... maybe more.
It had been twenty-eight years since my last visit, then camping with my two youngest boys, in the wilds of a remote and uninhabited, unique southern part of Florida. We did it then by motorized canoe, traveling nearly 40 miles in 5 days - eating what we could catch, while carrying only a simple skillet, five gallons of fresh water, and a minimum amount of gas.
Thought it might be time to do it all over again, once more. So last July, I began by emailing my now grown, 41 year old son Matthew. He enthusiastically agreed. Then this past week, Matt flew in from California for the 4 days needed.
This time, with a fully loaded canoe we headed out using the same route, down the Blackwater River towards Gullivan Bay - out amongst the outer isles that eventually spill-out into the southern Gulf of Mexico.
On the outside, we scouted for a suitable campsite on an island, a sandy area, where hopefully we'd find an isolated, soft sandy beach. Ideally, we also needed an onshore wind, or a crosswind to help keep the numerous biting insects at bay. At our launch site, the "no-see-ums" were bad. So quickly, we had thrown everything into the canoe, and somewhat haphazardly.
After a little scouting, we finally chose a remote stretch on Turtle Key.
Matt setting up his fancy, high-end camp gear in about 20 minutes (telling me he now camps up to 30 times a year). He arrived off the airplane with only a back-pack and a small waterproof duffel, which included all of his vegan planned, freeze dried meal packets. I typically start-off with a fully packed truck load.
Matt cut the wood and built the fires.
Matt's glowing campsite beneath the moon and stars ......
And my "lodge" tent with a bright moon, and a passing small evening cloud .....
I acted as captain, guide, and as the stealth paddler - quietly paddling Matt amongst the countless (10,000) mangrove islands. For Matt it's about fly-fishing. And, primarily putting him within casting range, while searching for that elusive and finicky Redfish.
His first 'Red' on the fly.
Our 'Mary-Lou' sitting pretty in the shallows.
Fly casting on the flats.
The signature spotted tail of the Redfish.
Back at our base camp, Matt starting a new evening fire.
Next day, more fishing, more fish. Matt with some nice spotted Sea Trout.
At camp, I found a few surrounding things to play with. A dinner placement with a baby Horseshoe crab.
Two years earlier, Hurricane Irma had devastated the Ten Thousand Island's, scattering the majority of wildlife while disrupting the extensive marine fishery, leaving eerily behind, the outer islands stripped of their protective mangrove shoreline.
On that final passage heading home, we interpreted our bearings by using an old folded-up and worn-out marine chart, identifying and pinpointing the numerous backwater channels while passing each.
To be certain, Matthew can fish. Between the two of us (small on my part), we caught about every available game fish out there, with the exception of the grand Tarpon. Even then, in what we still can't agree upon, a possibly caught Tarpon that leaped from the water, and easily broke off a 20lb leader.
Aerial view.
Photo Credit; Carlton Ward
