I learned a lot from Bahia Honda park rangers. Like touching a poisonwood tree can give you an itchy rash as bad or worse than poison ivy. Linda said for relief from itching, take leaves from the gumbo-limbo tree, crush them, and make them into tea and drink it several times a day.  She also said the modest flower of the Bay Bean (sometimes called a Beach Bean) is edible and good to add to salads. I tried one; it tasted like a just-picked garden pea fresh from the pod.

Elaine showed us how to identify birds commonly seen about the park, like the ring-bill gull walking along the beach ahead of us - just look for the narrow black band around its bill. She pointed out piles of sea grass washed up on the beach and explained how tiny arthropods living in the unsightly spongy masses serve as food for seabirds, and that wind carries nutrients from seawater in the grass onto the dunes to help renourish beach vegetation. Of turtle hatchlings, only 2% survive. They swim far out to sea, often to the Mediterranean and beyond, and it may be 30 years before they reach adulthood and return to their place of birth. After such a long time, they often find the seashore very different from when they last saw it. 

We gathered around a campfire one Friday night to listen to Maria talk about her life in Cuba until she fled in 1962. At the end of story time, when the fire had turned to embers, she offered us typical Latino treats, including dulce de leche, a thick, sweet treat to be spread on graham crackers or such. She even had a photo of the kitchen in her childhood home after a can of boiling condensed milk (used to make dulce de leche) exploded inside a pressure cooker!

In the last campfire story of the season, Artie, as Henry Flagler’s ghost, told us how the Overseas Railroad came to be. Flagler was a tea-totaler who didn’t allow his workers alcohol and when they were caught with rum or ladies of the night from passing ships, they were flogged. Heat, humidity and mosquitoes created a miserable existence for them and one worker who had a particularly harsh foreman commented, “Working for him is like running a marathon,” hence the name. 

Big Dipper Bill was a guest speaker who put on a nighttime show in the inky blackness of the old bridge, far away from any lights. He pointed out constellations with a powerful green laser and talked about zodiac signs. Most of us only knew of 12, but he said due to the earth’s wobble and because it has been more than 2,000 years since the astrological sun sign system was set up, there are actually 13 zodiac signs. The new one is Ophiuchus the Serpent Bearer, from November 30 to December 17.

Becoming bored in Bahia Honda is a nearly impossible feat!

On the morning of our last full day I was awakened before dawn by the noisy goings on of a fishing party at the boat ramp, but on the other side of their vessel something else was happening. A Coast Guard inflatable was tethered to the dock and half a dozen Coasties wearing their Kevlar vests and side arms stood in a semi circle. About twenty people, mostly men but a few women, stood within the circle. I watched them conduct pat-down searches and then for the next two hours they all just stood around under a tree. By that time the sun was up, it was a gorgeous bright Sunday morning, and weekenders had begun trickling into the park. Whatever they’d been waiting for was apparently taking too long and their group was attracting attention, so they handed out life vests, loaded the assemblage onto their launch and took off. We heard later that the Cubans had been quietly dropped off in the marina under cover of darkness, where they then called to report their arrival to the Coast Guard for processing under the “wet foot, dry foot” law. If they make it to land, they can stay legally; if they’re found on the water they must go back to Cuba.

 Daybreak, April 3: On my last walk through the park until next December I felt a little sentimental about leaving. February and March seemed to vanish overnight. Moonflowers had grown thick along the trail to the old bridge where I walked. They’re unique in that they fully open by the light of the moon but fold up tightly under the midday sun. I’m feeling a little sad at departing but looking forward to what’s ahead.