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It should be noted that this was happening during the maiden voyage of our new RV–but more on that another time. This post is specifically about our visit to the Everglades.
When I was four or five years old, my mother took me to the Philadelphia Zoo. That night, I had a very vivid nightmare that I’d fallen into the alligator pit. It became a recurring nightmare.
Later on as a child, I read an article about alligators or crocodiles. In it, I read that the best way to survive an attack is to punch it in the eyes. I don’t know if this is true, but this information is maintained in the absolute front of my brain, never far from mind, despite my very infrequent proximity to alligators or crocodiles–which, up until last week, was never outside of a zoo setting. My entire life has been spent hoping that I never have to punch an alligator in the eye.
Do you remember that plane crash, twenty-some years ago, over the Everglades, where the dead passengers (which was all of them) were being devoured by alligators and crocodiles? I do. I remember everything I’ve ever heard that involves alligator attacks. EVERYTHING.
It therefore makes no sense that I would dream, for two-plus decades, of visiting the Everglades. We’re talking bucket-list dreams. Nothing about the Everglades seems remotely appealing as I reevaluate this dream; yet, here I was.
We took a boat ride. We spotted both alligators and crocodiles. They co-exist here–and only here–and they do so in order to terrify me. On the way up river, one of the boat guides noted that there was a crocodile nest to the left of us. There was nothing there at the time. “She’s not far from that nest,” the guide assured me.
On the return trip? Oh, she was there, all right.
OMGOMGOMG a crocodile!!! The tail went on forever under the water! #everglades #findyourpark #florida. This is where our @thormotorcoach #rv #maidenvoyage has taken us! #chomp
I was uneasy *every single second* that I spent outside. After visiting the visitor’s center, though, I was confident that I would be able to discern which creature was about to swallow me.
Mind you, I have camped in California’s back country, and even come across bears in the wild. And yes, I know that a bear can destroy me. But I didn’t have recurring nightmares of falling into a bear pit as a child, so hiking with bear wasn’t as terrifying–unlike in the Everglades, where everything terrified me.
I was terrified of falling into the water. I was terrified of being attacked on land. I was terrified of an alligator snatching my child. And, after a really unhelpful friend texted me, I was terrified that there were alligators in the trees.
And don’t try to feed me some “they’re as afraid of you as you are of them” bullshit, because NOTHING in the Everglades is afraid of me.
There are 2 in this pic. I didn’t get close enough to distinguish alligator/crocodile. Sorry guys #everglades #rv #findyourpark
A post shared by kari martindale (@karilogue) on
If you can’t see both reptiles above, then your middle name might as well be Alligatorbait.
Now, as many people know, I’m prone to paranoia that I’m going to die doing whatever it is that I’m doing at any given moment. But I do it, and then I laugh about it once I’m done. I was not laughing in the Everglades, and I was not laughing after I survived the Everglades.
I may never laugh again.
After hooking up to a campsite, we decided to go for a walk down a short trail loop.
WHERE ARE THE OTHER PEOPLE?
We schlepped down the road to the trailhead. I was extremely uneasy. I was uneasy on the paved road; I grew much more uneasy as we entered the trail.
I heard a noise. I jumped. Like, behind-my-husband, Rapunzel-hears-a-bunny jumped. Then the mosquitoes began to attack. *Thank freaking god* the mosquitoes attacked, because Paul said hells no and we turned around.
This would be the last time I thanked the mosquitoes.
The mosquito level is high in the Everglades this time of year. In case you’re thinking, “Oh, Kari’s exaggerating–it’s just a few mosquitoes,” No. No, it’s not.
It’s level-horrible high.
It’s finding-out-that-the-myth-about-deodorant-stopping-itching-is-LIES high. (Also, I should not be allowed bug spray.)
https://twitter.com/kariloguekari/status/854340494566072320
Fortunately, my aunt had cautioned me of the mosquitoes and recommended that I buy some citron candles before heading down. I picked up two small ones at the Dollar Store.
Spoiler alert: they weren’t enough.
Would you like to know some other helpful advice from my aunt? Not to cook chicken, because gators come running. Keep the pups on a short leash, because gators love dog meat. WHY DID I COME TO THE EVERGLADES?
Meanwhile, in the less-than-a-minute that I was on that trail, I had accumulated burrs at the bottom of my pants. The poor puppies: one trip out to pee, and their thick schnauzer hair was matted with burrs. We were picking burrs out of their fur for two days.
At least I didn’t fall into a cactus. Yes, there are cacti. Also, the “high mosquito level,” “high wildfire risk,” and “panther crossing” signs WERE NOT HELPING. THE EVERGLADES ARE A DEATH TRAP.
That said, here are a few pretty pictures…
But don’t let the pictures fool you: The Everglades are easily the most inhospitable region of the US. When I peeled my pants off, one pant leg was literally stuck to a mosquito bite. I had to peel my pants off of a mosquito bite. I mean, Come ON.
To summarize, my goals for the 24-48 hours we were in the Everglades were:
1) Do not die
2) Do not end up a tragic character in a Carl Hiaasen novel
https://twitter.com/kariloguekari/status/854315946831470592
And then this happened:
https://twitter.com/kariloguekari/status/854514116202987520
Here are my personal facebook page posts, pounded into my phone as I tried to hide from the mosquitoes while Paul tried to locate the breach.
Kari Martindale
· Flamingo, FL ·
OHMYGOD. you don’t even know what is happening. Mosquitoes are literally getting in. I don’t know how. The ceiling looks like we murdered someone on it. I was going apeshit. Flash, on the other side of my door, was going twice-the-apeshit, hearing me shriek like *I* was being murdered. Sequoia trying to calm him There are so many stuck in our window screens. So many. I really want to drive us out of here now, but we are plugged into the electric hookup. None of us is going out into the mosquito swarms to unhook. This is why paragraph 1 of this sign exists- FUcK GUYS FUcK
And then…
Kari Martindale We are leaving. Paul went out and began throwing pots and pans into the RV and he unplugged. We are leaving. I don’t even know where we are going. Not here.
For real, Paul sprayed himself with bugspray, then darted out the door. I personally had been willing to leave behind the pots, dishes, and blanket that we’d left outside to dry, but suddenly the door opened, and CLANG CRASH FLOP, Paul was tossing shit into the RV. He unplugged that RV faster than I can unplug my phone.
I had intended to get a picture of me at the Everglades National Park entrance sign when we left. I did not get that picture. There was no way in hell I was getting out of that RV.
We had no idea where we were headed. It’s a good thing I posted to facebook, though. My friend Matthew, whom I had not seen since the early ’90’s, read of our situation. After he stopped laughing, he contacted me to offer his driveway, just two hours away. We arrived after midnight. You should’ve seen Paul’s face when Matthew offered him a beer: pure relief.
When I took my first post-Everglades shower, I counted 36 mosquito bites. It felt like 3600. For as long as I live, I am going to limit my interaction with the Everglades to Carl Hiaasen novels, because his books don’t bite.
“The next time you’re begging to do something, my answer is going to be, ‘Remember the Everglades.’ Some dreams are worth letting go.” -Paul Martindale (2017)
Eff. The. Everglades.
Nope.
Never.
Ever.
Hell no.
I’ve heard they’re lovely in the winter. Since there are still alligators and crocodiles, I can’t imagine how that would be true.
You do realize that there are alligators as far north as North Carolina, right?
I (almost) wish I’d been there with you. But I would have peed my pants and you would have locked me out of the RV.
I would’ve left you with the pots and blankets! I am nervous when I’m in South Carolina. I never have occasion to be in NC or GA, so it’s just FL and SC where I have to be on guard…