| Day 1 – December 5 |
| Flamingo to South Joe River Chickee |
| 11.5 miles |
I met Captain Bob, my shuttle driver, at 6:30 am at the Everglades City boat ramp. We loaded up my gear and kayak into his truck and drove the three hours to Flamingo. I began my journey up the Buttonwood Canal. Once I got on the water all my pre-trip jitters dissipated and I settled in to paddling.
The canal portion was quite calm but when I arrived at the open water of Coot Bay, it became very windy and choppy. I struggled against the wind as waves slapped against my kayak. Fortunately as the Joe River narrowed, the wind subsided and by the time I arrived to the chickee, it was relatively calm again.
In the bay a 4+ foot tarpon jumped clear out of the water just feet in front of me. Incredible. Throughout the day I saw several various large fins popping out of the water. At the chickee I saw dolphins swim by in the evening and again the next morning. Birds were everywhere.
I caught some speckled trout but no keepers. I catch specks frequently in Virginia, but when I caught the first one in the Joe River, I didn’t even recognize it as a trout. Normally they are a silvery color, but due to the dark water, they were a deep copper color.
| Day 2 – December 6 |
| South Joe River Chickee to Oyster Bay Chickee |
| 10.5 miles |
I woke to a gorgeous sunrise from my tent. After packing up and resuming north up the Joe River I was immediately hit by a howling wind. It was very windy all day, which was annoying but not too stressful. I was surprised at how quickly I was able to go despite paddling against the wind, which I attribute to the Hobie’s powerful pedal drive.
I stopped for lunch at Joe River Chickee and prepared myself to cross Oyster Bay. I figured it’d be treacherous considering how windy the relatively protected Joe River had been. I strapped everything down and bailed out the few inches of water in the hull that had already accumulated from the waves rolling over the bow of the kayak.
Oyster Bay was choppy and windy, similar to Coot Bay the day before, but again I was pleasantly surprised at the quick pace I was able to maintain. I couldn’t believe it when I pulled up to the chickee at only 1:30 in the afternoon. I had completed those really tough final four miles in only an hour and a half.
After setting up my tent I took the kayak out to fish for a few hours around the coves near the chickee. I caught some small speckled trout and other fish, but then a 15 incher. Perfect! 15 inches is the minimum size for speckled trout in Florida, and I wouldn’t be able to eat a fish much bigger than that all by myself. I caught it just in time to get back to camp and cook it up before dark.
As soon as I plopped it on the chickee deck a seagull tried to steal it! He must have seen the fish on my kayak and been following me back to the chickee. I yelled at him but he didn’t budge. I lunged at him and he fluttered a few feet away but tried a few more times to get my fish. When I poked him with my fishing rod he finally flew away. Though I saw many hundreds of birds in the Everglades, that was the only seagull I saw on the trip.
After filleting my fish, I thought of alligators and tried to fling the fish skeleton and guts as far away from the chickee as possible, but the slimy tail slipped in my hands and landed about 3 inches from the edge. Within seconds it was being devoured, not by an alligator but by thousands of tiny minnows.
There were so many noises at night. Constant splashes all night long, sometimes really weird sounding ones. Shrimp popping, mosquitoes buzzing, mullet jumping, pelicans diving, dolphins exhaling.
| Day 3 – December 7 |
| Oyster Bay Chickee to Harney River Chickee |
| 15 miles |
Another windy day. After crossing more open choppy water in the morning, I made the sharp turn from the Shark River to the Harney River, and the wind was finally in my favor for the first time. I enjoyed coasting the final few miles to the chickee.
I saw three motor boats today, one of which slowed as I passed on the other side of the river. After we waved to each other from opposite banks of the river he shouted “You doing all right?” I yelled “good” and gave him a thumbs up. This was the only human interaction I’ve had since beginning my journey.
I arrived to the chickee at low tide and I had to lift my gear high over my head onto the platform. In the chaos my hat and sunglasses blew off the chickee floor. I was able to grab my hat before it sank but the sunglasses were gone. I guess it could be worse, it could have been an item more important than sunglasses.
I had underestimated how difficult it would be to loading and unload the kayak from the chickees. It was awkward enough simply getting my gear onto the platform, but with wind blowing my kayak around while I also tried to protect it from ramming into the sharp oysters, it was a real shit show.
Then I’d have to worry about tides and if the kayak was positioned well to handle both high and low tide. If the dock line was too short, it could leave my kayak dangling in mid air on low tide.
The Harney River Chickee was positioned across from an ibis roost and in the middle of the night, I heard what sounded like someone screaming bloody murder. I can only guess it was the sound of a heated ibis fight.
Apart from that jolting brouhaha, I was beginning to become accustomed to the nighttime symphony of sounds. I had never noticed before how many different splash sounds there were.
“Sploosh!”
“Splish!”
“Kerplunk!”
“Glug!”
“Bloop!”
At 3:00 am there began a louder “spa-LOW-ch!” sound, like a grown man doing cannonballs in a swimming pool. Also hearing sharp exhales I thought it must be dolphins. I later learned that dolphins use their tails to kick fish high into the air. When the fish hits the water, stunned, the dolphin swims over and gulps it down.
| Day 4 – December 8 |
| Harney River Chickee to Highland Beach |
| 12.5 miles |
I had to plan this day’s paddle according to the tides. The infamous section ominously named The Nightmare was only passable at high tide. The night before I noticed a discrepancy between what my tide chart said and what I was observing. According to my tide chart, low tide was at 6:35 pm, but at 5:45 pm I noticed that the water level had risen substantially since I arrived there, indicating that low tide had occurred much earlier than 6:35 pm.
