kayakers pulled in. There was only a little space for their tents behind the cistern
and of course and they had use of a picnic table a few feet away from ours. The group was from Maryland and not so friendly, compared
to all our other camp neighbors. Four of the group appeared to be new to paddling and unsure of themselves as Everglades campers as
they followed the directions of the group leader. The self-appointed leader appeared to know everything about the Everglades despite
never having been here before. After we told them about our trip and the mileage, we heard one of the guys in the party say to the leader
that he could not imagine paddling 17 miles, like we did. Then we heard her reply that those miles did not really count because we
paddled in protected areas (after all, we were in canoes) and it was not so difficult. In comparison, they were going out into the big wide
open Gulf of Mexico to Tiger Key the next day with their sea worthy kayaks. We had a good laugh at her comments; obviously, the leader
had never experienced the bays of the backcountry in strong easterly winds or island camping in the Ten Thousand Islands.
At the expense of the leader of this group, I mention this scene because I want to get something out in the open and that has to do with the
silly rivalry between canoeists and kayakers. In fact, I would go as far as saying that on both sides of the debate, snobbishness is
commonplace. Don’t get me wrong, I am not becoming a canoe snob. In fact, I love kayaks, there is definitely a place for them and I hope
to kayak again. I loved my Necky Looksha and enjoyed every minute paddling it. But after this backcountry trip and several chickee
camping experiences, I am convinced that the campsites we stayed on are not kayak-friendly in any sense of the word. Not only that, but
much of where we paddled on this trip provides so little opportunity to get out of your boat. In the canoe, I have much more room for
moving around and changing positions. I can take a rest break while in my canoe. Compared to the ease of a canoe, a kayak is just not
practical out here. Sorry kayakers, it had to be said. There is nothing I cannot do with this canoe that I could do with my kayak, especially
having the deck cover. Only one trip our here was I grateful for having a kayak instead of a canoe. That was a trip to Picnic Key with west
winds kicking up to 20-25 knots, 2-3 ft seas, and the surf driving violently into the beach landing. It was frightening as we came in and later,
I photographed another kayaker flipping over in the surf. If I had been in my canoe, I would not have made the landing, I would have found
some alternative. But other than that one event, the canoe has opened up more doors for me, so to speak. I feel much more comfortable
in the canoe and believe I could take it out to the gulf with high winds with confidence. Perhaps that will be the next adventure.
A happy new year’s eve was spent early to bed as usual. With the exception of a barred owl calling “Who cooks for you?” several times,
Lopez River was dead silent during the late hours. Our last night out felt a bit cooler than the first 7 nights, perhaps reaching low 60s high
50s. The next morning, we packed in the dark and were on the water before 7 am. We wanted to give Fred an opportunity to sleep in
while Vivian and I would hang around Lopez River fishing and photographing while he got ready to get on the water. But ironically this
morning, Fred was loaded and ready before we were. So, the three of us set off with dawn barely showing. The last thing we heard as
we pulled away was the 90-decibel jet stove used by the Maryland kayak group, that by now had scared away all life forms within a mile,
including us.
We spent a good couple hours drifting down the river toward Chokoloskee Bay and then hanging out near the mouth of the river where the
fishing was fantastic for Vivian. After several sunrise shots, I decided to stay close to her for a photo opportunity, even though every time I
get close with the camera, the fish stop biting. But I defied the laws of nature and stuck it out anyway, acting aloof so the fish would not think
I was actually going to try to capture a fisherman’s moment. The trout, small tarpon and ladyfish were feeding in the tidal current and Vivian
was snapping them up one right after the other. Until I showed up, that is. The lighting was perfect and I would get focused on the surface
lure that she would cast out about 50 feet from her boat. I tracked it along the water as she jerked it several times, attempting to attract a
bite. But as always, with my telephoto ready to shoot and the best lighting available, the fish stopped biting. That cursed camera! It was
fine though, because Vivian had already experienced a great morning on the water and the three of us were ready to make the final stretch
across Chokoloskee Bay to our end point. We would be on land within the hour, around 9:30 am.
Arriving at Chokoloskee Island after 9 days in the backcountry is a pleasant transition before heading back to the shock of the big city. The
marina was busy with new years day boaters, motorist and paddlers alike. Winter residents were walking or riding bicycles around, visiting
with neighbors and generally enjoying the sun and warmness. After loading the cars, we visited with Capt Wright at JT’s (home base for
Everglades Area Tours), and then headed to Everglades City where we had our first full course breakfast and real coffee for over a week.
Last year after our coastal trip, we did the same thing. At the time, the restaurant was called “RoadKill Café”. What a disaster that was.
Fortunately, new management put the restaurant back on track, removed all the motorcycle memorabilia and parts from the walls and
replaced them with photos of the area, and more appropriately renamed it “Backcountry Café”. Fred, Vivian and I enjoyed a hot breakfast
and coffee while discussing our next adventure and visiting with a few of the locals. After an hour or so, it was time to get back home. As
always, we are happy to be heading home but sad to be leaving this piece of heaven. We’ll be back soon, as always is the case. Perhaps
one day for a 12-day trip.
again". Today, it is January 1st, 2009 and I have just returned from a 9-day trip in the backcountry of the Everglades. When I wrote that
statement a year ago, I had a false feeling of contentedness thinking that I would never exceed 7 days in the Everglades again. Deep
down, I guess I really meant to say "Seven days are not enough. I need more days than that to explore this wilderness." And so a longer
adventure was planned for this holiday season.
I love the Everglades. When I am out there I am soaking it up by paddling to various remote places of the wilderness. The water and sky
dominate the environment each day as we paddle miles from one destination to another. We pass islands, oyster beds, and cross large
backcountry bays that seem to expand before our eyes. We meander through creeks and rivers and look at our compasses and maps
often. We navigate through an intricate weave of mangrove jungle that confuses even the most experienced boat captain. And with that,
here is a story about a 9-day canoe trip in the Everglades backcountry. Below is a day-by-day account of the trip including descriptions of
the paddle routes, remarkable events, weather patterns, people we met along the way, camping experiences, wildlife, and of course
photos. The trip itinerary was:
Day 1 – Chokoloskee Island to Watsons Place (15.1 miles)
Day 2 – Watsons Place to Darwins (4.4 miles)
Day 3 – Darwins to Willy Willy (17.6 miles)
Day 4 – Willy Willy to Camp Lonesome (10.4 miles)
Day 5 – Stay over at Camp Lonesome to explore area
Day 6 – Camp Lonesome to Rogers River Chickee (12.2 miles)
Day 7 – Rogers River Chickee to Darwins (17.2 miles)
Day 8 – Darwins to Lopez River (13.1 miles)
Day 9 – Lopez River to Chokoloskee (5 miles)
The story begins:
Day 1 – Chokoloskee Island to Watsons Place (15.1 miles)
Becoming a canoeist and letting go of my kayaking ways, meeting a lone kayaker on a misguided trip
This morning with mild temperatures we reached our launch site on Chokoloskee Island and began loading our boats (2 solo canoes and
2 kayaks) at Outdoor Resorts Marina. My paddling group included Vivian, Michaeleen (Mike) and Fred. The excitement was high among
the four of us as we organized our gear and loaded our boats. I experienced sheer joy with the ease of loading a hatchless boat. I
attached my new Cookes Custom Spray Deck and with several snaps to connect the covers to the hull, all my gear would be protected
and I could use a spray skirt if needed. I was packed and ready to go as my kayak buddies continued to fill their boats through their "tiny"
hatches. By the time we finished shuttling cars and loading boats it was 8:30 am. The temperature was unseasonably warm at mid-70s,
intending to reach low 80s before the morning completed itself. It would stay pretty much that way the remainder of the trip. The winds
were easterly and were expected to pick up to a steady 10-15 knots. Dark clouds were already forming in the eastern sky and heading
toward Chokoloskee Bay as we began our southeast journey across the bay and into the mouth of the Lopez River. An incoming tide
would be awaiting us to gently push us up the river.
