Cayo Costa: Out of Africa

Heading over to Cayo Costa Island on a Park Service Boat


Camp Site with Sleep Tent and Kitchen Tent


View of Coastal Savannah from Kitchen Tent


Morning Coffee



Why do I feel like I am someplace other than Florida? Africa keeps coming to mind. Is it our tent with its screening pulled back framing a view reminiscent of a sandy, palmy grassland in Kenya or Tanzania? Or the lack of electricity and running water? The unconditioned air that I'm not conditioned to? The quietness takes me far away; can this really be the States? No cars or machinery to break the sounds of the sea, birds, and swaying palm fronds. The night is a dark studded jewel like it is suppose to be and the day a vast scape of changing light and shadows. Wow, this is out of.....where are we?

Cayo Costa, a Florida State Park, is where Dan and I have chosen to do volunteer work for a month this winter. Cayo Costa is an undeveloped barrier island 6 miles off the southwest coast of Florida in the Gulf of Mexico. You can only get here by boat. We do a few hours of work per week and we get to stay in our tent for free. And free we are. Lovin' it!

I've been strolling around barefoot these hot days with a piece of fabric wrapped around my naked body. I feel like an African woman, especially when I balanced shower gear on my head for fun on my way to and from the outdoor shower (another story). It occurs to me after several days that this little "sun dress" I secure (and not so securely sometimes, by amature accident) with twists and knots around my chest is a piece of fabric I purchased years ago at an international fair in Toledo. I examine it further and find a label in the corner which reads "Printed in Tanzania." Could it be....the print is rubbing off on me?

Manatee Mania

Manatees congregating in warmer shallow water (photo from Manatees, a Tribute)

Tail Fin Next to My Kayak
Manatee Coming Up for Air with Nostrils Surfacing

A Pair of Docile Manatees (photo from Manatees, a Tribute)

What do they call a group of manatees? School, herd, pod? You'd be surprised how many biologists I asked who didn't know. Even the woman who answered the phone at the Manatee Education Center didn't know, but I liked the way she laughed each time she tried a different noun. You know how you can sometimes tell if you have the right word by sounding it out? That's what she was doing on the phone ...."a school of manatee, a herd of manatee, a pod of manatee." I explained I was curious because I ended up floating on top of several of them in shallow water and I wanted to tell this story in an educated manner. She never figured it out but continued to amuse herself with "flock.....clan....litter."

To move on with the story, I'll explain how I became so intimate with manatees, and I promise it won't sound too educated. You see, I was so delighted to finally find these unobtrusive ancient animals in the tanin-stained water of the Indian River Lagoon here in Florida, that I released my kayak paddle for a couple of minutes in favor of my binoculars and digital camera. The wind did fast work of putting my lame kayak in the center of the school-herd-pod of manatees. I could feel the manatees pushing against the bottom of my kayak. They encircled me, or somehow my kayak drifted into the center of their corral. I could have scratched their bulging backsides, bedecked with algae and barnacles. I swear their girths were greater than my 32 inch wide kayak. The school-herd-pod was so concentrated that there was not enough free water to set my paddle and sweep myself out of the way.

I held my breath knowing I could soon be taking a well-deserved swim. I wasn't too worried because I knew they wouldn't bite me; they don't have any teeth except molars and they are herbivores. That means vegetarian, thank you. Manatees are tame and trusting: not territorial. They don't even fight over mates, so what are they going to do with me? (Squish me and make muck?)
Manatees can stay underwater about 20 minutes but they usually come to the surface for air more often than that. I was surrounded by so many, that every few seconds I would hear a woosh of exhaled air and if I could turn my torso limberly in the right direction, I could see the nostrils flare on the tip of a surfaced bulbous snout within a paddle's length from me. Then the manatee would submerge, the lungs nurished and the nostrils closing, enabling feeding underwater.
They held me in suspense tottering on their backsides, while they sized up my underside. Would my blimpy 8 foot Hobie kayak resemble them enough in the dark water to adopt me until they slowly move laterally with their front flippers to a new grazing ground? Not a chance. Once one of these 1/2 ton marine mammals determined I wasn't part of the school-herd-pod, they all decided to take leave. This parting was not in their normal serene style of locomotion, but a grand, turbulent exit. I rocked in a sea of white water, waves pouring over the sides of my kayak as their paddle shaped tails lifted and propelled them away from my kayak.

These ancient, vanishing, mermaid-like animals gave me what a I deserved, a wet body and soggy pride, but they did not dump me. I think my Hobie is shaped too much like them; a roly-poly bouyant-neutral vessel that just settled calmly upright. Thank you again.

