We arrived at Long Pine Key Campground in Everglades National Park on February 20, 2026, and were assigned Site B4. After the relative bustle of Titusville and rocket launches, the Everglades felt quiet, wide, and elemental. Sawgrass, slash pines, and long stretches of open sky replaced launch pads and gantries. And finally, temperatures in the 80s.
We set up, checked the weather forecast, and began making plans. Saturday the 21st was forecast to be in the 80s. Monday and Tuesday were predicted to dip into the 60s. In south Florida, that qualifies as cold and not ideal conditions for swimming and snorkeling. So we rearranged accordingly.
With warm weather on tap for Saturday, February 21, we drove east to Biscayne Bay National Park and boarded a snorkel boat into what is, for the most part, an underwater national park. From the surface it appears calm and open; below, it is layered with reef structures and soft corals swaying gently in clear, surprisingly warm water. The weather cooperated beautifully — little wind, calm seas, and just enough sun to illuminate the subsurface wonders.
We snorkeled for a couple of hours. Large schools of fish moved like coordinated weather systems beneath us. At times we floated quietly above them; at other times we swam straight through shimmering columns of silver and blue. The soft corals were particularly beautiful — subtle, flowing, alive in a way photographs never quite capture.
That afternoon we drove to Homestead Bayfront Park. The “beach” — really soft sand surrounding a large, round, man-made saltwater lagoon — was sunny and relaxed, the kind of place where a warm nap is entirely justified. We stayed long enough for an early dinner at the small waterfront restaurant before heading back to Long Pine Key. A very good first full day in the Everglades orbit.
On Sunday we attended the Homestead Ward of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from 11:30 to 1:30. We lingered afterward visiting with ward members and enjoyed meaningful conversation with our missionary mentors that evening. There is something grounding about worshiping in unfamiliar places; the surroundings change, but the fellowship feels familiar. The missionary work in this area is alive and well. Several new members were in attendance and some 22 people had scheduled baptismal dates. I hope the work in Indiana is as alive as it is here. We returned to the trailer, talked through the coming week, and let the rhythm of the park settle in.
Monday’s cooler temperatures made it ideal for activity, so we loaded the bikes onto the truck and drove to Shark Valley. The 15-mile paved loop is flat, open, and perfectly suited for a steady ride. We decided not to complete the full loop, but instead rode 7.5 miles out and then back along the same path to maximize our time with our gator friends.
Within minutes we were riding directly past alligators — not at a distance, not through binoculars, but right beside them. We probably saw fifteen to twenty over the course of the ride. Some lay half-submerged; others rested on the banks, motionless but unmistakably alert. It is a surreal experience to pedal calmly past a ten-foot reptile and continue on as if this is perfectly normal. In Florida, apparently, it is.
At the halfway point we locked the bikes and climbed the observation tower. The view stretches out across the “River of Grass,” and from that height you begin to understand the scale and subtlety of the Everglades ecosystem. We wandered nearby trails before completing the ride back to the entrance. This place must look quite different with several more feet of water. Dry grassy expanses would become shallow, slowly flowing waterways, likely dispersing wildlife across a much broader area.
On Tuesday we met our personal airboat driver, Laz, for a two-hour ride across the Everglades. The water level this time of year is low — very low. At times we skimmed over what looked like nearly dry ground, the propeller pushing us forward over just inches of water. The sensation of an airboat is hard to describe — part exploration vehicle, part controlled chaos. It is loud, fast, and slightly improbable, yet entirely suited to this landscape.
We saw numerous alligators again, along with large wading birds and other wildlife. Zooming across the flats with the horizon wide open was undeniably fun. Not only can an airboat go where other craft cannot, but with no propeller or running gear beneath the hull, it passes over wildlife without underwater structures to strike them. Pretty ingenious.
Midweek we drove toward Flamingo Bay and launched our kayaks at Nine Mile Pond. We intended to paddle the full six-mile marked trail, but after a couple of miles the water simply wasn’t deep enough to continue. The Everglades decides where you go, not the other way around. In one of the larger ponds we encountered an enormous crocodile — far larger than our kayaks and comfortably aware of that fact. It was a sobering but fascinating sight. Crocodiles here are less common than alligators, and seeing one at close range felt significant.
After our paddle we had lunch at the Flamingo Restaurant, then launched into the Buttonwood Canal. We paddled a couple of miles up and back before moving the kayaks to the marina and heading out toward open water to catch the sunset. The sky softened into layers of orange and pink, reflecting off the calm water. It was a fitting close to a full Everglades day.
On Thursday we left the trailer secured in the national park and drove south along Highway 1 through the Keys. The Overseas Highway is part road trip, part engineering statement, suspended between sky and sea. We secured a very comfortable room at the H2O Hotel in Key West for a couple of nights. Thursday evening included a wonderful dinner at Milagro Restaurant and Bar. We ate outside on the front porch and enjoyed the food, the warm coastal air, and watching the steady parade of humanity walk by. Afterwards, we enjoyed a slow walk back to our hotel.
Friday was beach day at Fort Zachary Taylor State Park. We rented chairs and an umbrella, settled in, and spent hours enjoying the sun, sand, and water. Beach food sustained us until the rental clock expired at 5 p.m., at which point we dutifully surrendered our chairs. A swim at the hotel pool and an excellent dinner at Conchiglia rounded out the day.
Saturday morning we rose early and walked to the beach to watch the sunrise. There is something about beginning the day at the water’s edge that recalibrates perspective. Breakfast at a different beachfront hotel followed, and by late morning we began the drive back north to Long Pine Key Campground. On our way we stopped for lunch at the Sunset Grille and Raw Bar. After lunch, being in the Florida Keys, we had to try their homemade Key Lime Pie, it was delicious.
Upon returning, we refueled everything: diesel for the truck, gasoline for the generator, and propane for the trailer. Systems topped off, we were once again expedition-ready.
We attended the Homestead Ward once more on Sunday and enjoyed additional mentoring and fellowship. By Monday morning, it was time to begin moving north along Florida’s Gulf Coast.
From underwater reefs to sawgrass prairies to coral rock beaches and back again, this stretch of Florida offered remarkable variety in a short span of miles. It required a bit of scheduling, some flexibility, and a willingness to coexist with large reptiles. A worthwhile endeavor.
| Nights | Total Nights | Miles | Total Miles |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10 | 364 | 272 | 31582 |