It didn't take long for the clouds to bring rain and before reaching the shoals near the river mouth, I was putting on my rain jacket and getting
my spray skirt tightly around my waist. The winds picked up, with some gusts about 15-20 knots, making the air a bit coolish. Fortunately,
the down pour did not last long and as it turned out, would be the most rain felt on this trip. The assertive east winds would continue
throughout the day and would be felt significantly as we crossed the large Sunday and Huston Bays.
The paddle up Lopez River and eventually Crooked Creek provided an up-close opportunity to watch clusters of birds wading in the
shallows. There are certain places along these rivers where birds tend to congregate. It is usually at the inside of a river bend or where
narrow and heavily canopied water passages lead deeper into the mangrove forest. Here is where egrets, roseate spoonbills, herons and
wood storks can easily catch bait fish in the eddies and tidal flows. On this particular trip, I saw more wood storks than I have ever seen
among all my previous trips put together. The wood storks are considered to be the indicator species for the south Florida area and if my
observation is any indication, things are looking up for the birds of the Everglades. This would become more evident over the next 8 days.
This would be my first extensive canoe trip beyond a couple days of paddling and camping. I brought 2 canoe paddles (carbon fiber ZRE
bent shaft and a heavier Bell Voodoo straight shaft) and kayak paddles. The idea was that I would use the kayak paddles when crossing
the large bays, especially in high winds. I thought the kayak paddles would afford me more power, and thus, I could keep up with my
kayak buddies more easily. Accordingly, I switched from my bent shaft to the kayak paddles as we entered the channel past marker 125
that leads into Sunday Bay. I used them to cross Sunday Bay with a strong head wind coming at us and it soon became very clear that my
shoulders would not take the wear and tear of the heavier kayak paddles if I was going to use them in such conditions. I switched back to
the lightweight bent shaft canoe paddle and happily used them with ease crossing the Huston Bay. What I discovered was that I had
enough skill and power with my canoe paddles to cut through the waves and the winds. Even better, the lightweight carbon fiber 10 oz
paddle (used for canoe racing) placed no strain on my shoulders. I smiled continuously while crossing Huston Bay as I proclaimed myself
to be a canoeist in the purest sense. I took delight as I powered through the waves 3 strokes on the left, 3 strokes on the right. My canoe
was officially validated for Everglades paddling.
The east winds continued steadily at 15 knots and gusted to 20 knots as we paddled into the arm of the Chatham River that cuts off a large
portion of Huston Bay. Soon, we made the turn into the main portion of the river and Watsons Place was just around the bend. We arrived
a bit exhausted at our campsite around 4:30 pm. A stroke of luck! The campsite, one of the most popular in the backcountry was empty.
We spread out and gave each other some space and set up camp. Soon, we would not be alone. A lone kayaker would share our
campsite that night. Our new neighbor was a young woman named Olga, who was on a misguided trip through the Everglades. Without
a guide, an adequate map or a compass, Olga was going to venture out alone on an 8-day trip through the Wilderness Waterway into
Flamingo. She explained that she had paid an outfitter for a guide service, which turned out to be a disaster (long story shortened). As an
alternative to refunding her money, the outfitter agreed to send her out alone with a kayak and some food and camping gear, all of which
appeared to be suboptimal. Consequently, we spent the entire evening by candle light trying to convince this woman that she should not
be so crazy to do this trip alone in such an unprepared state. Her outfitter service was to arrive the next morning with maps and compass
but we strongly suggested she go back to Everglades City with the motor boat. I think we convinced her.
Day 2 – Watsons Place to Darwins (4.4 miles)
Exploring a concentrated area of magic, meeting Alex and Heather, and a very close encounter with a large reptile
The next morning, we loaded up as Olga waited for her outfitter to arrive. Around 7:30 am we drifted away from the Watsons Place dock
where she stood alone bidding us goodbye and drinking her tea. We felt sad that she might not get to enjoy the splendid Everglades as
she planned. That was the last we saw of Olga, our camp neighbor.
Each morning we awake in our tents excited to begin another journey. We are typically on the water by 7 am when the sun is still hiding
behind the mangroves just before shining a golden light on the water. Usually, the winds are calm during the early morning hours, so we
take advantage of this good fortune and paddle significant miles before the winds kick up after 9 am or so. It is at dawn when the
mangroves come alive in the golden morning light. Reflections on the water are dazzling and the waterscapes are irresistible from a
photographer's point of view. The calmness lends itself to photographing from a boat so I take advantage of this morning with the clear
sky. This was a nice change from the previous day's sky that was mainly filled with dark clouds. We began paddling up the Chatham
River toward the head that would lead us to Chevelier Bay before heading into Possum Creek where our next campsite, Darwins is
located. This would be a short paddle to the camp. The plan was to arrive early and spend the remainder of the day in a magical place
near Darwins.
The Chatham River was a beautiful start to the day as we passed a large mud flat where a lone roseate spoonbill was feeding. The bright
pink feathers were brilliantly contrasted against the dark browns and greens surrounding it as it poked its spoonbill nervously into the mud.
Dolphins passed by riding the tide in their usual fashion. We headed out to the open Chevelier Bay in time to see large dark clouds
forming to the east and heading our way. It appeared we may see a repeat of yesterday. The winds had not increased much yet and
were sustaining at less than 10 knots. Happily, we crossed Chevelier Bay with minimal wave action. By 10:30 am, we arrive at Darwins
and with good fortune, no one was camped there. We set up, ate a little lunch and headed out to the most glorious place in the
Everglades, only ½ mile away from the campsite.
