Hog Key

I had prepared myself for mangroves and jungle, but this was something else. Pink and purple filled the sky and were absorbed and reflected by the flat water of the Gulf. We were alone on the beach, a small fire burning driftwood and scenting the air.

The wind from the previous day was gone. In its place was the absence of it. There was very little sound beyond the water touching the shore. Taylor passed the bottle back to me, the rum was sweet. We sat and let the light drain from the sky.

It was difficult to reconcile the quiet with how recently we had left Chokoloskee, how close we still were to roads and houses and the low hum of south Florida. From the beach, none of that was apparent. The water stayed glassy. The colors held longer than expected.

Mosquitoes arrived gradually, then all at once. Hog Key supports them in numbers that don’t require explanation. We left the fire burning and retreated to our tents. The temperature had cooled enough that it was pleasant slipping into our bags.

I didn’t put the rainfly on. From the tent I could see stars beginning to appear where the color had been. The beach remained quiet, the water just audible at the shoreline.

Everglades, Florida - March 10, 2012