Blink and you miss it. That is the story so far when it comes to my
experiences of spotting wildlife. First, there was the rhino in South Africa
a few years ago (“There it is — are you blind?”), followed shortly
afterwards by the amazing disappearing dolphin in Hawaii (“There are
normally dozens of them”). Everyone got an eyeful except muggins here.
So you can understand my scepticism when, in Florida just recently, I’m told
that there’s a “sea cow” (manatee) surfacing right next to my kayak.
“Fantastic,” I say, feigning excitement at the prospect of seeing diddly-squat
yet again.
But this time it’s different. As I blink and stare hard at the swirling water,
I see a grey snout nosing through the surface, snorting like a dog at an
open car window as it sucks in air. It curls back under the water and I
catch a brief glimpse of just how big this thing is: the seemingly endless
curve of its dark-grey back giving way, finally, to a flipper that had
sailors in olden days thinking they were seeing a mermaid.
As I sit here, bobbing about in a flimsy plastic kayak while the 12ft-long,
2,000lb mammal ducks and dives flirtatiously just a yard away, all it would
take is one swish of that tail and I’d be taking an early bath. This
up-close-and-personal encounter more than makes up for all my previous
disappointments. And it is just one of the highlights of an unforgettable
few days paddling along the Great Calusa Blueway of southwest Florida.
A “Blueway” is a system of marked flat-water paddling trails that can be
linked together to form various routes for kayaking. The backwater lanes and
open avenues of the Great Calusa Blueway are divided into two sections. The
first winds its way through Estero Bay and was opened in summer 2003; the
second phase — centred on Pine Island Sound, further north — has been
completed more recently. Weaving its way along the coast in parallel with
the Gulf of Mexico, the Calusa Blueway covers some 75 miles in total —
forming a watery warp and weft where the only interruption is the ubiquitous
splosh of the paddle pushing you forwards. Proving that there’s more to the
state than alligators and endless theme-park queues, it is mercifully bereft
of the beetroot-red package tourists you find elsewhere in Florida.
Known locally as the “cradle of the ocean”, the Blueway is where most of the
marine life found off the Floridian coast begins its existence. The shallow
saltwater here is a convergence point for several large rivers — including
the Imperial and Estero — before they pour forth into the gulf. The
resulting blend of salt- and freshwater is extremely fertile, so the odds of
seeing something feathered or fishy are high. Even if you’re normally a
no-hoper in the nature-spotting stakes.
Littering the Blueway are hundreds of little nooks and crannies, each leading
off who knows where. If you’ve got a GPS unit it’s easy to find your way,
thanks to the new GPS navigation posts that have been set up marking various
trails. But I went one better — I found a human sat-nav, also known as
Connie Langmann, kayak guide and nature expert. Much more useful than a
computer.
My journey began at Big Hickory Pass, just outside the town of Fort Myers. As
the late-afternoon sun bathed everything in a golden glow, I helped Connie
to unload our kayaks onto the shore. Even before we took to the water, I got
a glimpse of the ornithological treats that lay in store, in the form of a
pelican splash-landing nearby. According to Connie, it was an American brown
(“It’s a juvenile — you can tell by the plumage on its head, which changes
colour as it gets older”).
Connie, a middle-aged motherly figure, knows the Blueway like the back of her
hand. Aside from being a qualified guide, she’s a certified master
naturalist, trained by the University of Florida. As we made our first few
paddle-strokes downstream, she pointed out and explained everything I was
seeing — such as the clumps of oysters lying close to the shore, resembling
a cluster of chocolate cornflake cakes.
A lot of the tiny islands that punctuate the Blueway started life as oyster
colonies, before the mangrove trees took root on them. The latter provide
shelter for all kinds of birds, from great egrets to the blue heron — a
Floridian icon.
The pace of our paddling provided a perfect match to the laziness of the early
evening. Even if you’ve never kayaked before, you’ll have no trouble picking
up the basics; the waters here are reassuringly mellow, and the deepest they
get is about 10ft. If you do find yourself going nowhere fast, Connie will
give you a quick course in how to paddle effectively from A to B.
As we made our way out into Estero Bay and around the next island, the setting
sun revealed itself as a luminous pink orb on the horizon, reminiscent of
the signs outside tacky bars in Florida’s tourist hubs. The smell of
saltwater mingled evocatively with suntan cream, enticing me to dangle my
hands over the side.
