Alligators eat you, and Vultures eat your car: Everglades National Park

 

We didn’t know what to expect here. Not knowing what it was like, we had planned to do our usual—hiking.

But we quickly found out that hiking in the Everglades is like skiing in Death Valley. Good luck finding a place.

The hiking trails that exist are still overgrown and under water, not having had enough time to recover from the summer rains. But even if we had caught the park in the dead of winter, at its driest, there still isn’t much here for hikers.

The reason is that most of the park is water.

So, when in Rome……

On Thanksgiving we had a feast. Vicky cooked a turkey, we had potatoes, home-made cranberry sauce, and crust-less pumpkin pie (I calculated that I can eat three times as much pumpkin pie if I give up the crust—and it tastes good that way!).

 

On Friday, while much of America was fighting at Walmarts, we rented a skiff, and spent the day roaming around the lakes and rivers of the park. For most of the day we saw no other water craft, that’s how isolated it was.

We did, however, see what is now our all-time favorite toilet. Do you have a favorite toilet? We didn’t either, but now we do, and I’m sure you will agree with us that it is truly awesome.

The skiff we rented was a flat-bottomed boat—the draw was only about 8 inches. And the motor extended down only a few more inches. The reason for using this type of boat is that the lakes and rivers in the park are only a few feet deep in places, and not even that deep in others.

We traveled about 30 miles that day, not being in any hurry, except for one time when for the heck of it we “opened it up,” and played Miami Vice. And for about an hour we just sat anchored in place while we had lunch.

While in these open areas we saw some huge sea creatures arching their backs in the water. They sort of looked like that fake photo of the Loch Ness Monster, with a fin. Later, when back at the dock, we asked about them and were informed that they were dolphins—they were playing with us. How cool was that?

Here is a photo of the toilet:

Now, you may be asking yourself why there would be a toilet on a platform in the middle of a lake? Or, you may be asking yourself whether you have now read enough of this blog entry so that you can say you read our blog and go do something infinitely more fun. Either way, I’m going to tell you why there was a bathroom on a platform.

It is because there is no land. I mean, no land, like in zero, zip, nada, none. All this huge part of the park consists of is a very shallow lake and Mangrove trees. These Mangrove trees grow right up to the water and, in fact, put down roots into the water. Even if there was some land somewhere behind the trees, one could never get to it.

This platform is actually a camping site. You can reserve it and sleep there (and hope you don’t walk in your sleep).

We spent a few hours trolling along these Mangrove forests, carefully checking the water for Alligators. We SO wanted to see one, and when we were almost back to the dock, we did!

A really big guy.

Look at that smile, would you? I don’t think it’s genuine, though.

Here is my GPS map of our route. We had purchased a nautical map before we left, but I was very glad to have our GPS, as there had to be hundreds and hundreds of miles of shoreline in this area, all of which looks about the same—Mangrove Trees.

 

The next day we went on a Ranger-guided canoe trip on Nine-mile Lake.

The canoe trip was four miles, over small lakes, through a couple of miles of reeds, and through about a mile of Mangrove forest, the branches of which were so low that you frequently had to duck to get through them. The good news was the turns were so tight that we quickly learned that it was easier to propel yourself by pushing on the branches than it was to use the paddle.

 

Along the way, we saw our second Alligator in the park, and then, sleeping on what little shore there was, sunning himself, a huge Crocodile. Crocodiles are very rare in the Everglades, having made a come-back from just a dozen or so because of conservation efforts. So we were really pumped to see one.

Alligator:

Crocodile:

Last but certainly not least, our best view of yet another Alligator—this one looking like the typical photos you see of them. They do look like logs with eyes.

The Everglades are an ecology unlike any other. They are very important to the health of the planet. However, half of the area has been drained for farming, and other parts of the Everglades are in trouble from a variety of challenges (one—the Python, which is not native to the area—is decimating the wildlife there).

But, really, not many people care. A few people do, and many other people care to the level that we would like to think the problems are in the process of being solved, but actually human beings are probably programmed to destroy the world for their great-great-great-grandchildren in the service of some type of immediate benefit for themselves.

And they are too concerned with their immediate lives to be concerned about what is happening in southern Florida. I know I was, until I saw it, and now I care in a more real way. But what do you do even if you do care? Drop some money in a jar at the visitor's center? Write my congressperson (who likely is a climate change denier anyway)?

The best I can think of is to vote for Democrats who have historically been more concerned with the long-term health of the planet than Republicans have been (and Tea Partiers? A majority of them are so anti-science that they are hopeless).

And while this may seem pessimistic, I don’t think it is. I sometimes think the main thing about the planet earth may actually be life itself, not humans, anyway. Maybe the sooner humans make themselves extinct the more likely life can survive on this planet.

I take heart from cockroaches and, closer to our visit to the Everglades, alligators. Alligators have been on the planet 130 million years. They preceded many of the most well-known dinosaurs, and have outlived them all by 65 million years.

Alligators will survive. And probably munch on the last few humans who are trying to hold out in a polluted and decimated planet. They will probably spit out any remaining Tea Partiers, however. Too distasteful for even them.

And the ultimate indignity—after we all are gone, the Black Vultures of the Everglades will eat our cars.

We were amused that we saw more signs warning us of the dangers of Black Vultures than we did of the danger of alligators or crocodiles eating us. But apparently they tear off molding, and love to eat the rubber around windshields, etc. People cover their cars with tarps to protect them.

So, in addition to alligators and cockroaches, Black Vultures will survive because there are a lot of cars to eat on our planet.

 

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