Out west, there is an area near Sedona, Arizona that is believed to contain several energy centers referred to as vortexes. The infamy of
these vortexes really began with the contrived harmonic convergence. I could go off on a tangent and describe how ridiculous that
concocted event appeared to me when I lived in Arizona in 1987 or my last trip to Sedona in 2002 where I found new age gift shops selling
"vortex in a can". I have strong opinions about these things while remembering my whimsical days of youthful new age spirituality. But, I
grew up and learned that spiritual power is not designated to one specific area and you don't have to travel great distances to find it. Call it
spiritual energy, call it God, or call it magic; whatever it is, I see it everywhere in the Everglades. In fact, it is overwhelming at times. But,
like Sedona and its red rocks, there are concentrated areas of power out here and I found one. The Everglades has its own vortex of
sorts. It is a place near Darwins (location will be undisclosed here, but anyone who is familiar with this area will know it) and it is where
energy flows heavily. I call it a biota, a concentrated area of life supported by water, wind, minerals and tides.
I leave Darwins in a hurry to get to the biota. I enter the energy flow in the early afternoon with dark skies predominating. This would not
be an ideal day for photographing. As I paddled through a narrow creek, it began to drizzle. I would not be taking photographs just yet as
snowy egrets flew in flocks ahead of me attempting to stay a safe distance from the visitor. Alligator heads speckled the water and full
bodies lined the muddy shoreline. Most made no attempt to disappear and made it quite clear as I paddled closely by that they are the
owners of this biota. I come into an opening and luckily the clouds moved aside for the sun, but just for a few moments. It was enough
time for me to get the camera out and shoot a scene so common to this area. There was a tricolor heron standing in the water, completely
surrounded by gators whose heads all seemed to point toward the lone bird. The flock of snowy egrets continued to move on ahead,
somewhere around a bend no doubt. Ibises and wood storks flew over head and I could hear their wings beating, they were so close.
For the next couple hours, the sun would repeatedly come out for seconds and then hide behind large, passing clouds. For whatever
reason, birds concentrate to this area during the day. It provides shallow waters and lots of hurricane-destroyed trees to stand on so as not
to get in the way of a resting gator. I am not sure who outnumbered who, the gators or the birds, but both were in high concentration. I
paddled on past the muddy banks speckled with large reptiles and avian species of several types: snowy egrets, tricolor herons, little blue
herons, great white egrets, great blue herons, and wood storks. The wood storks mainly stayed high in the tree canopies and the snowy
egrets mostly congregated in groups of several. Tricolors seem to be paired up or alone. And of course, the great blue heron is the
ultimate loner. Sometimes I would see a bird standing very near a gator and would conjure up some kind of description of their
relationship in my mind.
I do not wear a watch when I am out here, but I can look at the sky and more or less tell the time (or just ask Vivian for the time as she
fishes near by). I could see that it was time to leave; I needed to get back to camp for dinner. I paddled back through the heavily canopied
mangroves before entering the bay. In front of me was a relatively small gator head in the middle of the creek. There was only a very
narrow passage for me to get through with some low hanging branches. Consequently, I had about 3 feet of water between the gator on
my right and a large tree trunk on my left. I hesitated for a moment, staring at this young gator that could not have been more than 4 feet in
length. I didn't care how long the animal was, it made me a bit nervous. Alligators generally don't make me nervous. I scare them more
than they scare me. People who have an obsessive fear of gators simply do not understand them or have never been around them except
in a zoo environment. But at this moment, this particular gator was getting on my nerves. I couldn't sit there all day, so there was only one
thing to do. I took a deep breath and very quietly and gently paddled past the reptile as far away as I could and never taking my eyes off it.
The distance between it and my boat was measurable in millimeters. The alligator never flinched! I could see its entire body in the water
floating with ease as it held its sentry post. If it could talk, it may have stopped me and asked for a password. Fortunately, I passed safely
by and continued on. Bye bye gator.
Shortly after the close encounter with the large lizard, I came out of the dark creek into the opening of the bay to see a marvelous site in
front of me. About ¼ mile away against the eastern sky was a wall of white birds formed on a mangrove shoreline. By now the western
sun was casting its golden light on the trees with a background sky filled with dark gray clouds; a classic scene if I ever saw one. The bird-
covered mangroves were lit up and contrasted against the dark clouds behind them. I decided to paddle toward the scene before the sun
disappeared. White birds, primarily snowy egrets continued to fly overhead toward the wall to join their brethren. These birds are wary, as
they should be. I did not get closer than 500-600 feet when they flew out of the tree and headed toward a more distant point, out of sight.
Bird by bird, the wall diminished as I paddled slowly toward it. I would not get close to these birds, they would not allow it. I believe their
genetics have programmed a survival instinct since the plume hunting days. Only the strong survive and these birds will not take a
chance. So I left them at that and headed back to Darwins, content that I had spent quality time in a very powerful place.
Darwins is one of the smallest backcountry campsites, with lots of overgrowth surrounding an old foundation of a home built by Darwin
over a century ago. We casually cleaned up and began to prepare dinner when some new camp neighbors arrived. A couple, Alex and
Heather paddled up in a rented double canoe. It didn't take long for all of us to begin getting to know this young and energetic couple from
Virginia who were, like us, in their second day of a 9-day journey. In fact, we would join them again on Camp Lonesome. Alex and
Heather were perfect camp neighbors; fun, friendly, respectful, experienced and intelligent campers, interesting, and lovers of the
Everglades. Like-minded people are not hard to find out here, after all we are generally here for the same reasons. But, not everyone you
meet is experienced or a savvy paddler or camper. So when you share a tight campsite with those who are, it can be a joy to meet people
out here. You can learn so much from them! And so we spent a pleasant evening getting to know our new neighbors and later prepared
for a good night's sleep.
Day 3 – Darwins to Willy Willy (17.6 miles)
An incredible morning scene on the water, 25 knot head winds across Big Lostmans Bay
Today was our longest paddle day and we expected some strong head winds while crossing several large bays. It was our intention to be
on the water as early as possible. Alex and Heather had a shorter paddle to Plate Creek Chickee today so we recommended that they
head into the biota for a little excursion. They were excited about the prospect of seeing alligators up close and got on the water early as
well. I was on the water before everyone else with the intention of heading out to Cannon Bay to capture the sun rise.
As I approached the bay, I saw something amazing happening in the sky. What I was about to watch for the next 30 minutes would be one
of the most incredible sites I have ever seen out here. Whenever I witness something fantastic in the Everglades, such as a dolphin flying
out of the water while flipping a large fish in the air, I figure I had seen it all. But that is never the case, something else inevitably comes
along to top that one. And today, I would watch something so remarkable that I am at a loss as to what could possibly top it.