So is it a school, a herd or a pod of manatees that mania-teased me and my kayak? If I tell you that their distant cousins are elephants, would that help? Need another hint? Try sounding it out loud: "Cheryl, the nerd, drifted into a ______of manatees."

How to Pick Up a Friend

Garage-Sale Kayak in Florida

Garage-Sale Friend Phyliss in Kayak

I went for a bike ride one warm Florida morning several weeks ago. I wasn't shopping for anything in particular when I stopped at a garage sale. There was lots of stuff on the driveway but I noticed the blue kayak almost immediately. In trying to make kayaking more accessible for women through Water's Edge Adventures, I started to negotiate with the owner. I noticed a car pull up and a woman jumped out. She darted straight for the kayak exclaiming that she has been looking for one for months. I had this guilty feeling about buying the kayak when I already had 3 at home. She mistakenly asked me if I would take a certain amout for it, assuming I was the owner. I told her I wasn't the owner but I had already asked to buy it at that price and the owner refused. When she stated that she didn't want to go any higher, I was relieved. I said "Great, I will buy the kayak and you can use it until March when I head back to Ohio." Well, she liked that idea and we exchanged phone numbers in the driveway. Since then we have gone kayaking together and have become buddies.

My garage-sale kayak doesn't clutter Phyliss's garage any longer as she has since bought 2 new kayaks, one of which she loaned me for its maiden voyage when I had some friends visiting. Isn't this a nice exchange of trust? I have since learned that Phyliss, a mom with 2 young children, sports a long history of surfing. Her boards are stored next to her shiny new kayaks in her garage and she has offered to teach me how to surf!

I did pretty dang well that day garage-saling, wouldn't you agree? An ol' surfer with a big heart and vivacious spirit is a pretty unique find. You never know what you might pick up at a garage sale!

Step-It-Up A Notch

Cheryl and year-round Floridian, Kornelia, kayaking on the Indian River, Vero Beach, Florida

Walking and jogging at Olander Park, Sylvania, Ohio

While I am spending the winter in Florida, I am hanging out with some new-found friends who live in Florida year round. It is amusing that they will spend their evenings at home cuddled up in a blanket on the couch. Meanwhile, I am outside in shorts and bare feet. Yesterday I went kayaking with two year-round residents who were dressed in long pants and fleece jackets. I was in shorts and bare feet again. Afterwards, when we were were making plans for our next paddle, one of them suggested that we wait until it warms up a bit. It was 71 degrees! (Kornelia has since corrected me that with the wind-chill factor it was much colder....about 62 degrees!)

It's what we get use to, isn't it? In Toledo I will spend November and December evenings on the couch wrapped up in a blanket even though I am next to a blazing wood burner. We just need to burrow a bit; the shorter days and longer nights are our bio-rhythmic signal to slow down regardless of the ambient air temperature.

We have been gaining day light since the winter solstice nearly a month ago, so it is time to step-it-up a notch. It is important for the body to start moving more again. Get outside a bit. The outdoor air is essential to clear our heads and fill our lungs with "essence of oxygen." It will invigorate you.

There are several ways to get outside in winter in the Toledo area.
The Metroparks (metroparkstoledo.com) has dozens of trails to walk or cross-country ski, and believe me, I miss those opportunities to ski (but I did go 5 times before leaving for Florida).
Olander Park in Sylvania has a walking program called the Frosty 150 which runs until April 30. It is an honor incentive program with an achievement award extended to those who complete the milage. Pick up a log at the information box outside Nederhouser Community Hall or phone 419-882-8313 (olanderpk.com).
The Sylvania Senior Center has an indoor walking program which utilizes the Tam O'Shanter Sports Center. If you are 55 or older, whether you are from Sylvania or not, you can use the fitness center at the Sylvania Senior Center for free (419-885-3919). There is a volunteer fitness instructor from Wildwood Athletic Center who comes on Fridays from 12 to 1. She will help you get started on the weight machines and elipticals, teaching you proper form and routines to meet your goals. Say Hi! to Jill, it is so kind of her to give her time and expertise.

If you want to be with a fun bunch of people who go outdoors all the time regardless of the weather, become a member of Hosteling International-Toledo Area (www.hitoledo.org or phone the activities chair, Pat Squire 419-243-7680). It cost less than $30 for the year to have at least one free, planned outing each week, usually walking or bike riding. These people got me started riding bicycle, and now I am doing triathlons.

