Club takes open-water trip to Flamingo
5/25/2004 6:37:22 PM by Susan Cocking
Eighteen miles, one big adventure
Club takes open-water trip to Flamingo
When I had last heard from Paradise Paddlers, club members had kayaked the buggy, narrow Turner River on Florida's southwest coast, then celebrated the feat with beer, wine and stone crabs at Everglades National Park. Fast-forward to a recent three-day weekend. Eight club members, led by retired University of Miami chemistry professor Keith Wellman, decided to ratchet up the adventure level a bit.
This time, they would paddle nine miles from Flamingo on the southwestern tip of Everglades National Park across open water to Carl Ross Key for 2 1/2 days in the outback. They invited me to go along. Preparing for the trip required logistical planning. Carl Ross Key is not your neighborhood KOA. There are no hook-ups, no showers, no electricity, no toilets. So we had to cram everything we would need into the pointy bow and stern of a 17-foot kayak: tent, food, water, compact stove, rain gear, clothes, sleeping bag and fishing gear.
At first, this seemed impossible. But, Troy Henderson and Roxanne Featherly offered their motorized canoe as a mothership. They carried firewood, water, coolers with ice, extra food and an aluminum garbage can lid to serve as a fire ring. So none of us was forced to leave anything essential (ukulele, books, wine, etc.) behind. Another challenge surrounding Carl Ross Key has to do with oceanography.
The island, which used to be part of Sandy Key until Hurricane Donna separated them in 1960, is surrounded by squishy, organic mud flats that are impossible to navigate except on high tide. Run aground here, and you never will extricate yourself until the tide is high enough to refloat. If you try to slog through it on foot, it will suck your wading shoes off - never to be recovered -- and coat you in gray, foul-smelling organic material.
To avoid a quick-mud disaster, mission commander Wellman obtained precise tidal charts of the area and determined that we could push off from Flamingo no later than 9 a.m. He estimated it would take us about 3 1/2 hours to paddle to Carl Ross; a late arrival would mean stranding until the next high tide hours later. As you might imagine, paddling a loaded fiberglass sea kayak over nine miles of open water is strenuous. I began to tire less than halfway across. Everyone else was far ahead. Wellman recognized I was struggling, and he waited for me to catch up.
He also offered tips, such as paddling with larger deltoid muscles rather than arms. When we finally coasted into Carl Ross Key at high tide around 12:30 p.m., I was never so glad to get out of a kayak. Over a ravenously-devoured lunch, the others recounted their adventures in the crossing. Featherly and Henderson had caught three sea trout using live shrimp. They also spotted a bald eagle. Mary Parrott was accosted by a baby dolphin, whose flipper struck the side of her kayak. “I almost flipped over,” she said. I was too tired to be excited by anything, so I went to sleep. When I awoke about three hours later, preparations were under way for dinner. Wellman's wife, Nancy, was passing around sautéed sea trout hors d'oeuvres and grilling marinated chicken breasts over a charcoal fire. We had wine and tabouli on crackers.
No mosquitoes or no-see-ums bit us. Things were definitely starting to look up. I developed friendly feelings for my campmate -- the mother osprey, who not only carefully constructed a nest but also kept her offspring well fed with a steady diet of mullet and small jacks. I never thought of myself as a bird-watcher, but I was starting to relate to that particular brand of outdoors enthusiast. The next day, six of us went kayak fishing. I was the only one to catch a fish: an undersized sea trout that I had to release. Regardless of whether the cold front adversely affected the fishing, it hit Carl Ross Key right about when NOAAWeather Radio said it would -- forcing us into our tents to avoid the heavy rain.
The rain blew by fairly quickly, enabling Featherly to warm her premade turkey chili and Henderson to build a campfire. Ivan Molton provided chocolate fruit fondue, and Jonathan New passed around some port. In the darkness of the flats, fish jumped and splashed. If this is your idea of roughing it, you can keep civilization. The next morning dawned overcast and windless. Wellman's tide charts dictated a noon departure.
Since I was the slowest paddler, I left 20 minutes ahead of the group, with Lou Greenwell and Frank Kelly accompanying me. I was dreading the nine-mile return trip. But about a mile out from Carl Ross Key, the paddling seemed to come easier. Of course, my boat was much lighter, but I felt my technique had improved. Kelly even commented on it.
We all reached Flamingo within a few minutes of one another and got ready to leave. Wellman came over to me and said apologetically, “Sorry it wasn't more of an adventure. But I guess that's because of all the advance planning.” Wrong, Keith. Adventure is a relative term. Without the advance planning, it would have been a misadventure. And, we all could have done without that.
Susan Cocking can be contacted at scocking@herald.com.