Escape the Wind: White Horse Key

South of the ultra upscale development of Naples and stretching into the Everglades lies a jewel of Florida's Gulf Coast: Ten Thousand Islands. Clusters of small and large mangrove islands provide rookeries for wildlife and navigational challenges for man.  One island is indistinguishable from another with mangrove on the landward side and sandy beaches on the gulf side.  Waters are full of live shells and crustaceans providing food for flocks of wading birds.  In the coves and inlets are ibis, heron egret, and plovers while wood storks and osprey circle overhead.  Dolphins, turtles and manatees are seen as they surface for air.

A fine and pleasant town day: Cannon Island

After the last stressful town day, I was not looking forward to today. We need to stock up for 19 days until the next resupply. At least that means this is the last town stop for a while.

As is often the case, things are worse in your head than in reality. Fran and Pat took a quick $6 taxi to the store and returned with big bags of food. Much faster and easier. Simple.

Exploring: Marco Island

Still nervous about the helicopter visit last night we are up at the crack of dawn and out of camp in 90 minutes. With short miles to the next destination, our stealth campsite gives us the gift of a full day to explore. And explore we did.

Some days are better than others: Dollar Bay

Town day. Logistics day. Work day.

One of Roger's cameras has jammed. That is a tough blow, since Roger is never more than two feet from a camera.

We trudge a couple of miles to the Post Office and ship off several other pounds of stuff. We are finally parting with the dry suits that were so wonderful in the north. Our boats are getting lighter and there is a little free space showing up, which we will need for the eleven days of food and water in the Everglades. The walk is long and muggy, and we carry bags each direction. We watch for but see no busses. The chore takes three hours, and Fran and Pat are unable to get a late departure from the motel so they empty the room and sit outside waiting.

All is well: Naples

What a perfect day! Most days we have a choice of paddling out in the gulf, or inside. Today there is no inside path, forcing us into the gulf for 19 miles. Pat has been anxious about this for a couple of days.

It could not have been better. The gulf was smooth, even glass at times. A gentle tailwind provided a nudge of a few tenths of a knot. Sweet paddling.

Decaying Past, Promising Future: Bowtie Island

As we paddle the backwaters out of San Carlos, we pass the hulk of a partially submerged boat, then an abandoned trimaran, and then another sailboat. At one curve, we can see three Ghost boats. Apparently once a boat has past a certain level of disrepair, it has negative value and people haul them into the backwaters and abandon them. The Florida state is now trying to locate the owners to get them properly disposed of.

We paddle a little extra mileage to view an archeological site on a mound island. The Calusa natives, over a period of centuries, built mounds from discarded shells. Today these are often the highest points of land for miles. We hoped to learn more, and see some of the archeological artifacts.

Calm: San Carlos RV Park

Pat is enjoying real-time navigation and "staying found" on the charts. Today we simply navigate by charts and obvious landmarks. We head for an island under the causeway, then follow a coastline until we reach the mouth of a river, and follow it to a bridge and our destination. The high quality charts make it very easy.

A Great Day on the Water: Picnic Island

Ding Darling preserve is a highlight of the trip.

Named after one of the foremost saviors of the environment, the preserve provides a way for everyone to connect to nature. The info center has excellent exhibits and film, and the preserve is also accessible to the full spectrum of people. Some ride tour busses and snap pictures of the birds from the windows. Some drive their own cars and linger a little longer, or take a short walk. Others ride bicycles or paddle kayaks. It all works, and it works well together. The best insurance for the future of our environment is for people to connect with and fall in love with nature, and this preserve provides an opportunity for everyone.

We finish the day with a four mile open water crossing.

Dreams fulfilled, a new journey begins: Sanibel Island

Cayo Costa, a dream fulfilled.

This island has been calling to Pat for years. This island is why Pat yearned to paddle with us, why she wanted to go on this crazy adventure. For years she held the vision of standing on the Gulf side beach, arms outstretched, breathing in the sea breeze. Breathing in the quiet, feeling the ground of this special place under her feet.

Happy Birthday Gifts: Cayo Costa

For Fran another year begins. As we keep telling folks we meet, life begins at 60.  Well, we're beginning it in style.

