December 8, 2011, Ten miles west of Everglades City, Florida
“Damn, are we going to have to paddle across that?” Words oozed around the salty spew lodged in my throat.
“No option. We can’t go back.” Andy held on to the trunk of a mangrove. One of about a dozen that rose out of an oyster bed on the edge of Fakahatchee Bay. He fished the charts out of his day pouch. The wind and waves were beating our kayaks together and us into the trees. “We need to skirt up.” He squared his compass on the charts.
“Skirt up?” Christ. I am going to die. Day four of a seven-day jaunt through the Ten Thousand Islands. Looking into the churning water yet to cross, this day would be my last.
We broke camp early that morning and shoved off from White Horse Key. The plan had been to snake our way through the mangrove islands and pitch tents on Dismal Key. Stay there for the night and then head out toward Jewell Key the next morning. A loop around Dismal rendered less than ten square feet of dry ground. No campsite anywhere.
Midafternoon found us tracking toward Fakahatchee Island, a big land mass with a historic shell mound on it. A lot of high ground. Camping there for the night was our only viable option.
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