Photographer Mac Stone Launches Everglades Book in Miami

A snail kite hunting for food. Photo by Mac Stone.

I hope Marjory Stoneman Douglas was looking down from heaven recently because she’d have been very pleased. The author of River of Grass -- a book that changed the world's perception of the Everglades in the 1940s -- would’ve loved to meet conservation photographer Mac Stone.

Stone grew up in North Central Florida, where he cultivated a love of swamps and practiced the craft of photography. As a teenager, he'd wake up before dawn to capture the perfect light, even if it meant being tardy to school.

His dogged determination didn't end there. Fast forward -- after years of traveling around the world with his camera -- to the Everglades, where Stone trekked through the wilderness, shooting breathtaking images of flora and fauna for his new book, Everglades: America's Wetland.

Stone launched the book last week at the Frost Museum of Science where over 100 guests enjoyed viewing 40 framed prints in the gallery. In the book, art meets science through photographs of birds, reptiles, plants and weather -- all things great and small in the river of grass. The book also features narrative and a list of resources.

Mac Stone at the Miami book signing.

Photographer Mac Stone with book cover and print.

I’ve followed Stone and his work on Facebook for months but nothing prepared my eyes for the stunning images seen on a wall instead of a computer screen -- so precise and detailed,  as if graced by the brush of a watercolorist.

To the undiscerning eye, an Everglades panorama may seem flat and boring, but it's really a complex landscape of contradictions, harsh and yet subtle in its vastness. Stone's photography beautifully reveals the many nuances of America's only subtropical wilderness.

During his presentation, Stone often reminded us about a story that needs to be told.

And it's a story that's not so easy to tell -- logistically speaking.

It takes true grit to explore this forbidding landscape. For five years, he ventured into remote areas far from the comforts of civilization. He hung a hammock from a cypress tree for a makeshift campsite that dangled above a lake. He took a close up of a snake, fangs about to attack the lens. He snapped an image of a very toothy alligator -- jaw gaping, tongue covered in mud. He endured sunburn as well as mosquito bites in chest-length black water for days just to capture a snail kite’s hunting technique.

While showing us a slide of his face covered in spider webs he pointed out the obvious: “It’s not glamorous or Indiana Jones.”

For those of us who aren't brave enough to witness the Everglades so intimately in the muck, we can experience Stone's adventure vicariously and travel to places distant not only by miles but also in time. Trails carved where there are no trails, far from the truck-filled highways that intersect the state. Winding rivers that have never seen urban development. Celestial backdrops on flowing water. Nature beating its own primal rhythm.

I’ve experienced this poetic side of the Everglades before. A blanket of peace. The smell of the swamp. The shrill cry of a hawk.

The book brings it all back to me, although I've never ventured so deep into the wild as Stone. Its pages serve as a meditative road map to this once pristine wonder. The camera's lens glimpses an ancient past when plants and animals coexisted without meddling humans. It’s a privileged vantage point: look but don’t touch.

Stone's story is simple yet its impact is profound: if you don’t appreciate it, you won’t protect it. So in a very tangible way, he’s carrying on Marjory Stoneman Douglas’ legacy in the effort to restore, conserve and protect the Everglades.

Stone’s work -- 40 large prints from the book's enormous collection -- will be on display at the Frost Museum of Science until December 4. Half that exhibit will remain until closing date, January 11.

The book launch was also co-presented by the Audubon Florida.

Everglades: America’s Wetland is available wherever books are sold. Support a local bookstore and buy it at Books and Books.



We had an impromptu chat at the book launch. Video on Youtube.

Fortunately, we needn't travel too far to experience and appreciate America's Wetland -- at least from the safety of boardwalks and cemented paths. I recommended the Anhinga Trail and Shark Valley for beginners. Visit Everglades National Park for more information.

Fishing Adventures in Florida’s Ten Thousand Islands

Fishing porn.

Since backcountry is my favorite type of fishing, I couldn’t resist the opportunity for a full immersion weekend in the Everglades region of Florida’s gulf coast with Ladies, Let’s Go Fishing, which took place this past October. (As you may recall, I attended a similar seminar last year in Islamorada and fished with Captain Bob Jones.)

