Collier-Seminole, Rookery Bay, OK Slough adventure in the sugar-sand
(posted from St. Petersburg, FL)

(this post covers 13-15 March)

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Thursday, 15 March –

Last night was fantastic. We slept all alone in our little campsite and the night was backcountry-quiet. No trucks, no alarms, not one car passing within miles of us.
This morning we dressed quickly after awakening in order to cruise the roads looking for wildlife. We had a fine fog hanging over the glades, in some places it lay against the ground, in others it hung in a layer a dozen feet above the marsh.
We of course saw deer and we also saw the turkey again, apparently the same one for it was in exactly the same place as last night. We idled down the Sic Island road, then we decided to try the North Loop. There we had a memorable lesson in sugar-sand. The North Loop road started out well but the prepared roadway soon ended and we were on sandy two-track. The sand would get a little deeper here and there but we muddled through. And we even saw another vehicle—a white pickup on an intersecting road. We continued down the North Loop road and noticed the pickup had turned our direction and was following but I soon lost sight of him and figured he must have turned back. Smart man. Then we got into trouble. We came upon a long stretch of deep sand – the so-called ‘sugar sand’—where I should have stopped at that point. But we were in deepening sand and there ahead of us lay a recent set of tracks through it so I plunged ahead. We slowly bogged down as I gunned the engine, trying to stay afloat. We could feel the van sinking and soon were just barely making headway with the engine racing and both of us saying ‘uh-oh’ over and over again. Once we stopped, we were done for it. The edge of the track had a bit of vegetation and I pointed that way but it was surely over—I began wondering whether we had cell phone coverage out here and remembered talking to a ranger earlier today who warned us about sugar-sand on the Sic Island Loop and told us the rangers don’t pull you out— it’s a liability thing. Anyway, it was all but over when the sinking wheels got just a little traction, enough to get us close to the edge vegetation. As we got to the vegetation we felt the van start to rise—to ‘float’ again so long as we kept forward momentum. Thus began one of the longest hours of our young lives. This was just the first stretch of sugar-sand. So what do you do in such a situation? There’s no way to turn around and slowing down will surely sink you to the axle. So I did the only thing I could-- I accelerated. I kept one wheel in the vegetation on the edge where I could and drove like a maniac. We did whack two small palm tree stumps I couldn’t see in the low growth but our momentum carried us past them. After a few minutes of this we knew we were in trouble. All it would take is the right combination of large pot-hole and sugar-sand and we’d be in for a long day trying to figure out how to get towed out of here. Labashi would check the map and try to estimate how far to the next road (in the hopes that the other road would be better) but the map was unclear. We finally came to a turnoff to an environmental sensor where the ground was more stable. We paused there and the white pickup we thought had turned back zoomed by—it was a ranger vehicle. We followed and somehow kept afloat for several miles of this excitement when we came to a three-way intersection not on the map and with no signs or trail marks. The ranger truck turned left but we didn’t follow since he had gone through a fence line there and it might be restricted (there were no signs saying so but there were no signs, period). As we scratched our heads over the map, I saw the ranger put the pickup in reverse. As he approached, I got out and walked up to his truck (and noticed that he had four-wheel drive). He said “The trail is this way. If you go back either of those roads, they get bad quick and I’d just have to come get you. We’re going to have to mark this turn better.” And then he was off.
The trail was a little better for a short while but we soon came upon long stretches of sugar-sand and once again we did our best to roar through them, dodging and weaving to find the teensiest bit of traction to eek us through. We noticed out ahead that the ranger would slow down once in awhile, apparently to keep us in view. And thank goodness he was there. We passed several intersections where the trail looked the same all directions and all were unsigned. Eventually, the two-track got better. It turned into a roadway with vegetation either the whole way across or in the middle and we could ride one wheel down the middle and the other in the edge where the sand deepened to eight or more inches. After another twenty minutes, we came to a proper roadway—dusty and dirty but at least solid. The ranger stopped there and ambled back to us. He said he had been out checking the seed-grass plot when he had seen us go by and thought he might take the long way back to the office in case we had trouble. His name was Rick Denton and he’s the chief Forestry Ranger for the OK Slough Forest. He was great. We talked for twenty minutes or so as he answered our questions about everything we could think of (What is it that churns up the ground so well? Feral pigs. How big are they? Up to 300 pounds. How many does it take to chew up the ground like that? Only three or four. Are they hunted? Yes, on a limited basis for now but restrictions will probably be removed in two years—they are doing terrible damage to the new seedlings., etc). He said one of his main duties is fire management, including prescribed burns to control the amount of fuel available for wildfires. A second area of concentration is planting trees. They contract with a crew of Guatemalans who plant hundreds of thousands of trees, all by hand. They each carry a bag with up to 300 seedlings and use a specialized type of large hoe. In one swing of the hoe they open a hole into which they insert the seedling, then with a flip of the hoe cover the hole with the displaced ground. A crew can plant hundreds of thousands in a few days. They are planted in a ‘seven by ten’ pattern, i.e., every seven feet in rows ten feet apart and the Guatemalans need . The third area of concentration is eradication of exotic plants. Two rangers are out today spraying exotics. As we prepared to separate, Rick suggested we try a new stone road which has just been completed. He says there are several bears in that area. When Labashi said we had seen the panther track, he said a female panther is in that area planning to den up so we should be extra-careful. Though there has never been a reported attack of a human by a Florida panther, we should slowly back away from any encounter with one, particularly a female looking to establish a den. He said we should also be careful of rattlers (Eastern Diamonbacks). He had seen a very large one yesterday, one which stretched the entire width of the (two-track) road. We thanked Rick for keeping an eye on us and for all the information and then let him go back to work.
After lunch we buzzed up to Labelle to gas up and to get ice. We then returned to the campsite where we spent the afternoon reading and blogging.


