“AS CLOSE AS YOU GET TO THE EVERGLADES”

Thus spake the lady and, by the time she uttered these words, I was wondering just how good it was.  Heck, judging by the number of binoculars and cameras with obscene lens, it had to be good.

I’d finally found Circle B Bar Reserve after I used a street number off Trip Advisor that turned out to be around 8 kms short and, after I asked someone, was told it was the next traffic light and turn left.  Sounded good except it wasn’t down that road, it was the second lights I should have ventured to.  All of which set me back about half an hour but, hey, I’d arrived at last.

I chose here because someone on the internet suggested the wildlife was fairly abundant.  That, and the fact that it seemed not that far away, set me out in my first quest for Florida nature and, as I drive in through the sphagnum moss laden trees, you can’t help but get the feeling that you’ve arrived.

The carpark was ample and around 5 chemical toilets were adjacent.  I’d only just gone past them when it was hard not to notice about two dozen people gawking up at a tree.  Binoculars and cameras all pointed in the same direction so I enquired as to what the excitement was about.  “Barred owl” came the bug-eyed reply.

Indeed there were a couple of said owls but you couldn’t get a decent angle on them.  I figured you needed to hike about ten metres into the knee length grass to get the right angle and wondered why no-one else was over there.  Oh well, off I went, was about to take a snap when Mr. Pedant said I wasn’t allowed to do that.  Apparently going off piste is verboten!  I meekly returned to the group thinking I’d wait for them to move on and then have another crack but, hardly anyone broke ranks so I moved on.

The paths are easy to follow and you can’t get lost…..unless you leave the trail which you’re not allowed to do…. I’ve been friendly to a few twitchers and they’ve reciprocated and bird sightings are readily shared.  Thus it is that I see my first cardinal, a bright red/orange bird that I get excited about but the twitchers are almost bored because they’re fairly common apparently.

There are also dragonflies everywhere, I’ll see hundreds before the day’s out but it’s hard not to note that I’m the only one bothered with them.  Wherever you walk, water’s not too far away, and it’s that which supports the wildlife.  I mean, if you glance out across the swamp, there’s not a lot happening.  It’s when you stop and watch for a minute or two that you realise just how much life there is out there. 

Fish constantly flick the surface, birds wade through the plants, squirrels scurry up and down the trees, often at times when you’re least expecting it (much like the lizards), dragonflies dance on the tips of sticks and raptors constantly soar overhead, and sometimes not.  I’m startled when a golden eagle speeds across the track at eye height with a large fish in its mouth only 15 metres in front of me.  Wildlife?  It’s right here, right now.  Earlier there’d been an osprey on a distant dead tree branch ripping one apart but it wasn’t up close and personal like this.

Then, of course, no walk here would be complete without seeing an alligator and I spot my first one, though it’s only just out the egg, basking right next to me.  Well, it was around two feet long but not really what you hope to see.  A larger one slid ominously further out in the pond, but it wasn’t anything to get excited about either.

I move on, the heat and humidity starting to take its toll, even though it’s only around 9.30.  The trail is flat, just like all of Florida actually.  I stop at a shady crossroads with seats and pause for refreshments, blissfully unaware that the biggest reptile I’ll see all day is about 20 metres away on the other side of a mound.  It will be ¾ hour before I come across him.

                         

I head out again, into the world of grackles, limpkins and gallinules, none of which I’ve seen or heard of before.  It pays to pause, because much of nature is stagnant and there’s a lot of it to see for the patient eye.  When I reach the end of a shady lane I turn back, not wishing to swelter anymore and when I get back to the intersection someone sends me right to where they just saw a ‘gator.  I move 50 metres up and get a shot of its upper bits then turn around and head back and, bingo, there it is, the biggie I’d missed earlier.  They’re not frightening like estuarine (salty) crocs, but a little more ominous than Johnson River crocs and they have a presence in this place where dog eats dog and gator eats gator.  There’s a famous pic on google search of a big one chomping on a medium sized one of his brethren at this very location.  I’m not scared, but I wouldn’t want to upset him either!

I’m sated now and slowly move towards the carpark, getting lucky twice on the return.  First up it’s a mum with a little alligator on her back and another two beside.  They’re much brighter and look like snakes almost.  Then, when I get back beside the toilets, the owls have moved to a much more accessible spot and I manage to get 5 metres off the trail without chastisement and nail one, giving him a bird call so he’ll face me.  I’m over the moon, and stuffed as well.

It’s past midday so I’ve been out there around four hours and the air conditioning in the car is such a relief.  I reflect on what someone had said.  “This park is a lot more friendly than others.  People talk to you, take their time and share their finds, unlike other places.”  I had to agree, even though I haven’t been to the others yet.

Wondrous Windjana

                           WONDROUS WINDJANA

It was first on the list of my destinations after leaving Broome.  Since I hadn’t done much homework it actually took a lot longer than I thought to get there; around about 4 hours in fact; but of course I turned that into at least six after I stopped to photograph a tree and a sunset.

It was the following day before I reached Windjana and it certainly delivers as soon as you arrive, with the massive cliffs rising from the plain dating from the Devonian Period, when only sea creatures inhabited the earth.  No crocs to worry about then!

The entrance to the gorge is exciting.  Looking at the cliffs you’d imagine you’d have to walk up the stream to get into it but no, there’s a small cave-like entrance about 20 metres long that you slip through and, hey presto, you’re there.

It’s a broad expanse that awaits you and you’re quickly onto river sand after signs reminding you of the crocs and also taunting your curiousity to find a fossilized nautiloid in the rock (I found it).

If you’ve ever wondered what seeing a crocodile in the wild would be like then pencil in Windjana.  On one bank in the space of 100 metres there would have been twenty, and then there were more on the “tourist” side.

I wondered whether or not it was the knowledge I had about the Johnson River croc or just their posture; whatever it was, you’re just not intimidated by them as you are by the estuarine crocs.

For starters, they’re not gliding towards you with both eyes focused!

No, by the time I finished the gorge walk, I felt quite at home with them.

In fact, I can boast I even went swimming in croc infested waters!

Okay, so it was a little upstream (about 1 km) from where the crocs actually were (well, the ones you can see anyway) but I was the only one who did venture in.  Bunch of wimps.

The walk is listed as 2 hours return.  If you’re snap happy and want to push the boundaries a little, you can easily turn it into four hours.

It’s a pleasant place and the further you venture along the chasm the quieter it becomes; anything to get away from the screeching flock of corellas at the main pool.

After a while you start to encounter boabs on the lower slopes and a pretty yellow flowering tree.  The trail follow the creek and curves in an “s” shape until the end is reached, designated by no sign, just where one encounters a wall of reeds.

However, no hardy bushwalker would be detained by a few stalks so I battered my way onward till I reached a dry stream bed running in from the side and followed it down to the river again and it was near here that I crossed over and came down the other side.

The only prints were those of a horse that had been past in the last day or two, but no humans had ventured on this side though the water was just shin high where I crossed.

Coming back I roughly knew where I could cross and, apart from dropping one shoe in the water, made it safely before I went in for a dip.  The water is just beautiful and so refreshing, it’s no wonder Paul (someone I’d met earlier) spent so much time in!

So, a wonderful morning came to an end, but there would be more adventures later.