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Copyright 2005 |
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A Paddle through the Everglades By Johnny Molloy Everglades National Park … we couldn’t believe we were there! After paying our customary entrance fee, plus a small fee for the canoe atop our car, Cisco and I sped westward along Main Park Road, mesmerized by the river of grass along both sides of the asphalt. Sure, we knew the Everglades could be paddled, but we hadn’t seen anything, so far, where you could stroke a blade. Finally, salty scent wafted into the car -- the ocean was near. The Flamingo complex, a marina, lodge, ranger station and campground, was surprisingly large.
Our canoe brimmed with gear. A major part of our weight was water. Backcountry paddlers must carry all their drinking water, one gallon per person per day. We left the marina and Florida Bay opened before our eyes. Our course led westward. Sunlit waves, brought forth by a light north wind, sparkled ahead of us. We had already slathered on plenty of sunscreen, another Everglades necessity. The paddling began in earnest. We stayed close to the mangroves on the shoreline, fascinated by the network of interconnected prop roots growing from the water that came together to form trunks. From the trunks sprung limbs that held the small leaves of the Everglades most ubiquitous tree. Mangroves thrive here, with just the right mix of salt and fresh water, like nowhere else on the planet. The leathery leaves can stand up to the excessive, harsh sun. The prop roots lend stability in the shallow waters. Our first stop was East Clubhouse Beach, a small sandy break in the mangrove shoreline. We stroked it to the shore and debarked, stretching our legs. Behind the beach was a prairie. This prairie was covered with sea purslane and pickleweed, which thrive in the salty mud of the open prairie, which offered views nearly as extensive as that to our south, across Florida Bay. We came to our first night’s camp at Clubhouse Beach, eight miles from Flamingo. The clubhouse, once part of a land development, gave the area its name. This development, like most others in the Everglades, was a dismal failure. All that remains is the name. Salt tinged smoke from our driftwood fire wafted over the seaside camp as night fell. Just as certain as the grains of sand that got on our grilled steaks, the mosquitoes came forth at dusk. We were ready for the swamp angels, as Cisco had already set up the tent to which we retired. A quality tent with fine screen netting is yet another necessity here. We arose with the dawn and quickly loaded our canoe after a morning repast. We wanted to avoid the afternoon winds, which can run from 10 to 15 knots. Small craft advisories are not uncommon. Now, Florida Bay was as smooth as glass. Cape Sable lay off to our right. On shore began a stretch of more than 20 miles of uninterrupted natural beach, by far the largest preserved stretch of ocean front property in the mainland Southeast. The Cape Sable beach slopes up from the ocean then back down to a mosaic of tropical trees such as gumbo-limbo and Jamaican dogwood, along with Spanish bayonet. The Cape was not always so desolate. In times past it was home to Federal forts, Cuban fishing settlements, and a coconut plantation. Before that the Calusa Indians roamed southwest Florida from the Keys up to the Caloosahatchee River. Cisco and I rounded the Cape and began our northward journey in earnest. To our pleasant surprise the winds had shifted from the north to the east, keeping the ocean flat, allowing for rapid paddling. However, we frequently stopped for beachcombing on the alluring shoreline.
Next morning Cisco and I once again pressed hard early, to beat the winds. Ahead lay Ponce de Leon Bay, more wide open water. The Shark River flowed into the bay in numerous channels, creating its own mini maze of islands. We headed against the tide into Whitewater Bay, aiming for Watson River chickee, even though our arms were tired from the day before. We didn’t want to get caught out in the open water. The tide calmed once in the bay as we headed toward the chickee, arriving later that afternoon. Stars filled the sky overhead that night, as we were far from the lights of Miami. The calm bay gently lapped against the island nearby, sending us to a dead sleep of the tired paddler. We turned south and drifted with the north wind heading toward Hells Bay. Cisco lay prone with her feet over the bow of the Old Town canoe, while I lazily kept a paddle in the water to keep us on course. We turned into the East River. Alligators sunned themselves along the river. Alligators pose no real threat to Everglades paddlers, though some have become food habituated and hang around backcountry campsites waiting for a meal of scraps. NEVER feed an alligator.
Everglades Trip Planner To access official park information call (305) 242-7700 and ask for a Wilderness Trip Planner. Or, go on the web at http://www.nps.gov/ever/. With the trip planner you can sketch out a trip. But that is all you can do from home. Wilderness permits, required for all overnight camping, are available only in person at Flamingo and Gulf Coast ranger stations and may be obtained in person up to 24 hours in advance of a trip. Head to the permit desk at Flamingo or Gulf Coast ranger stations and make a backcountry trip request with park staff. Have alternate trips planned once at the permit desk; this way, if campsites are already reserved, you have an alternate route ready. Once your permit is issued and park regulations explained to you, you must pay a permit fee. The fee is $10 for parties up to 6; $20 for parties of 7-12; and $30 for parties of more than 12. Heavy Use Periods The general paddling season in Everglades National Park runs from November through April. Insects, thunderstorms and occasional hurricanes conspire to keep the Everglades backcountry nearly deserted May through October. When the first north breezes cool and clear the air, reducing insects, paddlers turn their eye southward for the Everglades. A few campsites begin to fill on weekends. But the crowds really come around Christmas. The period between Christmas and New Years is the Everglades busiest. Expect full campsites and plan alternative trips. After this, weekends can be busy, yet you can nearly always get on in the general vicinity of where you want to go. Plan your trip during the week for the most solitude. The next big crowds come around President’s Day weekend in February. The last big hits come during mid-March, when college students flock to the Glades for overnight trips. Again, get to the ranger stations early and you can get some campsites. As the weather warms up in April, visitation tapers off, dying by the end of the month. Maps NOAA chart #11430, 11432, 11433 (301) 436-6990 A Paddler’s Guide to Everglades National Park and Beach and Coastal Camping in Florida are just two of 22 outdoor guidebooks written by Johnny Molloy. To order these books or learn more about Johnny, please visit http://www.johnnymolloy.com . |
Our first order of business was to obtain a backcountry permit. We had decided to circumnavigate Whitewater Bay. The rangers worked with us in developing a route. At the marina store I bought the all-important nautical charts to go along with my compass. A map and compass are absolute necessities for traveling the Everglades. So is a radio for getting weather reports. The next few days were predicted to be calm and clear. 
We pressed on beyond Middle Cape, even though we had already paddled for miles. The sun was heading down by the time we pulled into Northwest Cape. The two of us made camp near some palm trees, and watched the sun set over the Gulf of Mexico. We had pressed going around the Cape, to avoid getting caught in big winds. Canoes have been swamped out here and simply cannot handle such big waves. Sea kayakers can fare much better. Do not go around the Cape unless you have a favorable wind forecast. 
Ahead, was the Hells Bay chickee. These chickees are the third of the three different backcountry campsites in the park. Chickees are wooden structures built by the park service for campers to overnight on where there is no dry ground available. The other types of campsites are beaches such as those at Cape Sable and ground sites, which are mounds of oyster shells built up over centuries by Calusa Indians, who discarded theses shells after that eating the morsels inside.
Our final day took us back to Whitewater Bay, then into Tarpon Creek and back to Flamingo. We joined the Wilderness Waterway here. The Wilderness Waterway is the 100-mile marked route connecting Flamingo and Everglades City. It would be another day before we took the Wilderness Waterway north. We took a welcome shower at the Flamingo Marina. What a great trip it had been.