Cayo Costa is a state park with development kept to a minimum. There are no houses and the only electricity is at the Ranger Station. It is accessible only by boat and offers a ferry service to shuttle visitors from the bay side dock to the gulf side camping and picnic area. As with many islands here the bay side is mangrove covered and the gulf side is a stretch of sandy beaches and dunes.

Red Tide on Dead Fish Beach

Hoagen Key

This probably hasn't been our most beautiful campsite. The overwhelming smell of dead fish greeted us the minute we stepped on shore. As we looked around for a suitable place to pitch the tent, we saw hundreds of fish skeletons scattered under the tall trees. There was another tent pitched on the small island. Could it be their trash pile? No, the skeletons were too yellow with age. The answer came as we saw the buzzards and osprey circling overhead. This must be their chosen spot to eat their meals.

A Break in the Rhythm

Sarasota...a break in the rhythm that has shaped our days over the last month. Setting up camp / breaking camp; loading boats / unloading boats; marking charts with the route, distance and compass bearing; listening to weather forecasts; paddling through wind and waves; cooking and cleanup.

Sarasota marks 30 days on the trail. It also marks 2 digestive zero days.

Dancing with the Wind

One good thing about coming in after dark last night was that we did not unload the boats. We just tied them up to the dock and scurried in for warm showers and bed. This morning we did not have to perform the usual two hour boat packing ritual. We shared conversation and coffee with our host and made an early departure.

If we were not meeting Frank with his promised shelter this would be a no-go day due to deteriorating weather. We have set a meeting point - the bridge out to Lido Island from Sarasota, but Frank is flexible about the location. Naturally, we want to get as close to the bridge as possible.

We needed the early departure to get ahead of the wind and rain. The forecast is that by 3 pm the wind will shift and pick up speed, bringing rain. A small craft advisory will be in effect through tomorrow morning.

As we depart, we are facing 10-15 mph winds from the west. We choose a route close to shore, providing protection from the winds. So far, so good. We enjoy the birds along the mangrove covered shore.

Around 11 am conditions change, hours earlier than expected. We've observed the low altitude dark clouds drifting in. By now they sky is dark and the wind shifts from the north. The first drops of rain fall and suddenly we're in a downpour. We duck under a mangrove cover and gear up for the worst. As we emerge, we surf the tailwinds for a few miles.

The power boats are heading for shore in this busy channel. We are usually able to handle the wakes, but one deep hulled boat throws up a wake that turns into breaking waves. The channel is close to shore, forcing us into shallow water. The waves break on us and we have the most interesting side-surfing fun on the trip. Now we are totally drenched, both inside and outside our rain gear. Note...since we reached Southern Florida, we have stowed our drysuìts in the hatches. It has been much too warm to wear them. Today would have been a good day to resurrect them.

The winds continue to pick up and we dance between deep water with bigger waves and shallow water with more wind protection. When the wave reach three feet breaking into our chests we head closer to shore only to encounter more waves bounding off the cement seawalls. Now they are coming from every direction and whitecaps are starting to form. We're getting tossed around. Rod is watching Fran bounce up and down so much that even though we are just 10-15 feet apart her entire boat disappears in the troughs. He is practicing rescue strategies in his head. It is getting dodgy.

Fran calls out "I'm done now". Rod replies, "If we can get around the corner of this seawall, maybe we'll get some relief from the wind". Only 15 feet to go, then 10. With ample bracing and will power, we're around the corner. The conditions around the corner couldn't have been more dramatically different. The water was glassy smooth as we discuss bail out strategies. We're only a couple of miles from our meeting location, but we've reached our limit.

The multi-million dollar homes in the area all have tall protective seawalls with boat canals going inland. We consult the Boat Ramp app and find that there is a ramp nine canals away from us. We count the canals down and enter the ramp. Our luck hasn't come through. A boat tender comes out to greet us and says that we can't take out here. This dock is just for power boats. Looking out at the water here, he says that with the wind coming from your back you should make good time. From these protected waters, he is not alarmed at the conditions and suggests a sandy beach take out around the next point. Fran is not too excited about getting back out, but we head out.

When we reach beach the wind is whipping the palm fronds sideways and we are happy to be out of the water. It is a great landing place with a sandy beach, a restroom to change clothes and a snack bar. And we did reach Lido Key, only about a mile short of plan. We call Frank, stow the gear and get into warm clothes.

