Dry Tortugas, Florida

During my infamous Florida road trip, somewhere around spring break during my final semester of Penn State, I became aware of Dry Tortugas National Park. I think we had wanted to go even then, but even getting day passes to make it out to the island is an endeavor with a several months long wait list.

Almost 70 miles (113 km) west of Key West lies the remote Dry Tortugas National Park. This 100-square mile park is mostly open water with seven small islands. Accessible only by boat or seaplane, the park is known the world over as the home of magnificent Fort Jefferson, picturesque blue waters, superlative coral reefs and marine life, and the vast assortment of bird life that frequents the area. https://home.nps.gov/drto/index.htm

So, I decided I would go back. I would add it to the list of weird things I had come across in Florida, next to stumbling upon the country’s smallest post office by actual accident (I like to send post cards, if you haven’t heard or read). I originally wanted to go on New Years and had tried talking several friends into planning a trip far in advance. When my favorite date was snatched up in the blink of an eye, I decided to hell with it and bought two tickets for President’s Day weekend 2024. This was around late 2022, for reference.

Well, the months rolled by, friend groups came and went, I moved three times, and suddenly it’s 2024. I have to say, despite the long lead up, David and I were maybe not the most prepared for this trip. The park allows each individual person to bring one cooler, one duffel bag, and one large bin. Due to the amount of stuff we figured we’d bring, we decided to drive the over twenty four hours down to the end of the Florida Keys.

0/10 – Do not recommend

We made it to the ferry off the very, very last of the Florida Keys before the sun had even gotten up and had its first cup of coffee. We put our gear with the rest of the campers’ supplies and boarded a ferry for another two hours of travel. Good news: the ferry captains both have dogs that they bring on board. Bad news: the dogs caused such a delay in boarding that they’re confined to the cabin with the captains during their time onboard. I still got to say hello to both and pet one on the island on our second day.

The island itself is incredibly remote and does not have running water. There are outhouses, which are closed then the ferry is in port to prevent overuse. There’s no electricity. No cell phone service. There’s an 1800s brick fort, a small shop run by the National Park Service, and housing/facilities for the National Park Service. They have a generator and one of them definitely has a grill, but I have no idea what else. I cannot, after two days on the island, imagine living there. What there were plenty of were hermit crabs. Everywhere. On the sand. In the trees. IN THE TREES. It turns out, they climb up to get away from water, but also potentially fall on you, which is great. David would pick them up and gently hand them to me. Baby, gulf-ball-sized hermit crabs were like little ice cream cones with curious eyes. The big fist-sized ones we referred to as ice cream sundaes and I was maybe not the biggest fan of disturbing their peace.

We had been forewarned that this would be extremely primitive and that we had to pack any and all water we would use for the entire three day stay. Even though we packed half of what we were allowed to bring, it still ended up feeling like more than we needed. With the ferry in port every day, we had access to restrooms and hot water, so we made our instant meals aboard the ship instead of on land (make fun of us if you want to, we were only allowed self-start charcoal and no open fires so you do what you gotta do). Otherwise, we had snacks and sandwiches which took little to no effort to assemble.

The entire island had a grove of maybe four “trees,” weathered and kind of sad that we interspersed our tends under as best we could. We set up mini folding chairs on the sand, read books, enjoyed each other’s company, ran laps around the fort, and went snorkeling. I did try the full-face mask, but somehow still managed to fog it up. Eventually David and I traded masks, and I went about trying to swim around the fort until I made eye contact with a three-foot-long barracuda, and then decided it was time to head back. 

Mostly, we spent three days stranded on a one-kilometer-long strip of sand in the Gulf of Mexico. The sunsets were beautiful. The night time walks were unearthly. With the heavy humidity of the region, the stars were difficult to see and a heavy mist surrounded the fort and made it quite whimsical to traverse the stone wall that breaks the waves between the ocean and the fort.

10/10 – Definitely recommend

Setting up a random camping trip in the middle of literally no where two years in advance and not ever really getting around to fleshing out the details… not my best choice. But also one of the best choices David and I have ever made.

As a bonus, my parents and I went out to do a capybara experience on Jungle Island. Honestly, the park was just okay. The zoo area was pretty small with few animals, and the care for them did not seem the best. My previous animal encounter, in Japan (a country not exactly known for its animal rights history), had a much more open area for their capybara with a large lake and plenty of space for the incredibly large group of giant guinea pigs to run around. In comparison, Jungle Island's area was incredibly small. There was also a climbing course, but the ones in Virginia and Maryland were more affordable, larger, and higher quality. Also, driving through Miami ranks as one of the worst drives I have done, and I lived near Los Angeles for two years. I won't be doing that again. All that being said, my mom had a blast and made a very large, somewhat furry friend.