Estero River (1)



	Winter in Michigan is not conducive to kayaking. The snow is knee deep and the lakes are frozen.

	In February, my wife, children and I had a chance to visit my parents near Naples Florida. After several weeks of grey, Michigan Winter skies, the warm climate was a welcomed relief. Despite being out of shape and unaccustomed to the sun`s rays, I knew the trip would not be complete without a day of kayaking.

	I woke Saturday morning early enough to leave by 7:00am. My Dad, being the perfect host, was kind enough to get up early and make the coffee. I was careful not to laugh when the trash can fell over sending yesterdays wet coffee grounds spewing all over the kitchen floor. My Dad also gave me a ride to the Estero River Outfitters and loaned me a bike for the trip back home.

	At the outfitters shop, there were several plastic sea kayaks in the 14ft range available on outdoor racks, but my excitement soared when the owner led me into the back room where she stored a 19ft kevlar Seda Glider and a carbon fiber paddle.

	I was on the water by about 7:30. The Estero River travels about 5 miles before emptying into the Estero Bay. Then, about 2miles across the bay, a passage leads to the Gulf of Mexico. The river was like a sub-tropical jungle. The Seda`s bow made almost no wake as it cut through the black, early morning water. Through the dense fog, spanish moss hung low from the trees which reached over the river. I got an adrenaline rush every time a fish would thrash the water near my kayak. The river was teaming with fish much larger than any Michigan variety.

	As I rounded a bend, two turkey vultures were near the shoreline. One sat on a low hanging branch, while the other feasted on the bloated carcass of a wild boar. Overhead, six other birds slowly spiraled downward like friends arriving at a party. I guess this was their version of a pig roast.

	As I passed through narrow portions of the river, it became a chore to struggle against the current. Although I was heading out to sea, the tide was coming in, causing the water to flow upstream. Drawing closer to the mouth of the river, mangrove trees began to line the shore. The myriad of mangrove roots were covered with shellfish. The shellfish were under water at high tide but were exposed to air at low tide.

	As the mouth of the river opened into the Estero Bay, a sandy delta made a nice resting spot for a flock of pink Ibises. These birds look very similar to Flamingos. As I entered the bay, a small mangrove island (about 20 ft by 20ft) made a nice spot for a break.



	My goal was to paddle out into the Estero bay and explore the Mound Key which is about a mile in diameter. The Mound Key was built by Indians who had piled millions of shells in the area in order to create a dry spot to build a village. From my resting spot, all I could see was dense fog in every direction. Fortunately, I had brought a compass and my Dad had loaned me a navigational chart. From the chart, I estimated my compass heading and started paddling. After about 20 minutes, I found the Mound Key. I was surprised to find a sandy island covered with a dense mangrove forest. I carried the Seda ashore and took a 2mile round trip hike on a trail which crossed the key. I was apprehensive in this environment because most of the vegetation and wildlife was foreign to me. I took my paddle with me so it wouldn`t get stolen (I also thought it might offer defense against a wild boar).

	I learned that two high peaks on the island were built to provide a lookout and to provide a spot for the Chief`s house. The Indians who built the mound were successful fishermen. They wove fishing line from the fibers of different plants growing on the island.

	Upon returning to my kayak, I saw an old friend from Michigan. A raccoon was hard at work trying to break into the kayak`s rear hatch where my lunch was stored. He stood on the beach beside me as I launched my boat. Then he sadly watched as I paddled away.



	A new compass heading led me through a maze of small mangrove islands to the passage which led to the Gulf. As I paddled along the beach, the sun slowly dissipated the fog. Under the full fury of the sun, the 8 mile paddle back to the Outfitter`s shop was a hot one. It was still a lot better than freezing in Michigan.

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