You can thank my father for the title of this post. This one will be lighter on the text and heavier on the photos.
Picking up where I left off before the crash, after Naples, I made my way down to Everglades City and Chokoloskee. On the whole I found these towns pretty sparse and underwhelming, but the Museum of the Everglades had some interesting history on the city and the construction of the Tamiami Trail, the original road from Miami to Tampa.
On the northern border of Everglades National Park is Big Cypress National Preserve. The difference in name/government agency jurisdiction appeared to be rather nominal though, as it felt like an extension of the national park. I crossed Big Cypress and the northern Everglades on the Tamiami Trail, which runs far south of I75 (aka Alligator Alley).
My first stop in Big Cypress was Kerby's Boardwalk, which was extremely underwhelming given that it's closed for repairs at the quarter mile mark (it's supposed to be a mile plus long).
This big old crow was about as exciting as Kerby's got.
Next, I tried hiking Alligator Hook Trail. I had to turn back about a mile and a half in as the trail ran smack into an unavoidable swamp. Turns out that's to be expected - hiking in the Everglades tends to be more slough slogging, which can require walking through swamps over a foot deep. While a native Floridian would have been prepared for that, I was not ready to submerge my $300 riding boots, one of only 3 pairs of shoes I brought on the odyssey (the others being my Chaco sandals and my Hoka trail runners). I did my best to parkour and shimmy across down logs, but eventually hit a point where the only way forward would have been wading.
On the way in, the trail got greener and denser until I almost felt as if I was in a cave of trees. On the way out, I experienced the reverse sensation as the trail opened back up. But it didn't feel like I was returning to the land of the living. The skeletal white trees and featureless grey sky that cast no shadows produced a lonely, frozen, ethereal, caught-in-limbo sensation. I felt like I was continuing to get further from everything.
I made it past this swamp but not the next one.
In the wet season, this trail becomes the bed of a creek.
When I did emerge from the limbo of he trail, I found Harriet waiting for me as he sun began to set behind the grey sky.
Midway Campground
My first night, I camped at Midway Campground, which believe it or not, is about midway across the Florida peninsula. On the whole, it was a solid campground. I met a biker from Indiana at this campground who was heading south to escape the polar vortex. He reflected on how much has changed since he started taking trips like this in the 90s. Cellphones, navigation apps, and online campsite booking have made it easier to find accomodations and get out of a pickle, but he said they've also come with an expectation that you're always connected, even when you're goal is finding the freedom and independence of the open road.
The picture doesn't really do it justice, but 50+ miles way from civilization, Midway Campground boasted some fantastic night skies.
Oasis Visitor Center
I started day 2 at Oasis Visitor Center, just 5 miles down the road from Midway Campground. If you're looking for big gators, this is the place to go. In a gator pit that was about 330' x 20', I saw at least half a dozen gators over 8' long.
Gator pits like the one at Oasis team with life during the dry season. Gators dig these pits during the wet season when the entire Everglades becomes a giant swamp. As wet season turns to dry, water pools in these gator pits drawing in all fish from the surrounding swamp, which in turn attracts large birds like the one above.
In addition to abundant wildlife, Oasis also housed a large exhibit on gator wrestling and the terminus of the Florida National Scenic Trail, which covers approximately 1,500 miles on its way to Pensacola.
Gator wrestling originated with the Miccosukee and Seminole tribes. Originally, these tribes hunted gators for food, but began doing it for show when white colonists started moving to the Everglades. Nowadays, gator wrestling is quite humane (for the gators - the human wrestlers often end up losing fingers or toes) and is done as part of educational demonstrations about conservation on the Miccosukee reservation.
You can't call yourself a true gator wrestler until you're comfortable putting your mouth between a Gator's open jaws.
The marker designating the start of the Florida National Scenic Trail. I hiked the first half mile of it, only 1499.5 miles to go.
Alligator Alcatraz
As you head east from Naples on the Tamiami Trail, you begin to see billboards referencing the notorious Everglades immigration detention center commonly referred to as Alligator Alcatraz. Some of these billboard call out the violation of rights and inhumane treatment occurring there, while others seem to try to pitch it as a family friendly tourist stop. As it was on my expected route on the Tamiami Trail, I figured it was worth stopping to get more of a sense what's actually happening there, even if they're only showing a sanitized view for propaganda purposes. Turns out you can't even see that. There's a road sign marking it's location but beyond that only authorized personnel is permitted, and there was a cop there making sure no unauthorized people are tempted to test the waters.
As close as I got. Alas, my attempt at undercover journalism was short-lived and unsuccessful.
Shark Valley
Aside from the remote Gulf Coast Visitor Center in Everglades City, the Shark Valley Visitor Center is the North most visitor center in the Everglades. It's also the most landlocked of the visitor centers, making the name Shark Valley feel like a misnomer, until you realize it's named for the Shark River and not because of any sharks (of which there are none) on its premises. River might not be the right term for the Shark River, which is more of a river of grass, flooding to become a massive drainage swamp in the wet season and turning into a muddy grass field in the dry winter season. Despite the confusing name of this visitor center (and the absurdly long wait at the entrance station), it's actually a great stop for gator lovers. I was too cheap/too behind schedule to rent a bike or hop on the tram tour to ride the 15 miles out and back to the observation tower (where a park volunteer told me you can sometimes see a pair of elusive crocodiles), but I still managed to get an up close visit with a brood of baby gators and free admission to a presentation on Everglades turtles. I won't bore you with every fun fact I learned about turtles, but one I found too fascinating not to share is that the red bellied slider turtle will dig into alligator nests and lay it's eggs there, on top of the alligator eggs, so that its eggs will be guarded by the momma alligator. Rather than eating the baby turtles when she discovers them, the momma gator will often carry the baby turtles to the water as she would her own young.
