MAY 15 2007
AMERICANWAY 81
Vince operates Tropic Star Cruises, one of
dozens of local outfitters offering myriad
ways to enjoy these lovely waters. In the
manner of allwatermen, Vince isdry.
“With the wind at your back, you can
make it back to the dock in a couple of
hours,” he says. “Assuming you don’t get
lost.”
Sincewe left the dock, Vincehas kept up
an easy patter of history, ecology, andme-
teorology. He has talked about the Calusa
Indians — the fierce, thriving, mound-
building tribe of giants who paddled these
waters from about 300 AD to the 1700s,
when the Spanish saw them to their end.
Hehaspointedout variousfloraand fauna,
and he’s addressed the wrath of Hurricane
Charley, whose August 2004 landing cre-
ated new passes between the islands over-
night and sent kayaks where they were
nevermeant togo.
“I found one kayak stuck 20 feet up in a
tree,” saysVince.
It’s all very fascinating, and I’m listening
— but not too closely, because in absorb-
ing my surroundings, I have observed an-
other important fact. Debby, one-fourth
of our merry band of paddlers, voices my
thoughts:
“All these islands,” she says. “Theyall look
the same.”
Vincenods appreciatively.
“Bigplace,” he says. “Somuchnatureand
open space.”
I havecomehere
to southwest Florida to
paddle the Great Calusa Blueway and to
get a firsthand look at the water trails that
continue to spread their blue-veined arter-
ies acrossAmerica. There are alreadywater
trails inalmost every state, and, evenas you
read this,moreare in themaking.On them,
with a map and some minor navigational
skills, you can traverse lovely swaths ofwil-
derness, whether it be for anhour, aday, or
amonth.Paddlesports—kayaking, rafting,
and canoeing— are booming, and as they
boom, more and more folks are grasping
an elemental, and wondrous, truth: Water
is an alchemic portal to places and rarities
that would otherwise remainunseen. After
all,whenwas the last timeyou sawamana-
teeas youdrovedown the interstate?
It’snot justaboutthewater, though.Most
of the water trails offer access to camping,
of course, but for those who tire of deal-
ingwith freeze-dried stroganoff and grit in
their teeth, many trails are laid out to de-
posit youat the landing rampof civilization
so that you may haul your vessel ashore,
showeratafineB&B, and then, surrounded
by the boisterous buzz of locals, tear into
half a pound of fat, fresh shrimp. Why are
the locals sohappy?Because the shrimpare
as sweet as candy and the people live on an
islandaccessedonlybyboat.
The Calusa Blueway trail currently
stretches about 100 miles, meandering
through Estero Bay — tucked roughly be-
hind the barrier islands of Lovers Key and
Fort Myers Beach — and snaking north-
ward into Pine Island Sound, Charlotte
From the helm of the
CayoCostaStar
, VinceTapager gazes out at the
sun-brightwaters and themangrove islands of Pine Island Sound. He
considers the sky, a dome of pale blue, and thewind, a soft exhalation
from thewest. He turnsback tous, four soon-to-bekayakers. Theplan
issimple.Vincewill ferryusoutfromPine IslandanddropusoffatCayo
Costa, a lovely slice of barrier island and a state park off the coast of
southwestFlorida. Thenwewill paddleback toPine IslandMarina.
