March 22, 2011 Robert is Here, and we is in the Everglades…

After the Alligator Farm we head out with John for a tropical fruit farm at a place called Robert is Here, then on to Everglades National Park.

Robert is actually here, but there are no free samples; John buys a Sapodilla from Robert, who slices it into sections and we all sample, making it free to everybody but John. Tastes similar to a pear, but isn’t.

Then most of us buy tropical fruit milkshakes, Marcia and I sharing a strawberry-bannana Cansprel (sp?). I’m pleased and at $5.50 Robert must be making good coin. After our milkshakes we go to the animal yard out back and see evidence many that the animals have a diet heavy with overripe unsold fruit.

Slash pine trail.

Entering a mahogany hammock.

The bark of the Gumbo Limbo tree, very common in southern Florida.

The Whale then moves on to Everglades National Park. We ride through miles of brown sawgrass such as we saw at the Alligator Farm before reaching the dense green areas we expect. Our first loop trail called Pinelands is through slash pines (looks like lodgepole), slowly being crowded out by hardwood mahogany. On the Mahogany Hammock trail we learned how sinkholes are formed and remaining areas build up around mangroves forming a hammock or area of higher land. These are very densely vegetated with large mahogany trees, the loose-barked gumbo limbo, royal palms, the poison tree, and various air plants.

Mostly wood storks.

Roseate spoonbill.

Roadside activity.

More roadside activity as vultures consume alligator roadkill.

Our next stops are at a couple areas where large birds are the attraction. Great white herons, gray herons, osprey, and many wood storks. Although few in number, the pink roseate spoonbill is a standout, especially when flying low overhead. In one area a pair of large alligators are visible, as well as what we think are baby alligators. There is a sudden snapping sound but by the time our eyes focus everything again looks serene.

Hungry, we drive to the end of the road at Flamingo. This area used to be owned by Henry Flagler; he built canals to dry out the everglades and allow development, doing much damage to the ecology and little good (in this area) for himself. Flamingo opens beautifully on to Florida Bay, the vast watery tip of Florida on the gulf side of the Keys. There was a hotel here when we visited five years ago, but it is now gone and the building looks unmaintained.

It is late in the afternoon and we haven't eaten so we enter a café beneath the old hotel. I say café, but it is really a screened-in area with a lunch wagon parked adjacent to one opening to serve as the kitchen. It is not crowded and there are two servers. The servers seem busy so I grab menus and bring them to our table; a server asks if I would like to work there. That is the last we see of the server for certainly ten minutes, when he reappears and with a smile tells us he will get to us in about another ten minutes, so please relax. We are getting edgy and when he reappears he refuses to give the six of us three separate checks, saying the computer can’t handle it. Tom points out to him that the computer can handle it if we were are three separate tables. The waiter remains stubborn so Tom moves to a separate table. We decide we would rather eat than fight; I split a foot-long hotdog three-ways with Marcia and Jane, because every time Jane tries to order something on the menu they don’t have it. Tom meanwhile is placing his order with another server.

Not surprisingly, our food takes a while for what it is, and is at best passable. The water and coke taste awful. Tom has not been served and walks out in disgust. Soon, of course, his lunch-—which doesn’t look too bad—-arrives and is placed at his empty spot at the other table. I try to pay our $18 charge with a $20 bill but John threatens to leave me in the Everglades if that means a $2 tip. I have no smaller bill so Jane throws in $10 and John contributes $8 and we are out of there, quickly. I’ve gone from trying to pay the tab (after all, we didn’t drive) to being even more in debt to John, and now owing Jane $10 because I’m not about to charge her for her 4” share of hotdog.

We rejoin Tom outside and go to the Park Service’s visitor center but the displays are disappointing and we are quickly again on the road.

(In fairness, other in our group had no major problems with the café service and found the food good enough.)

Anhingas have less oil and must dry their wings.

Gray herron.

Green nasty with Ed and Susan.

He just wants to use the restroom.  Ed & Susan out of there, fast.

Mangrove roots catch silt and eventually form islands or keys.  Or hammocks.

We must drive back the same way we came since the road is at a dead-end. Close to the entrance we go down the Royal Palm side-road to the Anhinga Trail, which (as on our last visit) does not disappoint. This area has a creek and some open ponds, all formed as byproducts of an old Model T roadbed presumably built by Flagler. The trail offers close-up views of many of the birds we’ve been seeing from a distance, plus many alligators. Again, in this serene setting, I here a loud clomp and see an alligator with its jaws wide open and an Anhinga screeching away. Later, as we are returning to the parking lot, we see a very large alligator near the restrooms. I remember the earlier clomps and keep my distance, mostly.

We are home about 8 PM and the Whale (with Mike, who had not been feeling well) goes out to dinner at the Capri, a family Italian restaurant with service so the opposite of our lunch stop that it just seems unbelievable. I get a chance to pay Jane her $10 and manage somehow to pay for the John and Elain's dinner, but this in no way clears all the markers they have on us.