Dry Tortugas National Park

On January 06, 2016 I had the chance to visit Dry Tortugas National Park for an overnight camping trip. The Dry Tortugas are a small group of remote islands, 70 miles west of Key West. They can only be reached by boat (the ferry ride is 2.5 hours) or by seaplane, and are thus one of the least well-known and hardest to reach of all US national parks.

The group of islands was first named "Las Tortugas" ("the turtles") by the Spaniards, because of the abundance of sea turtles that could be found and on and around its beaches. Mariners later on added the word "dry" to indicate the lack of fresh water. Even today, fresh water is a scarce commodity in the park. The National Park Service uses both cisterns to collect rain water as well as desalinated ocean water to provide enough drinking water for its employees stationed in the park, but it does not produce enough to share with visitors and campers, which is why everyone (especially the campers, as bottled drinks are available for purchase on board the ferry and in the gift store) is responsible for bringing enough fresh water for their stay.

The remoteness of the park was one of its major attractions for me, as it provides an opportunity to experience solitude at a level almost impossible in most other places of the modern world. When I booked my passage on the "Yankee Freedom", the ferry to the Dry Tortugas that leaves daily from Key West, I was hoping for an extraordinary experience - and I was not disappointed.

View from the ferry just prior to departure from Key West

Campers are required to check in at the ferry by 6:30 am the day of their departure to give the crew enough time to load and stow camping gear before the day trippers arrive. Upon my arrival, I was met by the captain and one other solo camper, Adam, who had been able to sign on for the trip last minute because of a cancellation. There are ten campsites on Garden Key, the main island and the docking point of the ferry, and altogether eight campers made the trip to the park that day, but only I and Adam had arrived early, so the captain briefed us separately from the others.

I had been watching the weather forecast for the Dry Tortugas for about a week, and it did not look promising for the first day, though it was supposed to be pretty much perfect the second day. The captain echoed that by telling us to expect rain and rough sea on the ride over and for the first half of the day there, at least. The ferry operated every day unless the passage is dangerous, and even though the weather wasn't expected to be bad to the level of being dangerous, he said they were expecting the sea to be rough enough to offer a refund and rebooking options to all the day trippers - something they usually do not do simply because of the weather. They were forecasting about 6 ft waves on the way over - significant enough to cause seasickness in a lot of people not accustomed to traveling by ship. In fact, the captain and the crew were warning us so much about potential seasickness and the rough passage over that I took them up on the offer to purchase a dose of Dramamine to help with motion sickness on the way over.

The Dramamine prevented seasickness, but it also made me terribly sleepy. The sea wasn't nearly as rough as predicted, but I had a hard time staying awake for most of the first half of the passage, which is probably one of the reasons it is indeed effective in preventing seasickness. 

In fact, the weather turned out to be much better than predicted. When Fort Jefferson, the main structure taking up most of Garden Key, became visible in the distance, the skies had almost cleared, it was sunny and no rain clouds were in sight. 

Fort Jefferson appears in the distance

The Dry Tortugas were considered important enough to the US Government to warrant the construction of one of the largest masonry structures in North America because of their location. The are sheltered by the Florida reef, the third largest barrier reef in the world. The light built on the Dry Tortugas was an important navigational points for ships sailing down the eastern seaboard and aiming for the Mississippi river, as it signaled when it was safe to turn west and north without risk of hitting the reef and sinking. The area around the Dry Tortugas was also a deepwater harbor, providing shelter for vessels caught in the open sea by a storm, and the canons on Fort Jefferson reached far enough to protect the harbor area, and the safe access to the Mississippi, from hostile ships. 

Because of this sheltered location, the ride became much smoother and the sea almost calm as soon as we had crossed the reef and reached the Dry Tortugas.