I want to mention Transformations Institute. I haven't done any of their programs, training or retreats yet, but I know the woman who started it, Pat Altvater, and she is dynamic. If you are looking at weight loss beyond dieting, she has a multi-media program to change behavior, choosing health for the mind, body, and spirit. There is a fitness connection, FIT, which you can find more information about on the web (www.transformationsinstitute.com)

Now you will have no excuse not to be ready to hike with me in the spring. We are going to do the 17 mile trail at Oak Openings Preserve on the 17th of April and May, and September and October. It's easy to remember the date, right? 17 miles on the 17th. I'll have a healthy lunch and energy bars to keep you going. (But I can figure a way for you to cut off at 8 miles if you insist!).

There are 2 backpacking trips coming up too; May 3-4, and October 11-12. These are for women only, experienced or not. Imagine completing the 17 mile trail in 2 days with a self-contained backpack loaded with tent, food, and clothing. If you are a decent walker and don't have back problems, you can do this. I've led dozens on this trail, ages 12 to 70.

Then we have an out-of-town cross-training camp. The best part about this is its location...in a home on a beautiful lake surrounded by woods in northern Michigan. This is for women of all abilities, and will include choices like mountain biking, running, swimming, nature hikes, kayaking,yoga and campfire chats about fitness, healthy foods, and athletic training. Joyce Donaldson, coach and Olympic triathlon officiator, will co-lead this fitness booster on May 29, 30, 31 and June 1. See www.eliteendeavors.com for more information or contact me at cherylmccormick@gmail.com.

I know of a sure way to keep me fit and that is to plan to enter one challenging athletic event per year. My goal is to do my best even if I have to walk to complete the event. This keeps me going with some training goals all year long. The frosting is sweet---being around sweaty athletes and being called one myself!

If you feel a little fearful of the cold, take the time to read the article "Personal Best: Too Cold to Exercise? Try Another Excuse" in the New York Times, Health/Fitness & Nutrition, January 17, 2008 (www.NYTimes.com). I fully agree with the physiologists....keep moving, the body generates the heat to keep you warm. Just stay dry and be aware of hazards like frostbite and hypothermia. Understand that cold air does not induce asthma; dry air does.

Step-it-up a notch and rev-up the body thermostat. The cool air will feel like a summer breeze on your rosy cheeks.

Calendar Butterfly 2008

My husband and I were stacking firewood on the back porch a couple of days ago in below- freezing weather. Dan noticed a battered, brown butterfly on the ground. We took a closer look and could see the wings moving slowly. Apparently we had disturbed its overwintering site in the logs. Eager to get the wood loaded and consequently, without giving it much thought, I put the butterfly in a cool room in the house, tucking it into a plant, and I returned outside to finish loading wood.

Back indoors I had forgotten about the butterfly until a few minutes later when it fluttered weakly across my shoulder. There are 23 windows in the house. The butterfly, with no assistance, chose the window with the Christmas angel on the outdoor sill. Even in its slumbering condition, the butterfly was hard to approach with my camera. I did get these few photographs and researched it in a small guide book from the Ohio Division of Wildlife, Common Butterflies and Skippers of Ohio.

Don't the photos compare well with the guide book? It is a Mourning Cloak Butterfly (Nymphalis antiopa) which has a 3-4 inch wingspan. It prefers wooded habitat near water; my wooded yard with the watergarden and creek is similar. The flight period is April to September and it is a hibernating butterfly. Late summer adults may live eight months which is longer than any other Ohio non-hibernating resident. The mourning cloak is often seen on warm, sunny, early spring days flying around and basking in wooded clearings. One of its behavioral traits is that it is hard to approach and photograph, which I found to be true even in its sleepy state.

Once I realized that it was a hibernating butterfly (what else could it have been, duh?), I returned this little angel to the outdoors, gently covering it with some leaves under the porch decking. This New Year visitor reminded me of how much I will always have to learn about the natural world. Maybe it will remind me again in April while it basks near me as I'm stooped in the watergarden, whispering to me, "You are four months into 2008; are you any wiser yet?"

That's optimistic, but.........wishing you an optimistic year too!

A Partridge in a Bare Tree

On the fifth day before Christmas, I loaded my truck to "give". Home-made wreaths were snuggled in the bed, teddy bears and dolls filled a big bag, and Christmas cassette tapes lined a basket. Yes, I was going to give all this away, but mind you, most of it was left-over. The wreaths were no-sells from my sale (see blog post below: A Tribute to Old Blue), the stuffed animals were like-new garage sale discards, and the Christmas music cassettes were replaced by CDs. No skin off my back except for the time I put into making the wreaths, a few supplies, and some bucks dropped at garage sales last summer.

