While I was in South Florida for the exhibit, Rock Paper Photo, I took the opportunity to make a roundabout trip through the Everglades. Though a storm kept me from doing the airboat thing, I still took a look around as best I could in the time I had. I drove across Alligator Alley, stopping at every scenic overlook to see the changes in the geography, then I headed down, driving to Everglades City until the road ran out before heading back. When I stopped to look around, I was struck with some of the same feelings I had when I photographed in the Nevada desert. The place is extraordinarily beautiful but seemed so empty as to be overwhelming. The emptiness is just a façade. My usual means of dealing with this is to stand still for some period of time, just to absorb whatever is in the air (mosquitos notwithstanding). The bad news here is that while I was able to observe the Everglades, I was not able to truly experience the Everglades. Perhaps another journey is in order.
I spent the afternoon on this particular journey. At least I got an overview of the different terrains contained in that part of the Everglades. Some parts are water and grass; some parts are cypress trees. I can see why Clyde Butcher has put so much effort into photographing the Everglades. It is a special place.
As the day came to an end and I realized I would soon be out of light, so I aimed once again for civilization.
As the sun set, I pulled over and parked my car at an abandoned roadside stand. The didgeridoo chorus was practicing out in the grass. The breeze was slight and scented. I wandered very little, but chose mostly to be still and experience the last moments of day in this special and unique place, in this waning flaming light.