Kayaking Lessons

 

Marcus and I had only tried kayaking once before–twelve years ago at a resort in Jamaica. Our backs hurt so badly after ten minutes of sitting in the molded plastic seats, we returned the kayaks to the beach and hobbled back to our lounge chairs.

So many of our friends rave about kayaking. I’ve watched people in kayaks in the Indian River Lagoon in Stuart, and I’ve envied the way they silently slip in and out of the mangrove islands watching wildlife undisturbed. How is it that everyone can sit in those boats for hours except us? I began to suspect that maybe it wasn’t us, it was the cheap for-tourists-only kayaks at the resort.

Fortunately we had the opportunity on this trip to try good kayaks. Our friends, Dan and Nancy, live on a little piece of paradise on the Withlacoochee River in Inglis, just north of Crystal River. They are avid kayakers and offered to let us try theirs in the peace and quiet of their backyard river. Well, I thought, if we don’t find their kayaks comfortable, then it is us!

I was a little apprehensive, however. I had never paddled any kind of boat on my own. Marcus had always been on board to help me out, if I should find myself headed backward downriver toward a waterfall, for example. But this was a one-person craft; I’d be on my own. Fortunately Dan and Nancy are extremely patient teachers and did just about everything but paddle for me–adjusting the foot rests to fit, easing me into and out of the river, and following me upriver and back like protective parental ducks taking their offspring on her first swim. I was in good company!

It was a blast–all twenty minutes of it! Dan and Nancy gave us the option of going on a longer journey downriver after our trial run, but we opted for their pontoon boat so we could go farther and see more–and so we could perfect our paddling strokes in the privacy of our own lagoon! I felt like a baby moose trying to stand on gawky legs for the first time. The paddle was everywhere except where I wanted it to be! How does one gracefully apply this oversized appendage toward something resembling movement?

We’ll seek out further kayaking opportunities at home and get that paddling down to an art. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

In the wild

manatee sighting at Kings Bay Park, Crystal River

On a whim, we drove to Kings Bay Park in downtown Crystal River to see if there were any manatees hanging around. It was a chilly morning. Maybe there would be some stragglers who weren’t on their way out to the gulf yet. Several dive boats full of tourists in wetsuits and snorkel gear were prowling Kings Bay looking for manatees as well. Suddenly a large manatee surfaced at the dock we were standing on, practically under our feet.

“Don’t point at it!” I whispered urgently to Marcus as his arm naturally began to extend.

“What? Why?” he asked.

“I don’t want those boats to see you pointing, or they’ll head over here to have a look and scare him away.”

We kept our arms, and our first wild manatee, to ourselves for just a few moments longer.

a cute little guy wearing the floor of the bay on his back!

Up Close and Too Personal?

 

manatee with an injured flipper (behind him)

We were eagerly anticipating the manatee program at Homosassa Springs Wildlife Park as they are known primarily for their manatee refuge. The park is the only place in the area you are likely to see manatees year round. I don’t think they have any permanent residents, thank goodness, but given all the boat-strikes and other mishaps, they are usually working continuously with injured manatees to heal them and prepare them to be released back to the wild. We weren’t having much luck finding manatees in the area’s rivers this week because of the warmer-than-usual weather—record-breaking highs five days in a row. So we were excited to see some up close and personal.

When we arrived at the manatee tank, we found it high and dry with three manatees in it—and about a dozen people. No manatee presentation today; instead, the three new manatees the park had recently acquired, victims of last September’s Hurricane Irma, would receive their first medical checkup. Visitors were welcome to watch, however. I wouldn’t call it entertaining, but it certainly was an eye-opener.

As we arrived, there was a bit of a discussion amongst the staff members, volunteers, and vets in the enclosure as to the best way to give the manatees their much-needed shots. These guys were injured and needed antibiotics, among other things. They were not used to being handled by humans, and yet it was necessary for them to be restrained so the vet could inject them.

 

A nod of heads all around and four staff members and volunteers placed foam mats on top of one of the manatees. There was a bit of foot shuffling and half-hearted attempts to kneel next to the immense animal. Finally one of the staff members, aptly wearing a wetsuit, draped himself over the foam-topped manatee and the rest clumsily followed suit. The manatee struggled under the sudden weight, the restrainers renewed their efforts, slipping awkwardly in the mess at the bottom of the tank, and the vet was able to administer the injections.

Owie! Owie! Owie!

Well, we got our manatee encounter, up close and personal, but nothing like the volunteers and staff members did! I’ll bet it took half a dozen showers to wash away the smell of distressed manatee!

 

Westward, Ho!

