Punta Gorda. Evergaldes, Islamorada Key, Mar 7 - 16

Punta Gorda, where Hank's Dad lives, was only 1/2 hour drive away from Harry's place in Port Charlotte across an arching bridge with views of the bay and the city. Once you leave the city of Punta Gourda, the road cuts through what I've come to think of as most of Florida; scrub pine, sawtooth palmetto , sand and mangrove. An old guy I met told me to keep an eye out for wild pigs. " A 300 pound sow can make a hell of a dent in a car; put you right off the road." I saw a family of pigs chowing down on the edge of the road. He also mentioned that pigs that got hit didn't rot much as locals "picked 'em up and ate 'em". Gives roadkill a new meaning. Don't know what they do with the passengers.


Frank is a burly guy with a brush cut. I brought him pictures of a boat that the Tokay's want to get rid of. It's been unused since Charley's visit, but still floating. A 20 foot O'Day, without a mast , rigging and sail ; probably a major recon job. I'd have a go, if I lived nearby and was hoping Frank would be interested as it would have been a neat project to re-cycle .

Understandable , as it'd cost a grand or more to refit. His partner is Rebecca, Becky to her friends and family, some of whom were visiting. Phylis and Dennis are her siblings; Mike is Phylis' husband. Mike is in a wheel chair because of MS. He used to be a firefighter and I know he's mighty frustrated being a burden, not being able to be active. Phylis takes good care of him; nonetheless, it sucks. Dennis is a retired Policeman from Michigan, a friendly guy who I found out had a great sense of humor.

Almost as soon as the introductions were completed, Frank was thinking about fishing. Me too. We went to his favorite store to check out a new rod which the salesman, also an avid fisherman had decided Frank would buy. He was right, the balance and weight was perfect and would match Frank's new reel . That afternoon he took me to the flats about a mile off the road, down what must have previously been a logging road. He lent me a rod, gave me instructions and suggestions on how best to work the lure and we started to fish. The water stays knee deep for about 1/2 mile from shore where a tan sand bar divides the aqua water from the deeper green of the bay. Patches of seaweed are the home to snook, redfish and sea trout. Frank told me to shuffle as I walked as stepping on a sting ray would result in a month of pain. I shuffled.

I caught the first fish, a nice sea trout which Frank unhooked for me with a special unhooking device, ( and as it turns out, the only fish I caught in 4 days of serious fishing. Oh well. Hope springs eternal and a good day fishing, etc., etc..) We released the fish. Frank caught another and released it. That night and into the next day, it rained 6" in 10 hours. Further down the coast it had rained 8"! Everything was soggy but by afternoon the sun came out, so we had another go at fishing. This was the road we had walked yesterday, now ankle deep and a semi river. Naturally it affected the ocean water turning it Bovril brown where yesterday it was crystal clear. The wind was blowing 15 -20 knots from the bay, so we hiked out 1/2 mile and fished parallel for 1 mile or so. After about 90 minutes , Nada, except my hands turned white and I lost all sensation in my fingers, just wooden sticks ; always happens with wind and 60 degree water, so we pulled the plug.

We returned home, had a beer or two and chatted with the family. Becky had come from Wal Mart where she works, Max the parrot, from his cage in the corner. He, Max, is infatuated with Frank, only person he likes to be near. Whenever someone else is too close, Frank gets bitten. Figure that ?

My last day, I played golf with Dennis and his friend from Michigan, Michael, who has recently become besotted with Robin, a lovely lady in her mid forties who seems to reciprocate his feelings. Michael is 75 and acted 18. He claimed much of his golfing power had been squandered the previous night. In any case, we had an enjoyable day of golf , even though the wind was howling and the greens were as hard as a billiard table.

