May 23, 2024 – Time to Get off the Island

Since October 21, we have been parked on Chokoloskee Island, our winter home. While here, ours is a remote subtropical lifestyle filled with snowbirds, palm trees and the Gulf of Mexico. While folks in other parts of the country are experiencing headliner weather firsthand, we here in south Florida are watching from afar while expanding our vocabulary with words such as polar vortex, derecho, atmospheric river.

South Florida is the only region in the U.S. that rarely (OK, never) experiences a freeze or anything close to it. Global warming notwithstanding, this makes us feel grateful to not face winter advisories, freeze warnings and tornado watches. And we are surrounded by a watery wilderness playground for our canoes, which is why we are here in the first place.

Unfortunately, there is no perfect location for people living full time in an RV. And as the month of May wanes and the full force of summer weighs down on us, it seems we have overstayed our welcome. Our time in paradise is ending, and not a minute too soon.

You know it’s time to leave when the outside temperature refuses to drop below 80 degrees and the humidity is such that a pre-sunrise walk is no longer refreshing but instead feels like you are walking the neighborhood in a hazmat suit. Why not cool down in one of the resort pools? Because by now, the pools have become nothing less than giant hot tubs.

To add insult to injury, the relentless winds keep our canoes off the water and turn the air into a convective heat monster. They also compel you to bring your flimsy RV awnings in to avoid a wreckage. This in turn gives the sunlight a clear path through the windows, thereby raising the indoor temperatures by at least 10 degrees. Blackout shades are thusly rolled down as we commence to hang out in our cave with AC running (knock on wood) non-stop – the same AC that has been replaced not once, but twice.

And just when you think you’ll get a break as a nice afternoon rain rolls in, it does not stay long enough to cool the air. However, it does a superb job of reawakening the mosquitoes.

Yes, we have overstayed our welcome in our subtropical paradise, but we had little choice but to be here until the end of May. There was much to do and new challenges to meet. Besides, we still hold on to the idea that May can be one of the best times to be here.

Traditionally, this time of year feels like the end of winter but not yet summer – a shoulder month as it were. The best part of May is that most snowbirds have left and according to Vivian, the fishing can be spectacular. Typically, the skies fill with mountains of clouds and that’s when I love to photograph the Everglades.

With less than a week before departure, the winds finally died down enough that Vivian had three amazing kayak fishing days in a row, and I paddled my canoe one last time before putting it away for the season. Not least of all, I felt a hint of dry coolness on my walk this morning as the sun began to rise over the island. If you leave here in April, you’ll miss the blooms of the flamboyant Poinciana trees that brighten the island with brilliant red flowers. They are quite a sight and I love seeing them at every turn on my walks. There is a certain awakening that happens down here this time of year despite the dormancy of tourism.

But there is something more than just the oppressive heat that pulls us off the island. A cosmic force beyond our comprehension compels us to pull our 33-ft home on wheels over thousands of miles of road through unfamiliar territories and put up with the trials and tribulations that come with that. We have no intention of stopping anytime soon. We love the island lifestyle, but we love the nomadic one even more. And besides, we’re not getting any younger.

The RV is ready to rumble, and so are we. And as I say each year, this trip is going to be epic. So stick around as we head north to…