I set out before dawn, westward bound on Tamiami Trail.  Just after the sun rose and the mist lifted over the river of grass, I arrived at Port of the Islands, a resort that seems to be in the middle of nowhere, situated in between Marco Island and Everglades City, with water access to the 10,000 Islands via the 3.5 mile Faka Union Canal.

A maze of islands makes up this area of the gulf.  Port of the Islands is just off Tamiami Trail. I fished out of Chokoloskee.

The 10,000 Islands are particularly special for me.

I know this place. Oh yeah.

Years ago, Sir Fish A Lot and I would trailer our Hewes Bonefisher out here. We called her the Cyan, because of the color of her hull. One day, on the way back from the pristine islands where, thankfully, there is no human civilization, our outboard engine failed mid-journey in the Faka Union Canal.

We went into survivor mode, long before there was even a TV show by that name. We were alone here -- no boat traffic, no cellphones.  And the radio? Battery had run out.

Every dog has his day and boy, this really just wasn’t our day.  Nothing seemed to be working.

Poor Sir Fish A Lot did his best. First, he tried to pole us back to port while standing on the flats boat platform, but the water was too deep and the tide was outgoing, current flowing against us -- a Herculean task, to say the least.

Then we lost the pole close to the banks of the channel. He jumped into the muddy oyster banks on the edge and waist-deep in the water, threw the anchor forward to drag the boat forward while I steered. 

Under the hazy colors of dusk, gators were floating nearby, mosquitoes were buzzing and biting, flies the size of quarters were crash-landing on our faces, but he remained stoic, steadily dragging the boat forward until – gasp! – we lost the anchor.

We drifted aimlessly along the current for what seemed like an eternity.

And then a miracle happened.

Another boat was also returning to port, with a biblical inscription about fishermen painted onto the hull. 

The kind gentlemen on board towed us back to safety. I'm not particularly religious,  but I'm pretty sure this is what Jesus would have done.

Once back at Port of the the Islands, Sir Fish A Lot and I fell utterly exhausted into bed, too tired to even consider supper.  A day of complete frustration, with no fish caught, but certainly much courage and pluck mustered.

We may have not stayed a couple forever, but I do count this as one day where I thought we could get through anything.

So, dear readers, imagine my connection to Port of the Islands when I arrived at the seminar!

The first day at Ladies, Let’s Go Fishing was chock full of learning through a no-stress, pleasant series of lectures and hands-on mini-workshops. About 40 women attended talks on backcountry fishing led by local guides, as well as sessions by representatives from the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission, who discussed conservation policies. Our afternoon “skill stations” included de-hooking fish, venting fish, casting light tackle, net casting, boat handling, knot tying and even kayak fishing, among other techniques.

To the left, Barbara Evans, a licensed Captain, practicing ultralight rod casting techniques with Mary Fink of Island Girl Charters, to the right.

Jean McElroy, the redhead on the left, is pro staff at Ocean Kayak in Palm Beach County and a master at kayak fishing. Pretty ballsy if you ask me!

Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission representatives taught us much about conservation and proper handling of fish.

A participant learning how to tie a clinch knot from Captain Mark Worley. I tried it as well, but already forgot.  I need to keep fishing lines and knot books by the can -- the most recommended way of practicing.

Betty Bauman, founder of Ladies, Let’s Go Fishing, demonstrated the proper reeling technique for catching large game fish:  rod holder belt on, squat, straighten your back, let the fish run then reel in when it relaxes.

I raised my hand. “Betty, what happens when the fish feels like a Mac truck at the end of the line?” I asked. “I hooked a beast two weeks ago and couldn’t even wind the reel.”

“Just practice, Maria.” She replied.

And practice I would. I didn’t know what I was in for.

It's all about physics.  Even a petite, slim lady can catch a big fish.

The next day, I was up at 4 am to get ready for fishing with Betty, her husband, Captain Chuck – the inspiration behind the “no-yelling” school of fishing – and a photographer from a gulf coast newspaper. Other ladies went fishing as well, but with different guides, some even on kayaks.

