Heat ripples across the sawgrass prairie. You swat at a blood-drunk mosquito and keep walking past the cypress knees, rising above the tea-stained water like ancient knuckles from the murky depths. A lone bull gator watches you from the banks without moving, or even blinking. An abandoned canoe is tangled in the reeds.
Climb into the canoe and paddle deeper into the swamp.
Head toward a palmetto hammock, where the ground is high and dry.
Sometimes the trail doesn’t feel right… nothing wrong with turning back.