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.

As we reach deeper water we have the chance to explore the shacks (that is how they are noted on the NOAA charts) in a line a mile from shore. We see that they are modest vacation homes built on stilts above the water. Naturally they are all boarded up against the strong winds that blow through here. We snap a few pictures and move on.

We carefully planned a four mile crossing over open water to Anchlote Keys. On the chart we have noted the compass bearing and distance between markers posted in the water. All we have to do is follow the breadcrumbs across the channel and we'll be there. The calm winds begin to pick up as we set course for the first navigation light. The 10-15 mph east wind made the crossing fun. As the crossing progressed the wind intensified and the waves grew with the longer fetch. Puny by Pacific Northwest standards, the two foot broadside waves stacked up enough to be crashing over the deck and the final couple of miles of tail wind provided very steep waves that gave some good rides.

Two hours later we are pulling into a pretty, protected lagoon on the north island. We see a composting toilet and since Garmin (the GPS) confirms that this is the designated primitive campground, we go to shore.

Within a few feet we discover that there are two major kinds of EVIL...sea EVIL and land EVIL. We are covered with large stinging burs...inside our pants and shoes, everywhere. We remember all of the comments that people made about how beautiful this island chain was. This could only mean 3 things: they had some kind of inside joke against the non-locals, they came on their boats and never set foot on the land, or we were in the wrong place. We quickly decided that we would explore the island and find another camping spot.

We find a spot in one of just two stands of pine trees at the north end of the Anclote Keys. After setting up camp we take another couple of hours to kayak around and down to the lighthouse and park, which has a long sandy beach. It might have been fun to camp in the park on the beach and watch the stars. We do not have to worry about protection from storms every night anymore.

Anclote Keys consist of a National Wildlife Refuge to the north and a State Park to the south. The refuge is entirely mangrove while the park is bare sand. The refuge is wild mangrove while the park has a regular ferry service for town people to come out and enjoy the sun and sand and perhaps a family picnic. The contrast ecologically and in human use is stark with a sharp boundary at the lighthouse.

Our campsite is on a small part of dry land in the refuge. We discover new communities of birds and walk to the historic lighthouse. As we snuggle into our tent, the lights of the power plant on the coast light the night sky.

Isn't it comforting to be so close to civilization in the outdoors? Maybe not.