I completely reworked this day. We're done with the beach. We're done with the hotel. Nice people, but we feel we've exhausted the possibilities. After breakfast, we're going adventuring!
In 1903, President Theodore Roosevelt, by Executive order, designated Pelican Island (just to the north of us, over in Sebastian) as the nation's first Wildlife Refuge. For the protection of nesting birds. Congress sealed its fate in 1970 by establishing the whole island as a Wilderness Area. 100 years ago, it was the last nesting place for the Brown Pelican. These days, over 130 species of birds feed and nest here.
Wouldn't you want to visit? To walk its Floridian trails? To listen to birdsong?
It's cloudy here this morning, which is a good thing. A less intense sun will keep us cooler.
Breakfast -- outside, because again, the weather is lovely for it. She gets the pancake (please, only one), I get the granola and yogurt.
(with a view onto the ocean...)
Our server is known to us from the other day. She engages. They all do. Super friendly bunch. She asks where we're heading, I mention Pelican Island. Ever been there?
No, I just moved here two years ago. Came down, liked it, stayed.
From where?
Massachussetts. Too cold there. And the people here? So happy.
Are they? She should know. Lives here now. Or is it that she is "so happy" and thus assumes the best about everyone?
And then we are off.
The drive up the barrier islands is a little, well, I guess strange to a northerner. We very quickly leave an older Florida neighborhood...
... and hit endless gated communities. One after the next, and then thirty more. I try to explain to Snowdrop why they're so common here, but to tell you the truth -- I don't fully understand it myself. Is it because people often leave these units for the summer? Do they feel more threatened? Endless enclaves.
And then -- we get to the Wilderness area.
There isn't anyone around. There are no visitors and there's not a soul working here to tell you about the place and though I read a little on the Internet, still, I wasn't sure which trail to take and for what reason. And so when a pickup truck rambled over to the small parking lot -- I ask. The couple seemed to visit this place every now and then. You're here for the birds? Go on the Birds Impoundment Trail. Once you get to the water, you'll see plenty of birds -- they tell me.
Okay, we find the trail. Jungle like! With swampy waters on both sides. She asks if there are snakes or alligators. Honestly, I dont know. They wont eat you, that I promise -- I say this with light confidence. Emphasis "light."
Predictably it's a little buggy. A few mosquitoes. Other less familiar insects that if amplified, would make great Halloween costumes. Creepy. Snowdrop goes along, but it's just not a pretty walk. We do get to more open waters. With what looks to me to be red mangroves...
And my bird detector tells me we're hearing an osprey somewhere out there. Looking up, we see one bird swooping past. Possibly a brown pelican, but I can't be sure.
She says -- you've seen a bird... maybe we should turn back?
She is correct. We can't get lost, but nor do we really believe that there is that much more to observe. We have bird nesting areas in Horicon Wisconsin. There is a ton of information on what to do, where to go, what to see. I'm missing that here, on Pelican Island, Florida.
We turn back.
And now it's an easy (if boring) 1.75 hour drive back to Orlando.
For reasons completely unknown to me, we get a room upgrade. Possibly because we're returning guests? Who knows. Totally unnecessary and just a little too exquisite. We don't need so much space. And, too, I'd like to believe that we are happy as clams in modest places. Big American hotels with big rooms are great for large families, but for the two of us -- it makes me feel like I do not belong here. Amplified by my ride down in the elevator where a very friendly guest explains to me how his daughter is getting married here today, and how they've been coming for thirty years (thirty years! all we could think of thirty years ago was how to pay for the kids' college, which, in itself, is a very privileged worry), and how they avoid Disney World because of, you know, the politics. All in the space of a seven floor elevator ride.
That is not why I avoid Disney World.
Still, it's lovely to be back in the land of the exquisite swimming pools.
Down we go. Right away.
We eat lunch once again by the water. Grilled cheese for her. Happy little girl.
And of course, she goes back to the slides which have been on her mind all the while. Without raft, with raft.
(Ha! We spot a lovely bird. By the "fake" lagoon.)
We're upstairs, the sun is setting over the Disney World park grounds (to the right), over Florida's singular landscape. Funny to have seen the sunrise out the window back in Vero Beach, and now to witness the last colors of a setting sun in Orlando.
And when it is already dark, we go back to the same informal eatery and she has the same kids' salmon and fries, and I have the same shrimp and grits...
And we think this to be such a fine ending to our Florida adventure! Tomorrow, a morning of play, an afternoon of flights.
with so much love...
