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Southernmost
Way down south in the Everglades where the black water rolls and the sawgrass waves
The eagles fly and the otters play in the land of the Seminole….
By the end of the day, I’d gotten used to seeing alligators. Pedaling along a 15-mile bike loop, I accelerated past a fair number of 6 to 7 footers basking in the sun, and countless smaller ones looking out with sleepy, half closed eyes from the swamp water. A park ranger had briefed us that the creatures could move fast despite their sluggish looks. Not wanting to get whacked by the business end of a tail or munched for lunch, I gave them wide berth and pedaled as fast as the rusted, coaster brake rental bike would take me.
Technically, I had been here before. Roughly, forever ago, I visited the Everglades with my parents, older sister, and little brother. My takeaway from a child’s perspective was the stifling heat and swatting mosquitos on my bloody legs and arms. Buggy and hot. Somewhere in a box in an attic is the only souvenir of that outing; a black and white photograph of an alligator, taken with my sister’s Brownie camera from so far away the reptile looks like a large, black log on the road.
