The Sunshine Expedition

Tuesday, November 18.

I’ve been a little out of touch with the world, lost in the Everglades and Southwest Florida, and I have been short on time and internet access.  I’m sorry to keep you all waiting for any news.  Hopefully you’ve all been able to follow our progress via SPOT. 

Since there area lmost three weeks of entries missing, and once again I am short on computer time, I will be compiling some days together. 

Jodi and I are in Naples right now, riding out this cold snap, and taking a zero day, until the winds and waves subside.  The weather is giving us few options.  We have a ten mile stretch of coastline with no inland waterways, and are  exposed to the brint force of the wind and waves (in the Gulf?!).

Jodi is still a little sick, so we are evaluating energy levels, and tomorrow mid-morning we will head north, with the help of an outgoing tide.  The wind will begin dying down, and the swells should subside, and it looks to usher in a pleasant weekend. 

For now though, we rest and take care of the other things… laundry, internet, showers, etc.

Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark. — Rabindranath Tagore

Friday, November 14 to Monday, November 17.

These past few days have taken us through Rookery Bay and the Ten Thousand Islands, a gradual change from the wilderness of Everglades National Park towards the more developed coastline of Southwest Florida. 

On Friday we took a zero day with my long-time friend, Deryck.  It was a great reunion as we hadn’t seen each other in over three years.  He has family in Chockoloskee and we were welcomed to stay and spend time there.  It was awesome to be able to clean the weeks worth of salt from the everglades off!  Thanks deryck for coming out, meeting us, and providing a place to relax and ‘recoop’!

The next few days were spent trying to stay out of the wind and cold that was heading our way.  We wound our way along the outskirts of the Ten Thousand Islands, dodging shallow oyster bars and startling sharks. 

Tide pulled us into the Big Marco River as we tried to avoid the rising seas of the exposed gulf.  We again took the inland route towards Naples after seeing the foaming whitewater at the inlet to the Marco River. 

When we reached Naples we attempted to head into the ocean, but after evaluating the risks and the ever lowering sun in the western sky, we headed inland a few miles to wait it out.

“Beyond the last horizon’s rim,
Beyond adventure’s farthest quest,
Somewhere they rise, serene and dim,
The happy, happy hills of rest.” — A. B. Paine

Wednesday, November 5 to Thursday, November 13

I might be jumping the gun with this title, but Florida has revealed itself to me in a place I never expected.  Perhaps I’m revealing some deeply held secret about Florida here, but most people probably wouldn’t believe me anyways, and the few willing to explore such a remote, foreboding area will find their own treasure.

Pristine, shell lined beaches with swaying palm trees.  Nine and a half miles of uninterrupted white sand coast line, lacking even in foot prints.  Silence.  Solitude.  Big deer roaming the shore in the early dawn hours.  Crocodiles patrolling the shallows in the sunset hours.  Big, fat eastern diamondbacks residing in the shady hardwood hammocks of their kingly domain.  Sharks drifting in and out with the waves as they search for their nightly meals.  Dolphins slapping the surface of the water and leaping into the air as they play like adolescents with their prey.

We still have a lot of Florida to discover and explore.  Every week brings a new change and special treasures.  There may be new places that challenge for the title, but if the Everglades isn’t the beating heart of the state, pumping with history and vitality, lightly touched by man, than it has certainly captured mine.

I wish I could tell you the events that took place in this marvelous place, the things we saw, but here is a glimpse.  If I continued writing about this week of paddling, then I might never finish.  Just imagine a place in your mind where you find silence.  A place where the world around you grows and grows.  Where everything seems larger than life, and wild.  A place where the wild Florida you imagine, actually lives and breathes. 

“A man is rich in proportion to the number of things which he can afford to let alone.” — Henry David Thoreau

We arrived to Big Pine Key and are staying at the lovely Casa de Neil. We have spent two days of zero miles so Matt K. could install his new rutter and also get a little rest and pharmacy remedy to help fight off his severe cold that he has been suffering from for the past couple days. We had a lovely BBQ with Neil Tuesday evening and I said goodbye to the Matts Wednesday morning as they paddled toward the seven day treck towards the Everglades. I have decided to take the next seven days and rest in Big Pine Key and meet up with the Matts to continue the journey north at Everglades City.  Thank You again to the wonderful Neil for your gracious hospitality and to Kevin, owner of Radioshack for letting Matt use the internet.

-jodi

October 30.

Today was different from every day we’ve had so far.  Today Key West is in our sights.  My body was bouncing this morning with energy.  I could feel myself jumping up and down inside.  I would jump up into the clouds and drift for a moment, and then come racing back to earth.  Today I felt like we were actually achieving something. 

It’s been incredible to watch Florida change as we’ve traveled down the ICW into the Atlantic, and now here.  Key West.  This point that has been on my mind.   Every time we’ve explained ourselves it’s been “Well, we’ll be traveling down the east coast of Florida along the Intercoastal, around the tip of Key West…”  And here it is.  The tip of Key West.  Within our grasp.  This is a pivotal moment, when our compasses will turn in a new direction, and our focus will become something distant.  Something further north.  And we’ve made it here.  We’ve made it to this southernmost point.  How awesome that feels right now.

The day was spent in a sort of trance, my mind drifting with the birds and the waves.  Drifting from the marsh grasses and oyster beds of north Florida.  The wild ponies on Cumberland Island.  The live oaks and pines.  Our first taste of the mangroves and the first alligator.  The manatees and the dolphins.  The tides we’ve fought.  The currents and the wind.  The rain storms, the squalls.  The sea turtles.  The sharks.  The everchanging colors of the water.  And most amazing of all, the people.  Some of the most genuine people I have ever met.  I’ve been able to share stories and swap jokes with some truly generous, kind people.  Not too mention knowledgeable.  We have learned so much so far, and everyone has helped to make us better paddlers and better people. 

Memories are vivid in a way that defies time.  When I think back over this past month, I drift into my own private gallery of photographs and paintings.  And each picture tells a story or a moment.  The bioluminescence near NASA.  Winding through the grasses in Sister’s Creek.  I added one today as we were nearing Key West.  Paddling along the Key West Naval Air Station, I had to stop paddling for a moment.   To the south, in the sky, two fighter jets emerged and came into their descent right over the top of my head.  My kayak began to shake as the noise enveloped my entire world.  I could see someone inside a cockpit very different from my own, in a state of intense focus.  For an instant, our worlds merged, and our paths intersected.  What have they seen and where have they been? 

Tomorrow we paddle around Key West, and begin the next leg of our expedition.  The West Coast.  The Everglades.  The Ten Thousand Islands.  The Big Bend.  I rush forth with renewed vitality.

“Half the confusion in the world comes from not knowing how little we need.” — Richard E. Byrd, Alone