Impossibly still, and stretched around my boat like clingfilm, this giant
alfresco bath felt invitingly warm. However, with the strawberry ice-cream
sky starting its nightly transformation to inky blue, it was time to head
back to base.
This sunset paddle is one of many tours that Connie offers: you can also take
archeological outings to various sites that were inhabited by the native
Calusa Indians, or trips to look for the elusive sea cow. Not that you’re
guaranteed to see one. Manatees breed only every couple of years and nurse
their young for two years after birth. Coupled with recent destruction of
habitat, this has meant that there are only 250 left in this part of
Florida.
“The seagrass beds that the manatee feed on (hence the nickname sea cow) are
being killed off by fertiliser chemicals and pesticides, which get into the
water system,” says Connie. “These chemicals are very bad for the
environment, despite what the chemical companies say.”
After a day’s break from the kayak to explore, and to rest my aching
shoulders, I met up with Connie again. Today we were tackling the second
portion of the Blueway, ambling along the edge of Sanibel Island and out
into the more open water of Pine Island Sound. In front of me lay a lazy day
of messing about on the estuary, with nothing but the omnipresent sound of
those pelicans to mark the passing of time.
Within minutes, Connie was drawing my attention to a ghost-like shadow
floating by underneath my boat. “A leopard ray,” she explained calmly. “They
call it that because of those white spots on its black skin.” Our route took
us around various little mangrove islands, where spectating cormorants
caused brittle branches to crack and break as they ferreted around for a
better vantage point. Shortly after lunch, which was spent drifting
aimlessly around a small inlet at the behest of the light breeze, we ducked
down a watery side street in search of more feathery treasure.
As we made our way down alleyways with names such as Snook and Redfish, I
could hear a sporadic gloop sound followed by a splash, as frisky mullet
leapt through the air in a bid to evade predators. Accompanied by this
somniferous soundtrack, I found it hard to fend off the temptation to grab
an afternoon snooze.
Then, it was time to turn for home, stopping off for a refreshing dip to
exchange the salt of sweat for that of the cooling green waters. Even at
this late stage, there was still more to spot. As I floated on my back,
soaking up the sun, a pod of dolphins swam past just yards away, their
blue-grey backs crowned by the characteristic fin poking above the surface.
As if to say that my new-found charm with wildlife was not going to work on
them, they clearly weren’t interested in stopping off for a chat; somewhere
out there were more important things to attend to.
I’m not bitter, though. It was shortly after that that I met the manatee.
TRAVEL BRIEF
Tour operators: British Airways Holidays (0870 243 3406,
www.ba.com/holidays) has seven nights at the four-star Sanibel Harbour
Resort and Spa, near Fort Myers, in November, from £801pp, including BA
flights from Gatwick to Tampa. Alternatively, a seven-night fly-drive to
Miami is from £687pp, without accommodation, but including BA flights from
Heathrow and inclusive car hire (prices are similar for Tampa or Orlando).
Virgin Holidays (0871 222 1232, www.virgin.com/holidays) has seven nights,
room-only, at the DiamondHead Beach Resort in Fort Myers from £719pp,
including flights from Heathrow to Miami and car hire (not including tax and
insurance — about £125 a week).
Or try Jetsave (0870 161 3402, www.jetsave.co.uk), The Vacations Group (01582
469661, www.vacationsgroup.co.uk) or North America Travel Service (0113 246
1466, www.northamericatravelservice.co.uk).
Where to stay: the Outrigger Beach Resort (00 1 239 463 3131,
www.outriggerfmb.com) in Fort Myers is a family-friendly, low-key resort,
with doubles from £50. Or try the swankier Hyatt Regency Coconut Point (0845
888 1234, www.coconutpoint.hyatt.com; doubles from £99), or the DiamondHead
Beach Resort (00 1 239 765 7654, www.diamondheadfl.com; doubles from £84).
Guided tours: Gaea Guides (00 1 239 694 5513,
www.gaeaguides.com) runs two-hour tours on the Great Calusa Blueway, with
kayak and equipment and a Florida master naturalist, for £19pp. A four- to
five-hour tour is £27.
Or try Gulf Coast Kayak (00 1 239 283 1125, www.gulfcoastkayak.com).
Further information: for more details on the Great Calusa
Blueway, visit www.greatcalusablueway.com, and for Fort Myers, see
www.fortmyers-sanibel.com. Or try www.visitflorida.com
