By Karen Friesner

It is said that an adventure is only an adventure if there is an element of risk or danger involved. Our recent kayak trip to North Nest Key over Thanksgiving 2006 just might qualify. You be the judge.

The Nest Keys (there is a north and a south key) lie in the eastern side of Florida

Bay, approximately eight miles from Key Largo. They are part of Everglades National

Park (ENP) and North Nest Key (NNK) is a designated primitive backcountry camping

site. The name Nest Keys apparently came from the presence of numerous Osprey nests

found there.

The most frequent question I’m asked is “How did you find out about this place?”

The answer requires a little explanation of our becoming involved with the sport of

kayaking. My husband and I fell in love with kayaking about sixteen months ago. We

started with 9.5ft Old Town Otters, read, studied and tried several others until we

decided on Necky Chathams, his a 17 and mine a 16. We considered our intended uses

and the Chathams seemed a perfect match for us. They truly are a joy to paddle.

Our experience is limited to intracoastal waters, estuaries, and river paddling,

although I must add that over the sixteen months, we averaged 4-6 full days/month on the

water, practicing strokes, safety measures, and equipment use. Our teachers and guides

were popular websites, books, and trusted shop owners, each willing to share their

knowledge freely and passionately. We soaked it up like sponges! We have planned in

the future to invest in actual class-type instruction to supplement the little we have

accumulated correctly and, perhaps incorrectly on our own.

Ed from South River Outfitters in Stuart, FL helped us decide on the best boat for

our intended use and is always eager to give colorful stories of his many adventures, tips,

and tricks. Thanks, Ed!

However, our decision to go to NNK was given birth as a result of a visit to Florida

Bay Outfitters (FBO) in Key Largo, and their extremely friendly staff. Frank and Monica

have always been accepting and encouraging of our limited experience and new found

love of the sport. Our frequent visits to their website led to the discovery of a guided trip

to the Nest Keys, and so off we went to the web to find out all we could about NNK. The

information we found was scant, but did get directed to Nigel Foster’s book, Guide to Sea

Kayaking in Southern Florida, which offered a trip route and was by far the most helpful

info we found. We followed his suggested route nearly as he described it. Calls to ENP

rangers, back-country fishing guides, and the use of Google Earth rounded out the

underwhelming reservoir of just what we might expect at NNK.

A goal has two essential components: what do you want and when do you want it, so

the question for us became when to make the trip. The answer came immediately-

Thanksgiving! Last year we had our Thanksgiving dinner on Little Munyon Island in the

Intracoastal Waterway, near North Palm Beach. We had thought then, that it could

become a tradition for us-a different island every year, and we were one-in-a-row! So,

NNK would make it two!

We had our date, Thanksgiving 2006, with cooler weather and fewer mosquitoes,

and a burning desire. There it was, the makings of a goal. We would leave from FBO

Wednesday morning, stay overnight on NNK Wednesday and Thursday, and return on

Friday. The anticipation mounted and the goal was committed to paper.

There’s something about writing goals on paper. It’s sort of like a contract with

yourself. Somehow we believe what we see written. The planning commenced. After

all, there now was something to plan and we had a deadline. As the little boy said in the

movie Hook, “It could happen!”, and we believed it!

The lists, oh yes, the lists-from camping equipment, home-made Thanksgiving

dinner, snacks, water (there is none on NNK), vitamins, required permits, clothing,

radios, safety equipment, first-aid supplies, float plan, personal items, reading and writing

materials-each changed almost daily, as we envisioned different possible scenarios. It

seemed the more detailed the planning (another essential to a goal), the more confident

we were that we could pull it off.

The week before the trip was an emotional roller-coaster. The one variable, over

which we had no control, was just that-variable! The weather forecasts ranged from

winds from the north at 15-25, bay waters rough, with a small craft advisory, to 5-10 with

a moderate chop. We viewed Keys webcams and checked 3-6 different weather sites on

the web daily, and went from near-depression, to the kind of excitement that keeps you

awake at night! With the shallow, open crossing to NNK, the higher winds could create

conditions beyond our limitations and we knew it. After 2-3 days of the vacillating

reports, we realized that Florida Bay waters extended clear to the west coast of

Florida and it might be possible that the cold north-northwest winds certainly would

affect the western part of the bay, but perhaps, we hoped, might be less, if not nonexistent,

in the sheltered eastern part of the bay. Some weather reports at Key Largo

were actually quite favorable and the webcams seemed to show hardly a chop near

Islamorada! We decided to go as planned on Wednesday AM, and if it looked like more

than was reasonably safe, we had a secondary campsite in mind and would paddle in

protected waters near Key Largo.

all we had to do was load the kayaks, coolers filled with dry ice and foil-packed

Thanksgiving dinners, eat breakfast and head south. Surprisingly, we slept well until

2:30 AM when we awoke a full 30 minutes before the alarm. We were to meet our good

friend, Dean, at FBO at 7:30. We were prepared and the morning last-minute details

flowed perfectly.

