Paddling the Ten Thousand Islands

We have so many paddles to choose from down here near Naples, Florida, and so little time to paddle them!  Our primary reason for staying in Naples was to gain access to the "Ten Thousand Islands,"  which are a chain of islands and mangrove islets off the coast of southwest Florida, between Cape Romano (at the south end of Marco Island, down the road from Naples) and the mouth of the Lostmans River, near the western border of Everglades National Park. Some of the islands are high spots on a submergent coastline. Others were produced by mangroves growing on oyster bars. Despite the name, the islets in the chain only number in the hundreds.

We put our kayaks into the estuary at the eastern end of the Goodland Bridge, across Goodland Bay from the town of Goodland, and spent our whole paddle in a section of the Ten Thousand Islands National Wildlife Refuge.  

The Refuge was established in 1996 under provisions of the Arizona-Florida Land Exchange Act of 1988. The Department of the Interior conveyed 68 acres of Indian School property in Phoenix, Arizona to Collier family interests in exchange for 108,000 acres in Collier County, Florida. In addition, the Department received $34.9 million to establish Indian education trust funds. Approximately 35,000 acres were conveyed to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to establish the refuge. The remaining acreage was added largely to Big Cypress National Preserve and Florida Panther National Wildlife Refuge. Several threatened and endangered species utilize the refuge including the Florida manatee, peregrine falcon, wood stork, as well as the green, Atlantic loggerhead, and Kemp's Ridley sea turtles.

As soon as we got on the water, we turned our little vessels north to cross under the Goodland Bridge:

Paddling toward the bridge, we almost missed this sentry, looking very officious on his old piling:

The water near shore was deep enough for us to paddle through, and, as we crossed under the bridge, we realized that there were more interesting things to see on the other side of the bridge than we had expected.

When we put into the water at about 9:30 am, the tide was rising, but there were still muddy/sandy flats throughout, where wading birds were busy having breakfast:

This ibis didn't seem to care that we were stalking him as he intently stalked his own prey:

As we worked our way along one sandbar above the bridge, Kathy spotted an entire conch shell with the conch still inside.  The little creature was still moving and obviously alive, but had gotten beached in shallow water.  Kathy picked it up and plopped it back in deeper water, but we guessed that, if the conch had gotten that far into shallow water, it probably was dying anyway.  We may have been wrong in assuming that the conch belonged in deeper water, because later research revealed that some conch actually thrive in shallow, sandy waters -- which these were.  So we may never know whether our little conch pal was thriving or not.

Working our way through the shallows and sandbars, we broke into a wider cove that we could explore. 

Along one shoreline, we saw something we have never seen before.  We are used to seeing rays startle at the approach of our kayaks and make a wake in the water, stirring up a cloud of sand as they flap away underwater.  However, we had never seen a ray break the surface of the water with one of its wings, which one did.  Despite trying to get a photo, we could not.  We had hardly quite marveling at that sight, than we saw, further across the water, a furious splashing.  Because the water was so shallow, it could not have been dolphins feeding.  We guessed that one or two rays were feeding, or fighting over territory, or perhaps making baby rays (which probably would have been sweet).  It lasted about a minute and then was over, not to happen again while we watched.

Turning around to work our way to the opposite bank of the little cove, we saw this heron who was kind enough to let us get "just" close enough for a photo before flying off in a squawking huff:

From this north side, as we paddled away from the bridge, it actually appeared small and distant:

Working our way back under the bridge to poke about the south side in the Goodland Bay proper, we happened upon this gull playing "king of the piling."  He refused to surrender his prime real estate, even as we paddled right up to him.

The shores south and east of the bridge were just as full of wildlife as the shallow areas north of the bridge.  Witness this fine ibis:

We happened upon one lonely, abandoned crab trap that we supposed must have come loose from its anchor in the bay and drifted to the shoreline, where its owner undoubtedly could not find it:

The weather was perfect, with a big sky that reminded David of the Wallace Stevens poem, "Sea Surface Full of Clouds":

The sovereign clouds came clustering. The conch

Of loyal conjuration trumped. The wind

Of green blooms turning crisped the motley hue

To clearing opalescence. Then the sea

And heaven rolled as one and from the two

Came fresh transfigurings of freshest blue.

We found another crab trap buoy, which made us conjecture that crabbing might be undertaken in this bay with appropriate permits.  We never discovered who "R," the owner of this crab trap, might be:

Working our way toward the center of the bay, we got a glimpse of the town of Goodland, across the main channel:

We paddled around one large island, looking for the possibility of dolphins, manatees, rays or the like, and, just as we passed the last point of the island and turned our kayaks back to our put-in spot --

-- an osprey put on a show for us, soaring and hovering and diving, but just a little too far away for us to get a clear photo.  It was as if the osprey were offering us one last show before we left.

This paddling just does not get old yet.  Not having had enough, we decided to do another one in a nearby estuarine stream.  More on that tomorrow.