The journey seemed long although we weren’t far from the marina in Chokoloskee. I was so eager to be on the water with rod in hand.

So was Captain Chuck. Just after sunrise, we finally blazed across the flats of the 10,000 Islands, remote waters he knows intimately.

I knew it was going to be a good day when after anchoring off Pavillion Key, Captain Chuck rigged a spinning rod with a gold spoon and -- bam! -- first cast resulted in a keeper redfish, which I hooked and landed.  Folks, for those of you who aren’t familiar with fishing in the backcountry, this rarely, if ever happens. First cast? No way.

Not bad for the first catch of the day.

Captain Chuck cast netting for pilchards around pristine Pavillion Key, which is close to the wide open waters of the Gulf of Mexico. We also saw a few campers who had reached the remote area by canoe.

We spent much of the morning fishing and cast netting along the shore of the key for bait. In the meantime, I hooked what was probably a ray, which gave me a good fight. Captain Chuck didn’t let me land it because he said it would spook other fish.

When we finally had enough ladyfish in the live well, we headed to an area more densely populated with mangrove islands.

“Now let’s do some real fishing,” said Captain Chuck.

We cast for snook along the mangroves but didn’t have much luck.  “I wouldn’t have picked this day for this kind of fishing,” Captain Chuck explained. “Tides and conditions aren’t right.”



But wherever we anchored, Captain Chuck put out a conventional reel with a ladyfish on the hook for me, while we fished with spinning rods along the shores. Twice “my rod” squealed and twice a big one got away.

One of the spots where we fished. Camping is an option at Rabbit Key, part of the Everglades National Park system.

By 3:30 PM, when we were obligated to return to port, Captain Chuck asked us to stop casting. As we were getting organized to speed across the flats, my rod screeched.

“Grab it, Maria! Grab it!” said Captain Chuck.

In that moment of haste, my heart started pounding. Fishing can be incredibly boring, followed by rushes of adrenaline.

“Could this be it?” I thought.

What I felt at the end of that line was similar to whatever I had hooked in Cape Sable. A mammoth that could speed like it was racing at the Indianapolis 500 yet also become a dead weight, a concrete boulder.

It never jumped.

“It’s not a tarpon,” said Captain Chuck. “Keep reeling.”


There was no rod belt holder on board. I placed the butt end of the rod on my thighs near my crotch and prepared for what I knew would be a strenuous experience for my body. Within minutes, biceps were burning, hands felt feeble, fingers weak.

Something funny happens when you attempt to land a big fish. You wonder: why the hell did I sign up for this? Am I crazy?

I remembered my experience near Cape Sable and what Betty had taught us the day before about catching big fish.

The fish ran. I let it run. The fish stopped, I reeled in as hard as I could. My rod was constantly bent.

About 15 minutes into the fight, Betty asked me if I was OK. I had started inhaling and exhaling deeply -- my yoga practice in service here, to focus and be present in the moment, to get past the pain in my muscles. Think of it like a Lamaze exercise for a kind of labor that isn’t about giving birth.

Then Captain Chuck chimed in. “You can let it go if you need to.”



I didn’t miss a beat.

“Captain Chuck, I still have energy left in me. I’m not going to give up.”

“Atta girl! That’s what I want to hear!” he said joyfully. His face lit up. “You’re doing such a great job!”

That did it for me. No yelling here. And no way in hell was I going to give up. I was in the zone.

About another 15 minutes passed. Eventually, we spotted a 6-foot long fish on the surface. Captain Chuck grabbed the leader and and let the line snap.  


“That was a 200 pound bull shark,” he said as he patted me on the back. “I am so proud of you, Maria.  Really. Very, very proud of you.”

My body felt a huge sense of relief. My spirit soared. It was almost surreal. Had I really done this?

Captain Chuck is the kind of old salt who will tell it to you like it is. There's no fussy, girly nonsense on his boat. He’ll be honest when something isn’t right so you can get it right.

It’s not that I was fishing for approval from a fatherly figure. It just happened. I made it happen. I manifested this insane desire to practice the sport. And although I had received instruction and encouragement from mentors, when it came down to battle, I did it all with my own hands.

I really did it.

