When Mary-Alice and I hatched our Florida trip earlier this year, I made a point of not planning any destinations ahead of time. I wanted to be surprised by what we found along the road. One of the many surprises that day was crossing the famous “Swanny”.
An even better surprise (for me) was what was waiting for us on the opposite bank.
A big part of any tourist experience (for me, at least) is catching a glimpse of local wildlife. People go to Yellowstone to see bears and bison. They come to my neck of the woods to spy orcas. When I was in Big Bend, it was all about the javelinas. So you can bet I wasn’t going to take my first trip to Florida without seeing some manatees.
The odd thing is that at this time of year, one of the best places to glimpse a sea cow is not a pristine nature park—but an industrial canal. The Tampa power plant uses the waterway as part of its cooling system, and as a result, cycles heated water back into the canal. The water is up to 20 degrees warmer than the winter temperatures of the adjacent Gulf of Mexico, so it attracts manatees in droves.
The courtesy of a wooden platform perched over the manatee area was lovely—and I was incredibly excited to see so many manatees at once—but I found myself sorely wishing for the kind of underwater windows they have for watching salmon in Seattle. That way, I could see for myself whether sea cows really resemble sea lasses, as the sailors of old thought they did…
Speaking of underwater sights, if only the Ballard fish ladder had mermaids in it. Good thing I got to visit Weeki Wachee Springs a few weeks ago! Now I’m spoiled—I fear Weeki Wachee may have ruined roadside attractions for me forever. I mean really—no matter how seedy and pathetic a tourist trap might be (and I’m sorry to say there were aspects of this place that were), anything with mermaid performers is an instant winner in my book.
There were two little girls sitting next to me, and when I looked over to add them to my sketch, I had to smile. When I was their age, I was totally into mermaids (I was eight when Disney released its famous fishy juggernaut of a feature)—if I had been to Weeki Wachee at that age, I probably would have thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Even at the ripe old age of 33, it wasn’t hard for me to look past the shabbiness and ho-made production values and find a little mermaid magic to love.
If you happen to follow along on Instagram or Facebook, you’ll know I’ve just returned from a 4000+ mile road trip across the south and west of the county. One of the things I like to do at the end of a trip (and the end of my sketchbook) is a map and recap of the journey. Of course, there are lots and lots of sketches of the details along the way (I expect you’ll see lots of those in the coming weeks), but sometimes it’s nice to step back and look at the big picture.