The next morning when I woke up around 6:30 am I noticed the tide was coming in quickly. No longer able to fully trust my tide chart, I had to make my best guess about the tides based on my observations. The chart said high tide was at noon, but I predicted 11 am or even earlier. I realized I had better get moving if I was going to reach The Nightmare by 11 am.
It was lovely calm morning and paddling was a cinch until turning into Broad Creek. The creek, which was not at all broad, quickly tapered into thread of water surrounded by overgrown mangroves. Within a half mile I was stuck behind a huge tree blocking the way. I had heard so much about The Nightmare being difficult, but no one had said anything about Broad Creek. This can’t be right, I thought. Did I take a wrong turn?
I checked my map. I was going the right direction but maybe I was paralleling the Waterway on a tiny adjacent creek. I backtracked about a half mile, looking carefully for where I might have gone astray. Not finding anything, I turned around and went back the same way and again arrived at the same blocked portion. I guess this is the way.
I decided to try going around the tree. By forcing myself through the hanging mangrove branches and squeezing my boat through the submerged roots, I was able to get through.
It continued this way for another few miles: ducking under branches, forcing through debris, scraping by roots and logs. At one point I had to get off my seat, collapse it, and lay flat on the stern of the kayak to pass under a blown down tree, the trunk scraping my nose as I wedged myself underneath.
Another time I had to get out of the kayak to pull it over a log while standing on its slippery bark. I kept thinking that if this is what Broad Creek is like, which nobody mentioned as difficult, what was The Nightmare going to be like? And did I still have time before the tide begins to recede?
I theorized that Broad Creek was extra difficult due to September’s Hurricane Ian. It didn’t appear that anyone had been through to clear the creek passage in quite some time.
Finally, after two hours of scraping by (literally), the passage widened into a river. It was a little after ten. Do I still have time to attempt The Nightmare?
I decided to give it a shot, despite the risk of getting stuck. I sprinted as fast as I could to the entrance of The Nightmare. As I did, thousands of birds – ibis, egrets, and rosette spoonbills – flew from the trees on both banks flying in the direction I was headed. They are showing me the way! I thought. Or maybe they think I’m chasing them.
The Nightmare began not as a nightmare but as a dream! Narrow and winding yes, but not difficult. It was lush with plants and wildlife and was really cool. Mindful of the time though, I tried to not dally.
About halfway through, I found the hard part. It was similar to Broad Creek with criss-crossing branches to force through and duck under, and many other various obstacles.
At one point I heard a scratching sound on my shoulder and turned around to see a quarter-sized crab on my PFD just below the base of my neck. I just about leaped out of my skin before flicking him off. He must have fallen on me off a low hanging branch.
Again I had to drag my kayak over a log, this one even bigger. I pulled it up and over as much as I could and then was able to butt scoot the rest of the way over the trunk.
I felt so clumsy trying to push through the overgrown narrow passageways. With the shallow water and many submerged obstacles I was unable to use my pedal drive and had to hand paddle. Accustomed to the smoothness of foot peddling, I felt so wide and awkward with the hand paddle.
Splashing water everywhere and making quite the racket, I felt oddly self conscious with all the birds watching me. How ridiculous I must have looked to them. At one point a Barred Owl even came out to stare at me with the most glaring dumbfounded look I have ever seen. “What in the world is THAT?” he seemed to be thinking.
After about a mile of struggle, The Nightmare became easy again. What a relief. I began picking off all the sticks and leaves that I had collected that morning. My kayak was a mess!
Emerging from The Nightmare and entering into the Broad River, an alligator was there to great me by the shore, half submerged. I was excited to finally see a gator. Just about everyone knows there are alligators in the Everglades, but many people don’t realize that these animals are quite shy and will usually hide under water as humans pass by.
With just a few more miles to go to Highland Beach, I ate lunch on my kayak, with the current gently pushing me west toward the Gulf of Mexico. Entering the gulf, I toward north and paddled 2 miles up the beach to find a lovely campsite, with a flat area for my tent tucked away under some palm trees.
About halfway through the Waterway now, and with The Nightmare behind me, I enjoyed a peaceful evening on the beach. While eating dinner, I watched the pelicans go crazy on the water. It must have been good fishing out there because each one was plunging into the water several times a minute. I was fascinated that they dive in tandem. Two birds would fly in perfect formation then both dive for fish at the exact same moment. Usually in groups of two but sometimes in groups of three or more.
You are such a good writer! Since Doug and I do a lot of kayaking, I was feeling your pain in traversing the tangled messes of Broad Creek. I am surprised you have only seen one alligator so far! And no anacondas!
Thanks Helen! I ended up seeing more alligators in the northern half. I think it has to do with the salinity of the water. They prefer fresh water to salty.
“Mine? Mine? Mine? Mine mine mine?!”
I laughed out loud picturing you poking that pesky gull with your fishing pole.
And then the heroic launch of fish guts faaaar away… 3 inches from the edge. hahaha
Another super funny part was all the birds watching you as you struggled. Especially the owl.
SO COOL you got to see an alligator. Looks like a big guy.
I feel your pain on loading the kayak from chickee. The few times I’ve had to get in or out of kayak from a dock or boat… it is WAY HARD.
Thank you! I had forgotten about the “Mine?” seagulls, but that’s perfect 🙂
Thanks Kirby, you are funny!
Love your pics, they’re beautiful!
Great job!
Thanks Meriel!