I caught and released my first big shark.

“This was the big one that didn’t get away!” I exclaimed. “Whew!”

Photo courtesy of News-Press.com via Lindsay Terry.  Click here to read the full article.

As we headed back to Chokoloskee, the islands took on a mystical quality behind my polarized sunglasses, which intensify shades of green and blue. Maybe it was the lactic acid in my muscles or maybe it was my mind trying to fathom what I had just accomplished.

 And then I reminisced about Sir Fish A Lot, finding ourselves astray in the Faka Union Canal and how he had been an inspiration for me, showing dogged resolve to get us through a rough patch.

Fishing is never just about the fish. It’s a test of the faith and strength in yourself.

Although I really, truly should practice tying my knots.

RESOURCES

Visit Ladies, Let's Go Fishing to learn more about their education programs, which are open to all women -- novice and experienced alike.  It's not just about fishing skills; participants also enjoy great camaraderie. To inquire about fishing or camping excursions with Captain Chuck, please utilize the contact form on the website, which also features a curated list fishing guides in the Southwest area of Florida.  More photos from the weekend seminar on Flickr.

As always, I encourage anglers to be educated and practice catch and release. Know your regulations and only keep what you're going to eat within a day or two.  Learn more about fishing rules at the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission.

National Geographic has a good spread on bull sharks.

Learn how to dehook a fish.

The Big One That Got Away

Heaven for any Florida back country angler.  Frank Key near Flamingo.

Last month, I made a pilgrimage back to Everglades National Park where I first got hooked on fishing.  It had been a over a decade since I experienced the pristine and uncluttered environment of Florida Bay west of the Florida Keys, where I used to pore over navigation charts while Sir Fish A Lot steered our flats boat. I recognized the keys, channels and mazes of mangroves immediately, as if they were long lost friends.  I breathed a sigh of relief. I was home.

I met my guide, Captain Ted Wilson, just before dawn at Bud N' Mary's Marina in Islamorada.  I knew I was in good hands as he has been fishing and exploring the same body of water for 19 years and guiding professionally for 17.  He knows this vast expanse of skinny waters intimately.  And it's no ordinary body of water -- cradled by the Atlantic to the east and the Gulf of Mexico to the west, Florida Bay is a unique ecosystem, with fresh water flowing in from the north.

After about twenty minutes cruising west, we stopped close to a mangrove with good current to cast net some bait.  And then I was reminded why I love fishing the area so much; it's not just about the fish, but also about witnessing nature first-hand, away from the high-energy distractions of urban Miami.

Man-o-war birds, cormorants and pelicans were gathered around their nests, waking up to the sun's gentle morning light.

Cast netting for pilchards in Florida Bay early in the morning.

Scattered throughout Florida Bay and the park, these mangroves support much wildlife.

As we approached the Flamingo area of the park, we also passed by Frank Key where we tried to net more bait -- my guide actually gave me a mini-lesson in handling a boat! -- but the water was too shallow. We did spook some large sting rays that we could see clearly over the thick grass beds.

In 2005, Hurricane Wilma denuded the west side of the key and wiped out nesting areas for Roseate Spoonbills, so boat traffic and fishing is prohibited around the periphery of the key from November to April.

Near Flamingo, we looked for diving sea terns -- a sign that ladyfish might also be feeding -- so we deployed light tackle. Captain Wilson and I had fun casting for ladyfish although we did manage to pull up a few slimy, grunting catfish.  He told me about another client from Louisiana who would dehook them with his own hands, even though their spiny dorsal fins can prick skin, resulting in painful injury.

With a rod in my hand, all was aligned in the universe -- that moment when you know you're doing exactly what you love and your heart is in it completely.  That's what fishing does for me; it forces me to be in the present. I was beginning to connect with my tackle. I was beginning to bond with nature.  I was warming up unconsciously for what I never imagined would be in store for me this day.

After Captain Wilson was satisfied with amount of bait in the live well, we headed further west to East Cape Sable, which is closer to the Gulf of Mexico.  Here we saw dozens of majestic loggerhead turtles with sandy Cape Sable beach as a stunning backdrop.

