Ways to the Glades

Exploring the wetland by foot, airboat, canoe, and more, dispelling myths along the way

November 01, 2009|Patricia Borns, Globe Correspondent

EVERGLADES CITY, Fla. - As we slogged waist-deep into a soup of black water, the Cypress dome closed in, a wet garden of epiphytes and silvered tree trunks so magical, I almost forgot the cottonmouth water moccasins lurking out of sight.

“It’s not dangerous?’’ a young Quebecer said as an alligator 30 feet away slithered closer beneath the water to check us out.

“Yes, it is,’’ said Graham Mitchell, our guide. “But less dangerous than driving a car.’’

Myth: Alligators hunt humans as food.

Reality: Alligators are afraid of humans but may attack under duress.

So began the unraveling of my misconceptions about the Florida Everglades, starting with what and where they are.

“It’s about water,’’ said Mark Kraus of the Everglades Restoration Foundation. “The Everglades are wetlands that historically flowed from the Kissimmee River near Orlando into Florida Bay.’’ Although agriculture and development have shrunk them, the Glades are still gigantic: “Everglades National Park is only a fraction. Biscayne National Park, Big Cypress National Preserve, Fakahatchee Strand State Preserve, and Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary are also the Everglades, preserved under different agencies and names,’’ Kraus said.

With over 3 million acres, how do travelers take it in? Most see the Glades on high-speed “CSI: Miami’’-style airboat rides lasting half a day. Wanting to feel the awe, I found operators to help me get my feet wet. Literally.

Mitchell leads tours for Everglades International Hostel, where “Never safe, always fun’’ is the motto. The hostel, located in a pulsing, Latino-Afro-Caribbean neighborhood of Florida City, is a haven of gardens and rambling rooms behind pink stucco walls. The expedition includes a wet walk, lunch, and overview by land and canoe of the national park’s habitats, from freshwater prairies to mangrove-fringed Florida Bay. The thrill of our day: an 8-foot Eastern diamondback coiled and rattling within snapshot distance. The pathos: an obscure plaque remembering Guy Bradley, an Audubon game warden killed in 1905 by plume hunters when great egret feathers sold for $30 an ounce.

Myth: The only way to see the park is from the boardwalks or your car.

Reality: The park is open 24/7, 365 days, and with local knowledge you can go anywhere.

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