End of The Everglades?

America’s greatest wetland treasure is dying. A harrowing kayak crossing reveals why our most overlooked and endangered national park demands saving.

-  By Jon Waterman

My kayak knifed through warm Gulf waters as fast as it could run. We had outfitted our boats with 10-foot masts, outrigger arms on inflatable sponsons, and 2-foot-long leeboards, happy to be plying the wind instead of slogging by paddle. When I shook out the sail reef for more speed, the sponsons skipped over waves like thrown stones. Holding tight to shore, I adjusted my course by tapping the rudder pedals to dodge sharp mangrove stumps. I briefly closed my eyes, happy to have escaped winter, immersed in a sense of mastery as I inhaled the rotten-egg fecundity of the Everglades. America’s most magnificent swamp stretched limitlessly before me.

I had never seen so many different bird species in one place, often clutching fish in their talons or beaks; squadrons of pelicans, teams of ducks, musterings of storks, and herds of curlews. All morning long, stingrays leapt and splashed into the sea.

Sailing downwind, I veered ever closer to a long, uninhabited white-sand beach, catching short rides as the shallows lumped the water up into surf. But as I rounded a point onto flatter water, a murky wave came off shore, bisecting my point of sail: I had startled a crocodile, basking in the sun. With powerful, snakelike tail undulations, the beast cut directly beneath the kayak and sent a wave across my chest as it shimmied seaward, visible only by its wake. This all happened too quickly to be properly scared, but my fingers trembled with adrenaline. The world’s largest reptile had just given me the equivalent of a poolside cannonball soaking.