Even though we were out in the middle of nowhere, I managed to get my iPhone  to work.

We saw some tarpon rolling, so Captain Wilson quickly prepared the tackle. Using 30# conventional gear, we hooked a live ladyfish across the nose on a 7/0 Owner hook and then drifted it back behind a float with 10 feet of 100-pound monofilament for leader.  Within minutes, the much anticipated screech of the line told me I had hooked a tarpon.

Captain Wilson reminded me to "bow to the king," leaving some slack in the line when the fish jumped.  I'll admit I was a little nervous, although my guide was an excellent teacher. But with an estimated 80 pound tarpon at the end of my line, the heart started racing!  The silver king is a formidable fish and alas, after about five minutes, it spit the hook out on a jump.

We kept trying for tarpon but sharks were eating up the ladyfish bait and cutting the monofilament leader, so Captain Wilson put out an additional rod with steel leader and an ounce of lead with half a ladyfish on the bottom.

I had told Captain Wilson that I had always wanted to catch a big one and boy, I should be careful what I wish for.  I hooked two fish, the first was most likely a Black Tip or Bull Shark that managed to shear through the metal leader within minutes.

And then arrived my come to Jesus moment.

Another screech on the line, a rod in my hand and what felt like a Mac truck speeding away from the boat. What the hell was I thinking? Could I physically handle this challenge?  How would I muster up the strength? It didn't take long for my right bicep and left forearm muscles to start burning. I'm no tiny girl, but whatever was on the end of that line was decidedly bigger than me and that's over 200 pounds.

At one point, Captain Wilson put a rod holder belt on me and I remembered what Betty Bauman of Ladies, Let's Go Fishing taught me about reeling in big fish -- squat, tuck your tailbone in and don't muscle it.  But I was really struggling and doubting myself at this point. Captain Wilson coached me again and reminded me to not work the reel so hard. I let the fish run and then reeled in the line, but it was never easy. I had connected with a creature to be respected, monstrous in size.

Half an hour into this fight, when I had the fish so close to the boat, when my stamina was all but gone, it simply spit the hook and let go. We never saw it.

Not photographing my fish is the best conservation policy.  But here's what a sawfish looks like; the species has long rostrum.  Photo by p medved via Flickr.

Exhausted yet exhilarated, I wasn't sure what to feel.  It was frustrating, to be sure, but it was also a fair fight between woman and beautiful beast.  And even if I never spotted the amazing creature, I had done something I didn't know I was capable of doing, something I had never done before.  I may have "lost" the fish, but I "found" me.

What was on the end of that line? Captain Wilson made an educated guess. Based on the fish's behavior it was most likely a colossal sawfish of about 400 pounds.  We were targeting shark but sawfish do roam these waters.  Sawfish are a protected species and I was relieved that the fish let go without a hook.

Captain Wilson asked me if I wanted to try again but I was beat and wanted to switch to light tackle, so we headed over to Snake Bight, where the tide was low.  Roseate spoonbills were feeding in the shallow water.  A common mirage effect on the flats makes the birds look like towering giants from a distance.  Without much wind, the dead silence of the Everglades magnifies the high-pitched squeal of an osprey or the honk of a heron.  These are sounds I love.

We poled to the mangroves and cast for snook, using 7-foot spinning outfits loaded with 15# braided line, 3 feet of 30-pound flourocarbon for leader and 2/0 Owner hooks with live pilchards.  We caught and released several juvenile snook, which was a good indication that snook populations were bouncing back after the winter freeze two years ago that killed so many fish.

Poling in the shallow waters of Snake Bight.

It's good to see snook populations on the rise.  All fish were released safely using a dehooker.

On the way back to the marina, I reflected on how I had just spent half a day in one of my most favorite places in the world, the Everglades, my heart soothed by this contact with nature.  Even though fishing happens on the water, it's a very grounding experience. I was immensely grateful for the physical battle that taught me spiritually to trust my own strength and determination. The fish is a great and humbling teacher.

Fishing fashion isn't particularly sexy but it's good to get back to port with minimal sun and wind damage to the skin.

