VENTURING INTO LEGENDARY TERRITORY

As a born-and-raised native Floridian, access to world class fishing was always within reach. I spent my youth fishing the waters of Florida’s Treasure Coast, and for over a decade now, I have called Brevard County and the Space Coast my home. Saltwater, freshwater, inshore, offshore, land based, boat, or kayak has provided me with no shortage of opportunities for adventure that has fueled a lifelong passion for sportfishing.

Despite planting myself often just minutes away from my next trophy fish, sometimes a change in scenery is good for the soul. Perhaps it is the challenge of leaving familiar waters to find fish somewhere new. Perhaps it is the allure of a journey into the unknown. Perhaps it is a primal desire to explore distant frontiers.

Whatever it is, for me the Florida Everglades has been the spot on the globe that calls me back time and time again. With the 10,000 Islands to the North and Flamingo to the South, I have made an annual pilgrimage to Florida’s “other” coast year after year. For the fisherman, being in proximity to areas such as “Hell’s Bay,” “Shark River,” “Snake Bight,” and “Whitewater Bay” is analogous to Mt. Everest for the mountain climber. Although it is located just a stone’s throw from the hustle and bustle of Miami and Key West, the Florida Everglades remains an untamed wilderness where legends are made. Legendary people pursuing legendary fish in a legendary part of the world, and to experience that for oneself allows anyone to play a small part in that legacy.

Some folks speculate that life on Earth began in the primordial soup of the Florida Everglades a long long time ago. While I certainly cannot say if that is true, you can be sure it is teaming with life today. This is the only place on planet Earth where alligators and crocodiles coexist. Mix in some pythons and panthers and you have yourself a safari, Florida style.

My trips to the Everglades have been unforgettable. Sometimes I go with friends or family, and sometimes I am all alone. I have covered these waters by kayak, canoe, flats skiff, and bay boat, and still I have seen only a small fraction of all there is to see. Every time I go, there are different experiences to be had and new things to learn. Whether I return each night to a warm shower and comfortable bed of a hotel, or pitch a tent somewhere in the middle of nowhere, each night is filled with reflection and anticipation.

DAY ONE

My 2018 trip began out of Flamingo, with my new Carolina Skiff in tow. I departed Brevard County in the wee hours of the morning, and headed south until the road runs out. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly the perpetual traffic jam of Miami turns into absolute nothingness upon entry into Everglades National Park. Cell phone signal fades fast as you enter deeper into the park (unless AT&T is your service provider). A quick check in at the welcome center to get my backcountry camping permits, and a glance at the “mosquito meter” was my last order of business before hitting the water.

A quick glance at the Mosquito Meter will give you a pretty reliable indication of whether or not your Everglades camping experience will be a good time.

My mission for the trip was to break in the new skiff on what I call the “Flamingo Loop,” and I was doing it solo. Flamingo offers two boat ramps side by side separated by a dam. One ramp gives access to mangrove-lined waterways leading into the backcountry, and the other leads to Florida Bay and the open Gulf of Mexico. To start at one ramp and end at the other is a 100-yard walk or a 50-mile trip on the water. I was taking the latter. Hoping my fuel calculations were accurate and going over my gear list in my mind, I launched my boat and headed off into the backcountry.

The “Flamingo Loop” maps out Ryan’s journey through the Everglades.

A lot of planning and preparation led up to this point, but now it was time to throttle up and start the next leg of the journey. My skiff is not a speed demon, but in the narrow mangrove creeks and tunnels, I may as well have been traveling at warp speed through an interstellar worm hole. As the sun rose higher in the sky, I traveled northward deeper into the wilderness. The mangrove maze starts to look the same in all directions, and it would not be difficult to get lost out here. Using only a paper map and my overrated sense of direction, I motored onward.

By skill or luck (or a combination of the two), I eventually arrived at my first destination: a “chickee.” If you are unfamiliar with this term, a chickee is a raised platform perched over the open water reminiscent of those built by the Seminole Indians long ago. These man-made structures are scattered throughout the park, but can be surprisingly hard to find given the vastness of this place. The accommodations are far from luxurious, but a roof over your head and a port-o-potty provides some semblance of civilization. Let’s just say, I have camped in far worse!

With just a boat and a back country camping permit, you too can spend the night on a chickee!

I pitched my tent and grabbed a bite to eat. In the few hours of daylight left, I hopped back in the boat to explore my local surroundings and cast a line. If there is a downside to this place, it is that every inch of shoreline looks like a perfect home to a monster snook or redfish. Of course, that is not the case. The low hum of the trolling motor stealthily pulled the skiff along, but cast after cast came up empty. Occasionally, a giant tarpon would cruise by with a taunting roll, but their jaws were locked and turned down my offerings. I managed a few catfish which were saved for bait, but the setting sun signaled it was time to return to the chickee.