As we rolled south on the Florida Turnpike, it was like a scene from Dumb and

Dumber! I actually looked at Ted and said, “We’re really doin’ it, Harry!” We were

really on our way! The stars were out and there was virtually no wind. As we neared

Miami, the beautiful Florida sun showed its face to a cloudless, clear-blue sky with a

temperature of 47 degrees.

By the time we arrived at FBO and began unpacking the car and sorting the gear out

on a tarp, we weren’t cold at all. Dean arrived at 7:30 as planned and Frank and Monica

arrived at 8 AM to open FBO where Dean, with only one prior kayaking experience, was

to rent a Current Designs Storm and some dry bags. By the way, the water in Blackwater

Sound was mirror-flat and winds were maybe 5 from the north. Perfect…just perfect.

Monica seemed to share our excitement and was eager to hear our reports about

conditions on NNK upon our return. What a joy to meet a person with the ability to

genuinely share another’s anticipation! She is a very gifted person.

The practice run of packing our kayaks during the previous week was invaluable.

As we tossed plastic-wrapped mini-muffins into small spaces, water bottles low and near

the cockpit to keep the boat controllable, and everything else as we had practiced, it all

Thanksgiving dinners! Dean to the rescue! He only had his cooler in front of his footpegs,

and the grill fit perfectly on top of it! Destiny! It seemed as though everything we

needed to happen, just happened as we needed it! I’m not sure how you would account

for it, but I figured it all came together because we did what we could and God made up

the difference…more than we could ask or think. I should quit being surprised when He

does that, but I do think He likes to delight me! He is so…God! You know what I

mean?

Off we went at 10:30, waters in Blackwater Sound and Dusenbury Creek green from

an algae bloom, through Tarpon Basin, Grouper Creek and Little Buttonwood Sound.

Exiting Little Buttonwood Sound, we headed 305 degrees to Porjoe Key, and as we

rounded the north end-there it was, our first glimpse of North Nest, across open water

two miles away AND aqua water! Another gift!

It was an easy paddle to NNK, although because of earlier winds the 4-5 ft. deep

water was turbid. As we paddled heading 284 degrees to NNK, the southern coast of

Florida off to our right appeared like ink dots along the horizon. It was captivating. We

decided to paddle between North and South Nest and our original plan was to camp on

the south side from the public dock. A helpful ENP ranger suggested it, as it was

shallower on that side and thus, might be quieter with less boat traffic for picnics, etc.

We passed mangroves full of pelicans straight to the south side, landed on the shell

beach around 1 PM, stepped out of our kayaks and sank up to our calves in white muck!

I had to leave my shoes in it and retrieve them with my hands, the suction was so great!

So much for the south side! Maybe that’s why most people do not camp there. So off we

went around past the dock, which must have been newly built after the hurricanes of

2005, and had perched neatly on its end, two bright blue Porta-Potties-somewhat of a

sore-thumb in an otherwise uninhabited, untouched little piece of paradise.

We paddled around to the north side and picked two likely “campsites”, mere

clearings in the mangroves. Once our tents were up and the boats stowed, we realized

that we were starving! Lunch at 4 PM consisted of my sister Bev’s Sloppy Joe, heated in

our amazing Jet-Boil stove, on hot-dog buns, along with chips, energy drinks and

blueberry muffins, one with a candle for Dean’s birthday. Delicious! “We were doin’ it,

Harry!”

After dinner Dean and I paddled around to the potties and upon our return to camp, with

the sun setting, I captured Dean paddling, silhouetted against a blazing sky. Back at the

camp, we got out of the yaks and decided to walk to the west end for pictures of the

sunset, as it was south of west and beyond the view from our camp location. Again,

picture perfect, with a few clouds across the sun as it sank below the horizon, leaving an

afterglow as a souvenir.

