Wilderness Wateway Pioneers
In the early 1970's I was canoeing mostly day trips out of the
Flamingo and Everglades City Area, with occasional over-night
trips usually to the Cape Sable Area. It was only a matter of
time and buying a copy of the Truesdell book on the Wilderness
Waterway that I'd set out for the jewel of Everglades
National Park.
On 20 December 1975, a couple of weeks after I graduated from
college, a long time friend of mine, Bill, and I launched my mom's
aluminum canoe from the first bridge on Chokoloskee Causeway.
Two guys, very limited with any long term primitive camping
knowledge, sunk the gear-loaded 15-foot canoe down low in the water,
so much so that we were already up on the embankment on the opposite
side of the bridge bailing the canoe out after taking on wake from
a commercial fishing boat just seconds into our trip. Undeterred,
we continued down the magenta line on the inside of the causeway
passing the familiar Wilderness Waterway markers. This being our
first time at both the Wilderness Waterway and a backcountry
trip this long in length, we stayed on the charted route to Huston Bay
but made our first off-the-path variation by going down the north
fork of Chatham River to Watson Place.
Watson Place was the same as it is today except for a homemade wooden
outhouse and a smaller dock. It used to be just two 2x12's extending
offshore. There was, however, a big difference in administration - no
permits. Paper work consisted of a rolled up log in a bottle with the
lid nailed on the underside of the camp sign so the bottle hung down
in a kind of weather-protected fashion. When a camper spent a night
he would record a one line entry of data on times, date, number in
party, etc. There were few restrictions or limits and the only
printed document listing rules was the Truesdell book. Bureaucracy
tends to be directly porportional to use, so since there was so
little use of these sites, decisions were left more to the user.
We shared the site for the night with two fishermen
who had a canvas tent with wooden poles, remember those?
They marveled at our very little but "modern" aluminum pole
cheapo two man tent I bought at Eagle Army Navy for $9.95. It
was not oiled canvas but nylon or some kind of plastic!
The next morning we continued down the magenta line across
Chevelier Bay to Opossum Key, where Arthur Darwin still lived,
and continued across Cannon Bay and Alligator Bay. Plate Creek Bay
had a number of deserted fishing cabins and a large tank tower
against a small island in the middle of the bay. We went into one
of the cabins on the north side of the bay, it was quite nice and
after climbing up the tank tower, which is now Plate Creek Chickee,
we continued across Two Island Bay to Onion Key.
With it's 5 feet of flat elevation, cleared inside of brush, overhanging
trees, picnic table and no bugs, this little island was the best campsite
between Everglades City and Flamingo. We pitched our tent, prepared
dinner: something dumped out of a can heated with Sterno (the little
single burner stoves were just coming on the market and they
were expensive), mixed Tang (this was before Gatorade and all
those wonderful little bottles containing a variety of drinks) Tang
and powdered milk was it. We sat around a nice ground fire (oh yeah,
no problem with ground fires either).
The next day, 22 December 1975, we had our first slap of reality
from the weather. This is the stuff that makes the backcountry
canoer, stronger, wiser and experienced. The only thing is since
you're three days into it, all this knowledge and training is
forced on you by the conditions. I guess it's called "survival".
We followed the printed route through Onion Key Bay, Third Bay,
and as we approached Big Lostmans Bay we noticed the wind picking
up. By the time we got to the bay the wind was screaming from
the north northeast and we were headed east across the big bay.
We made it to the little island near marker 42 and reassessed our
situation in the lee of the island but any attempts to move
forward was met with almost devastating winds and waves. Other
than going backwards, our only attack would be to head southeast
keeping the canoe near parallel to the wave crests and troughs
making it to the little point of land on the south side of
the bay between markers 42 and 41. We did it, taking on water
the whole way and crashing into the mangroves just north of
the point. We jumped out to save the canoe and gear, steadied
the canoe along side the mangroves and bailed. After putting
ourselves back together, we slowly paddled the canoe around
that point and hugged in behind the land just south of marker 41.
We follow the north shore, the lee side, of islands to
continue our route south only to get hit with the full flood
(against us) tide when we got down to Broad River. With daylight
running out, making it impossible to get to Broad River, we rode
the tide into Camp Lonesome. Since the next campsite after Broad
River was Shark River Chickee this left us in an undesireable
campsite for the next day but we had no choice. As it turned out
we did okay, our gear was sealed good enough to keep the water
out so the only thing wet was the clothes we were wearing.