I entered the bay as the sky was turning a bright orange from the rising sun, which was still hidden behind the mangroves. Shadowy
altocumulus clouds splayed upward from the horizon, spreading infinitely (classic mackerel sky) across the sky. During this trip, the clouds
were a constant fascination of mine, offering so many variations and hints of weather patterns. Moisture drives the cloud formations over
the Everglades and tropical outflows dictate much of the weather patterns in south Florida. Mackerel skies could be an indication of some
kind of weather disturbance in the near future. For the moment, I didn't think about weather systems or tropical outflows, I was thinking
about the birds. As far as my eyes could see toward the distant eastern shoreline of the bay, flocks of birds were flying across the sky in a
westerly direction. Strings of egrets and ibises dominated the sky above me as they crossed the red sky and clouds above the mangrove
canopies. Strings of birds were heading toward a small opening in the mangroves, the entrance to the biota. From a mile wide to 20 feet
in width, these birds flew until they reached their predetermined destination. It was rush hour on Cannon Bay and I was sitting directly
below it. During those 30 minutes, I must have watched over a thousand birds flying into the biota. Among the birds, I could distinguish
flocks of anywhere from 10 to 40 birds. With some rough estimation, I would guess that the average number in a flock was 25-30. If that is
close to being true, I must have watched almost 50 flocks of egrets and ibises fly by toward the biota. Top that one Everglades! I dare you.
By the time the action had subsided for the most part (there were a few stragglers still flying by), Vivian and Fred were on the bay. Not far
behind them were our camp neighbors in their canoe, heading toward the opening of the biota. We slowly proceeded, meandering into
Tarpon Bay, waiting for Mike who would catch up to us easily with her fast kayak as we slowly paddled through Alligator Creek. Once
inside the creek, I heard the strange sound of running water. It seems a fresh water creek was falling into the larger Alligator Creek. Near
by were several royal palms, perhaps an indication of a hardwood hammock with a fresh water source. Finally, our group of four was
complete and we began paddling with more deliberation. It was time to continue since we really didn't want to waste time today with our
longest paddle. We had several large bays to cross and the winds had already picked up to a steady 10 knots. Alligator and Dads Bay
were just what we needed to get warmed up for the long day across the bays.
Eventually, we got to Lostmans Five, the only rest stop opportunity we would have. There was no one there, so we ate lunch at a picnic
table and enjoyed the break. By now, the sun was hot and we had been paddling into it all morning. The winds helped keep us cool, but
the clouds were few and far between and the sun's reflection on the water had been intense all morning. While resting, we were joined by
another kayaker, Alex. He was on his way to Willy Willy so it made sense for him to paddle with us the remainder of the day. Alex is
another kindred spirit who spends as much time paddling the Everglades as possible. It's a small world out here too. Turns out that he
and Mike have mutual paddling friends and Vivian had met him a few years ago at one of the launch sites. What I've learned from
paddling out here is that the magic of the Everglades inevitably brings people together.
The hardest part of the paddle would begin after the Lostmans Five break. Ahead were a series of moderately-sized bays; Two Island
Bay, Onion Key Bay and a third one not named, all leading up to the larger Big Lostman's Bay. We headed across Onion Key Bay toward
the head of the grand Lostmans River. By now the easterly winds had picked up to a steady 15 knots, gusting to over 20 knots. We took
some refuge behind some islands as we paddled toward marker 51. Crossing the next two bays would be directly into the wind so I
braced myself in a kneeling position and dug in. The unnamed bay, which begins at marker 47 and ends about a mile away at marker 45
seems very small on my map. I look across from 47 to where 45 would be located and could see the meaning of "relative" quite well.
This would take some time at a paddling rate no more than 2 miles an hour I figured, but we would all get across this bay with no problem.
I power-stroked all the way, enjoying the lightness of my paddle. My boat, the Wenonah Vagabond has a high waterline and it amazed me
to see the front deck cover staying dry as waves crashed all around the boat. Fifteen minutes later we rounded the corner into a more
protected area before heading into Big Lostman's Bay. Now, for the finale.
With a compass bearing of 70 degrees, I headed straight to the opening into a creek (about 1.4 miles away) that led to our campsite, Willy
Willy. I began the journey with a small peninsula of land near marker 44 close to my left. The direct head winds must have been 20-25
knots steady by now. The waves were 1-2 feet, forming white caps. I frequently looked at the mangroves to my left and it seemed for the
first few minutes or so that I was not making any headway at all. Finally, I passed the peninsula and searched for landmarks along the
northern shoreline as a means of determining my progress. Slowly but steadily my destination point was getting closer. I wanted to stop
and get my camera out so many times, but with such wave action it would be futile. So I waited until I came into a more protected area
where the bay closed in to a point not far from the creek opening. Once there, I took some shots of the cumulus clouds that formed an
upward line across the sky. Such beauty out here! It's a classic paddler's scene; the white-capped water below, separated from the
brilliant blue sky by a line of green. I took several minutes to hang out while Vivian and Mike approached from behind me. Fred and Alex,
being the stronger paddlers of the group had arrived at the mouth of the creek several minutes earlier and were finding refuge from the
wind and waves among the mangroves. Finally, the group of five entered the creek where the paddling would be much more casual.
While paddling the creek it is evident that we are within freshwater creeks. After seeing nothing but mangrove forests on our routes, the
marshy saw grasses that line some of the creek is a refreshing sight. And there are many hardwood hammocks scattered about as well.
Willy Willy is a popular spot for fisherman who come to fish in these freshwater creeks. We are at the northern end of what I refer to as the
middle rivers area of the Everglades. Here, we are a short paddle away from three significant rivers that connect the backcountry to the
gulf; Lostmans, Rodgers and Broad Rivers. These large rivers branch out into numerous smaller rivers and creeks that reach deep into
the marshy backcountry, looking like a bad case of vericose veins on the map. One could spend weeks exploring the area between
Lostmans and Shark Rivers.
We arrived at Willy Willy around 3:30 pm, greeted by an empty campsite. We made good time despite paddling against a head wind and
covering almost 18 miles. I felt strong and not too tired. Nonetheless, I did not look forward to my camp chores which included cooking for
three. Soon, we were set up, 4 tents and 5 boats on land. The bugs were out at their usual time as the winds calmed down around
sunset. I am convinced that the winds are on the clock so that the bugs have a chance to feed at specific times of day. We discouraged the
tiny SOBs with mosquito net jackets and hoods and continued into the evening with a fine dinner, wine and conversation.
Day 4 – Willy Willy to Camp Lonesome (10.4 miles), Day 5 – a day off
More head winds, new territories to explore, a gift, and a very bad box of wine
As usual, I was the first on the water, so I took the time to wander around Rocky Creek and photograph the scenery. The gray clouds
thoroughly layered the horizon, dampening the sun rise. After awhile, the clouds took on more distinct shapes and the reflections on the
smooth water were breathtaking. Soon, Vivian and a little later, Fred were on the water. Getting out of Willy Willy took a bit of organization
since only one boat could launch at a time. There is a very small opening that allows you to bring only one kayak or canoe at a time onto
ground. The only alternative to that was to leave the boats in the water, secured to the dock. Loading and unloading a canoe from the
dock is relatively easy, but for a kayak it can be near impossible. Contortionists may have a chance at it, but otherwise, it is always
preferable to load and unload from the water. Because of the winds and potential motor boats, we brought all our boats up on land,
including the canoes. One by one, the boats were lined up on the campsite and this morning, one by one, they were placed back into the
water.
Eventually, the clouds cleared and the winds started to pick up. Temperatures were rising and reaching mid 80s each day on the water.