ABOUT THE FISHING GUIDE

Fishing is in Captain Ted Wilson's blood -- he has been doing it since he was a kid. He grew up in Florida and moved to the Florida Keys after graduating from the University of Florida.  This fishing guide lives in Islamorada with his wife and five-year old daughter. The little one is already learning to be a great angler and participates in kids' tournaments.  In fact, a week after my own trip, she won Championship Angler in her age group for the Keys Kids Fishing Derby.

Find Captain Ted Wilson online for additional information about fishing and nature tours.

RESOURCES

Learn more about Sawfish protection and tagging studies at Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission. If you do catch and release one, report it for scientific research.

Behind the Scenes with Escape Routes - Everglades Style

Part two of a two-part series behind-the-scenes on the set of Ford Escape Routes.  Click here for Part One.

Day two of my behind-the-scenes shenanigans with Ford's reality tv show Escape Routes was even better than the first, since we schlepped out to the Sawgrass Recreation Park just outside the gates to Alligator Alley in Weston. And you know I love me some Glades; I wear a silver crocodile ring, for pete's sake.

For Everglades newbies, this is an ideal area to explore the River of Grass without getting too hardcore deep into the mucky wilderness. You can see the Panthers Stadium in the distance, so you know you're at the border of civilization.

THE COMPETITION

Each team of Escape Routes had to row and troll an aluminum skiff across a man-made canal, retrieve "show" alligators and snakes from the handlers, put them in pens or bags, return to the other bank and place the "captured" critters behind competitor's cars.

The animal handler I interviewed said that the alligators who were part of the competition were raised in captivity and used to this kind of thing. But the human cast? Most certainly not!

Host Rossi Morreale looks very comfortable with his slithery friend and that's because he once owned a Colombian boa -- and no, not the kind a drag queen would wear.

It was a hoot to watch them get waist-deep into the water in their camouflage snake boots, rowing like mad and some not quite sure how to use the trolling motor. Folks, it's like using an immersion blender when you purée hot soup: stick it in the water if you don't want it to splash and sputter!

THE PRODUCTION

The whole competition took about an hour, but we waited quite a few more before it happened. So I had time to poke around when I wasn't annoying the field production manager with questions about how close I could get without appearing in frame. (He was a very nice guy, by the way.)

The scene before shooting.  I was filming behind the jib, hoping it wouldn't knock me on the head when it swiveled.

Yours truly with her humble gear. That steady stick is a lifesaver. I'd have no arms or shoulders left by the end of the day if it weren't for that gadget.

Prior to this week, I'd never been behind-the-scenes on a reality TV show set. The competition was interesting, to be sure, but seeing all the production technology set up in the Glades, almost in the middle of nowhere, was quite impressive.

The director's tent was hooked up to massive servers, cameras were rigged wirelessly to a huge monitor, standing microphone receptors were placed along the levee -- all powered by one single portable generator.

Unlike many other reality tv shows, this one is filmed Monday through Thursday with an air time of Saturday evening. I bet the director and editors never sleep. As well, because of the show's in-depth social media engagement, there's much online content to process. It's an intense six weeks not only for the cast, but for the crews and creative teams that make it happen.

But back to the competition! Terence was one of the first to be eliminated and it was fun to hear him from the peanut gallery as the others raced to finish. Each team worked well together, huffing and puffing to get the job done. The lovely ladies of Team Yellow won -- not bad for two models who had never stuck a foot in gator-infested waters!

ABOUT SNAKES AND GATORS

By the way, it was a bit ironic that snakes and gators would be featured on the same show. You know, we have a little problem here in South Florida with invasive pythons, just ask the USGS.  And remember this photo of a python bursting out of a gator's belly?

But I can assure you, all the animals on the set were captive and treated royally. If you do go out into the Everglades, make sure you know the difference between your native and non-native reptiles. Learn more at the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission website.

And don't forget to follow the gang on Escape Routes, airing for another two weeks on NBC at 8PM.

More photos on Flickr:

 

FTC BLA BLA BLA

Yes, I was paid to write this, get over it. All opinions mine and I drive GM car.

Stone Crabs in Everglades City

It doesn't get better than this. So worth the drive.