Feeling like seasoned explorers from the day before, we went off the
printed route on day 4 and took Wood River out to Broad River
campsite. It was early in the day but we didn't want to attempt
going all the way to Shark River Chickee so we stayed at Broad River
and thought about the next day's trip through The Nightmare.
Back then, hand-powered craft didn't travel the outside route much.
Come to think about, there weren't many boaters of any kind this
far out. Power boats didn't have the fuel ranges that boats have
today and hand-powered craft were few and far between. We had not
seen anybody since leaving Watson Place. Broad River campsite was
very different from what it is today. No Brazilian Pepper, the site
was cleared much larger and it even had mowed grass, very much
like Watson Place.
The next morning we left early to go through The Nightmare. The
low tide warning note was on the nautical charts even back then but
we didn't pay any attention to the tides...another one of those
wisdom things I mentioned earlier. Sure enough, somewhere on the
south side of The Nightmare the water ran out and sure enough we
ended up out of the canoe dragging it in hip deep mud. Back then
The Nightmare ended pretty much at marker 23 and it wasn't until
years later that the stretch between marker 17 and 16 grew in.
We rode the flood up Harney River which meant we fought the tide
coming down Shark River and arrived at Shark River Chickee too
early to stop but too late to continue. Or WAS it too late
to continue...we figured if we cut through that maze of creeks
southeast of the chickee, called the "Labyrinth" in later years,
it would put us right on Watson River Chickee in plenty of daylight.
Off we went, turn here, don't turn here, go straight, go more south,
try this one, to the east, look ahead and see if you see anything;
Terry: "Bill, do you have any idea where we are?", Bill: "What are you
asking me for? You've been lookin' at the chart." Terry: "I have no
idea where we are." Bill: "Are we lost?" Terry: "Define lost."
Bill: "Are we going to get outta here? Terry: "I think the chart
is now useless." Bill: "Let's just keep heading southeast."
And, forgiving as the Labyrinth is, we finally popped out in open
water where we could see the chickee across a small bay. Back then
there were picnic tables on the chickees, we had to move the table
out on the walkway to the outhouse to set up a tent.
Still thinking, "follow the printed route", we took off the following
morning right down the middle of Whitewater Bay. Gee, the bay has
an interesting name. This was dumb but not as dumb as it is today:
Oyster Bay Chickee did not exist but Wedge Point ground site, smack
dab in the middle of the bay, did. Going to Joe River Chickee, a
single chickee at the time, from Watson River Chickee was the wrong
direction. It also could leave us with a long next day. Avoiding
the bay by going north meant a large detouring arc with a night at
one of the same sites as today except Roberts River and Hells Bay were
ground sites. We cruised to Wedge Point where we saw people for
the first time since leaving Watson Place. It was two guys in a
beautifully constructed New England type all wood canoe, on a northern
bound attempt at the Wilderness Waterway. We couldn't figure
these guys out - they had two glass five gallon bottles
(the type that used to be inverted in a old water cooler)
for water and the bow of the canoe was full of books. They somehow
must have thought they were out for a Caribbean cruise, needless
to say after a late start from Flamingo and spending their first
night tied to the mangroves in Coot Bay, they were giving up and
heading back to Flamingo. We continued and the wind continued to
build right in our faces. We made it to the island just west of
marker "12" and hugged the lee side of the island around to the
southern point where we were greeted by 3-foot waves pushed by strong
easterly winds. We paddled hard and fast to get to the second point
of land west of Tarpon Creek, then hugged the shoreline all the
way to the creek. Then as if the Wilderness Waterway was inflicting
its last blow against us, we were hit with surf as we came into
Coot Bay. We did it but the wind was trying it's hardest to hold
us back as we inched our way around the southern coastline.
I clearly remember the feeling of accomplishment after landing at the
boat ramp in Flamingo. That was the first of many trips to come.
Flamingo and Everglades City Area, with occasional over-night
trips usually to the Cape Sable Area. It was only a matter of
time and buying a copy of the Truesdell book on the Wilderness
Waterway that I'd set out for the jewel of Everglades
National Park.
