St Lucie Inlet Preserve State Park

I'm riddled with cooties this weekend (I've got an upper respiratory infection), so I'm taking this time to update the blog instead of feeling sorry for myself.

Ok, I'm feeling sorry for myself, too.

I have one of those Florida State Park passes (thanks, sis!) that allows me free entry to all Florida State Parks, so I took my dog kayaking around St. Lucie Inlet Preserve State Park in April. I wanted to see the sunrise, so I got up extra early, packed up the van, woke up the dog, and hit the road. 

The park is only accessible by boat, which means it's hardly ever crowded. There's a convenient kayak/canoe launch directly across from the park's main docking area. I got there at 6:15 AM -- and saw the sign that said the launch site wasn't open to the public until 7:00. Seriously?! If it weren't for the other people waiting in the lot, I would have cheerfully flouted the rules with a swish of my ponytail.

Once the launch was "officially" open, I lugged the kayak down to the bank, got Duchess settled inside, and we began our journey.

The sun was still shimmying above the horizon when we took off; I'm glad for that. I paddled across the often-choppy waters of the Intracoastal Waterway without incident -- though I did hear the distinctive sound of a marine mammal surfacing to breathe behind me one time. I didn't catch a look at the culprit.

I dipped my paddles quietly, creeping alongside the mangrove-studded shoreline. I eyed the fiddler crabs who eyed me right back from their mangrove root perches, and listened to the characteristic "snap-crackle-pop" sounds of the mangrove forests. 

"Wait... what?" you ask.

No, really. I always assumed it was the crabs who made those popping sounds, but recently my curiosity got the better of me, and I did a bit of research. The popping sound comes from an odd little critter called the Pistol Shrimp. From Tropical Topics newsletter (July 1994):

"A characteristic noise of the mangroves is a loud crack or pop produced by the rarely seen pistol shrimp which inhabits the more fluid soils in wetter parts of the mangroves. The sound is produced by the animal snapping its enlarged claw which contains a unique peg and socket arrangement. It is thought to be a territorial signal and/or a noise made to deter predators."

The more you know....

In the spirit of exploration, I let the numerous mangrove alleys guide me along for a while. I know the area well, and I had my map and compass, so I had no fear of getting lost. The sun traced an arc over the trees, and the birds started going about their business. Brown pelicans dive-bombed for breakfast in comic fashion, and egrets glided from their roosts with silent grace, their breeding season plumage ghosting behind them.

Dawn relinquished its tender grasp on the preserve and gave way to the bright morning light. I aimed the kayak toward the water trail that wove through the park; I only had a few hours to spare before being forced to flee the unforgiving Florida sun.

In the shelter of the mangrove islands, the water rested like a blown glass table top. It made for a delightful paddling experience. I spotted a few Belted Kingfishers (a favorite of mine). After a while, Duchess felt confident enough to climb up onto the prow as I paddled on.

The waterway narrowed and the clearance under the kayak became shallow indeed. I had to duck my head and skim my paddles on the water's surface to navigate one channel. It sounds exhausting, but it was a blast.

That narrow channel opened up to a shallow "lake" between the mangrove islands. At this point, Duchess elected to hop out of the kayak and stretch her legs. I laughed at the spontaneity of her slow, deliberate wade through the shallows.

I let Duchess have her fun in the sun, and finally called her back to the kayak. I had to step out into the disgusting, foot-sucking muck in order to get her back in the kayak. It was an ordeal, I won't lie, and the kayak was filthy afterward, but Duchess had fun. I think it's important for a dog like her (prone to nervousness and anxiety) to have positive experiences with things that are still new to her. It's a big confidence builder.

Once we reached the far side of the "lake," I began to hear the distant thundering of ocean waves. I paddled faster, looking for the break in the mangroves that contained the path to the beach. I found it a few minutes later, and dragged my kayak onto a root- and leaf-carpeted bank. 

Duchess hopped out of the kayak, shook her body as was her custom, and darted off to explore the immediate area. I recalled her to my side, grabbed her leash, and together we walked up to the beach.

The beach did not disappoint.

A sprawling expanse of undeveloped ocean-side beauty, there are few beaches like it on the Florida coast. I took a stroll back and forth along the beach, wiggled my toes in the sand, inspected the rocks and shells strewn about, and finally laid out my yoga mat by a massive piece of driftwood and did a few sun salutations.

It was glorious.

PHOTOBLOG: Cape Disappointment

Birds, butterflies, and buds at Mount Rainier

 I am what I like to call an "Accidental Birder." I never set out to be any sort of avian afficionado, but every time I see a bird, I feel compelled to stop and observe its behavior and physiology. During my time at Mount Rainier National Park, I was gifted with many opportunities to see birds that I've never before witnessed, either in the wild or in captivity. Naturally, I was thrilled.

 Grey Jay - I had heard that these birds are essentially fearless, and would land on your hand to feed out of it. The rumors are true! I spotted this one perched on a tree top, so I pulled over to take a photo from inside my van. I rolled down the window, stuck out my camera, and snapped a few shots. The jay spotted me and took flight -- directly towards me. It swooped down in front of me and touched down near my windshield to get a better view. It flew off again before I could get a close-up shot, but I was absolutely tickled by the bird's curiosity just the same.

Sooty grouse - This tough customer was loitering around the parking lot near the Nisqually Glacier trail head. He was in full display, making his deep "popping" calls every so often. I followed him around for a bit, and even got a video of him strutting across the pavement. I spotted him again later near the trail head. Aren't his eyebrows fabulous?

Western tanager - I had to do a little research to figure out what this pretty bird was. Look at those colors! There were a few of these birds hanging out near the Box Canyon loop trail. I didn't see them anywhere else in the park.

Aside from the birds, I got some nice, up-close looks at many other species of fauna and flora. I couldn't get enough of all of the wildlife in this park.

Wide open spaces

Montana. I swear, this state is impossible for me to photograph. It's so incredibly vast, as if it were dropped onto North America from another world -- a world populated by giants and other creatures of myth. They don't call it "Big Sky Country" for nothing. Montana made my heart sing.

I camped at Ruby Creek Campground for a whopping $8 -- one of the only times I actually paid to sleep somewhere during my cross-country trip. The campground is located about 2 miles down a rough dirt road in the Ruby Creek Recreational Area. All of the photos in this post were taken from my campsite, with the exception of the first one, which was taken on the way to Ruby Creek.

The weather was nice; at least, nice to me. It was chilly and drizzling and the sky was filled with clouds. The campground has a creek running through it, and a river flowing beside it. It is also bordered by two mountain ranges -- the Gravelly Range to the west, and the Madison range to the east. I didn't even know that I was surrounded by mountains until the skies cleared the next morning.

Imagine waking up to THAT. :)

I looked around the van to see if there were any evening chores I needed to do before dinner time. The van was pretty clean and organized, so I set about the campsite, looking for interesting rocks. I set up a rock cairn on every boulder that marked the border of my site, and then I did a bit of bird watching.

A magpie! They're gorgeous in person. There was a pair of them foraging for food along the gravel lanes of the campground. I watched them for a while, and then cooked some dinner for myself.

Throughout the afternoon and evening, a herd of cattle periodically filed into view across the river. I watched the single file pattern of their mini-migrations, and studied how they interacted with each other. I knew that cows had close friends and that herds had a hierarchy, but I never had the pleasure of witnessing a herd like this firsthand and for such a length of time. 

Cows are cool creatures. 

I had a lovely time at this campground. The only other person there was the campground host, who I didn't actually see in the flesh. Just the way I like it. ;)