Frank is a very gracious host and we have a delightful evening with him. I'll write more about him tomorrow.

The Big Crossing: Cortez

Well, it's here. Today. Crossing Tampa Bay. The most intimidating part of the entire 700 miles.

The forecast is just 6 mph in Tampa Bay, 10 mph in the Gulf. It's a headwind of course, but quite manageable. A nice sunny day. Sounds good.

The currents line up perfectly.  The crossing has a couple of segments, bending out into the gulf in middle to Egmont Key. In the morning the tide will finishing an ebb, slack at 11, and then start to flood. That means we basically just paddle due south the whole way and the current drifts us out to Egmont Key and back to the southern shore.

We are thankful for our fortune with such good conditions. 

As we set out the wind is 10 mph and it increases a little during the first leg. We stop to assess several times, to make sure we are both safe and comfortable. 

With a fetch of many miles even the 10 mph wind whips up three foot waves. If those were long-period well-formed swells it would be a yawn but they are very close together and mixed with lots of chop from all directions. Sort of like a giant washing machine tub.

We feel comfortable and slowly grind out the crossing. We take a lunch break at Egmont Key and finally reach the south shore at 2 p.m.

Now it's time to celebrate and Fran is on the march for ice cream. We had hoped to get some at the snack shop in De Sota Park yesterday but it was closed. This time we want to find some for sure and fortunately do not have to paddle far before I see the sign TWO SCOOPS. 

We run into a couple of sailboaters as well as Steve, who recently opened up a kayak shop just a few blocks away. He helps me with a new headlamp since mine died a few days ago.

As the daylight fades we are still looking for the campsites we have heard about. We find bird refuges, wet mangrove islands, and private property. No campsites.

Dark falls completely. We gear up accordingly and keep looking. We ask locals and get foggy directions to a couple of places. The only sure bet was Gaspirilla Island, back a couple of miles. I'd settle for permission to sleep on a dock but apparently that is illegal. 

Fran decides it is time to opt out. She is done and does not want to paddle back in the dark. She heads for a motel office. It turns out to be a mobile home park and we are quickly set up with a place to stay in a vacant unit! It is rather embarrassing to not be able to find the campsite but due to the generosity of Merrill we are in a bed tonight!

This is the first time on any of my hikes that we needed to ask for help. Thank you Merrill.

Falling in love with nature

As we travel closer to civilization we see the contrast between the usual Florida vacation and our trip.

At the end of the day, wet and tired, and facing chores to haul boats and setup camp, we paddle past waterfront scenes with lively music, smells of great food, and folks shifting from a day lounging in the sun and warm water to sitting at a table on a deck with a nice drink. I could enjoy that type of vacation too!

But then we arrive at a little patch of isolation and nature and it just feels so much more like where I belong and where I am at peace.

Anything that gets people outside is good. The sit upon kayaks make getting out to enjoy nature easily accessible. I believe there is no better force for conservation than folks who spend time outdoors and feel connected to it. Even one hour of exploring a sit upon kayak or one mile walking on a groomed trail is sufficient.  It is easy to fall in love with nature and therefore want to protect and care for it.

And of course gently exercising the body is a great way to calm the spirit and the mind. They are all interrelated and the travails of life melt as the body paddles or hikes.

But sometimes, at the end of a long paddle, watching the sunset while sipping an umbrella drink and listening to music sounds good too.

Publix, "That's Raw": Shell Island

Today is a special day - my Mom's birthday. I keep her in my memories and am thankful for having had such wonderful parents. 

The day starts (surprise) with a brisk headwind. But we are learning - when we picked the campsite last night with a steeply sloping beach to minimize the challenge of low tide. This morning we could see we picked it just right. A nearby site would have had a muddy slog.

We paddle a few miles to a Publix dock on Treasure Island. Yep, the grocery store has a dock for customers to pull up to. Within three blocks we can do laundry, have a huge breakfast at Ricky's, and resupply at the pharmacy and grocery. Fran was chatting with the 20 year old checkout boy who could tell that we were boating because of the nylon paddling clothes, neoprene boots and ziplock wallet. His reaction to our trip?  "That's Raw".

 

Boat repair: St Petersburg

We get a slow start due to low water and a headwind again, but we meet Russell at 11a.m. in War Veterans Park.