On 20 December 1975, a couple of weeks after I graduated from
college, a long time friend of mine, Bill, and I launched my mom's
aluminum canoe from the first bridge on Chokoloskee Causeway.
Two guys, very limited with any long term primitive camping
knowledge, sunk the gear-loaded 15-foot canoe down low in the water,
so much so that we were already up on the embankment on the opposite
side of the bridge bailing the canoe out after taking on wake from
a commercial fishing boat just seconds into our trip. Undeterred,
we continued down the magenta line on the inside of the causeway
passing the familiar Wilderness Waterway markers. This being our
first time at both the Wilderness Waterway and a backcountry
trip this long in length, we stayed on the charted route to Huston Bay
but made our first off-the-path variation by going down the north
fork of Chatham River to Watson Place.
Watson Place was the same as it is today except for a homemade wooden
outhouse and a smaller dock. It used to be just two 2x12's extending
offshore. There was, however, a big difference in administration - no
permits. Paper work consisted of a rolled up log in a bottle with the
lid nailed on the underside of the camp sign so the bottle hung down
in a kind of weather-protected fashion. When a camper spent a night
he would record a one line entry of data on times, date, number in
party, etc. There were few restrictions or limits and the only
printed document listing rules was the Truesdell book. Bureaucracy
tends to be directly porportional to use, so since there was so
little use of these sites, decisions were left more to the user.
We shared the site for the night with two fishermen
who had a canvas tent with wooden poles, remember those?
They marveled at our very little but "modern" aluminum pole
cheapo two man tent I bought at Eagle Army Navy for $9.95. It
was not oiled canvas but nylon or some kind of plastic!
The next morning we continued down the magenta line across
Chevelier Bay to Opossum Key, where Arthur Darwin still lived,
and continued across Cannon Bay and Alligator Bay. Plate Creek Bay
had a number of deserted fishing cabins and a large tank tower
against a small island in the middle of the bay. We went into one
of the cabins on the north side of the bay, it was quite nice and
after climbing up the tank tower, which is now Plate Creek Chickee,
we continued across Two Island Bay to Onion Key.
With it's 5 feet of flat elevation, cleared inside of brush, overhanging
trees, picnic table and no bugs, this little island was the best campsite
between Everglades City and Flamingo. We pitched our tent, prepared
dinner: something dumped out of a can heated with Sterno (the little
single burner stoves were just coming on the market and they
were expensive), mixed Tang (this was before Gatorade and all
those wonderful little bottles containing a variety of drinks) Tang
and powdered milk was it. We sat around a nice ground fire (oh yeah,
no problem with ground fires either).
The next day, 22 December 1975, we had our first slap of reality
from the weather. This is the stuff that makes the backcountry
canoer, stronger, wiser and experienced. The only thing is since
you're three days into it, all this knowledge and training is
forced on you by the conditions. I guess it's called "survival".
We followed the printed route through Onion Key Bay, Third Bay,
and as we approached Big Lostmans Bay we noticed the wind picking
up. By the time we got to the bay the wind was screaming from
the north northeast and we were headed east across the big bay.
We made it to the little island near marker 42 and reassessed our
situation in the lee of the island but any attempts to move
forward was met with almost devastating winds and waves. Other
than going backwards, our only attack would be to head southeast
keeping the canoe near parallel to the wave crests and troughs
making it to the little point of land on the south side of
the bay between markers 42 and 41. We did it, taking on water
the whole way and crashing into the mangroves just north of
the point. We jumped out to save the canoe and gear, steadied
the canoe along side the mangroves and bailed. After putting
ourselves back together, we slowly paddled the canoe around
that point and hugged in behind the land just south of marker 41.
We follow the north shore, the lee side, of islands to
continue our route south only to get hit with the full flood
(against us) tide when we got down to Broad River. With daylight
running out, making it impossible to get to Broad River, we rode
the tide into Camp Lonesome. Since the next campsite after Broad
River was Shark River Chickee this left us in an undesireable
campsite for the next day but we had no choice. As it turned out
we did okay, our gear was sealed good enough to keep the water
out so the only thing wet was the clothes we were wearing.