I didn't know where I was going with this load except that I was thinking about people who had health issues piled on top of economic woes. The road I live on in the suburbs heads straight into the inner-city. The 12 miles should have been an easy drive, but I was feeling very uneasy. Where am I going? Why do I think people in the city would want these wreaths? Why am I afraid? Why do I feel foolish? Why in hell is it so hard to give to people that I am feeling something for? The only thing I liked about the drive was its sense of adventure.

Nearly a half-hour down the road I noticed a building with big letters on its side, something like Family Health Center. I turn into the parking lot thinking this is a really stupid idea. There weren't many cars in the lot and I didn't see a single person. Why am I here? "OK, just pull up in front of the entrance," something was directing me. "Now, get out of the truck," it persisted while I wanted to hide. So now what? There is still nobody around. "OK, walk around to the back end of the truck and put down the gate." I followed these silly directions while it seemed like I was the only person outdoors in the whole city that winter day.

Whoa!! The gate came down and the people came out... from buildings, cars, and taxi-cabs. I invited them to select a wreath assuring them that they were free. As they reached into the truck to pick out their personal favorite, I was stunned with their pleasure. In the urban greyness, these coils twisted with branches from my dying spruce tree and adorned with big red bows, looked magnificent; 100 times better than they had in my wooded suburban yard. These simple rings entwined with prickly spruce needles curved the complex, worried creases out of the recipients' faces and weaved them into awe-struck smiles. Meanwhile, the stuffed animals were shuffled through, finding new homes in the arms of gleeful young caregivers. I felt like Santa when a woman in a well-worn coat and missing her two front teeth came straight up to me with a specific request, "Do you have Oh Holy Night with no singing, just the music?" I filled her wish with a cassette tape that hadn't been played for years at home. In 10 minutes, even before the security guards arrived to see what was the flurry, everything was gone, gone in a hurry. How much easier can giving get?

What about receiving? Sometimes I feel hesitant about receiving---especially in accumulating more unnecessary stuff, and gifts perhaps given out of obligation. The parking lot wreath exchange was different. I joyfully accepted the unexpected robust hugs, the "God bless you, ma'am!" and "Merry Christmas" wishes. These givers waited in line, and I am not kidding you, to give me hugs! I made an enormous haul at this gift exchange.

So with the last bit of green from a dying, half-naked Blue Spruce tree, I drove myself into the scary woods of urbanocity. It was a poorly planned adventure, but very enriching. That's where true love gave to me......and I saw a partridge in a bare tree.

A Tribute to Old Blue

A Tribute Looking for Warmth


Self-serve Christmas Wreath Stand

Painting of Old Blue Guarding Our Home

Do you see the painting of the cabin above? Look at the tall Blue Spruce to the left of the door. That is the tree that has guarded the front door of our home since we moved in 26 years ago. It is one of the reasons why we bought the house. We use to bend beneath it's branches to enter the little cabin, our first home. It watched us bring home two new-born babies. It guarded their growth and all our family's activities to and fro, beneath it's wings, for 26 years. Early on, as the family grew, we added on to the little cabin, ultimately building a large home in a U-shape around Blue Spruce. We thought we were preserving it, but we may have helped contribute to its demise......building too closely and smothering it to death. We thrived, and it died.

Sadly, this week we had to cut it down as 2/3 of it had already died. Two tree specialists from Savory Tree Service in Toledo, Matt and Brian, did a great job dropping this 70 foot giant so that it didn't go through the roof or windows. I pruned the green branches and my husband salvaged firewood, determined not to waste any bit of this friend. (see middle photo....self-serve Christmas wreath sales stand on our side-porch). As the tree specialists held their chain saws over the last section of felled trunk, it dawned on me how to pay my respects to this oldster.

The image was clear in my mind. I ran up to Matt and shouted over the noisy saws, "Wait! Could you just leave this section lay as it is, and plane the top couple of inches off instead?" Matt was skilled with the saw and smiled when I invited him to do the chainsaw art. In five minutes I had an eight foot bench which nobody was going to move - ever! The trunk had homed itself right next to its stump, on an inviting angle to the front door. I further suggested that the remaining stump be leveled off. Now I have a table at one end of the bench!

In the spring when it warms up, I will sand the bench and table and protect them with a sealant.......maybe. What I really look forward to doing is sitting on the bench. I want to watch the tulips break through the earth near its base. I want to use its table to hold my cup and give thanks for the 26 years of wellness we've had as it stood over us. Maybe Old Blue will feel honored that my little bottom is warming its big heart-wood. Ya think?