Like many houses in Florida, Frank's is set off in the middle of a large field. He had to clear a lot of Kudzu, the vine overtaking the South and was fortunate to have a few trees left on his property. We tried fishing one last day, the day the big tournament was taking place and the one where Frank got bumped off a team because another more important guy turned up. We drove to the end of Pine Island and fished in a wind secluded bay for a few hours. Nada, again. However we did have an incredible hamburger in a small village, sitting at dockside and watching boats. We quit in time to make it back to hear the results of the Red Fish tournament broadcast at the Crab Bar in Punta Gorda. Frank's team, the one he didn't join came in 2nd to last with 2 red fish weighing a total of 4.8 lbs. The winners, travelled 130 miles to places unknown and caught 2 fish weighing 15.8 lbs. They had to be red fish, no longer than 27" each and anyone who would be a contender had to have scoped out the Bay well in advance. Frank was not upset that he didn't get up at 5am.

Frank, Becky and Dennis in the living room and on the couch where I slept most comfortably for a few days. I know I screwed up the normal daily routine since the kitchen was in the same room. Thanks for being so quiet each morning Becky!

When I arrived at Everglades City I was surprised to note I had already been there with Linda some years ago. We had been involved with an all day trip through the Everglades guided by an extremely knowledgeable naturalist. Everglades City had been one of our stops and a boat ride out to surrounding islands. This day, the wind was about 30 knots. They had only canoes. To get to the safety of a small mangrove edged creek, one had to cross about a 1/2 mile open bay. I ate my lunch , did a bit of carving and decided to head for the other, hopefully quieter side of the Everglades, near the Keys.

This handsome fellow was laying by the side of the road and seemed to be smiling. I reckon he was 15 feet long. I watched for awhile. Another monster alligator was swimming in the river, slow, powerful sweeps of his tail moved him silently forward and only front teeth shining above the water. Fish were fleeing, leaping out of the water when he slowly sank. I can imagine he found one or two.

This photo was taken beside Clyde Butcher's Gallery. He is a superb photographer who has specialized in taking glass slide pictures of the Everglades carrying 100 pounds of an ancient Kodak Camera into the swamp.


I like playing with the reflection; this one's right side up. It would probably look better flipped.








Harry had given me the name of one of his friends who had a place in Tavernier Key. I knocked on Gary Kuhlman's door about 11 am and as it was the day before St Patrick's Day, brought some good Irish beer. He's a retired tree surgeon from Michigan, loves to fish and specializes in bone fish, " Whom God wishes to drive mad, he first makes a bone fisherman". As we chatted and drank a cool one I looked off the edge of his dock and was amazed to see a 10' manatee floating not 5 feet away! " O Yeah. Spot " he said, "I'll bring him to the surface for you ." Gary dropped a garden hose into the water and Ol' Spot hooked on like a fighter jet to a tanker to drink for the next 30 minutes. Turns out that manatee cannot drink salt water and in the wild must find sweet water springs to slake their thirst. Gary made the search easier.



He sank to the bottom until the hose was turned off. I thought he'd drowned.


Gary was pleased to take his flat boat out and show me around the fishing neighborhood. Dick, an old friend of his came along. We first tried for red fish . I stood in readiness on the prow of the boat while Gary poled, ( punted) with a 12' long, fiberglass pole. This is so we can sneak up on the fish. The water was clear but had a little tea color on account of the rain. Gary poled expertly around the edges of the mangrove, I kept a too tight ,white knuckle grip on the rod expecting, any second to see my fish. Besides a few bait fish, ( minnows) and some mullet; Nada, but you already know that. Gary was really surprised as he was certain we would catch something. Then he dropped the motor into the water and I nearly slid into the water as he hit 30 knots heading for Tavernier creek, another certain fish hole.

Gary & Dick on the flat boat. I'm sitting , desperately holding on with one hand and taking this photo.

We must have covered 20 miles , through passages that joined one side of the Keys to the other, down to Islamorada, ( love the name ) , past incredible houses and screaming just feet over the bottom of the bay. Felt like 50 miles an hour so close to the surface of the water.