Feeling like seasoned explorers from the day before, we went off the
printed route on day 4 and took Wood River out to Broad River
campsite. It was early in the day but we didn't want to attempt
going all the way to Shark River Chickee so we stayed at Broad River
and thought about the next day's trip through The Nightmare.
Back then, hand-powered craft didn't travel the outside route much.
Come to think about, there weren't many boaters of any kind this
far out. Power boats didn't have the fuel ranges that boats have
today and hand-powered craft were few and far between. We had not
seen anybody since leaving Watson Place. Broad River campsite was
very different from what it is today. No Brazilian Pepper, the site
was cleared much larger and it even had mowed grass, very much
like Watson Place.
The next morning we left early to go through The Nightmare. The
low tide warning note was on the nautical charts even back then but
we didn't pay any attention to the tides...another one of those
wisdom things I mentioned earlier. Sure enough, somewhere on the
south side of The Nightmare the water ran out and sure enough we
ended up out of the canoe dragging it in hip deep mud. Back then
The Nightmare ended pretty much at marker 23 and it wasn't until
years later that the stretch between marker 17 and 16 grew in.
We rode the flood up Harney River which meant we fought the tide
coming down Shark River and arrived at Shark River Chickee too
early to stop but too late to continue. Or WAS it too late
to continue...we figured if we cut through that maze of creeks
southeast of the chickee, called the "Labyrinth" in later years,
it would put us right on Watson River Chickee in plenty of daylight.
Off we went, turn here, don't turn here, go straight, go more south,
try this one, to the east, look ahead and see if you see anything;
Terry: "Bill, do you have any idea where we are?", Bill: "What are you
asking me for? You've been lookin' at the chart." Terry: "I have no
idea where we are." Bill: "Are we lost?" Terry: "Define lost."
Bill: "Are we going to get outta here? Terry: "I think the chart
is now useless." Bill: "Let's just keep heading southeast."
And, forgiving as the Labyrinth is, we finally popped out in open
water where we could see the chickee across a small bay. Back then
there were picnic tables on the chickees, we had to move the table
out on the walkway to the outhouse to set up a tent.
Still thinking, "follow the printed route", we took off the following
morning right down the middle of Whitewater Bay. Gee, the bay has
an interesting name. This was dumb but not as dumb as it is today:
Oyster Bay Chickee did not exist but Wedge Point ground site, smack
dab in the middle of the bay, did. Going to Joe River Chickee, a
single chickee at the time, from Watson River Chickee was the wrong
direction. It also could leave us with a long next day. Avoiding
the bay by going north meant a large detouring arc with a night at
one of the same sites as today except Roberts River and Hells Bay were
ground sites. We cruised to Wedge Point where we saw people for
the first time since leaving Watson Place. It was two guys in a
beautifully constructed New England type all wood canoe, on a northern
bound attempt at the Wilderness Waterway. We couldn't figure
these guys out - they had two glass five gallon bottles
(the type that used to be inverted in a old water cooler)
for water and the bow of the canoe was full of books. They somehow
must have thought they were out for a Caribbean cruise, needless
to say after a late start from Flamingo and spending their first
night tied to the mangroves in Coot Bay, they were giving up and
heading back to Flamingo. We continued and the wind continued to
build right in our faces. We made it to the island just west of
marker "12" and hugged the lee side of the island around to the
southern point where we were greeted by 3-foot waves pushed by strong
easterly winds. We paddled hard and fast to get to the second point
of land west of Tarpon Creek, then hugged the shoreline all the
way to the creek. Then as if the Wilderness Waterway was inflicting
its last blow against us, we were hit with surf as we came into
Coot Bay. We did it but the wind was trying it's hardest to hold
us back as we inched our way around the southern coastline.
I clearly remember the feeling of accomplishment after landing at the
boat ramp in Flamingo. That was the first of many trips to come.
Views: 428
Replies to This Discussion
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Permalink Reply by yakmaster on
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The mother lode boys & girls!
I got the letter from Bob. It's in pretty bad shape. I had Laura transcribe it as originally written (there are notes & changes all over, but I couldn't tell which were his & which came later, so I left them out). After she transcribed it as written with ___ designating illegible portions, I guessed at some of the content which is indicated by brackets. I have also attached a scan of the letter.