He has an employee buy some heat shrink to bring to us. Unfortunately there is no electricity. We had assumed there would be something in the restrooms, but nada. No heat no shrink. 

But Russell is determined to help us with our long expedition. He sends his employee out for silicon (he doesn't want to tap into the silicon I am carrying).

We pull the skeg cable out and encounter a problem.  With most boats, Russell pulls the cable out from the skeg box. With our Wilderness Systems Tempest it turns out it needs to be pulled the other direction so it jams. We spend a while figuring and futzing and then head off to the local Wilderness Systems supplier. Nada. They have lots of stuff but not the parts we need.

New plan. We'll detach the cable from the skeg, and reuse the existing cable by feeding from the cockpit. Oops, we need an allen wrench. I actually had that item planned for my repair kit but dropped it when I decided not to carry a spare skeg cable.

We're off driving again, this time for an allen wrench. Did I mention that Russell actually has a business to run, an expedition to get ready for, and a wife home alone on her wedding anniversary? But the skeg is now not functional and he insists that he doesn't want to leave us worse than we started.

A plan is coming together, except the cable won't slide through the tube. We need some slipease. Russell made me promise not to say what kind of lubricant he or his employee had in their car, but it worked great and we soon had a functional skeg again.

The heat shrink idea spawned a new idea. I wrapped the tube gap with electrical tape. Well see how that works.

Russell is now hours overdue. He gives us contact info for another good shop (and Wilderness Systems dealer) further down the coast in Naples.

We all regret the timing. Any other day Russell would have put us up at his house so we can swap stories while we wait for parts.  He insists that we stop by on our way north.

We have another evening paddle, again with phenominal sunset and birds. We get to the island to camp just as the day trippers are leaving and inherit a campfire.

We think of an irony. We camp in a little island patch of wilderness and bird sancuary surrounded by city. But actually this little patch is a manmade island from dredging spoils and all of the natural land is covered with development.

Eine Kleine Nachspaddle: Indian Beach

We began the day again with a 15 mph headwind. We wanted to make time because we have a package to pick up today and last time that took forever. Two hours and four miles later we are in Clearwater, and an hour later we are back on the water and the wind has dropped to 10 mph, which is negligible. We even restocked the peanut butter. Good stuff.

Except Fran's boat leaks.

Headwinds: Dunedin

We woke to find the tide had been higher than we expected, nearly reaching the boats. We slept on a rare plot that stayed dry. In fact we are surrounded by pine trees killed by the salt of rising oceans. Yes, global warming is real.

The new moon produced the extreme high, followed by an extreme low. The whole basin around our island is uncovered. It is soft muck the we can't walk in so we wait until the tide comes in. By then the wind starts to pick up.

There is an Art to Walking in the Mud: Anclote Keys

There is an art to walking in the mud flats left by low tides. We've had tons of practice, but we have another chance to perfect the skill as we launch today. If you keep walking, you don't sink too deeply. But if you pause, say to load something in the hatch, you're stuck. Literally stuck up to the tops of your boots and oozing down inside between your toes, stuck in the cold muck that won't let you go. You have to slowly pull your heel up and wait until you hear a gentle pop swoosh, then you're free to walk another step. And you walk hundreds of steps to load a kayak...an eternity of mud.

After the boats are loaded we are free to enjoy the beauty of the rising sun.  The shore birds - heron, ibis, egret, wood stork - are out in full force catching the breakfast. At least the mud holds treasure for them. We paddle out through the bay, dodging the thankfully exposed and visible oyster beds.

Is This a Paddle or a Hike? Port Richey

We are low on stove fuel. We thought the remaining canister was full but it turns not to be. No worries; we can stop at Port Richey and walk one mile to a Wal-Mart. I'll get some more socks and other food too.

Did I mention our socks stink? It has become quite horrible.

Sun! Hope Bayou

Hope Bayou, Werner Boyce Salt Springs State Park.
 

We woke to sunshine and very low water. Oyster Bars surround us in every direction. With the water low we plot out the bearings for a course to wend through them.

We have nicknamed them Evil for all of the gelcoat damage they have done. I'm sure the boats are ready for more repairs.

