I recently built a Glades Skiff, and took it down to the Everglades. Here is how I got to where I was going:
Now for the trip report, which I am cross posting elsewhere:
I'm not sure if this was just a "trip out there," or a "vision quest." For me, it was kind of both.
I wanted to take the Glades Skiff to the very place that gave it the name, the design, and it's very reason for being. I chose Mack's Fish Camp for the jumping off point because I'd read about the place and people during my research, the Jones family having run the place for 5 generations. Marshal Jones was my contact there, and it turns out, something of a guardian angel, as well. (More about that in Part Two, which will follow in a few days. . . )
Lots of pics, much to say, but I've got to work tonight, so that's why this is just "Part One." Let's get on with it!
They don't call them channels, they call them trails. Once out into the River of Grass, that makes sense. But the first part of the trail looked like a channel to me. Leading out of Mack's, it looked nice and easy, like this:
This was good paddling, the pole wasn't needed. But then things changed:
Yes, the fingers got in the way, but I had other things on my mind. The sides closed in and the vegetation made paddling difficult. Push pole time. For the record, the push pole turned out to be the only choice better than 75% of the time. After quite a while, I was finally out in it:
Here is the first real view of my destination, that little speck on the horizon:
And a look at my backtrail, so I'd be able to get back where I started:
If you look close, you'll see some power line towers. Something to aim for. As I closed in on the island, it became evident why it is called the River of Grass. One shot standing, then next from sitting on the poling platform:
Finally, (I thought, anyway,) I was at my target:
I said, "I thought." What I couldn't see was anyway to approach the island. If you notice the band of rushes and cattails just beyond the visible water, things got "interesting" here. I poled the boat up to those rushes and then got out into knee deep water and towed the boat into that line of vegetation. (African Queen-style. Parts of that movie was shot out here somewhere.)
But after 20 yards of that, I could go no further with the boat as I'd run into heavy brush and small trees, still in calf-deep water and about 20 more yards to go for dry land. I left the boat, (where was it going to go?) and threaded my way to "shore," carrying the paddle to break a trail and fend off anything that needed fending off. I figured since it was almost sun set, I could find my way ashore, then go back and carry the camping gear in and get set up for the night.
Here is a look back at where I left the boat. It's kind of hard to see in the dense growth:
Next thing I know, I'm staring at a white, wooden structure. Am I on the wrong island? Am I about to get shot for trespassing? Or for being mistaken as a Skunk Ape? I did a basic "E&E" maneuver back to the boat, as quietly as I could.
(Escape and Evasion.) I thought it over and decided to give Marshall Jones a call on my cell phone. (Good coverage out there, by the way!)
Marshall apologized for not making it clear that there was a fish camp on the island. And that no one was using it at the moment. He was the care taker of the place for the owner and had permission to let people camp there. I'm seeing it as MY fault for not asking enough questions. He did refer to it as a "camp," when I talked to him on the phone when I was asking about where I might be able to camp. We also had a confusing conversation about my wanting to hang a hammock on an island, which is usually referred to as a "hammock." Hammock on a hammock? That is why I decided to take the Turtle Dog Stand with me.
Marshall said that he and his family always loved an excuse to take the air boat out for a ride, so he loaded them up and came out to where I was. He pointed out the entry to the camp, about 150 yards from where I waded in. As I poled my way in, Marshal shot some fantastic video which he'll be posting on the Fish Camp's video channel. I'll post a link to it when he gets it posted.
Here is where I hung my hammock the first night:
One end of the hammock was hung on some roots of an old tree that had long ago been blown over and just kept growing:
The following morning, it's time to cook:
Coffee already made, bacon in the pan and grits in the pot:
It was good! The eggs were half way gone before I remembered the grits and added them to the plate:
Now, some random shots around the camp:
That last one above shows John Jone's air boat. It's waiting for him to come get it and get it back home. (Not sure why it was there and just how did he get back without it?)
This camp is truly an Island Paradise! Here is what I should have found when I first came in, if I'd just looked around a little more before going on my "tactical recon."
And some friends I made along the way:
The first of my new friends, above, fell victim to my fly rod. But he was returned to the water still alive. His brief struggle, how ever, attracted this little fellow:
After I jerked the fish from in front of the gator's nose, the gator took to following me like a little puppy as I walked from one end of the dock to the other while fishing. He just knew I'd catch another fish and he intended to intercept it for his own purposes. (Did NOT let that happen.)
I've more pictures and more of the story to tell, but that will have to wait for another day. I've also got some video that I shot while poling the boat. For now, I'll post just one more pic of my Turtle Dog Stand in the Everglades. I carried it along just in case there was no place to hang the hammock. It wasn't needed. But since I had it, I just had to use it, the second night on the island:
If I haven't bored you to tears just yet, there will be a Part Two of this trip, later on. I do have some things to say about hammock camping in Florida that I'd like to pass on, so Part Two will contain those thoughts.
Mike S.
Spring Hill, FL
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