Without further ado, here is the history of the nightmare as written by Richard A. Stokes:
December 12, 1996
Mohawk, Florida
Dear Editor
Since my retirement in 1981 I have heard many stories of how the one hundred mile waterway in Everglades National came into being. I have written an account of how this came about, to the best of my knowledge this is exactly how it happened,
______ discovery of the connection between the Broad and Shark River _______ made it possible. After this was found it became a matter of ____ out the waterway and doing a lot of hard work to make _____ waterway between Everglades City and Flamingo.
This letter is being sent to many different locations including former co-workers, newspapers, parks and the E&AA “Newsletter.” If any publication of this material is made please contact me before publication.
Sincerely
/Illegible signature/
Richard A. Stokes
NPS 1950-1981
cc. Joe Brown, former Supt, ENP
Present Supt. ENP
E&AA “Newsletter”
Robert Kerr, former Chief Ranger ENP
Ralph Maxwell, former Asst. Chief Ranger ENP
The Orlando Sentinel, Florida Magazine
Dan Brown, NPS SE Regional Office
The Everglades 100 Mile Waterway and How it Really Happened
Back in 1958 I was assigned to the Everglades at 40 Mile Bend, where I spent two years. Then in 1959 I was moved to Everglades City along with Roy Everson and two junk boats nobody would have.
There being no place to live, I commuted from 40 Mile Bend for six months and ____ finally found a house to rent. This lasted only 30 days and I was homeless again. Then we finally found an apartment to live in for the next _____ years, when Service housing became available.
[Part] of the original park plans by Dan Beard the fist Supt. Was to dredge [a canal] between the upper reaches of the Shark and Broad River drainages [this] would allow a small boat to go from Everglades City to Flamingo [without] going out in the gulf. This was never accomplished as it would [create] another unnatural problem for the Everglades. In defense of [Beard’s] plan, it was not known at this time of the damages that would occur from this action.
After working at Everglades City for a few years I began to know the area quite well. The first charts of this area were called T-Charts. They were in black and white with no depths on them. In studying these charts I found that there was a creek from Broad River into Broad Creek which went into Harney River and thence to the Shark. These charts had much more detail of the interior than the present day navigation charts and they showed three small creeks off the main creek which would make the connection.
Plans were set to attempt this passage. Roger Allen, Supt. and Bob Kerr Chief Ranger came up from Headquarters and we all went Lostman’s River Ranger Station to spend the night. We had a 17’ open boat with outboard motor and a [10x5 skiff] with a 20 h.p. motor [there were others in the party].
The Plan
Bob Kerr was to take Roger and I to the beginning of the creek at Broad River. Roger and I would take the small skiff to make the passage and Bob was to go around the outside and meet us in Broad Creek. So much for the best laid plans of mice and men.
The chart showed three small creeks which we found, the third creek was the one to be taken. This was perhaps about 11 a.m. We started up the third creek as planned. The tide was falling and we got up the creek further and further we begin to encounter many logs and the creek began to narrow. We lifted the boat over several logs and finally decided we could not make the passage. So we turned around and started out and found the tide had fallen a great deal and we would have to lift the boat over logs for the entire distance back to the main creek. After about 200 yds Roger became exhausted and we climbed up on the bank to rest. Oh, we had a radio, but as usual, when you needed it, it did not work. We were in a dilemma as to the course of action after Roger became rested it was decided that we would walk across the mangroves to Broad Creek, as we could hear Bob running the boat up and down the creek looking for us. This was perhaps 4 p.m.
Anyone who has walked through mangroves knows what we faced as it was about ½ mile to Broad Creek. We took two life boat cushions with us and started out. We made it to Broad Creek, however on arrival Roger was completely exhausted. This was around 6 p.m. I did not know what to do as I could not carry or swim with him for help.
_______ [ Lostman’s Ranger Station to radio for help. He got Ralph Miele and the park plane to look] for us. While up at Pine Island residential area the employees were gathering for a picnic, one of the rangers brought his truck over to the Chickee and turned on the radio so all could hear what was going on, including our wives.
