"We have to be careful. We have a slough slog virgin in the
back." When one of my professors said this, I said to myself, "Oh lord, what have
I gotten myself into?!" In the previous class, I had to miss the second of half due
to family vacation plans, making me miss the slog in Pa-Hay-Okee. I was a little
upset I had to miss it just because I did not want to be different from anyone
else in the class, but I must admit I was a bit glad because I hate water. So when
we were having lunch and find out that we would do a "minor slog" at the Clyde
Butcher studio I had a conniption. Where is this photography studio that a slog is
actually possible?
Surprisingly enough, it was one of the best times I have had
in class all semester. I could not help but remember Ranger Maureen's
interpretation speech. How when you undergo events differently, sure, it may seem
odd, but it allows you to experience it in a way you normally would not, which
hence enables you to construe things in a unique way.
Going to class every other week, people often ask me where I
am going, and I normally just answer, "going to the Everglades." We drive, meet,
discuss, interact a bit, and go home. Granted, we have done some interesting things,
but never did I imagine that I would literally be in the Everglades. We were
sticking to the ground beneath us, in the wilderness, nothing surrounding us but
nature; I felt so outdoorsy. But what of puzzled me a little still was "normal"
people who would actually do this every day of their lives.
When we got to the Clyde Butcher studio, and met the
receptionist, I was surprised to see her. Someone who looked as pretty and trendy
as her, you would not expect to see out in the middle of no where, let alone
actually living there! You would expect to see biologists, ecologists, and other
such scientists, but not some dainty young lady. A few of us actually made a joke
about her, correlating to the Matthiessen book, saying that she was trying to run
away from her past and just hiding out. I mean that place does not even have a
city assigned to it! You would think that someone who looked like an outcast or
vagabond would be the only person who lived out there, someone "country" or
hill-billy, someone with an odd name, someone like, well, Zeke, our slough slog
guide.
Do not get me wrong, he is a super amicable person, but for a
little while there, it did look like a bad swamp mystery: a group of students go
on a tour in the Everglades and no one makes it out except the odd tour guide. It
honestly did not help keep my nerves at ease. But I had to do it, and, as our
professors say in their syllabus, "without whining." Boy, was that a test!
Stepping in I had A LOT of reservations, and especially being
the last one, I was whining a heck of a lot more. The water was dingy and cold,
and I was scared to walk into a spider wed or fall into a sink hole. I was barely
concentrating on anything anyone was saying, because, as I said in my last journal,
I HATE water; it terrifies me. And sure, the water is only about two feet high,
but still. It was nasty, filthy water, and all I kept thinking about was that
movie Anaconda. Not to mention Robert was not helping my cause, fearing some
random creature would pop out and bite him.
As we walked along, the classmates that were in front of me
reassured me that it was going to be alright, and that it was nothing compared to
the slough slog I missed. Stopping for identifications so often allowed (well,
more like forced) me to stop and look around. At first, I must admit, I was doing
so out of pure paranoia to try to be aware of my surroundings, but eventually, I
actually got pretty comfortable. It gave me the opportunity to soak in the beauty
of nature. I was picking things up, joking around, asking identification questions,
and, get this, actually enjoying myself! I know, what a surprise, huh? I was
actually a little bitter I was not able to go to the full slough slog in the
previous class. For a moment, I understood why the receptionist actually chose to
live here.
Having this experience, especially near the end of the
semester, I believe has allowed me to realize the great transition of opinions I
have had. At the start of the semester, I thought there would be absolutely no way
I would pass this class. Now, I do not think I would be as happy and enthusiastic
about learning in another section. We have done so much in only a few weeks. I
have learned so much: about the Everglades, my classmates, and definitely about
myself. Most importantly has been my perspective, outlook, and interpretation of
the Everglades. This class was the pinnacle of my experience. Yes, we have more
classes to come, but it has given me that different perspective of appreciation.
Sure, in class we have gone into the pinelands, walked into
the hammocks, and canoed around the mangroves. And, yes, we have touched, seen,
smelled, heard, and even tasted the Everglades. But to be completely surrounded by
and literally doused with this remarkable environment was something out of this
world! Who would have thought that walking through the nasty, sticky muck would be
so awe inspiring?
In my second entry, I spoke about the "shock and awe" factor
of the Everglades; how I took for granted, and overestimated, all the wonders in
this national park. But now, after being submerged in it, I have come to the full
realization of what is is. It is simple, yet complex. It is chaotic, yet orderly.
It is unattractive, yet beautiful. There truly are "no other Everglades in the
world."