Eventually, we were out of the creeks and in Rodgers River Bay. We took a short cut avoiding marker 38 and found that there were a
couple discrepancies on our maps. First, marker 37 does not exist on the map and was duly noted as we passed one of the small islands
on our right. We headed to marker 36 which, according to our map, should have been on the southwest corner of a large island. Instead it
was in front of us, on the southeast side. I can imagine that for a paddler who relies heavily on the markers for navigation would find this a
bit unnerving. Fortunately for me, I rely almost totally on my map and compass bearings. This also allows me to take alternative routes
from the marked waterway, as would be the case for most of our paddle back to Darwins in a couple days. How ever way we arrived
there, we were soon passing Cabbage Island and heading into a river that enters into Broad River Bay. From the bay, we would continue
southeast into Broad River until reaching our next destination and base camp, Camp Lonesome.
The night before, I looked at our days route and figured we would have some head winds but it would only be evident on a short paddle
through the more open Broad River Bay. The remainder of the journey appeared to be well protected. By the time we reached Rodgers
River Bay, the southeast winds were a steady 15 knots with some gusts to 20 or so. This was more of what we encountered yesterday,
only this time no wide open bays. But it became painfully clear that we would not be paddling on well-protected creeks. We would be
getting the force of the wind pretty much the entire way to Camp Lonesome. What I believed to be an easy 3-4 mile paddle up the Broad
River quickly turned to the realization that we would be paddling against a strong head wind in a wide river. And true to form, paddling
through the Broad River was long and tedious. What I thought would be an easy paddle turned out to be another strenuous day. I was so
grateful to finally reach the fork in the river where Camp Lonesome is situated on a corner. Thanks to the lightweight paddles, my arms
were not sore and tired, but I did have an overall feeling of fatigue. We were all looking forward to a day off.
Our beautiful campsite would be shared with some fishermen and their power boat. On one side of the campsite, we set up our 3 tents,
with about 2 feet of walking space between them. The fishermen had a large tent that could have held all 3 of ours, as is the case usually
with powerboaters. That and 4 very large coolers, a gas grill and a few other assorted items comprised a third of the entire campsite. We
left the far end of the campsite cleared for all our boats, so we actually used up more space than the powerboaters.
Here’s the thing with most backcountry campsites, they are not canoe or kayak friendly, mostly unkind to kayakers as described above for
Willy Willy. Again, there was barely a space to get a boat onto land, even less so than at the Willy Willy site. And the overgrowth was too
much for the other side of the dock to be accessed. Fortunately, Fred brought his machete and used it to clear some low lying branches so
that he and Michaeleen could get their kayaks up on land one at a time. Vivian and I had no room to leave our boats on the water next to
the dock knowing that a powerboat would need to get in. So we unloaded both of them and hoisted the lightweight solo canoes onto the
docks and carried them to ground.
Soon, we were settling in and it started to get dark. We began discussing our planned route between Camp Lonesome and Rodgers
River Chickee for the day after tomorrow. We wanted to take the cut-off route, a narrow creek that connects the Broad and Rodgers
Rivers. We contemplated that it might be impassable and the worse case would be to get ¾ of the way through and find that we would
need to turn around. The consequence of such an event would be an additional 3 miles or so. We seriously considered not taking a
chance and kind of left it at that. In the meantime, our camp neighbors arrived, 2 of the 6 that were to be the party. Apparently the other 4
fellows had to leave early, leaving 1 boat and 2 fishermen. They were on their third night at Camp Lonesome and had obviously done a
considerable amount of exploring in the area. So we asked them about some of the areas and where I might find birds and where Vivian
might find fish.
Small gifts present themselves out here all the time. Sometimes you just have to be aware of what is around you to get them. Sometimes
you have to just run into the right people. Our two fishermen neighbors gave us a gift tonight, actually two gifts. Seems they had powered
through the cut-off with ease and reported to us that it was, indeed passable. That clinched it! Yes! We would be going through the cut-off
as planned. Had we not met these gentlemen, we would likely have missed one of our nicest paddles. Kindness sometimes knows no
limits and the fishermen offered us another gift. They were heading back to Everglades City the next day to get gas and supplies and
offered to take our garbage out with them. We were so lucky and grateful! And so, we ended our evening with good neighbors sharing
our site and the relaxed feeling of having a day off and an opportunity to sleep in. Our first night on Camp Lonesome brought us to a
peaceful sleep.
Once we got all our boats in the water, one by one the next morning, we spent the most part of the morning exploring the Wood River
area. Vivian found a mangrove snapper hole but could not capture enough for the 4 of us to eat. She released the one moderate-sized
snapper she caught rather than wasting it. As luck had it, our one day off turned out to be rather calm, never really reaching more than 10
knots. I felt tired and paddled a mere 5 miles today; the others continued further and stayed on the water longer than me. I found few birds
and decided to head back to camp to spend time alone, organize a bit and do some reading. No sooner did I get my boat unloaded that
our previous camp neighbors, Alex and Heather paddled up after an easy go of it from Willy Willy. They took advantage of the calm winds
and arrived early, intending to also spend time relaxing. It seems our young friends were having the time of their lives, taking in the
Everglades with gusto. I respect them very much given that they were traveling in an aluminum barge and with paddles that must have
weighed over 5 lbs each. Luckily, the outfitters did not bother to give them a spare (unbelievable), with the additional weight it might have
really slowed them down. Being strong and agile, they seemed to handle it quite fittingly and more or less made light of the situation. They
were young and in love, and they were experiencing the best of the Everglades.
We would soon find out this second evening in Camp Lonesome that not all was perfect in the backcountry. Vivian and I always bring wine
for our trips so that we can each have a couple glasses in the evening. For this trip, we brought two 3-liter boxes, one merlot and one
shiraz. Each box would last us 4 nights. Tonight, we would open the second box having already polished off the shiraz. We opened the
merlot and relaxed in our camp chairs while enjoying our company before starting dinner. One sip, two sip, it didn't take more than that to
realize we had a very bad box of wine. So bad we could have used it to make salad dressing. I really wanted it to taste good and I kept
sipping to see if it would. But it wasn't going to happen. One bottle of bad wine is tolerable, but when it's an entire box containing 4 nights
worth, it's downright devastating! I mean I'm not an alcoholic, but there is just something about a nice glass of wine while sitting in a camp
chair and preparing dinner on a camp stove in the Everglades that presents a perfect combination of basic wilderness essentials and
excessiveness. Of course one could argue that there is nothing excessive about a camp chair and camp stove! Needless to say, I never
thought it was possible to stay dry in the Everglades, but there you have it. On the positive side, we did get our money back from the store
and splurged on a really nice bottle of wine after returning home.