I left Gary about 3 pm. and was sorry that he had other plans as I really enjoyed his company. I showed him a picture of the Champion Live Oak. He was as impressed as I am. Later I went into Islamorada. stopped at the Sportsman Center and gazed at the fish I had hoped to catch swimming in an immense aquarium in the store. I talked to Sandy Moret the owner of a fly fishing school and guide business who said the conditions had been drastically turned upside down by the cold snap, that hundreds of snook had died because the water temperature had fallen below 50 degrees. However, he smiled and said the tarpon would be coming in, soon. The pelican on the Marina sign is real. He flew away when I tried to touch him.


Next day was cold and rainy. I had hoped to canoe in the Everglades but decided to aim for Gainesville and warmer conditions on the Sante Fe river, canoing with Jeff. The drive confirmed my opinion of Florida, miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles. Flat fields through Clewiston the Capital of Cane Sugar where I had and excellent buffet lunch at the Clewiston Inn. They served a delectable corned beef and cabbage in honor of St Pat. In the lobby was a museum of "all things Sugar Cane". I especially admired aluminum legging armor for cane cutters. Knights of old would have been envious. I swung past Orlando and headed north on Florida's Tnpk paying $3 for the privilege of doing 8o. Lovely names,; Okahumpa. Wierdsdale, Apopka, Oklawaha; I stopped at Micanopy to buy 1/4 bushel of Tangerines, just short of Gainesville and on a road I knew was going towards Jeff's place. He had prepared a welcome supper. It was good to be back to Je"Free", Kristina and my comfortable bed with plans to canoe the Rise River tomorrow.


That had to wait until Friday when the weather turned beautiful again, 76 degrees, no humidity or flies. The Rise river get it's name from the fact that the Sante Fe vanishes underground for 3 miles joining a huge underwater aquifer and then suddenly rises, springs up at the source of the Rise. Mike, one of Jeff's colleagues joined us with his inflatable kayak. We rented the old standby, a Grumman aluminum canoe which the attendant claimed was "at least 30 years old, but indestructible" .





Spring is "just around the corner". Witness the flashy red of the swamp maple flowers, the brilliant green of the floating weed. ( Don't know it's name. Fluffy looking islands where, on our approach, alligators vanished.) Check the reflections, bloody marvelous! Lots of turtles sunning themselves and warily eyeing us, and wondering, should we leap or stay sitting on this comfortable log?




Saturday, I spent some time on my re-carve piece that I had found at the flea Market in Sarasota. I'm indebted to the original carver for the theme. He may or may not approve of my improvements; I learn by thinking how he carved it and by the changes I make. I'm going to like the finished piece.

On Saturday Jeff, G-eff ( said with a strong Southern accent) and I played golf and hooked up with Vic on the 3rd hole. We had a lot of fun. G-eff is from South Carolina, who has a wicked sense of humor, played golf in flip flops and didn't notice that most of the clubs he rented were left handed. "Whats the difference between a lost ball and the G spot " He asked. " A guy will spend 30 minutes looking for a lost ball".

And Jeff says. " G-eff has single handily upheld the penicillin industry during this recent recession"

We played well. Jeff kept a sharp eye on my strokes as well he might. I need a clicker which goes off each time I swing for real. I just can't remember anything in the short term. None the less, I beat 'em, fair and square.!! One guy, (G-eff) was exactly 1/2 my age, the other, Jeff, 2/3rds. Hooray. Afterwards we went to the Red Onion Bar and had one hell of a meal listening to a gal with a voice like caramel, lovely rendition of "Autumn Leaves, Summertime and I Get so Lonely" amongst many others.

Today, I've been writing since 10:30 with a short break at 5pm. It's nearly supper and Jeff is at it again. Tilapia in a ginger , tangerine sauce, grilled eggplant, and a walnut, raspberry salad with blue cheese dressing. Going to be hard to leave tomorrow.