Paddling to Atsena Otie Key

Cedar Keys National Wildlife Refuge is located 50 miles southwest of Gainesville, Florida, along the southern edge of the Big Bend Region of Florida’s West coast. The refuge encompasses approximately 800 acres and is composed of 13 off-shore islands in the Gulf of Mexico, ranging from 1 to 165 acres. It was established in 1929 when President Herbert Hoover set aside three of the islands as a refuge and breeding ground for colonial birds. Today, the refuge is comprised of 13 islands. Native Americans are documented to have occupied the “Cedar Keys" for at least 1,000 years, from 200-600 A.D., but a skeleton found on Atsena Otie Key in 1999 was determined to be more than 2,000 years old.  The islands were named “Cedar Keys” by two American explorers who, in 1835, were searching for cedar timber near the Suwannee River.

Atsena Otie Key is the most recent addition to the Refuge.  From 1839 to 1842, Atsena Otie Key was the site of a military depot. In January 1858, the town of Atsena Otie was officially chartered by the Florida State legislature. By the time of the 1860 Census, there were 215 people living in 30 households on the island. It later became the location for the town of Cedar Key, with a population of 200-300 people.

The Eberhard Faber Pencil Company built a lumber mill in 1868 on Atsena Otie Key to supply wood for its pencil factory in New Jersey. By the 1870s the oyster, green turtle, and fishing industries had also grown on the island. By the 1890s lumber production was making a profit of almost $900,000, and the Faber Mill alone produced wood for casing more than a third of a million pencils. The town grew as well, and by 1895 there were more than 50 households living on the island.

In 1896 a hurricane destroyed the Eberhard Faber mill and all but a few houses. The cedar forests that fed the mills on Atsena Otie Key had mostly been cut over, and the mill companies did not consider it worthwhile to rebuild. One industrial building and several houses that escaped destruction were floated across to the present-day Cedar Key. While most residents moved from Atsena Otie Key to Cedar Key after the hurricane, some stayed into the 20th century. In 1950, the last remaining house on the island was destroyed by a hurricane.

Until Hurricane Idalia hit Cedar Key with a powerful storm surge in August 2023, the island of Atsena Otie included a boat landing and pier with bathrooms, a walking trail and boardwalk, a swimming area, and ruins of the Eberhard Faber mill.  There was also a cemetery.  However, today, all of this is in ruins and it is not even possible to find the walking trail or a path into the ghost town or cemetery.

When we visited Cedar Key earlier in the week, our host at the visitor center told us that a paddle to Atsena Otie is a "not to be missed" experience.  She emphasized that we must assay the trip on either side of high tide, on a calm day with little wind.  We took note of her injunctions and waited until today, when the temperatures grew to 80F, the winds remained below 5 miles per hour, and the waters of the Gulf were almost as calm as glass.

Oh, and we had a bluebird sky all morning, with few clouds:

The town of Cedar Key was hammered by Hurricane Idalia.  While wind damage was not enormous, the storm surge flooded the lower floors of every building, making many of them uninhabitable.  Driving around town, we noted how quaint and picturesque the architecture is -- a mix of New Orleans and Key West.  Luckily, these unique buildings still stand, but the owners and shopkeepers still have enormous work to do to make them fully habitable.  Even today, six months after the storm, there is no supermarket in Cedar Key.

Along the waterfront, picturesque buildings still stand but are mostly empty -- except for some brave pelicans that dare to roost in convenient spots:

We paddled our way out into the channel, and were given the "all clear" by these anhingas who stand sentry at the boat ramp entrance:

Even though the waterfront buildings are not back to their original glory, they still provide a colorful visage for the town:

It was about a half hour's paddle out to Atsena Otie.  We made for a wide beach visible from town.  As we approached our landing point on the beach, we spotted these three nearly-totally submerged palm trees.  We decided to dub our landing point, "Three Palm Harbor."

From our beach, the town of Cedar Key seemed both near and far:

Signs on the beach urge visitors to exercise caution, because horseshoe crabs nest on this beach.  We noted this shell, which we assumed was unoccupied -- but we might have been mistaken.  We did not investigate fully.

Just above the sand line, the beach boasts beautiful sea grass, which has crept out to areas that appear to once have been piers or docks:

We found what appeared to be the wreck of an old boat, but it was hard to identify the type or size from what juts above the sand:

We have never seen such a huge collection of conch shells as we found on this beach.  It appears that, perhaps, the 2023 hurricane's storm surge brought them all up onto the beach at once.  Many were broken, but some were not.  We decided to let the conch shells rest in peace:

We walked over to the pier, which had once been the point of debarkation for visiting boats.  Pieces of brick wall were strewn about the beach as if built by some demented Lego builder, and thousands of individual bricks were splayed out across the sand.   The pier's pilings barely all stood, with not decking left.  Clearly, the bathrooms and pier did not survive the hurricane well.

We returned to our kayaks and set out to continue our paddle around the island.  Some clouds were moving in, creating dramatic patterns in the deep blue sky:

At high tide, we were told that it is possible to paddle a mangrove route that divides the island in half.  We found the southern end of it, and verified that it was the inlet, because a strong current pulled us in toward the middle of the island.  A flock of pelicans apparently paid a princely sum for orchestra seats to watch the silly humans fumble their way into the mangroves.  We demurred and told the birds they would have to wait for more bird-brained humans.

Wildlife -- mainly birds -- was visible all around the island.  These two birds did not want to give up their prime fishing spot, and waited until the last possible second to fly away as David approached to take their photo:

The flora was impressive too, in an Everglades sort of way:

Kathy spotted this osprey on a tall snag, surveying her territory for her next meal.  She paid us no mind as we approached to take her portrait:

Less sanguine about our approach were the anhingas and cormorants who had convened on the pilings of the decrepit, storm-damaged pier.  They were deep in consideration of some weighty issue as we approached --

== but scattered chaotically when they realized we were floating under their perches:

On first glance, the waters of the Gulf off Cedar Key appear muddy, but, in fact, the water is clear with reddish-brown mud, muck or sand on the bottom.   Occasionally, the light was just right for our camera to catch this:

Having paddled around Atsena Otie, we worked our way back across the still-calm waters of the channel.  When we arrived at the boat ramp, some fisherman had just arrived and were cleaning their fish.  They had many offers of help from the locals:

As we put our kayaks ashore, we noted that the beach was much more crowded this afternoon than it had been in mid-morning when we launched.  A number of couples were picnicking on the beach and observed us carefully as we hauled our kayaks up to the Jeep to set them atop and head back to the campground.  Having completed our outdoor play, it was now time to do some campground chores.

Cheers!