Day 6 – Camp Lonesome to Rogers River Chickee (12.2 miles)
Beautiful morning on Broad River, alligator drinking water, meeting Rodger Dodger, and chickee camping at its best
Ever since leaving Willy Willy, I was in a part of the Everglades I had never been before. Today would be the same. On this day, we
would separate from Mike as she headed to Lostmans Five for the night. We would meet her again on Darwins the next day. So Vivian,
Fred and I were on the fantastically beautiful Broad River just before sunrise. This river, which was long and tedious during our headwind
paddle into Camp Lonesome two days earlier was now a glorious experience as the sun began to rise and the winds were still. A light fog
covered the area and the view from the water was nothing short of spectacular. I spent time photographing while Vivian trolled for fish. We
took our time riding with the tide toward Broad River Bay. By the time we reached the bay is was light and the tarpon were jumping and
rolling and the ladyfish were biting like crazy. For the first time since I've known Vivian, a fishing fanatic to say the least, she actually
stopped fishing for lack of time and energy. The water was very active with life as we paddled toward the opening of the cut-off. I noticed
several birds, wood storks, snowy egrets and white ibises flying overhead, holding a flight pattern toward the cut-off. These birds were
heading toward a marshy area hiding behind the mangroves that lined the creek. I would see several birds during our paddle through the
beautiful creek and I would see several alligators as well.
Eventually, we got into the larger Rodgers River and the sun was now beating down hard. The winds were not too bad and besides, we
were no longer heading into them. It was a relatively easy paddle and we more or less took our time. I watched dolphins feeding with the
tidal current, a pair of red-shouldered hawks, possibly mates, osprey catching fish, and the strangest site I have ever seen. Once again
while paddling through brackish water I hear the sounds of a water fall. There is a rather large stream of water falling into the river. I
decided to paddle over to it and give it a taste. I approached the shadowy area surrounded by mangrove branches and at about 5 feet
away I noticed a very large alligator right next to the water fall. It totally surprised me and I quickly reversed my direction. It backed away
from the water but then floated back to it once I was a safe distance away. I started photographing the scene as best I could with the current
driving me past the gator. The gator seemed to have its mouth right up to the rushing water and appeared to be gulping. Well, this is
interesting and why not? I never thought about it before, but I suppose gators need a dose of fresh water through their mouths, maybe to
cool off, maybe for drinking.
By early afternoon we were on Rodgers River Bay again, this time on the west side instead of the east as we were 2 days earlier. We
followed the shoreline of the large island where we would find the chickee in a cove. Similar to marker 36 from the other day, the chickee
is not where it says it is on the map. In fact, we came up on it sooner than expected. Tonight’s camping experience would be very different
from the rest. Chickees obviously offer less floor space, but when you get 3 parties of 12 people on a campsite like Willy Willy, space
disappears quickly. Since we were the only people there so far, we relished in the idea of maybe having both platforms to ourselves. We
would have an awesome view of the bay, both sunset and sunrise are eye candy from this chickee. As luck had it, we did have both
platforms to ourselves, but just in case, we still set up both tents on one platform. We could use the other for dinner and bathing.
As we worked to get our gear unloaded from our boats, we noticed an alligator coming across the bay toward the chickee. It’s head stuck
out of the water looking like a pair of binoculars. It was eyeing the chickee and its new inhabitants, potential food sources. We continued
unloading and getting our tents set up. We spread our nylon tarp across one side of the uninhabited chickee platforms as the westerly
afternoon sun became intense across the wooden planks. The tarp would nicely serve as shade and privacy for an afternoon bathing
session. At some point, one of us noticed that the gator had gotten much closer to the chickee and continued to take an interest in us.
Clearly, we had a human habituated alligator on our hands. Well, this would make dinner time more interesting.
We took over the entire chickee and spread our chairs out on one platform and set up for dinner as the sun began to dip toward the
mangrove horizon. A gentle easterly breeze blew across the platform as we ate our dinner and enjoyed the evening. The gator was
lurking near by, we could sense its presence.
Soon, while wearing our mosquito netting attire, it was time to wash the dishes. The night was starting to spread out across the bay. To
avoid putting our hands in the water, we attached a rope to a collapsible bucket and tossed it in the water. That was enough to spark the
attention of our resident gator, who by now we had named “Rodger Dodger”. He pronounced himself only a few feet away from the bucket
action. I was not particularly upset by its presence and did not reckon it to be much of a threat. On the other hand, I was not about to stick
my hands in the water. Human habituated gators appear out here now and then, always at a campsite where humans throw away their
food or fish remains. Gators get use to that and consequently, they lose their natural fear of humans and instead of shying away, come
close. It is not the humans I am worried about, it is the fate of the animal. A human-fed wild animal has a death wish and at some point,
the park may decide that this gator poses a threat. Since guns or hunting is not allowed in the park, the authorities will come in and capture
the gator, remove it from the park, then kill it. Vivian believes that shooting this gator here and now would be a much more humane thing
to do. Whole heartedly, I agree with her.
We said goodnight to Rodger and fell asleep quickly on our hard surfaced platform. The sky was brilliant with stars, a different site
compared to the previous 5 nights. In the backcountry campsites you miss the open sky with the trees dominating the environment. But
tonight on Rodgers River Chickee, the stars are covering us and we are completely surrounded by water. The openness of the bay is
refreshing and a nice change of pace as we fall into another dream state with Rodger Dodger somewhere under our chickee.
Day 7 – Rodgers River Chickee to Darwins (17.2 miles)
Charting a new route to shave off a couple miles, calm waters for a change, more info on the lone kayaker
Today, the sunrise over Rodgers River chickee was exceptional. As we loaded our boats, I took the time to set up the tripod and capture
the deep blue bay waters covered with a rosy red horizon, topped with a deep blue sky. Rodger made his presence known as Vivian and
Fred loaded their boats with caution. Once the sun fully appeared over the water, we were on our way again.
Last evening after dinner, we got our maps out and determined a different route that would take a mile and a half or so off this days paddle
back to Darwins. Instead of heading around the large island toward the wilderness waterway marker 32, we decided to head toward
Rodgers River Bay from the west side and continue through some islands before turning into the Big Lostmans Bay. We were expecting
the winds to shift to a northeasterly pattern so we charted a route that would offer a bit more protection from the wind and the strong
outgoing tide that would be leading into the Lostmans River. We passed markers 42, 44 and 46, but with those exceptions we were off the
wilderness waterway for the first 6-7 miles until reaching marker 56 at the northern end of Onion Key Bay. From there we would follow the
usual route through the bays that would lead us back to Darwins. A rest stop at Lostmans Five would break up our 17 mile paddle.
All day large cumulus clouds formed and the waters were relatively calm. The only slight challenge was a strong outgoing tidal current in
the passage between Onion Key and Two Island Bays. From Onion Key Bay we paddled through very familiar territory, but this time
without the sun glaring down in front of us. I had come out of a few days exploring areas of the Everglades I had never seen before and
here I was back “home” so to speak. I took comfort in knowing exactly where I was, like being among friends and family. I recognized
individual mangrove trees and their snarly branches that make them stick out among the others. I even recognized trees that were
photographed on previous trips. It’s a comforting feeling to be in familiar territory. This place changes constantly in many ways, but it is
also clear to me that many things do not change quickly and it is striking to recognize a lone tree that I remember from a few years ago
somewhere along the paddling route. Part of the fascination of the Everglades is its familiarity; each bay and creek takes on its own
personality and you get to know them well over time. For instance, when I come into the very familiar Sunday Bay I feel I am visiting an old
friend who has new stories to tell, new photos to show, and new experiences to share.