On my way back to Miami from Tampa recently, I decided to take Tamiami Trail instead of I-75 for a stop at Everglades City, a small town in the middle of the wilderness on the gulf coast. Founded in 1924, the town is where the stone crab craze started back in the 1940's when commercial fisherman and Everglades granddaddy Loren "Totch" Brown saw not a cow, but a cash claw in what was once a nuisance critter.

It was Brown who first introduced Miami Beach sandwich shop owner Joe Weiss to stone crabs, a fateful day in the island's history, as the much coveted delicacy would become synonymous with South Beach culinary indulgence at the ever-popular Joe's Stone Crabs.

Each year, from October to May, local fisherman in Everglades City set their traps to catch the stone crabs, remove their claws and ship the seafood product worldwide. Small and unassuming, but brimming with old Florida charm, this capital of stone crab fishing seems overshadowed by the luxury dining establishments where the humble claws arrive at their final destination, Joe's being no exception.

I've never eaten at Joe's, mainly because I have always been turned off by the fact that you can't make reservations, that the waiting times are legendary, that the prices are astronomical and that botox and lamborghinis serve as backdrop for the atmosphere. (I've had drinks at Joe's bar, however; trust me, it's quite a parade when the diners pack in for the cattle call.)

So instead, I couldn't resist this opportunity explore the backcountry. Why not eat where the damn things are caught? Why not savor the delicacy right there, surrounded by the murky waters of the Glades that stone crabs call home? Joe's may be fancy, but there's something special about eating at the source.

TRIAD SEAFOOD

You won't have to slip the maitre'd a Benjamin to get a seat at Triad Seafood on the Barron River.

For my stone crab lunch, I opted for Triad Seafood Market and Café, a rustic spot right on the Barron River with an outdoor deck and a screened-in dining room. Triad has been selling seafood since 1986 and became a restaurant in 2004. The place is family-owned; some members even live upstairs.

I started with a cup of rich shrimp gumbo, which stuck to my ribs, though I would have preferred more heat. (A bottle of Crystal sauce took care of that.) But the real deal was one pound of medium-sized stone crab claws for a market price of $19.95, which was more than enough for one hungry person and boy, I do like to eat. I didn't even bother with side dishes; it's enough to dig into those claws, which are served with mustard sauce or butter, yet just as good on their own.

Those with even bigger appetites can enjoy all-you-can-eat stone crabs with two sides, which was $42 market price on the day of my visit.

(A recent trip to Joe's Takeaway, a less formal cafe attached to the main restaurant, confirmed that the same portions were more than half the price in South Beach and Joe's doesn't do all-you-can-eat. Oh lawdy, how could they? That would be so frowned upon in such an establishment!)

I washed down the sweet, fleshy crab meat with a couple of cold beers and the whole bill was less than $35, including tip. Would it be worth driving one and a half hours to Everglades City for the same treat again? You bet. I think I'd rather do that than go to South Beach, deal with parking and wait in line for a table. Besides, where else in the world can you drive through Everglades hammocks and witness the glorious sea of grass?

To be fair, there's nothing wrong with Joe's if that's your cup of tea; it's not only a beautiful place, but also an important South Beach landmark. Let's just not forget one little detail: we Miamians don't have to drive far to enjoy stone crab claws simply and with none of the fuss, right there where it all started.

IF YOU GO

Triad Seafood is located at 401 West School Drive and is open seven days a week from 10:30 AM to 5:00 PM. I was told it's popular on the weekends with Miami BMW bikers, but when I went during the week, the only other people I saw were a couple on their way back from their vacation home in the Cayman Islands who had stopped here before heading north, because yes, it's that good.

If stone crabs aren't your thing, there are plenty of other menu items ranging from conch chowder and fried oysters to homemade pies. Go before May 15 -- that's when stone crab season ends. Stone crabs are also for sale in the market.

Make a day trip out of it: stop at Clyde Butcher's Photo Gallery on the way and pay a visit to Smallwood Store in Chokoloskee, about ten minutes south of Everglades City. The museum is on the National Register of Historic Places and was once a post office, general store and Indian trading post founded by pioneer Ted Smallwood in 1906.