Twilight turned to darkness, and with no moon or light pollution, countless stars provided the only natural illumination. I could not help but reflect on my journey here, and be reminded of Joseph Conrad’s novel, Heart of Darkness. As I lay by myself in my tent in the blackness of the Florida Everglades, I contemplated perhaps I was the crazy man up a lonely river. Given the exhaustion from the day’s travels and the stillness of the night, sleep was not hard to find.

Author Ryan Wood documents his trip to the Everglases (Part I of II)

DAY TWO

I awoke before dawn to the sound of water lapping at the side of the boat. The glassy water was like a mirror reflecting everything above it. Eager to get on with the next leg of my journey, I packed up my tent and sleeping bag. I turned the key, untied the ropes, and I was off, waving goodbye to my humble abode. I headed northward still weaving my way through passages between the mangroves. I stopped to cast along the way, and found a few hungry seatrout. At least I wasn’t getting skunked today!

One of a few hungry seatrout caught on the trip.

Eventually the waters of the backcountry flow into the Gulf of Mexico by way of the Shark River. It was a welcome sight to see the open water, confirming I wasn’t lost. This marked about the halfway point of the 50 mile loop. From here, I changed my heading back southward. Hugging the coastline, bottlenose dolphins played in the wake of the boat. Nature is surprisingly resilient, and there was little evidence that powerful Hurricane Irma made landfall not far from here several months prior to this trip.

Day two camp was set at Middle Cape, an absolutely breathtaking location that can even be viewed from space.

My destination, which was once a horizon away, was approaching fast. Visible from space, Middle Cape is a white sand point which sticks out into the Gulf of Mexico. Schools of small Spanish Mackerel were breaking the surface nearby. After catching a few of these on light tackle, I beached the boat and set up camp once again. This beach was quite a contrast to the chickee on which I spent the previous night.

It was time to put those catfish to good use. I rigged up one of my “big guns” with a heavy leader and a circle hook. Not long after dropping the bait into deeper water, the rod doubles over and the clicker starts screaming as line peeled off the reel. Grabbing the rod out of the rod holder, I come tight on a decent fish. After a brief tug of war, a healthy bull shark shows itself. I have safely released hundreds of sharks in my life, but being alone and far from help meant no room for error. The bull shark joined me on the beach for a few moments, where I removed the hook, snapped a picture, and promptly returned her to the water. She swam off as if nothing ever happened. I am always amazed by the stealth and power of these animals.

There’s ZERO margin for error in handling bull sharks like this when isolated alone, far from civilization.

A short time later history, repeated itself. This time a slightly larger bull shark. Maybe there is something to this catfish for bait thing! When it doesn’t take long to get a bite, you know there are lots of sharks in the area. Happy to have caught something of significance, I set one more bait, and got ready to call it a night. The sun fell lower in the cloudless sky and eventually slipped below the horizon. Sunsets on the Gulf rarely disappoint!

Author Ryan Wood documents his trip to the Everglases (Part II of II)

DAY THREE

If there is one alarm clock I don’t mind waking up to, it is the sound of the drag on a reel as a big fish makes its initial run. I emerged from my tent sometime in the middle of the night to find a 3rd bull shark had eaten my last catfish. The stakes had been raised: shark fishing from my tent, alone, in the dark. That is not something you will see on an episode of Survivorman!

An unintended blessing of the interruption to my night’s sleep, was to find the Gulf tide had dropped significantly. Tides are extreme in this part of Florida, and the new moon had left my boat nearly high and dry. If I was to make my escape at dawn, I had to do something and do it fast. Fortunately, the skiff is not too heavy, and I managed to push it back into deeper water on my own. Had my ride been a larger boat, or the shark had waited a little longer for its breakfast, I would have been stranded until the next high tide!

After all the excitement, I returned to the tent for a few more hours of sleep. Before I knew it, the sun I had just watched go down was coming back up in the opposite side of the South Florida sky. After packing up my gear, I transferred the last bit of gasoline to the main fuel tank, and set off for Flamingo. The remaining 20 miles seemed to fly by, and soon I was right back where I started. The Flamingo Loop was complete: mission accomplished.

Ryan’s all smiles as his trip comes to an end. Most would figure to look a lot worse after spending 3 days deep in the Everglades battling the elements, bugs, and bull sharks.

With my skin covered in repeating layers of sunscreen, salt, and bug spray, I was in desperate need of a shower. But that was the last thing on my mind. As I drove my new skiff back up on the trailer and departed back to civilization, my latest journey to the Florida Everglades was coming to a close. Once again, my trip to the place on planet Earth where perhaps all life began, has left me with memories I will never forget.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, a video is worth a thousand pictures. Check out my two-part series documenting my adventure in the Florida Everglades on the ‘RWood Outdoors’ YouTube Channel. Please subscribe for the latest episodes. And now back to your regularly scheduled Space Coast fishing action!