We come into Cannon Bay and saw our friend Capt Wright’s Everglades Area Tour boat at the mouth of Gopher Creek. Today, it was
Jason manning the boat, taking a couple into the creek with some kayaks to photograph the wildlife. We stopped and chatted with Jason
asking if he had heard anything about our Watsons Place neighbor, Olga. He had heard about Olga’s demise from the perspective of the
“guide” who had started to take her into the backcountry. It seems Olga’s situation is not uncommon out here and we later learned that
Capt Wright had rescued some people in the last few days who were sent out alone by their outfitters. As the story went, Olga’s guide was
not really a guide, he was a newly arrived vagabond who worked as a waiter in a local restaurant and decided he could take on guiding. I
mean that’s what people do here in the Everglades, right? Here’s my summary of the situation. On his part, that’s just plain stupidity. On
the part of the outfitter that hired him, it’s nothing short of criminal. We still did not know what happened to Olga and hoped that she at least
got her money back.
We arrived at Darwins where Mike was waiting for us. After getting our tents set up, another couple paddled in and would join us this
evening on Darwins. This couple also rented a double canoe. From Canada, Matt and Heather (a common name out here) were
experienced canoeists and were out for several days heading to Flamingo. We spent a nice evening again with people of similar mind,
talking mostly about boats and gear and places we have paddled. Early to bed, we would be heading out for one more day of long
paddling to our last night’s campsite.
Day 8 – Darwins to Lopez River (13.1 miles) and Day 9 – Lopez River to Chokoloskee (5 miles)
Calm bays, celebrating new years on Lopez River, noisy jet stoves, and reluctantly heading back home
We had been out here for 7 days already and frankly, I was in no hurry to leave. None of us was. Before the trip, I wondered how 9 days
out here was going to feel. I wondered about the mileage and how I would handle it. I wondered how much we would get on each other’s
nerves after several days in relatively close quarters. Other than a minor quibble here and there, we were all doing fine with one another
and having a lot of fun. The paddling only got easier with each day (we were lucky with the weather) and I was relatively clean with change
of clothing and bathing opportunities. The port-o-potties wore on me after awhile and I actually envied our camp neighbors who would be
spending part of their trip on the beaches. The backcountry is an awesome place and the paddling experience is the best there is. But I
did miss the openness of the beach campsites and the break from the port-o-potties. But that was trivial stuff and I was starting to feel a bit
depressed that we would be back in Miami in a little more than 24 hours. So, I enjoyed each second of the paddle to Lopez River.
Chevelier Bay greeted us at sunrise after we got on the water from Darwins minutes earlier. Soon, we would be heading past the head of
the Chatham River and continuing on to Lopez River.
For me, the route from Darwins always ended with Watsons Place on previous trips. But today, we would not make that turn into the
Chatham River, instead we would continue on the marked trail into Huston Bay. I had only done this portion of the bay from a motor boat,
so even in familiar territory I am experiencing a new paddling route. So much so that despite having my map right in front of me and there
being markers, I lost my bearings when passing from Last Huston Bay to Huston Bay. Once again I was ignoring my compass and relying
totally on my ability to look at a land mass on the chart and then determine its location with sight instead of a compass bearing. Always
hard on oneself, I felt a bit defeated. Every time I think I have it figured out and get a bit overconfident, this country pulls me back in. Feeling
a bit unsure of myself now, I agreed with Vivian to stray from the marked path and take a minor short cut around a small island to marker
108, before heading into Oyster Bay. We continued the path of our short cut and the opening we were trying to find never appeared. We
paddled for a good ½ mile before realizing we missed it. I should have known! How could I have misinterpreted the size of the small
island we were attempting to paddle around? I had made a mistake, lost some confidence and one thing led to another! I got over it
quickly and chalked it up to the power of the Everglades. You can never get too sure of yourself out here, you must always be vigilant and
aware.
After a short break in our usual rest stop, we headed into Sunday Bay which looked like a sheet of ice. It was unbelievably calm. The
clouds formed beautiful reflections on the water as we moved easily across the massive bay. Dolphins hung around circling the boats now
and then. Soon, we were passing marker 125 toward Lopez River. We arrived at the campsite around 1pm and relished spending a very
relaxing afternoon here. Mike was leaving us; she was ready to get back home and decided to do the final 5 miles today instead of
tomorrow. We said goodbye to our friend as we set up camp. So far, we had the place to ourselves, but that would change in time. A
couple in a canoe came in and set up on the other side of the Lopez cistern. We only saw them once as they went out on the water for an
afternoon paddle.
As we read and wrote from our camp chairs, a group of 5 kayakers pulled in. There was only a little space for their tents behind the cistern
and of course and they had use of a picnic table a few feet away from ours. The group was from Maryland and not so friendly, compared
to all our other camp neighbors. Four of the group appeared to be new to paddling and unsure of themselves as Everglades campers as
they followed the directions of the group leader. The self-appointed leader appeared to know everything about the Everglades despite
never having been here before. After we told them about our trip and the mileage, we heard one of the guys in the party say to the leader
that he could not imagine paddling 17 miles, like we did. Then we heard her reply that those miles did not really count because we
paddled in protected areas (after all, we were in canoes) and it was not so difficult. In comparison, they were going out into the big wide
open Gulf of Mexico to Tiger Key the next day with their sea worthy kayaks. We had a good laugh at her comments; obviously, the leader
had never experienced the bays of the backcountry in strong easterly winds or island camping in the Ten Thousand Islands.
At the expense of the leader of this group, I mention this scene because I want to get something out in the open and that has to do with the
silly rivalry between canoeists and kayakers. In fact, I would go as far as saying that on both sides of the debate, snobbishness is
commonplace. Don’t get me wrong, I am not becoming a canoe snob. In fact, I love kayaks, there is definitely a place for them and I hope
to kayak again. I loved my Necky Looksha and enjoyed every minute paddling it. But after this backcountry trip and several chickee
camping experiences, I am convinced that the campsites we stayed on are not kayak-friendly in any sense of the word. Not only that, but
much of where we paddled on this trip provides so little opportunity to get out of your boat. In the canoe, I have much more room for
moving around and changing positions. I can take a rest break while in my canoe. Compared to the ease of a canoe, a kayak is just not
practical out here. Sorry kayakers, it had to be said. There is nothing I cannot do with this canoe that I could do with my kayak, especially
having the deck cover. Only one trip our here was I grateful for having a kayak instead of a canoe. That was a trip to Picnic Key with west
winds kicking up to 20-25 knots, 2-3 ft seas, and the surf driving violently into the beach landing. It was frightening as we came in and later,
I photographed another kayaker flipping over in the surf. If I had been in my canoe, I would not have made the landing, I would have found
some alternative. But other than that one event, the canoe has opened up more doors for me, so to speak. I feel much more comfortable
in the canoe and believe I could take it out to the gulf with high winds with confidence. Perhaps that will be the next adventure.
