Cabbage Key and Cayo Costa

Cabin camping with our friends at Cabbage Key. The weather is cold, windy and rainy, but our cabin, the Cabbage Patch, is warm and too big to really be called cozy. Two bedrooms, two baths, wraparound porch, large living room/dining room/kitchen with picture windows. Lovely. The captain of the Island Girl gets fewer points for not dropping us off at our dock, but management was able to round up a golf cart to bring our stuff from the main dock, about a quarter mile away. Way too far to schlep our packs, chairs, and food by foot along the wet, sandy paths. Plus our cabin mate has a sprained ankle held stiffly in a huge boot.

The small island is all mangrove grown over a huge shell mound made by the Calusa on an ancient sand dune, not a barrier island, as I erroneous assumed. This meant no beach. The first day was still too rainy for more than reading in the cabin, but the second was just cold, so we walked the short nature trail. The ospreys call continuously. One pair had just lost their nest built on a cabin’s antenna and were surveying the wreckage lying on the roof and balcony. I couldn’t see any eggs or hatchlings. Perhaps that was the pair that was sitting in a dead tree next to our cabin in the morning. A new nest site?

Few birds besides the ospreys except doves (European collared, mourning, and 1 white winged), catbirds, blue-grey gnatcatcher, and a couple of palm warblers. There are resident mallards who have a galvanized bucket for water up by the inn’s patio. I think they would accept a handout. On the sandbar, cormorants, pelicans, royal terns, gulls (laughing and herring), and I’m pretty sure a bald eagle. An osprey took a bath while standing in shallow water. I saw a hawk, perhaps a merlin, too far away to confirm. 

The cold front had passed by our last few days so we rented a skiff to ride over to Cayo Costa, the big barrier island. Ended up being only me and Bob. On the way over, we saw at least 40 white pelicans. We spent the day walking up and down the beach birding (1 willet, couple of laughing gulls, sanderlings, ruddy turnstones and probably other shore birds mixed in). Of course, I couldn’t resist beaching combing, but managed to leave most of my finds, taking only the proverbial picture of the rest.

I first camped at Cayo Costa with my Girl Scout troop when I was in high school. My mother had integrated our troop, very daring at the time. I remember going with her to one of the girl’s home in the “Quarters”, the black section of Naples, so she could explain what scouting was. I was appalled at the poorly constructed houses they had to live in.This was soon after the 4 girls were killed in the Birmingham church bombing, so my father was very concerned. Mom felt it was too important not to do. I don’t remember how long the 2 black girls were members in our troop, but we three were the ones who stayed the  most covered up on our beach camping trip. Pre-sunscreen, my skinned burned, not tanned, and they were told by their mothers not to get any darker. We spent much of the days, sitting in the shade.

It was me who introduced our group to Cayo Costa, but I suspect they don’t remember it, after all these years. My original invitation to one couple to join our family morphed into a large Unitarian Universalist church group that was beyond my ability to enjoy camping with. I like the peace of separation, listening to nature, seeing the stars. The group was all about big bonfires, large walks, and much interaction, I probably should have toughed it out, because I think our kids would have benefited from all the interaction with other adults. They certainly loved it when we went to Fort Desoto with a neighborhood group camp. Children have grown up and moved away, so there won’t be a repeat with their generation. Now, the group has settled down to 4 couples. Even the location may change as we consider how to arrange future trips.

As gas outboards usually do, ours refused to start for our trip back from Cayo Costo, even though Bob tried his best. Fortunately, Shelly and Jerry from Michigan were returning just as we hoped to, so they towed us in. Turns out the engine kill switch could be plugged in two different places, a detail dockhand Dave neglected to mention in his hurried instructions. I suggested the rental company consider having a laminated set of detailed instructions handed out with the chart they gave us. This fell on deaf ears.

My other suggestion for the management of Cabbage Key is to put in a water filtration system. The tap water is godawful. Some in our group said it tastes of sulphate, but I’m sure it’s salt. Likely there is saltwater intrusion in their well. Even coffee couldn’t cover the taste, and I make strong coffee. After using the 1 gallon of water our cabin mates had brought from home, we were reduced to buying the 16 ounce plastic bottles the inn sold. Besides being ridiculously priced at $3.75 each, it is unconscionable that an island business promotes such  plastic garbage. 

We stopped at the Yucatán restaurant in Matlacha for one more meal together. We usually scatter our separate ways. I hope this might be a new tradition. On the way home, I’d planned to count all the ospreys on nests we’d seen on our way down, but somehow we ended up on US 27. A boring slog with just an eagle sitting on a traffic pole to compensate for the stop and go traffic. Another reason to get out my road atlas rather than relying on the narrow slivers of the route displayed by Google Maps.