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Wednesday, 14 March –

This morning we decided to try to see a bobcat or panther by returning to the Fakahatchee/Picayune border area where we had seen the bobcat last week. Our hopes were quickly dashed, though, when we saw (and heard) heavy construction equipment. We had forgotten we had seen the bobcat on a Saturday when the nearby equipment had been silent. We attempted to find another suitable area and had breakfast while watching for cats in the south end of the forest but saw only deer—five of them traveling together. We then decided to tour the west side of the forest and slowly cruised the roads which are soon to become history as the re-hab project continues. Timber crews are taking out the big pines and palms along the roads to soon be dug up. We stopped at the ranger station in the north end of the forest and there learned more about the re-hab project. It will include three pumping stations in the north end of the forest to direct water southward to restore the sloughs and prevent if from flooding homes north of the forest. After finishing our visit to the Picayune, our goal today became the Okaloacoochee Slough State Forest (“OCALA-coo-chee” is how the locals pronounce it though the ranger at Picayune Strand called it “Ock-la-wa-COO-chee”) east of Fort Myers and south of the little town of LaBelle. We had learned of the “OK Slough” at the Picayune ranger station from a ranger who recommended it. It’s not on the Florida book-map page and it’s not on the AAA road map. The only way to find it on those maps was to notice from the OK Slough brochure that it lies just a few miles northeast of the Collier-Hendry county line intersection at an ‘s’ turn in the road.
This slough is critical for collecting and draining water south to the Everglades, more specifically into the sloughs of the Fakahatchee Strand and Big Cypress Preserves.
Upon driving into the state forest we first wanted to check out the camp sites so drove the length of the Wild Cow Grade road. The first campground is a beautiful little campground of a dozen sites under spreading live-oaks and sabal palms and beside Panther Pond. At the pond we watched a swallow-tailed snail kite seem to buzz the resident alligator but later realized it’s picking something out of the water. Incredibly, it’s a $5 per night campground in a 32,000-acre reserve and it’s deserted. Spring turkey season ended Sunday so perhaps that’s why. Or maybe it’s because this state forest was only established six years ago and just isn’t generally well-known.
The Wild Cow Grade road is good at first but then deteriorates to sandy two-track with a fair number of pot-holes. The Primitive Campground was little more than two picnic tables, two tent platforms, and a hand-pump which is currently dry. We turned back to the prettier campground and then we hit our Find of the Day. As I eased around a large sandy pothole, I noticed tracks. I could tell from the van they were panther tracks. We spent a half-hour there and Labashi said she could smell a cat smell in that area. I wanted a little exercise so I walked the road looking for panther sign while Labashi drove Mocha Joe. We found another area of tracks and I noticed a whiff of cat smell as I entered that area but the tracks were in harder sand and weren’t as clear.
After taking a break at the campground for a few hours in the heat of the day we left at 1730 for a drive through the forest at dusk. We took the Mustang Loop road which soon turned to two-track and we came upon an armadillo, our first in Florida. Labashi jumped out to get a picture but didn’t have a chance to get a good one; Mr. Armadillo was shy.
We then drove the Patterson Cross-over Road and along the way saw two young bucks in velvet (with two-inch spikes) and a turkey. We noticed the grass along the roadway was torn up and speculated that it must be feral pigs but never saw them.
By this time it was dark and we turned back toward the campground. Along the way an owl swept into view, swooped down to pick up a snake and then perched just ahead of us on a fencepost to eat the little snake. It soon swooped down again and arose with another little snake—apparently the owl was having great luck tonight.
Back in our campsite we went to bed early and read about the wonders of the Florida backcountry. Actually, I read about Florida for awhile but then switched to my current book, “West with the Night” by Beryl Markham. It’s a 1942 book about the life of Miss Markham as she grew up in British East Africa and became a bush pilot in the Gipsy Moth era, a very remarkable story. Here’s an interesting quote from a letter written to Maxwell Perkins:
“Did you read Beryl Markham’s book, ‘West with the Night?’ I knew her fairly well in Africa and never would have suspected that she could and would put pen to paper except in her flyer’s log book. As it is, she has written so well, and marvelously well, that I was completely ashamed of myself as a writer. I felt I was simply a carpenter with words, picking up whatever was furnished on the job and nailing them together and sometimes making an okay pig pen. But [she] can write rings around all of us who consider ourselves as writers. The only parts of it that I know about personally, on account of having been there at the time and heard other people’s stories, are absolutely true…. I wish you would get it and read it because it is really a bloody wonderful book.” –(Ernest Hemingway).


