May 3, Saturday, Glad, Sad, Tied

At the opening hour I was at the state park. The history of the place was that once upon a time it was a private park with both native and exotic animals in pens. The park system purchased it and got rid of the exotic animals and an enlarged the pens. The focus was changed from animal entertainment to animal education. The manatees were a surprise for me. They were as large as an entrance door to a mansion and weigh 800 pounds.. The park is also a center for manatee research and rehab of wounded animals. They had also constructed an underwater viewing room located directly over the spring that fed the river. While walking the park, I saw pontoon boats with families out in the slow moving river. Someone spotted a manatee and the boats stopped. People put on masks and snorkels and into the water they went. The manatees are not fearful of humans (since Americans are now in an obesity crisis, maybe they think we’re just one of them.) They would gather around and dive and swim with this sea mammal.
I also got to see many other animals up close because they were penned up. But as always there is a great sadness to see them caught and inside an enclosure. The one “display” that made me totally retch was the one with two bald eagles. Coming from a land that where these beauties are free to soar I was horrified to see their primary wing feathers trimmed so they were earthbound. They looked at a loss. And someone in their infinite wisdom hung an American flag on the backdrop of their pen. This was like having a starving, anemic child on display with an “American, the Beautiful” posted behind it. Sad, so incredibly sad.
My driving enjoyment of going along the coast and touring through small towns came slamming to a stop when I merged onto Interstate 75. I had left the interstate system at milepost 12 so was not acquainted with the Florida freeway driver. For the lack of a more original description, they suck. Speed limit 70. Driver cruising speed 80 mph. Tailgating is a must plus cutting off the driver in front. I was trying to decide whether to take I-75 (Alligator Alley) across the Everglades or to drop further south and take Highway 41 (Tamiami Trail) across the same region. After 15 minutes on I-75, I had my answer.
Traveling on the weekend is bad news. Every state park is filled. Without a reservation (needed 24 hours in advance) there’s no chance of getting in. I tried six parks on the phone and all were booked. I was getting exhausted and needed to stop so just randomly pick an RV park on one of the “services” freeway signs and pulled off for Riverside RV Park near Port Charlotte on a chance that I could get in. (I had already been turned away at a state park) The office was closed but someone was inside. She let me in. Yes, they had room. Yes, I could stay. (I could feel that cold beer in my hand, I was so happy.) Price? $42. Say, What? … But in 3,400 miles of travel I’ve never paid over $25. Okay, $38. How many are there of you? Just me. Okay, $30. Thank you, thank you.
The place was huge; it was a manicured city with 265 slots. It had fishing piers on the Peace River and lagoons with fountains. What a layout. And as at the previous RV park 80% of what I saw were permanent setups. I do not understand.