Listening to the Fakahatchee Jam: At Play in the Wildest Place East of the Mississippi River

Florida is an interesting place, existing at a crossroads of incredible development and population growth while still having profound and incredible biodiversity. Florida’s Nature Coast, Everglades National Park and Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park (FSPSP)  underscore this point.

In the late 1980’s I was sitting in the library at the University of South Florida (USF) yearning for adventure. This was around the first time I read about the FSPSP: “Fakahatchee Strand is perhaps the wildest place east of the Mississippi River.” I was hooked.

Sometimes I flew solo, sometimes I convinced a few friends to go with me. Sweaty, dirty, chronically cash-poor college students crammed into the cab and camper shell of my old truck, heading out into the night. A jumble of backpacks, grills, firewood, hiking boots, sleeping bags, tents, paddles, PFDs, coolers, and a very loud boom box rattled around the vehicle.

We would return many, many times.

FSPSP is nestled above the Ten Thousand Islands portion of Everglades National Park and lies just next to Big Cypress National Preserve. It is wet, wild, fecund, sublime, dark, dangerous, and demanding. Wading is as common as hiking. Reptiles and amphibians of all types are abundant as are insects, native plants, and iconic Florida species from bears to panthers, to crocodiles, to alligators.

We saw a Florida black bear on our first trip. We found Florida panther tracks in the soft oozing mud along the trams. The evening chorus of frogs, insects, birds, and God knows what else was a deafening cacophony. Florida folk musician and wilderness poet Dick Joslyn christened it the “Fakahatchee Jam.” We were not in Kansas anymore… and a gator was eyeing Toto for a snack.

We navigated the darkened waist deep waters you waded through with your feet, hidden beneath the water’s surface. We hoped the round objects you encountered were logs and not big toothy alligators. We saw endless snakes, many of which were fat and long and adorned with rattles, and others laid between ferns on a partially submerged log, thick as your forearm, were of the Moccasin variety. You were hyper aware of where you put your hands and feet. It was a long way to the hospital, and this was in an era before cell phones.

One afternoon we set up camp and hiked further along the tram to a large and open prairie. We lost track of time and after a miraculous sunset began hiking back to our campsite. Between the three of us we had one small flashlight with a feeble beam that barely penetrated the enveloping darkness. As we walked, we gradually kept drawing closer to one another. Then we made out a round elongated 8-10 foot wide shape in front of us. Was it a downed tree or log? Had we stepped over it before on the way in? We honestly could not remember.
Slowly, effortlessly, the log rose up on its four legs, and with great power and nobility eased into the darkened waters off the trail. Slowly. The darkened waters were still and silent again, betraying nothing of the modern dinosaur lurking within. The beam of the flashlight seemed ever more feeble.

We had a favorite island that we loved to camp on, remote and wild, in the Ten Thousand Islands. Comer Key was an official campsite within Everglades National Park. There were few amenities and it was only accessible by boat (or in our case, canoe).

A few months after Hurricane Andrew in 1992 we decided to return to our island paradise, perched along out near the edge of the islands along the Gulf of Mexico.  After leaving the boat launch in Everglades City in our canoes we arrived at a spot of open water and no island. Hurricane Andrew had simply washed it away. The power of nature.

I support NWF’s Gulf Program because I want there to always be places along the Gulf Coast that embody deep wilderness. I want to find places still, even in 2026, to get a little lost or to feel the power of nature. NWF saves the places that stir my soul.

So, in the spirit of adventure and exploration I urge you to travel south on I-75, jump on Tamiami Trail (US 41), leave Naples in the rearview and head east into the wild, wet, and wooly swamps. When you hit SR 29 head north to Copeland and enter FSPSP. While it might be a little less of a frontier than in the days of my youth, it is still one of the wildest places left east of the Mississippi River. Enjoy!

Learn more about Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park.

Joe Murphy is a native and lifelong Floridian who lives along the Gulf of Mexico in Florida’s Nature Coast. Joe is a former staff member for NWF’s Gulf Program and contributes these blog posts as a supporter and alumnus. You can follow Joe on Facebook.