We all turned in at 6:30. It had been a busy day. We went to sleep to the rhythmic

lapping of the waves. We awoke to silence at 10 PM, got up & went out. There was no

wind, the water was like glass with maybe a little fog, a bazillion stars, some shooting

across the sky. We called out to Dean and he was up also. We talked, star-gazed,

dreamed and built memories. We went back to bed and slept soundly until midnight

when we were awakened by very strong, cold north winds blowing through the tent,

causing us to don the fleece pants and jackets for the remainder of the night. The winds

stayed strong through the 4:30 potty break and began to subside around 6:30. We got up

and had a hot oatmeal breakfast with muffins, tangerines and steaming hot French-press

coffee in the amazing Jet-Boil. As I was cleaning up the dishes, we noticed a motor boat

coming toward us. Until then we were the only human inhabitants on the island. The

next thing I saw was Ted and Dean doing “YMCA” on the beach. They later told me that

they knew it was too shallow for the motor boat to come ashore and that they were both

sure that the dog would head straight for our tent for his morning “pee”. Anyway, the

boaters must have realized the water was too shallow, or feared the crazies doing their

YMCA thing and left for a deeper or perhaps less bizarre landfall. We laughed, another

memory created.

Ted and I decided to paddle around to the east side of the island. Dean chose a nap.

As we paddled past the dock and toward the east side we saw pelican-filled mangroves,

then turning north along the east side watched herons and egrets vying for dominance on

a single mangrovewhile horseshoe crabs romanticized together beneath the clear,

shallow water. A magnificent sight greeted us as we neared the northernmost point. An

American Bald Eagle, in all its glory, flew through the cloudless blue sky, prompting us

to think of our freedom and again be thankful for yet another gift.

We retraced our route back to the south beach, where we re-examined the area we

had originally intended to camp. We found a firmer area to land, so we paddled back to

the north side and told Dean. We decided to move our camp over there and perhaps

avoid the cool north wind we experienced the previous night. Plus, we would be able to

observe the sunset from our campsite on Thanksgiving evening.

We broke camp, paddled around past the dock and arrived at the south side at 4 PM.

The sunset was supposed to be around 5:30, so we had 1.5 hours to set up camp and fix

dinner. Perfect. Ted and Dean took care of setting up camp while I lit the small

disposable charcoal grill, then heated the foil-packed Thanksgiving dinners, each

consisting of generous portions of turkey, dressing and gravy. Along side, I heated a can

of sweet potatoes with orange juice. Add to that canned black olives, Gouda cheese,

cranberry-orange sauce and three-bean salad.

By the time the guys had finished setting up camp and securing the kayaks, the food

was hot and we were hungry. We gave thanks, and then ate our dinner by the most

beautiful candlelight any of us had ever witnessed, as His sun set and left a crimson

horizon, just for us to enjoy our pumpkin pie and coffee, both topped with real whipped

cream. It was another memory etched indelibly in our minds.

Like the credits scrolling down after the final scene of a movie, the moon chased the

sun past the horizon, turning a ruddy-red as it sank, the screen fading to black, signaling

The End to Thanksgiving Day 2006. We turned on our headlamps, played cards, and

then went to bed around 8:30, the night cooling down and becoming wet with dew.

Ted and I talked for a while, read and then Ted fell asleep and I wrote in my journal.

Lights out was at 10:30 and I contemplated the day’s experiences. I was again in awe of

how everything seemed to go so well. I was serenaded to sleep by some critter nibbling

on the charcoal grill we had left outside to cool. I’d bet he was thankful, too. We slept

well.

I awoke on Friday morning at 6 AM and it was beginning to get light. I jumped up,

grabbed my camera and went outside. It was flat calm with very little wind, although I

could hear the wind blowing from the other side, as it did the previous night. Our

decision to move was a good one. I walked eastward toward the brightest part of the sky,

past some mangroves, for an unobstructed view of the birth of a new day. Ted followed

shortly thereafter. Dean was still in his tent.

The distant mangroves were silhouetted against a ROY G BIV sky and the sun

seemed to be waiting just for me to get a front row seat, to witness its introduction and

debut. Directly in front of me, very near the shore, was some sort of mollusk, perhaps a

whelk, his entire body outside his shell. I thought he had come out for the show, too.

Maybe he was having his breakfast. Nevertheless, he and I shared the moment. I took

several pictures of him with a backdrop of colors in an ever-changing morning sky. I am

delighted again. I feel I know The Producer. I’m sure He knows me.

The sun rose as I watched. It seemed to get up slowly just like I do on a lazy day, as

though stretching with its rays, touching a group of Ibis flying in a vee across the sky. I

wondered how many people ever, in their lives, get to be a participant, not just a

was, we were, and I am grateful.

Breakfast was cereal, muffins and coffee, followed by a short paddle for Dean and

me near our camp to try out each others kayaks, then breaking camp and packing out, all

unhurried and each of us already beginning to entertain thoughts of the next trip.

“It could happen!”

It is said that an adventure is only an adventure if there is an element of risk or