The Everglades Is Not Disney World

The Everglades Is Not Disney World

By Sylvia Cunningham

There are no fences along the Anhin­ga Trail in Ever­glades Nation­al Park and birds, tur­tles and even alli­ga­tors pass freely from one side of the path to the oth­er, tread­ing on the very same pave­ment that vis­i­tors do.

Recent­ly, one alli­ga­tor began the short trek across the 12-foot stretch of pave­ment when a woman scooped up her child, plopped him on the alli­ga­tor and read­ied her camera.

Can­dace Forsyth, a for­mer Youth Edu­ca­tor for the Audubon Flori­da, is incred­u­lous when told about the inci­dent. “They should stay at Dis­ney where the alli­ga­tors won’t hurt them,” Forsyth said.

Ever­glades Nation­al Park is not like oth­er such parks, and some of its biggest defend­ers say those who fail to under­stand it should stay far away.

GatorSylvia
Unlike Dis­ney, gators can appear at any time with­in Ever­glades Nation­al Park.
Pho­to by Sylvia Cunningham

Over 250 miles north of the Ever­glades Nation­al Park lies the most vis­it­ed theme park in the world: the Mag­ic King­dom of Walt Dis­ney World in Orlan­do, Fla. The park wel­comed 17.5 mil­lion vis­i­tors in 2012 alone, accord­ing to reports com­piled by the Themed Enter­tain­ment Asso­ci­a­tion. Although the Ever­glades Nation­al Park has seen a pos­i­tive bump in atten­dance, it sim­ply can­not com­pete. In 2012, the Ever­glades Nation­al Park drew a lit­tle over 1.1 mil­lion visitors.

Lin­da Fri­ar, the park’s pub­lic infor­ma­tion offi­cer, said when peo­ple think “nation­al parks,” they think of sweep­ing vis­tas, more akin to the Grand Canyon or Yosemite.

The Ever­glades is more sub­tle,” Fri­ar said. “It takes a lit­tle more ener­gy to experience.”

Those who do not have time for the sub­tleties might find the instant grat­i­fi­ca­tion they seek at a place like Dis­ney World, said Can­dace Forsyth.

If you take the jun­gle cruise at Dis­ney, it’s pret­ty authen­tic. It feels like being on a swamp bug­gy at Corkscrew Swamp Sanc­tu­ary,” Forsyth said. “And maybe it’s bet­ter that peo­ple are con­tained and not just out here tromp­ing around, screw­ing things up.”

Park offi­cials some­times con­sid­er a pol­i­cy they call “Dis­ney-fica­tion.” One exam­ple: Fri­ar said the park might be look­ing at putting in some fences to pre­vent tourists from putting them­selves in harm’s way when enjoy­ing the Anhin­ga Trail.

Due to its easy acces­si­bil­i­ty and the close-up look it offers of egrets, anhin­ga birds and alli­ga­tors, the Anhin­ga Trail is one of the most pop­u­lar des­ti­na­tions in the park. 

Stan Weis­man, a Toron­to res­i­dent, has been mak­ing the dri­ve from Cana­da for over 15 years. He thinks peo­ple should vis­it the Ever­glades because it is cru­cial for them to under­stand how quick­ly ecosys­tems can col­lapse. Weis­man said he loves the dri­ve down from Mia­mi Beach, but pass­ing the farm­land along the way makes him remem­ber the hav­oc humans are wreak­ing on the envi­ron­ment. Sul­fates that leech off into the water dis­turb the veg­e­ta­tion, Weis­man said, and the Ever­glades has some fea­tures that one just can­not find else­where in the world.

Peo­ple should know that what’s hap­pen­ing just out­side here is not good. And large areas like this have been lost,” said Weisman.

Peo­ple can walk the Anhin­ga Trail in under 15 min­utes, but Lin­da Fri­ar explained it is the wet walks or “slough slogs” that give vis­i­tors the oppor­tu­ni­ty to tru­ly expe­ri­ence some of the sacred silence in the Everglades.

Fif­teen min­utes down the road from the Anhin­ga Trail, a park ranger instructs a group of vis­i­tors to each grab a walk­ing stick. Some peo­ple in the group trade skep­ti­cal glances as they del­i­cate­ly stick a foot in the thick mud.

Oh no,” one tourist says. “My socks are going to get wet.”

When the group emerges with water-filled shoes and mud-stained pants over an hour lat­er, most real­ize that the socks were the least of their concerns.

One tourist from Wis­con­sin los­es her foot­ing on the hike and falls back­wards. She stares down at her cell phone—which she now regrets stow­ing in the back pock­et of her jeans. It is caked with mud and refus­es to turn on. Yet she smiles after the walk is over.

Bleu Waters, a park ranger, leads tour groups through the slough slog reg­u­lar­ly. She said before depart­ing on every walk, she implores vis­i­tors to touch their sur­round­ings and use their imag­i­na­tions through­out the journey.

BleuKaitlyn
Bleu Waters, a nat­u­ral­ist with the Ever­glades Nation­al Park, explains the hid­den aspects of the pre­serve.
Pho­to by Kait­lyn Carroll

The Ever­glades does all the work. I pro­vide a connection—the translation—but you have to be will­ing to open your eyes,” Waters said. “Doing the slough slog makes you final­ly lis­ten and watch.”

Waters said she often encoun­ters mar­ried cou­ples where only one per­son in the pair is enthu­si­as­tic about the walk. The wife will pull Waters aside at the begin­ning of the tour and express her dis­con­tent about being dragged along by her hus­band, but with­out fail, Waters said, the feel­ing does not last. Waters said it often turns out that the per­son who dreads the walk most vehe­ment­ly will be the one who is the most excit­ed and enlight­ened by the end.

They come up to me and say, ‘I did not expect to enjoy this, but this was the best part of my trip.’”

Waters said she has tak­en tourists of all ages out to the slough—from mid­dle school stu­dents to retirees and has not once encoun­tered a per­son who hat­ed the experience.

She said she encour­ages all vis­i­tors to devel­op their own rela­tion­ship with the Ever­glades, and as a park ranger, she just helps to open the door and facil­i­tate the adven­ture. To many tourists who expe­ri­ence the walk, those moments of silence in the cypress dome make up for the shoes and pants that will still smell of swamp after two or three times through the wash­ing machine.

For Waters, it is the tourists who shape the pro­gram. She said she might give the same spiel slog after slog, but it is the vis­i­tors who make the expe­ri­ence for her.

On my own, it’s beau­ti­ful. But beau­ty and joy doesn’t exist if you don’t have oth­ers to share it with,” Waters said. “I love it when some­one comes in and they were afraid—they had fears—and they get through it and they come out smiling.”