It started with a lunch date in Lake Placid, Florida. A friend of Marcus’s from New Hampshire had bought a home in Bradenton, on the west coast of the state, and wondered if we would like to meet somewhere in between there and Stuart for lunch. Sure! What’s a two-hour drive amongst friends?

But then we started thinking: If we’re going to drive halfway across the state, why not drive the whole distance and make a mini-vacation of it? I scanned my brain: What have I had a hankering to see on the west coast? It took all of a few seconds to decide—manatees!

Winter is manatee season in Florida. When the water temps in the ocean and gulf are chilly, the manatees come into the rivers and lagoons where it’s warmer. Power plants, with their warm wastewater effluence, are a draw, but the main focal points in the state are the underwater springs, typically a cozy year-round 72°—a veritable hot tub for a manatee in winter.

No less than fifty underwater springs feed Kings Bay in Crystal River, on Florida’s gulf coast, making it the second largest first-magnitude spring system in the state, according to Wikipedia, and a popular winter home to hundreds of manatees. (Wakulla Springs is the largest first-magnitude system.) I’ve always wanted to visit to see a multitude of manatees in their natural winter habitat, and this, being February and a chillier-than-average winter, seemed like the ideal time.

Of course, we made these plans in January, when the weather was much cooler. It’s warmer now, but the temperatures are still dropping into the 60s overnight. We have seen a few in the early morning. Stay tuned for more wildlife adventures….

Home again

public forum in Seward

As you may have guessed by the gap in my posts, we are home. We left Portland two days ago—six days after we originally intended. Tropical Storm Irma (pka Hurricane Irma) was well north of Atlanta, our waypoint, and Hurricane José was still running around in circles in the Atlantic trying to decide what to do. Both Atlanta and West Palm Beach airports were fully operational, and we encountered no obstacles, thank goodness.

We arrived in West Palm Beach just 20 minutes after Marcus’s mom arrived from her hurricane haven in Connecticut. We took her home, made sure everything was working properly, and drove 45 minutes north to Stuart. We got to Publix a half hour before closing, picked up some essentials, and got home around 10:00. Except for a small roof leak that left a stain on my office ceiling (that looks, oddly, like the face of an angry badger), all is well.

Many people have asked what our next adventure will be. I’m not sure what’s in store for 2018. A year ago I had no idea we’d be going to Alaska this year. We’ve been talking about a three-to-four month trip to Australia and New Zealand. I’d love to spend a summer in Inverness, Scotland. But right now I can’t think about being away from home for that long. It feels too good to be here. I will miss the excitement of exploring new territory, but right now the familiar is welcome.

Thanks for coming along on this adventure with me. I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride and maybe even learned something about our 49th state.

Until the compass spins again, Cindy

Out of the frying pan, into the fire

photo: Mark Graves, The Oregonian/OregonLive 9/05/17

When we decided to wait out Hurricane Irma in Portland, Oregon, we didn’t realize that we were headed into a different type of disaster—wildfire. The Columbia River Gorge east of Portland, from Troutdale to Cascade Locks, is burning. The fire was started by a teenager shooting off fireworks.

My family was there during a reunion just two months ago, enjoying what is arguably one of the most beautiful places in Oregon.

Such a shame and so preventable. We heard the kid was warned by people nearby that the dry conditions could result in a fire, yet he chose to ignore their warnings. (It’s been a very dry summer. The grass in Portland is like straw.)

We saw the smoke as far away as Seattle airport. Fortunately visibility was good enough at PDX for our flight from Seattle to land. The airport is adjacent to the Columbia River.

My old buddy, Smokey, shed a tear over this one. (An old childhood friend)

Winter is on its way

Talkeetna Mountains, August 31, 2017

There was a dusting of snow on the Talkeetna Mountains between Denali and Talkeetna, south of the park, that wasn’t here just five days ago when we made our train ride north. Now we are southbound, on our return to Anchorage, to begin our journey home.

Winter is coming and it’s time for these two travelers to head where it’s warm. Hard to believe that it’s still summer in the Lower 48. Looking forward to some warm weather in Portland, Oregon.

Talkeetna Mountains, September 4, 2017

Clouds?

lenticular cloud

Not to be outdone by the wildlife and mountains, the clouds have their day. These lenticular clouds were everywhere today.

Lenticular, or lens-shaped clouds, are formed by air moving over the surface of the Earth that encounters obstructions, like, say, mountains—big mountains. The air swirls around the obstacle and, under the right conditions of moisture, temperature, and dew point, can form these crazy saucer shapes that some people mistake for UFOs.

Mountain’s Majesty

 

We came to see the wildlife, the kind that moves, but we never anticipated the wild beauty of these mountains. Trees, rock, snow, glaciers—it’s awe-inspiring! And if you time it just right, you might even catch a reflection off of a calm lake on a clear day.