Off to see the Lizard...

Lori gave me just one homework assignment for our trip: to decide which part of the Everglades to visit during our trip. I totally blew this assignment, but luckily, Lori picked up my slack.

Last time I visited with all the girls, we went to the Everglades just south of Miami, at the beginning of the Keys. This time, we ventured in a new direction--west.

I was pretty excited, because I've never been to Florida's west coast. I'm amazed you can drive to the other side of the state in less than two hours. (It takes all day to drive from one side of California to the other.)

The road was marshy, and completely flat--Lori told us all of Florida is like that, and the highest point in the state is Space Mountain. Not only was the road cool, it also had an awesome name--Alligator Alley. 

Alligator Alley cuts right through the swamp land, and is filled with the most amazing birds. There were cranes, herons, ibises, osprey, turkey vultures, and cormorants, filling the sky and the trees along the water. I was so excited I could barely contain myself, and almost made Lori crash the car multiple times with my screaming.

Because it was a long drive and I was super excited, I decided to make hand signs for the birds, which Lori first questioned, then mocked, and finally played along with. I thought she was ignoring me until I made an incorrect sign for a blue heron. She showed me the correct sign, and I just smiled, realizing she got sucked into playing my little game.

We pulled off the main road, stopping at the visitor's center just off the Tamiami Highway. They pointed us toward the boat rides in Everglades City, a few minutes away, and off we went, to book the 90 minute mangrove tour. (It was a real boat, not an airboat with the giant propellers, which freak me out and, according to Lori, flip over a lot.)

A cold front had rolled into town. On land, it was no problem--we simply put on our jackets. But as we climbed aboard our tiny boat, and motored out on the water, you could really feel the cold biting into you. Poor Mark was miserable--even with two huge sweatshirts, a hat and a hood on, he froze. He cinched the hood tightly around his face, and never even looked up at the beautiful surroundings.

We spotted our first wildlife right away--this little osprey was guarding her nest, and giving us the stink eye. She was pretty, but I really wanted to see other animals--namely, the ones on the sign.

The mangroves were beautiful. It was low tide (really low tide!), so we had a great view of their skeletal roots. It seemed almost impossible that those skinny roots could hold up those huge trees.

We cruised along the water's edge, chasing off all the birds. The blue herons and cranes were giant, and flew off gracefully, flapping their enormous wings effortlessly.

We saw tons of turkey vultures-they were also big, and kinda freaky looking up close. Captain Marty told us they're the only birds who raise their wings above their shoulders, and that we'd always be able to recognize them now.

We cruised through the water, marvelling at the gigantic osprey nests filling the trees. Lori spotted a gator sunning itself, and there was a collective gasp from the boat as Captain Marty pulled closer. I shuddered a little, realizing there were probably a hundred other gators nearby which I couldn't see.

We cruised on through the Everglades until Captain Marty reached a small opening in the trees. He slowed down the motor and carefully guided the boat into a long, narrow waterway. We could reach up or out to touch the mangroves, and the birds were so close, I wanted to grab one of them, too.

Suddenly, the lady behind me yelled, "Gator!" Everyone in the boat turned where she was pointing. I turned, too, but couldn't see the dang thing.

"Where?" I asked eagerly. "Where? Where???"

The whole boat pointed, and I kept flipping around until finally I saw it--right in front of me! Seriously, the thing was like three feet away, napping on the ground just above us. Captain Marty laughed and said I was just the type of girl he likes to date. I'm pretty sure he meant ditzy, but hey, whatever. ;-)

It was a big gator--10 feet long. It never even flinched, just eyed us warily. It was pretty awesome.

We saw one other gator down the way, in the water. We saw its snout and eyes just before it slipped underneath.

When we ventured back to the main waterway, the tide had really gone out--Captain Marty said there was barely 18 inches off water below us. Someone asked if he'd ever seen it this low before, and he said, "Once. I got my boat stuck and had to get towed." I don't care how long it was for, if our boat got stuck, I wasn't taking even one step out of that boat!

But even with the low tide, Captain Marty returned us safely to the dock. He also told us where to go to look for more wild gators, but warned us about leaving the car. Hey, I may look ditzy, but you don't have to worry about me getting out to pet wild alligators!

We drove down the Tamiami Highway a bit, until we got to the place. It was a dirt road, with just a few other cars kicking up dust as they slowly drove on. We slowed down at the first stopped car, and sure enough, there was a gator in the water right next to us! After that, we stopped when the other car stopped, and saw three or four big gators skulking about.

There was a little gallery a few miles down the road featuring Clyde Butcher, a photographer Lori called "the Ansel Adams of the Everglades." Like Adams, he totes a giant format camera all through untouched parts of nature. I couldn't wait to see his work.