Around midday the massive Florida Bay nuclear power plants finally fade to north. They have been visible for a week since rounding Cedar Key, and the orange glow lit the clouds at night.

Birds of Many Feathers: 10 Palms campsite

Coming down the Chassahowitzka River we see one little mud flat in the marsh grass, perhaps just 20 feet square, with many different birds. We count eight different kinds, including great egret, showy egret, green heron, blue heron, Ibis, and a wood stork ruffling his throat feathers. Pretty cool!

South of the river mouth is a maze of creeks and islands. The navigation challenge is fun for a while but we feel good once we get to open gulf. Again we find ourselves well offshore to avoid oysters, which have taken a toll on the kayaks.

Our feet stink.  We can clean them with soap or baby wipes but the stench has built up in the dry suit socks too. We need to find a place we can clean the dry suit, our socks, and our feet all at the same time. Drying the dry suit after washing is probably the biggest challenge. 

As the light fades we see the bright glow of Tampa to south. We will soon be leaving the undeveloped Florida.

Munching the Miles: Chassahowitzka River

Chassahowitzka River

Today's another gray day, as we pass through beautiful places but do not really see them. Unless the sun is bright, the water is dark and hides it's treasures. The area is flat, with marsh grass and meandering streams at the Chassahowitzka delta and some sandbars high enough for trees.

Campsites are scarce in this stretch. We hoped to find something to avoid paddling 5 miles up the Chassahowitzka River to the county park. We bypassed the primitive campsite on the north shore at the mouth since it is in the National Wildlife Refuge, and head upstream.

For the third time Rod has a manatee explode under the boat, creating enough ruckus that a resident upstream a half mile came out onto his dock to see what was going on. This was the most dramatic ride yet, fully lifting the boat out of the water in an explosion of water and mud.

We find a nice primitive camp just a half mile before the county camp, again with an easy landing and no haul. It is private land with a welcome sign inviting us to camp, and asking us not to litter. Excellent.

I reworked the itinerary, since it has had some errors in distance, and the next two nights are in hotels. The databook mentions an unofficial campsite we could aim for instead, and then we could push to Werner Boyce Salt Springs to skip two motels and reduce one day.

Testimonial

I have not read or seen the news for a month.  I know nothing recent about football scores, fiscal cliffs or the Mayan apocalypse.  The wheels are still turning on Wall Street, Main Street and in chain store America.  I am far from the hustle and bustle on a sea journey through a timeless land.

Here I am in a place where life breathes in and out in a predictable pattern, in a slower rhythm.

Peaceful: The Narrows

Matt gave us a tip for a campsite in The Narrows, not too far away. That leaves us time for a leisurely launch and paddle to the manatee springs.

Morning finds us at AJ's restaurant, a great place in the vanishing tradition of Mom and Pop diners. Incredibly well run, the place is bustling. We liked it so much yesterday we're back again. We pound down another huge breakfast.

Kings Bays promotes itself as a destination to see manatees.

And on the seventh day, Fran rested: Crystal River

Okay, it hasn't been seven days without rest and paddling may not compare to creating the universe and everything in it, but Fran's arm and shoulder muscles are sore and her energy reserves declining. Let's do a zero day.

Manatees: Crystal River

Today is a day that we had some trepidation about. Very early in our planning we had seen the Florida nuclear power jetty extending three miles into the gulf, and noted cautions that crossing it can be hazardous in bad weather. We are familiar with the jetties in the Northwest and they are serious hazards to get around. Second only to the Tampa Bay crossing, we have been concerned about this day.

The tide could not be worse.

In a Fog: Crystal River spoil island

The forecast is for morning fog and moderate wind (10 mph).

The route follows the shore of Wacasassa Bay. But the bay is shallow and we want to make up miles, so we talk about plowing straight across seven miles. Fran twitches at the idea of not being able to see land for two hours, but it appears that water never gets more than a few feet deep. We have lots of ways to navigate including two deck compasses, two handheld compasses, a mapping GPS, and electronic NOAA charts with GPS on both the cell phone and tablet. We decide to go for it.

We are flying on instruments.

Paddling like madmen: Kelly Creek

We are now seven days behind the itinerary. We might not make that time up and may have to skip some miles down the road to get back on track at Cayo Costa.

While I acknowledge that possibility, I am hoping somehow we catch up.