Saturday's forecast for Kendall: a high of 89, a dew point of 75 and a 60 percent chance of afternoon storms. Dana read it out loud at breakfast and didn't even bother saying "70 rule." She just looked at me over the rim of her mug.
Early October is the hardest stretch of the year for us. The calendar says fall, the stores are full of pumpkins, and outside it's still July. The camper's AC could handle a 30-amp site, but the Keys sites with power were booked long ago, and the Panhandle is a long tow for a weekend. So until the first real front, which came in late October last year, our weekends look like this: up early, outside somewhere by 8, home by noon, lunch in the air conditioning. On the Saturdays Dana works, it's me and the kids. Here's where we've been going.
Shark Valley on bikes
The Shark Valley loop is a 15-mile paved road through the sawgrass at the north end of the Everglades, out to an observation tower and back. Our America the Beautiful pass covers the entrance, so the morning cost us gas and a bike rental for Dana and me. The kids' bikes rode in the back of the Pilot with the third row folded flat.
My mistake: I told everyone we'd be riding by 7:30. The gate didn't open until 8:30 that morning. We sat in the car for an hour drinking café con leche from a thermos and watching a great blue heron work the canal, which Dana says was the most relaxing hour of her month, so maybe it wasn't a mistake.
Maya and I rode the whole loop. Dana and Nico rode out about two miles, turned around and spent the rest of the morning counting alligators along the canal near the visitor area (Nico's count was 23; Dana's was 14). The tower at the halfway point was worth every pedal: flat sawgrass to the horizon, anhingas drying their wings on the rails and a gator lying at the edge of the road on the way back that we gave all the room in the world. We finished at about 11. It was 88 degrees with no shade anywhere, and Maya had emptied both her water bottles and half of mine.
Bill Baggs before the crowd
Bill Baggs Cape Florida State Park, at the south end of Key Biscayne, opens at 8 a.m., and if you're on the sand by 8:15 you have most of the beach to yourself. Entry was $8 for the car. The water was 86 degrees and flat, which isn't refreshing to an adult, but the kids didn't care. Maya swam the shallows with her mask and came up shouting about a small ray. Nico filled both pockets with broken shells, some still sandy, which I found in the washing machine on Monday. Maya informed us that the lighthouse at the point is the oldest standing structure in Miami-Dade. We walked out to look at it, and she drew it.
We were back in the Pilot at 11:15, just as the first thunderheads were stacking up over the mainland.
Oleta and Matheson Hammock
Oleta River State Park, up in North Miami, is the farthest of our day trips at about 45 minutes, and it has the most shade. Entry was $6. Dana and Maya rented a kayak and paddled the mangrove channels while Nico and I walked part of the dirt bike trail, which he renamed "the jungle." The mosquitoes were bad in the shade and fine in the sun, so we kept moving and kept our long sleeves on.
Matheson Hammock in Coral Gables is the easy one, close to home. The atoll pool, a calm saltwater lagoon that fills with the tide, is shallow enough for Nico to wade around in on his own while we sit on the edge with our feet in. Last weekend the king tide had water over part of the path near the marina, which Nico considered the best feature in the whole park. He walked through it twice, on purpose, in his water shoes, both of which made it home.
None of this is camping, and the kids know it. Nico asks every Friday whether it's camping weather yet. But these mornings keep everyone outside, and they keep us from going stir-crazy while I sit at the kitchen table at night working out the tow to St. George Island. Every morning I check the forecast for the first dew point in the 60s. When it shows up, the old dome tent comes out of the storage room for a backyard night, and the countdown to Thanksgiving starts for real. As of Saturday, that's seven weeks.