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Tuesday, 13 March –

Last night at Collier-Seminole State Park was very noisy — our worst night for sleep since the Kendall Wal-mart. The park itself is nice enough (and fairly reasonable at $20 per night since we get showers and use of the dump station) but the campground is too crowded and we apparently had some inexperienced campers for neighbors. The biggest problem was slamming car doors. I know I heard over 200 car-door slams after quiet hours started at 2200 and the slams lasted as late as 0230. I would have much preferred to have been in the free campground at Bear Island. For some reason our neighbors have no idea how jarring the slamming doors can be to sleepers. Anyway— we didn’t sleep well until after 0300.
After arising we drove north through the resort town of Marco Island. Labashi really liked this town. We crossed a high bridge with a magnificent view on the way in and crossed its sister bridge with an even better view on the way out of town. The town seemed very clean and uncrowded yet there were more walkers, joggers, and bicyclists than we’ve seen elsewhere. Our only stop in town was at the local Publix supermarket for essentials for the next several days and a quick stop at a West Marine for a replacement inverter to power my laptop but Marco Island just seemed to have the right mix—at least in our drive-by visit today.
We continued up the coast to the Rookery Bay Estuarine Research Center. We didn’t have much information about this facility so didn’t expect much--- perhaps a small visitor’s center describing their mission and maybe a walking trail. But this turned out to be a very nice and modern research center with excellent displays and explanations. We overloaded with info using their audio wand system but that was partially our fault—we kept pressing the button for additional details about each display we visited. The aquarium displays were smaller ones but interesting. The most fascinating for us was watching a horse conch chase down a fighting conch. The horse conch could only plod along steadily while the fighting conch could use its very strong ‘foot’ to launch itself a few inches ahead of the always-pursuing horse conch. But one of the volunteers explained to us that this was going to end badly for the fighting conch. The horse conch just keeps pursuing until it eventually backs the more-and-more-exhausted fighting conch into a corner or against the center rock in the display and then kills and eats it. And over the course of the next twenty minutes that’s what we witnessed. The fighting conch seemed to tire and be unable to push away from the horse conch soon enough one time and the horse conch managed to drag its bulk atop the smaller fighting conch. It then seemed to take a long break, then began tilting the fighting conch onto its back. The last we saw, the entire opening of the fighting conch had been enveloped by the bright-orange flesh of the horse conch which will devour it over the next two days. I think I’m going to have nightmares about that one.
After almost three hours at the research center we drove north into Naples and to the central Library. While I connected up for email, blogging, and podcast updates Labashi combed the library for books about Florida orchids and mangroves. She has become fascinated by mangroves and saltwater. The red mangrove copes with salt water by blocking the salt, i.e., not allowing it to pass through its root system and into the plant. But the black and white mangroves allow salt to pass in but then excrete salt crystals onto the leaves. The white has special glands at the base of its leaves which excrete both sugar and salt while the black mangrove has no glands. Fascinating, no?
After the library we drove out of Naples to our old standby $5-per-night campsite at the Belle Meade horse camp in the Picayune Strand State Forest. There we met a local horse-training couple who were using the camp as day-users to exercise their horse behind a sulky. They had recently bought the sulky racer and just last week had entered it in its first race, where it came in second. They are life-long Florida residents and talked to us at some length about living in the area and the beauty of the Florida backcountry. It was truly a pleasure talking with them.
After supper we blogged and read then went to bed early to catch up on our sleep.