We pulled up to the gallery, and I was charmed right away. The surrounding swamp was gorgeous, especially as the sun was dipping.

But even here, there were reminders that this is wild country, and not a zoo.

The photos inside were stunning; Butcher is indeed a very talented artist. Besides massive, gorgeous swamp-scapes, he also had some tiny photos of Ghost orchids. All I could think of was the movie "Adaptation" and how Nicolas Cage, as demented twin brothers, spends his lives hunting the elusive orchid.

The one gallery employee gave us a brief history about the orchids, how valuable they are, and how hard they are to find. She said she actually treks out deep into the swamp yearly to check on the orchids, wading through alligator-infested waters for HOURS to get to them.

"Wait, for hours?" I interrupted. "And there are gators?"

"Yep, for hours," she repeated. "But the alligators out there don't see many people, so they leave us alone. It's actually worse when they sink to the bottom, because then you don't know where they are."

She also said that when they find the orchids, they map the location using a GPS. Which I thought was really smart, but not smart enough to override the fact she was wading through gator-filled swamps.

"If the water is deep enough to wade in, it's deep enough to canoe or boat through," I said later to Lori and Mark. They both nodded in agreement--just hours earlier, we'd seen how little water Captain Marty needed to navigate our boat.

The sun was setting as we left. We drove past the Everglades visitor center, where I saw 5 or 6 more alligators laying out, and people staring down at them. We had a little drive, about an hour, to Naples, our destination for the evening. Lori was excited to give us something I've never had in all my other trips to Florida--a view of the sun setting over the water. It was a gorgeous sight.

After a quick night in Naples, we returned to our wildlife hunt. But today, we were stalking a new creature--manatees. We asked the locals where we could find them, and one guy actually told us to go to the zoo. The rest of them told us to drive an hour north, to the power plant, because the manatees love the warm water the plant puts out (I did not, however, want to see glowing, irradiated manatees).

Lori the Most Awesome Hostess Ever did some quick thinking, and instead booked us a manatee tour that was on our way home, instead of in the opposite direction. With the problem solved, we walked around Naples a bit, enjoying the shops and lunch.

We gave ourselves plenty of time to get to the random manatee marina. What we did not budget for in that time was getting lost.

I will admit that getting lost was completely my fault. I wasn't paying attention, and absently guided Lori to a wrong turn. Then, to my horror, I saw a bridge in the distance, and began to sweat--Lori is TERRIFIED of bridges, and this did not bode well.

However, Lori handled the bridge like a champ. We were already over the bridge, laughing and whooping it up, when she realized that we were probably NOT supposed to be on Marco Island.

A call to the tour company confirmed this. The guide said he'd hold the boat for us, and repeated the instructions carefully.

What he did not say was that the bridge back from Marco Island is wholly different than the bridge over. Lori had previously told me, "I'm not sure if a bridge will freak me out until I get there," but apparently, this was that type of bridge. Poor Lori melted down, immediately slowing the car and driving it into the center of the lanes. I tried to talk her down in a soothing, calming voice, which had the completely opposite effect. I told Mark later that he was never to repeat any of those words again! (Which is ironic, because Lori is one of my friends who curses the least, bridge days excepted!)

We tore down the Tamiami Highway, and were actually only five minutes late. We even beat the tour guide there.

"You must've been going fast," he scolded. "Because I drove from Marco Island, too." We just smiled sheepishly.

We boarded the boat excitedly. (Well, Mark and I were excited--poor Lori was trying to come down from her adrenalin-pumped panic attack.) The captain eased us out of the slip, and then drove us about 100 yards to the next marina.

"Here we are," he announced, 30 seconds after leaving the slip. "It doesn't look like it, but this marina's FILLED with manatees--at least 200-300 of 'em!"

I was skeptical, but he he was right. Within seconds, we heard the tell-tale whoosh! of animals coming up for air. All around, you could see what looked like coconuts pushing out of the water, and then suddenly, diving back under.

The manatees never actually come out of the water, and it was hard to get a good look at them through the dark, brackish water. But a few of them swam right up next to us, and we could see their whole bodies. I screamed with delight each time this happened, which was completely counter-productive. As soon as they heard me, they dove back down. I swore I wouldn't scream the next time, but I did scream like a little girl each and every time.

We puttered around the rest of the river, and eventually took one last final look at the manatees in the marina. It was so incredible to see them, so many of them, and out in the wild. I went home a very happy girl. 

Our Everglades adventure was over, but Mother Nature still had one last treat for us. Just before we returned to Alligator Alley, we spotted this beautiful sight. Alligators be damned, we got out of the car to take pictures.

And to give thanks to Florida and its beautiful Everglades, for giving us some incredible memories to cherish.