Trolllin’ and Pollin’ Everglades Style
The same places I’ve been visiting since I arrived here are still continuing to surprise me. There’s no shortage of adventure and discovery in Everglades National Park, that’s for sure. With my friend, coworker, and backcountry fishing guide Pete Frezza, we headed out before dawn to meet the sun as it rose over the Everglades. Launching his boat we battled swarms of mosquitoes fully understanding our blood was a necessary sacrifice for our plans that day.
Right off the bat, the calm water began rippling out from the banks as juvenile tarpon rolled violently on unsuspecting minnows. I had never seen anything like that in South Florida. The only time I watched fish rise this frequently was on the North Platte River in Wyoming, and those were 15” trout. These were 30” tarpon. By my third cast I had one on the fly and it sent itself rocketing into the blue morning sky. What a way to start the day!
Pete was nice enough to let me have the first casts, but promptly after I wanted to see how it was done by a pro. Watching a seasoned fisherman cast into the tight spots around mangroves is like watching an artist at work. His fly danced and line undulated in beautiful loops and fell silently on the water, presenting an unresistable morsel to the fish below.
And just when we thought it couldn’t get any better than fishing on a Monday, a double rainbow appeared over the water. We stayed in this spot for the next two hours and found a few young snook which was encouraging to see since their numbers declined so abruptly after the 2010 freeze.
The bay was like glass and we could see redfish tailing in the flats as the tide drew out. Along the banks, dense mats of turtle grass floated on the surface, uprooted by storm surges and water currents, then elegantly arranged in lava-like tendrils of varying colors. Great white herons dotted the horizon waiting for unsuspecting toadfish and crabs to swim by. Just when it couldn’t get any better, all of a sudden by the shoreline we spotted it; my very first wild flamingo.
I’ve seen plenty of flamingos in zoos and postcards in all the stores down here, I’ve even drunk out of a plastic one, but never fully appreciated these birds until this moment. I couldn’t believe how they dwarfed all the shorebirds and wading birds along the coast. Maybe because they’re rare, maybe because we pulled 5 miles to get there, whatever the case I was overcome with this entitled feeling that I had been let into some special club. My camera was working, batteries at full charge, and an empty memory card, things were looking good. We approached slowly, but we couldn’t quite get close enough for a candid image. Wary of people, the flamingo would promptly take off as soon as we got within 50 feet, extending its long awkward neck and using the flats as its runway. It seemed to take forever for the bird to get into the air.
After another hour, we saw the flamingo land near some other wading birds. Hoping that power in numbers would make this bird feel safer we headed towards them and were able to get a little closer. Just then, my polarizer fell off my lens and scared the bird away. I managed to get some frames off just before, but still, with such a rare sighting, the images I was making didn’t match what I was feeling. Fortunately, the flamingo landed with a group of white herons. Seeing the image line up, Pete helped paddle us into a position to juxtapose the mangrove islands of Florida bay and this odd family of birds against the afternoon horizon.
Given the light and the physical circumstances, I couldn’t have been happier. And just in time too, because looking behind us, a storm was brewing, forcing us off the flats to bring our 15 mile pole and paddle to an end. I’m still buzzing from the energy.
Moonlit Stage
One of the best shows to see down here in the Keys is the full moon rising over the ocean. Yesterday, however, was the first time I saw it accompanied by a soundtrack. Rob Clift from EcoMariner, in coordination with KeystoPeace, hosted a drum circle of talented percussionists and musicians at Coconut Cove. If you’ve seen Swamp Stomp, then you know how much I love to make music outside. We all brought our favorite instruments and played for two hours on the best stage in the Keys. I can’t wait for next month!
Honduras
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| Me and Simon Olaleye with Jader and Zahid in Las Mangas, Honduras photo by Mari Whilkolm 2008 |
I left Honduras three years ago and it broke my heart. The kids I taught were so far along in their learning and were just coming of age. I had never learned community in the way they showed me community and leaving my small river village of Las Mangas after two years was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
Over the years I’ve kept Las Mangas and the kids close but only so far as phone calls, facebook, and skype allowed. From their first encounters with a mouse and keyboard, they’ve come a long way. Now, I get monthly updates from my top photographers who send me Photoshopped images over email. I’m so proud and impressed with the way they continue to grow and yet saddened I can’t be there to see it. Last month my schedule cleared up enough to spend a week in Honduras with my old students and help Guaruma (the non-profit that employed me) with its mission. Mostly, however, I went to reaffirm my roots.
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| Camilo Lopez enjoying one of the many water holes of his community |
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| School children walk by a stand of palms in Las Mangas, Honduras |
Las Mangas is my Macondo. Instead of the Buendia family, the Lobos are the central social and genetic pillar of the village as everyone seems to have an uncle, cousin, or brother within the family. The dirt road winding up the Cangrejal River valley cuts through several villages just like this one, but Las Mangas is unique. The streets are clean, the houses are beautifully adorned with wildflowers, and primary tropical forest still remains on both sides of the class five river. While the people struggle just to put rice and beans on their plates you would have to pry the indomitable smiles off their faces to find any bit of shame or remorse underneath. If Las Mangas breeds anything as successfully as more Lobos, it’s pride.
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| This photo would be impossible in the wet season when the Cangrejal River climbs its banks as surges towards the Caribbean |
Nestled between two national parks, the village is an ecological hotspot for insects, venomous reptiles, birds, amphibians, and several rare or endangered mammals. Precious hardwoods make up the canopy and provide ample habitat for diverse wildlife. Potable water rushes down the mountains through granite-laden creeks giving way to lush tropical life in every direction. But Las Mangas as well as the other communities along the watershed are not safe from the ever-growing needs of the population.