While back at the creek Roger had become rested so I talked him into getting into the creek. This revived him so with our life cushions we started swimming down the creek to the gulf. Roger’s only thoughts were of alligators and mine of sharks. About half way to the gulf we heard the park plane, waving our cushions frantically. Miele saw us, and radioed Bob to come pick us up. By the time he arrived back at the creek it was dark and we had reached the forks of Broad Creek, being dark when he started up the creek he went up the wrong right hand fork as he had been directed however we were on the left fork. Finally after he had been gone sometime we decided to swim across a small bay so that we would be at the narrow mouth of the creek when he came out. After a few minutes here came Bob full throttle out the creek as he passed us we threw the cushions and hit the boat to get him stopped. Then back to Lostman’s for a good meal and a good night sleep, so we could go back to Everglades City the next day.
The second try to find the passage occurred a few days later. Ed Carlson, Ken Morgan and I came back with the same equipment as on the first try. I am not sure if one of them went with me in the small skiff or if I went by myself and they both went around to Broad Creek to make the pick up. However we took the same route through the main creek, but this time we took the fourth creek instead of the third, with a little effort we made it through to Broad Creek. This was the first trip through the waterway.
As far as I could find out, none of the locals had ever been through this waterway. No one knew of it nor did it show on any of the modern navigational charts. There was no sign of the creek ever being used within modern times. I strongly suspect that the only use was by the Calusa Indians, which were the native indians of the coast and everglades at Everglades National Park.
The next trip through the waterway was by Frank Masland and I. Frank took movies of the trip and they are in possession of one of his sons if Frank is not living. Every effort should be made by the Park Service to obtain this film. It covered many other things and trips which he made with me and other rangers in the Everglades National Park.
Ed, Ken and I proceeded to cut out this creek and an open 16’ skiff could make it through on high tide. After getting the creek open we proceeded to lay out the entire route of the waterway.
The next step was to locate campsites approximately one day apart on the trail. This we did using mainly indian mounds and high places along the river banks from Everglades City to Whitewater Bay. One site on Onion Key was very interesting as we installed a pit privy, however the regional archeologist said we had to take the dirt out in six inch layers, sift in one quarter inch screens, and bag it for future study. This we did.
We had no maintenance crew at Everglade City therefore Ed, Ken and I scrounged tables and grills at headquarters, cleared the sites, and built the campgrounds. Later when I moved to Flamingo as District Ranger, with other rangers, we built the first Chickee on stilts along the Joe River.
This is the true story on how the 100 mile Everglades came to be. I apologize for omitting any names however the main names are all included in the ________ is hoped that this will clear up exactly who discovered the waterway and build the campgrounds that go with it.
Written by:
Richard A. Stokes
Rager Everglades National Park 1958 to 1970 - Attachments:
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LETTER-R STOKES.pdf, 218 KB
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Permalink Reply by vivian on
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Fascinating stuff Yakmaster, I really enjoyed reading your post. After looking at the pdf it is a wonder that document was saved.
The Truesdell book is available in our main library here in Miami. I will be checking it out soon.
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Now that we've decided that 2009 is the 50th anniversary of the waterway, we need to plan the event(s). The folks in green & gray are on board with the concept of a commemorative boatacade with an overnight in the middle. We need to pick a date and any other add-ons to the celebration. Maybe a preparty @ Flamingo?
Is anybody good @ tracking folks down? maybe we could get some of the original characters in Stokes' letter to come down & tell the story of the early days?
Any ideas out there?
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Permalink Reply by toofaraway on
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I noticed there's a spiral bound copy of Truesdell's book on Amazon now for $6 plus shipping.
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I picked it up. There are 2 other spiral bound copies for less than $6 still at Amazon too I noticed (after I bought this one).
Cheers,
John
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Another interesting / short read was a series of small books called"Prop Roots". We picked these up at the old Choko store a long time ago. I see a few available on Alibris. The local school kids interviewed all the hermits they could find.
Prop Roots Vol. II; Hermits From the Mangrove Country of the Everglades
Book: Good Good
Binding: Softcover
Description: Very good. An interesting book highlighting the people of the area who have become known as hermits. Brief yet unique stories about the seven locals and their lives in the Mangrove Country of the Everglades. softcover stapled phamplet, c1980 Everglades City, FL, Collier County Public Schools, Everglades City High School, Prop Roots Organization clean pages, clean text, 56 pages slight cover wear, ck--1.
Alibris ID: 10009287505
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