A happy new year’s eve was spent early to bed as usual. With the exception of a barred owl calling “Who cooks for you?” several times,
Lopez River was dead silent during the late hours. Our last night out felt a bit cooler than the first 7 nights, perhaps reaching low 60s high
50s. The next morning, we packed in the dark and were on the water before 7 am. We wanted to give Fred an opportunity to sleep in
while Vivian and I would hang around Lopez River fishing and photographing while he got ready to get on the water. But ironically this
morning, Fred was loaded and ready before we were. So, the three of us set off with dawn barely showing. The last thing we heard as
we pulled away was the 90-decibel jet stove used by the Maryland kayak group, that by now had scared away all life forms within a mile,
including us.
We spent a good couple hours drifting down the river toward Chokoloskee Bay and then hanging out near the mouth of the river where the
fishing was fantastic for Vivian. After several sunrise shots, I decided to stay close to her for a photo opportunity, even though every time I
get close with the camera, the fish stop biting. But I defied the laws of nature and stuck it out anyway, acting aloof so the fish would not think
I was actually going to try to capture a fisherman’s moment. The trout, small tarpon and ladyfish were feeding in the tidal current and Vivian
was snapping them up one right after the other. Until I showed up, that is. The lighting was perfect and I would get focused on the surface
lure that she would cast out about 50 feet from her boat. I tracked it along the water as she jerked it several times, attempting to attract a
bite. But as always, with my telephoto ready to shoot and the best lighting available, the fish stopped biting. That cursed camera! It was
fine though, because Vivian had already experienced a great morning on the water and the three of us were ready to make the final stretch
across Chokoloskee Bay to our end point. We would be on land within the hour, around 9:30 am.
Arriving at Chokoloskee Island after 9 days in the backcountry is a pleasant transition before heading back to the shock of the big city. The
marina was busy with new years day boaters, motorist and paddlers alike. Winter residents were walking or riding bicycles around, visiting
with neighbors and generally enjoying the sun and warmness. After loading the cars, we visited with Capt Wright at JT’s (home base for
Everglades Area Tours), and then headed to Everglades City where we had our first full course breakfast and real coffee for over a week.
Last year after our coastal trip, we did the same thing. At the time, the restaurant was called “RoadKill Café”. What a disaster that was.
Fortunately, new management put the restaurant back on track, removed all the motorcycle memorabilia and parts from the walls and
replaced them with photos of the area, and more appropriately renamed it “Backcountry Café”. Fred, Vivian and I enjoyed a hot breakfast
and coffee while discussing our next adventure and visiting with a few of the locals. After an hour or so, it was time to get back home. As
always, we are happy to be heading home but sad to be leaving this piece of heaven. We’ll be back soon, as always is the case. Perhaps
one day for a 12-day trip.
| All Rights Reserved. Copyright, Constance Mier 2009-11 |
| Click on photos to see larger versions. |
Launching from Chokoloskee Island,
early morning Dec 24th, 2008. Do
you notice the beautiful Wenonah with
the lovely green deck cover?
early morning Dec 24th, 2008. Do
you notice the beautiful Wenonah with
the lovely green deck cover?
Rain clouds coming across
Chokoloskee Bay, during the first hour
on the water.
Chokoloskee Bay, during the first hour
on the water.
Rough waters as we head into
Chatham River, later afternoon.
Chatham River, later afternoon.
Arriving at Watsons Place, our first
night's stay.
night's stay.
Day 2, on the Chatham River early
morning.
morning.
Inside the "biota" near Darwins.
Inside the "biota" near Darwins.
Day 3, catching the sunrise over
Cannon Bay after leaving Darwins.
Cannon Bay after leaving Darwins.
Day 3, marker 86 a few hundred feet
from Darwins, heading to Cannon
Bay.
from Darwins, heading to Cannon
Bay.
At the end of Big Lostmans Bay,
before entering the creek to Willy
Willy. Fred is ahead in the distance.
before entering the creek to Willy
Willy. Fred is ahead in the distance.
Day 4, early morning on Rocky Creek
as we leave Willy Willy for Camp
Lonesome.
as we leave Willy Willy for Camp
Lonesome.
A view of Camp Lonesome, fully
occupied. Notice our three tents in the
background.
occupied. Notice our three tents in the
background.
Day 6, leaving Camp Lonesome after
two nights there. It's early morning on
the Broad River as we head out.
two nights there. It's early morning on
the Broad River as we head out.
It pays to get on the water early,
another view of Broad River.
another view of Broad River.
Alligator cooling off or drinking the
water, on Rodgers River.
water, on Rodgers River.
Our sixth night's home, Rodgers River
Chickee.
Chickee.
Rodger Dodger, our camp host.
Notice the reflection of the chickee in
the eye.
Notice the reflection of the chickee in
the eye.
The beginning of our 7th day, a
sunrise view from the chickee before
we head out to Darwins.
sunrise view from the chickee before
we head out to Darwins.
Vivian catches a jack in the Huston
Bay as we head to Lopez River for our
last night's stay.
Bay as we head to Lopez River for our
last night's stay.
Day 8, a familiar site to me as we
leave behind Chevelier Bay near
marker 97 and head to the Huston
Bays.
leave behind Chevelier Bay near
marker 97 and head to the Huston
Bays.
Our usual rest stop before or after
crossing Sunday Bay.
crossing Sunday Bay.
Crossing a very unusual calm Sunday
Bay.
Bay.
For a slideshow and more photos of the trip, go to my pbase gallery.
My paddling companions for this trip were:
Fred, in his Scupper Pro plastic
sit-on-top. We don't know how he did
it for 9 days in that boat, but he puts us
all to shame when paddling.
sit-on-top. We don't know how he did
it for 9 days in that boat, but he puts us
all to shame when paddling.
Michaeleen, in her Kevlar Impex
kayak. Mike is now in the process of
purchasing a canoe for her
backcountry trips.
kayak. Mike is now in the process of
purchasing a canoe for her
backcountry trips.
Vivian, in her carbon fiber Hemlock
Kestrel canoe. If she isn't paddling
and fishing, she's preparing for a
fishing or paddling trip.
Kestrel canoe. If she isn't paddling
and fishing, she's preparing for a
fishing or paddling trip.
Last morning on the water, on Lopez
River before heading across
Chokoloskee Bay.
River before heading across
Chokoloskee Bay.
Marker 44, as we leave Big Lostmans,
on our paddle to Darwins.
on our paddle to Darwins.
The dock of Camp Lonesome. It was
not easy getting all four boats in the
water for a day trip.
not easy getting all four boats in the
water for a day trip.
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