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| Camilo Lopez climbs the vines next to a large hardwood in the protected area of the forest |
As you might infer, there is quite a bit of exploitation that goes on along the Cangrejal River. Large tracts of dense forests are slashed and burned to make room for black beans and other crops. Jaguars have been nearly extirpated from the region as well as iguanas, monkeys, deer, and tapir. The dollar speaks, as they say, and in a bad economy there is no taboo when it comes to putting food on the table.
Growing up Mangas means a barefoot youth spent boulder hopping, waterfall climbing, and the reassuring ever-flowing sound of water. It’s the same freshwater that balances the estuaries along the coast, attracting tourists from all over the world. The same freshwater that keeps tidal ocean flows from rushing into the aquifers and contaminating the water supply. It’s the same freshwater that gives life to endemic fish and makes the Cangrejal River so unique. But there’s another plan for this water.
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| The Cangrejal River overlooked by Pico Bonito National Park |
Energy companies backed by contractors, government officials, and teams of engineers have determined the mighty torrent of the Cangrejal is the perfect place for a hydroelectric dam. The communities are confused because while promised employment, they would be placing the fate of their natural heritage in an on/off valve.
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| This water line is what attracts energy companies to the region. The promise of a raging river in the wet season may provide enough energy to power the city of La Ceiba |
It seems no matter where I go, water management is a prevailing force. In the Everglades, we’re shamefully backpedaling because a lot of money was to be made by controlling water. I would hate for the same regret to fall upon Las Mangas and the families of the Cangrejal River.
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| Orlin Murillo, past winner of the NANPA high school photography scholarship frequents the river in hopes of communicating the beauty of the watershed |
Over the seven days I spent in Las Mangas I thought about water constantly. I thought about how it sculpts our landscapes as it does our cultures. I thought about the millions of artists and poets who spent lifetimes trying to give it a voice. And regretfully I thought about our slow disconnect from it, much as we have disconnected from what we eat. I don’t claim to know all the benefits or risks of building a hydroelectric dam. Maybe in the long run more jobs for the citizens of the river and “cleaner” energy for the people of La Ceiba will be worth the trouble. What I do know, however, is that the Cangrejal is beautiful as it is and doesn’t need our improvements.
Savage Race Promo Shoot
I’m always so inspired by people who have stability in their lives, walking a paved path, and instead of closing their eyes letting the road unfurl beneath their feet, they opt to get off trail and go bushwhacking. My cousin, Sam Abbitt, woke up this year and decided his dream was not the one he was living.
Determined to create something new, he started a business plan for what would become Savage Race. It would be an endurance race designed to test even the toughest competitors all in the name of crossing the finish line to feel alive, complete, muddy, and hungry for more. He did this while his brother Hank was training in the most hardcore regimen this country has to offer: Navy SEALS.
I wrote Sam to congratulate him on his divorce from the everyday and offered to help in any way that I could with his new career. A day later we decided he would come down to South Florida to do a promotional photo shoot for the race. He needed photos of people running, jumping, and crawling through mud to supply his website, but he was unsure that my friends would be willing to put themselves through the ringer pro-bono. Obviously he doesn’t know my friends.
Complete with lingerie nightgowns, pink moo-moos, devilish masks, fairy wings, indian headdresses, ripped shirts, Hawaiian leis, and trojan battle garb, my friends brought the heat. As the main event would eventually sponsor a band and various beer tents, we were sure to bring a few beverages if not to incentivize, but to lubricate their desire to crawl in the thick and rocky mire while wearing women’s clothes in rural South Florida.
It was certainly a day to remember and I’m so fortunate to have such a dedicated cousin and even more so, friends who would spend their weekend crawling through the mud under barbed wire just for a few photos.
Of course, I wasn’t allowed to just shoot photos, my friends simply wouldn’t stand for it.
So if you’re into pushing yourself, eating BBQ, listening to music, and getting dirty then Savage Race is something you will not want to miss. Check out the official website to learn more about the gnarly event Sam is putting together this August. Sign up! I’ll be there!
NPR Interview
This afternoon I drove out to Ft Myers for an interview with National Public Radio’s WGCU member station hosted by Amy Tardif. The topic was Florida’s water and the various uses of multimedia to communicate the importance of maintaining and restoring our state’s compromised hydrology. I spoke for the second half of the program after Clyde Butcher and Elam Stoltzfus. Although it was a long drive to get there, I had a great time talking about the new projects I’m working on for National Audubon and also my ongoing photography portfolio on swamps of the east coast. I’m just happy I didn’t stumble too badly over my words! If you missed the live stream that I linked to on facebook and twitter, you can listen to the audio track here or on my website.
For more information on NPR’s WGCU or to hear the full interview check out their website
Fisheating Creek
So wait, you thought that I went paddling and camping in this awesome tree, in this incredibly scenic place, and didn’t bother waking up to shoot the next day? Come on now, guys, you can hold me to higher standards than that…
Ok, so I’d be lying if I told you sleeping in the Giving Tree was as romantic and peaceful as it sounds. In fact, I barely slept. Temperatures dropped down into the 40s that night and my hammock offered little protection, especially with wet clothes. It’s bittersweet though, because when I looked at my watch in the pre-dawn, I was more than ready to get my blood flowing, even if that meant having to walk through the cold water to get to my camera gear. Giddy, because there’s nothing like photographing a swamp in the fog, I jumped in my kayak and headed out for the morning.
All You Need Is…
Mac Stone Photography 