That was not the first thing that came to mind as I executed a languid turn in the shallow waters of the Calusa Blueway. My first thought was, believe it or not:
“Damn you, white whale!” as I struggled for balance in the drenching thrash of waters, the dripping red blades of my double ended spear glinting in the sun, begging for slack in the coiled bowline on the kayak floor.
Ok, it wasn’t that either, but it did get interesting. Let’s back up a bit.
The day could not have been more pleasant, 72 and sunny. After the damp and dismal recent January days we bravely suffered through, each in our own way, this was a much-needed reprieve from our harsh Florida winter, and a nice bit of exercise as well.
We put in at the mouth of a perfect mangrove tunnel, an easy paddle to the viewing area at Manatee Park in North Fort Myers. As promised, the manatees were in high numbers. Cool air temperatures and warm effluent from the nearby power plant cooling towers combined to offer the air-breathing aquatic mammals their own aqueous reprieve from the winter weather.
Landlubbers gathered along the water’s edge to catch a glimpse of their underwater ballet. Short sprays of watery breath that bring to mind the name Snuffleupagus indicate the infrequent surfacing of the fully aquatic mammals sometimes known as sea cows. And that’s part of the mystique of manatee viewing. They do not engage in the dancing, chirping dolphin show of Seaworld fame. More often than not by the time you hear their occasional breath and turn to look, their small hairy pig-like snout is disappearing beneath the water for as long as twenty minutes. At least, that’s the experience when you view them from land.
For those who may have been concerned about entering the water amidst a congregation of 1300 pound beasts with only a quarter inch of fiberglass as protection, we were assured, “Oh, they may give you a bump.” How cute!
Let me tell you. I am not a world adventurer, but I have experienced a few things. I have trained dolphins in Hawaii and learned about their power, stood at the base of a live volcano hissing warnings to incautious nearby humans, dodged an outbreak of killer tornadoes that left me covered in grass and mud, and experienced the disorientation of the earth quaking under my feet. But not until today have I ridden the bare back of an upset rubber Volkswagen like a bucking bronco at an Arcadia rodeo. If there is a person who can beat my time of five seconds airborne without rope straps, I’d like to congratulate him or her. Do I exaggerate? Of course, I was in the middle of a torrent of water that threatened to pitch me into the drink, bouncing like a cartoon character on the back of a lumbering beige turnip the size of a she-shed. But as heads turned from every direction in fascinated hope of my imminent demise, I heard one fellow kayaker exclaim, “Well, I’ve never seen anything like THAT!”
Of course, my wife missed the entire episode, which is unfortunate, but also allows me to further embellish my tale at every telling. As one of seven children, she grew up laughing at the periodic impalings, tumbling missteps and dislocated joints of family lore. It was a survival mechanism. So I feel she was deprived this morning of a hearty laugh that would have grown louder and longer at each retelling.
But seriously, the “bump” that I felt telegraphed the mass and power of the creature I must have inadvertently wedged between the water’s surface and the shallow sand bottom. When these critters feel trapped, they can move! And the strange sensation of being lifted above the water from underneath is primal, worthy of a Jaws remake, and hopefully something my troublesome GoPro decided to capture if it was even turned on at that point. Consider the weight of my twelve foot kayak at perhaps sixty pounds, my own considerable mass within, and the ease with which I was tossed like an omelette on a rubber spatula, and for the rest of the morning I was just a touch leery at the approach of shadowy shapes and their passage under my boat. But they were well behaved, even stopping by with their babies who seemed fascinated with us, a concern for their future among dangerous propellers and boaters who refuse to heed clearly posted warnings. The scars on the backs of many adults testified to this, and as tempting as it was to rub their backs and bellies, we resisted that human-encouraging interaction for their sake.
By all means consider treating yourself with an easy rental at Manatee Park, whether on your own or with out of town guests who think all we do is lounge around our pools in the winter.
“Avast, ye matey, yo ho!”
Best regards, your recently humbled reporter, Moby Vic.
😎
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