Up close and personal with a momma gator and her babies. I was about 10-15' away when I took this photo. I counted 13 babies in this pit (look for little 6" long things with yellow and black stripes). A volunteer told me that these babies were about 6 months old. They'll grow 6-12" per year for their first 5-6 years then their growth slows dramatically, often to less than an inch per year - so a 12 foot gator might be 60+ years old. The biggest gator on record was just shy of 16', but there are unverified reports of a 19+ foot gator from the 1890s. While gators normally eat 1-2 times per week, they can slow their metabolisms down to go up to 6 months without eating, a fact which makes it much easier to see how they've survived as a species largely unchanged since dinosaur times.
These little guys were so cute that it made me want a pet gator. Feel like this guy would love riding along on a motorcycle.
While crocodiles tend to avoid humans, gators really couldn't care less as long as you leave them alone. I had to pay attention to avoid stepping on this guy's tail as I walked past him.
Flamingo
On day 2, I camped at Flamingo the southern most point reachable by car in the Everglades. Down on the coast at Flamingo, the freshwater swamps and saltwater Gulf mix in brackish estuaries. This merging of ecosystems leads to some of the best opportunities for rare wildlife spotting in all of the Everglades.
A momma and baby manatee
A crocodile eyeing up the bird on the dock
A crocodile in the bay
A 14' crocodile goes to explore the racket coming from a chainsaw up river.
These walking trees will throw roots towards the water and gradually the trunk will move as the new roots pull it closer to the water.
Royal Palm Visitor Center After Flamingo, I made my way to the Royal Palm Visitor Center, which is about midway between Flamingo and the main entrance of the national park. If you're looking for bang for your buck, the Anhinga Trail, a short boardwalk into a massive gator pit, offered the densest amount of wildlife I saw anywhere in the Everglades.
An anhinga dries itself after swimming through the pit to hunt for food.
Snowy Egret
A big old gator chilling by the bridge
Another snowy egret
Another big gator relaxing
Not sure what type of bird this is - feel free to comment if you know
I swear these snowy egrets be posing for the camera
A cormorant cleaning itself
The nearby Pinelands Trail
This guy found the ultimate perch
Some wild cypress roots on the nearby Gumbo Limbo Trail
The Royal Palm
A metaphor for life
After stopping at Royal Palm, I left the Everglades for the Keys (which I'll cover in another post). After the Keys, I returned to camp one final night in the Everglades as I couldn't find a couch surfing host near Miami and SPACE wasn't open that night. I camped at Long Pine Key, where I met a German engineer who was using a work project as an excuse to check out the Everglades - kudos to that guy for choosing to rough it in a Walmart tent instead taking the work-expensed hotel room. Can't say I would have done the same, especially since it was a cold night (woke up to frost the next morning).
A friend who spent the morning at my campsite.
After packing up my campsite, I stopped at the HM69 Nike Missile Base near Royal Palm on my way out, as it had been closed when I went to Royal Palm a few days prior. HM69 was one of four defensive missile sites the US set up in south Florida after discovering that Russia was attempting to assemble nuclear weapons in Cuba during the Cold War. This site went from open land to an operational missile site in under 2 weeks, but suitable living quarters took months to assemble. In the interim, troops stationed here lived in tents where they were frequently visited by snakes and gators during wet season floods. They bathed in the swamp and dealt with hoards of mosquitoes in the wet season, even after their barracks were completed. Despite never launching a missile, they drilled regularly and could have a missile in the air within 3 minutes of receiving the command. Speed was of the essence as aircraft leaving Cuba could reach US soil in a matter of minutes. There were 6 missile silos at this site, each housing 3 missiles: 1 nuclear warhead and two conventional Hercules missiles. The nuclear warheads were designed to be able to wipe out an entire squadron of invading aircraft. After the Cold War, the site was decommissioned and abandoned. The other 3 south Florida missile sites were redeveloped and no sign of them remains today, HM69 avoided the same fate due to its remote location in the Everglades. A number of years ago, a veteran who had served in south Florida air defense petitioned the NPS to reopen HM69 for educational purposes. Since then, they've worked to restore the site and bring back related artifacts.
The guard house - dog kennels have not been restored.
A missile control panel.
A missile shell in a shipping container.
A restored Hercules missile shell.
One of the 6 missile silos.
On most weekdays, the NPS staffs a volunteer here to share the history of the place and answer questions visitors may have. I can't recall the name of the volunteer that day, but I had an extensive conversation with him. He spent his career as a surgeon, a job that he thoroughly enjoyed, but he admits that his commitment to his career caused him to miss his much of his children's childhood. While he can't undo that now, he spends as much time as he can with his grandchildren, which has also offered an opportunity to reconnect with his children. He started working at HM69 because he's always been fascinated by history but moreso because he lived through the Cuban Missile Crisis and hopes that sharing the history of this period will help us avoid similar conflicts in the future.
Recovering slowly but surely,
Cripple Kev
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