Backcountry Tales #2: The Day Big Cypress Almost Won
Finding Wild Beauty in the Most Unforgiving Season
Into the Swamp
There's a reason most people avoid the northern reaches of Big Cypress National Preserve in July. The combination of wet season downpours and merciless Florida heat creates conditions that keep all but the most determined (or perhaps foolhardy) adventurers at bay. Yet there I was, along with two equally optimistic friends, pulling up to the deserted trailhead parking lot in Ochopee.
The emptiness should have been our first warning. No weathered swamp buggies, no mud-splattered trucks, not even the typical scattering of tourist car rental vehicles seeking a quick glimpse of wild Florida. Just two cars breaking the morning stillness, their occupants about to learn why summer backcountry hiking in South Florida is an endeavor best left to the lubber grasshoppers and mosquitoes.
As we donned our waterproof snake boots, we all exchanged knowing looks as we stepped out into the heavy air. We hadn’t even gone 100 feet towards the Preserve’s gated entrance before being met with a thick wall of humidity despite the early hour. The kind of humidity that doesn't so much surround you as embrace you, hinting at the sweltering day ahead. Still, the allure of exploring this lesser-visited section of the preserve outweighed our better judgment. Armed with cameras, water, and perhaps an excess of enthusiasm, we set off into the swamp's domain.
Heat Meets Wild
The morning started innocently enough. Armed with my photography gear - a hefty 150-600mm telephoto lens, tripod with gimbal head, and essential camera equipment - I shouldered my backpack containing liters of water. The combined weight of over 20 pounds would soon become a formidable challenge in the sweltering Florida heat.
Our seven-mile journey wove through a tapestry of Florida's wild landscapes. Wetlands gave way to sprawling prairies, while cypress domes provided brief moments of shade. As we pushed deeper into the preserve, the understory revealed its secrets - clusters of beauty berries hung like purple jewels amid the thick foliage, their brilliant color a stark contrast to the weathered cypress knees and damp earth.
Nature's purple power-up hiding in the swamp. These beauty berries were a welcome splash of color during our 105-degree trek through Big Cypress!
The trail led us through knee-deep water crossings, each one a welcome respite from the scorching summer sun. These impromptu wade pools brought sweet relief to our heat-weary legs, though we knew better than to linger too long in any one spot. The water's coolness was a double-edged sword - refreshing in the moment, but adding to the weight of our already sodden boots as we pressed on through the swamp's embrace.
A seven mile round-trip trek through Ochopee, Big Cypress on a hot summer day can be extremely taxing. Provision accordingly!
A welcome respite came at Carpenter Campground. While catching my breath, I noticed a dragonfly perched perfectly still, its crystalline wings catching the midday light. These moments are what wildlife photographers live for - when exhaustion and opportunity intersect. The macro shot became one of the day's unexpected treasures.
A dragonfly perches on a dead branch at Carpenter Campground, Big Cypress National Preserve.
But it was what we found in the mud that made my heart race. Fresh panther tracks, preserved in the aftermath of a recent downpour, reminded us that we were guests in the domain of Florida's most elusive predator. These ghostly impressions would later inspire a deeper obsession with documenting the state's remaining big cats.
Panther tracks in the mud at Ochopee, Big Cypress National Preserve.
As afternoon wore on, the heat became a living entity. The thermometer in my car would later reveal the brutal truth - 109 degrees Fahrenheit. Heat stroke nipped at my heels during the final stretch, a sobering reminder of nature's unforgiving character.
Weather forecast that day hit highs of 105 degrees Fahrenheit, but seeing the car temperature readout was something I had to document.
Between Heat Stroke and Hope
My last memory of that punishing day was the distant hoot of an owl echoing through the cypress canopy. Despite the day's brutal conditions, that sound sparked fresh aspirations. Someday, I thought, I'd return to capture that owl's portrait, and perhaps, if fortune smiled, cross paths with the phantom big cat whose tracks we'd discovered.
The swamp had tested my limits, but it also planted seeds of determination. Sometimes the most challenging days in the field become the ones that shape us most as photographers and naturalists. They remind us that every image we capture is earned through persistence, sweat, and a willingness to venture where others might not.