I stepped out onto the front deck of the boat as soon as the fort became visible, and the approach was absolutely amazing. Even though the winds were still rather strong, it was warm, and the huge structure rising out of the sea all of a sudden is quite a sight. The keys themselves are so flat they are much harder to detect, so it looks like the fort is magically floating on the amazingly blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

Upon arrival, the group of campers was briefed on camping rules and safety precautions by one of the rangers stationed at Dry Tortugas and then we were sent off to register and claim campsites. The sites are first-come, first-serve, but you are guaranteed a spaced to camp if you have booked passage on the "Yankee Freedom", and all the sites are breathtaking, so I was not worried about racing to the sites and fighting the other campers for the best one. When we got to the campground, we were greeted by a group of campers who had already spent one night on the Dry Tortugas, and were able to tell us about a pretty wet, stormy night. They were very interested in the weather forecast for the immediate future, as there is no cell phone or internet or any other reception on the Dry Tortugas. They were certainly more than relieved to hear about the promising forecast for the rest of Wednesday and all of Thursday.

My tent is pitched and my gear stowed. Ready for lunch!

After setting up camp and treating myself to a short lunch, I set about exploring Garden Key and the adjacent Bush Key. I started with a tour of the moat wall surrounding the fort, which started only a few feet away from where I had set up camp. The moat was constructed as a wave breaker, as part of the defense system (there was a drawbridge across the moat that could be pulled up to make it harder to reach the sally port, the only entrance into the fort) and to get rid of waste water. The moat was originally 8 ft deep, and the architects intended the waste water to be pulled out into the open sea with the low tide and the moat to be filled with fresh water with the high tide. There was one minor flaw in that logic, however: tides in that part of the world are never 8 ft, generally more around 1 and 2 ft, which meant the moat was never completely emptied. It is now only 3 ft deep, the remaining 5 ft being filled with "debris" left over from the waste water produced by the fort when it was occupied. One reason not to swim within the moat wall! 

 

The moat and fort, as seen from the beach behind the campground

Another reason to refrain from swimming within the moat is the ground cover made up of a variety of jelly fish who, when disturbed, release their toxins into the water, causing unsuspecting swimmers to experience stinging and pain all over their bodies without ever really seeing any of the jelly fish or coming into direct contact with them. 

Walking along the moat wall, I was amazed by the turquoise, clear water and the many colorful fish swimming on either side of the moat wall. I was told by a park ranger that the winds had roughed up the waters enough to make it hard to do any successful snorkeling because of the reduced visibility, but to me, the water still seemed pristine. Apparently, on calm days, the sea around Garden Key is so smooth, the sky is reflected in the water. 

It is possible to walk all around the fort on the moat wall. I kept looking in the water for the lone American crocodile who inhabits the Dry Tortugas. A ten foot male, he was blown out to the park by a hurricane a few years back. American crocodiles are a shy, non-aggressive species and they live in brackish water or salt water, which is good for this one, since it meant he was able to survive out in the Dry Tortugas. I did not see even a glimpse of the crocodile during my entire visit to the park, even though I was hoping to see him hanging out around the fort after the day visitors left. Apparently he tends to stay away from Garden Key altogether while the ferry is docked, as he is afraid of the large number of people who have a habit of trying to stick selfie-sticks right in his face.

The water is an incredible aquamarine color!

Coming around the corner of the fort, I was hit by the full strength of the wind, which was still substantial, splashing water onto the moat wall, and making it even more amazing how calm the sea seemed around the Dry Tortugas, given how windy it still was even in the early afternoon.

After completing my you of the moat wall, I decided to venture out to Bush Key.

Looking towards Fort Jefferson from the isthmus connecting Garden and Bush Keys

The two keys are currently connected by a sand isthmus, even though the water tends to connect and separate the two on and off over time. Bush Key is closed the public from mid-January to mid-October every year, as it is the only main nesting site in the continental US for the Sooty Tern. Long Key, located at the end of Bush Key, is permanently off limits to visitors to make sure the easily scared Magnificent Frigate Birds nesting there are not disturbed. I was lucky to be there during a time when Bush Key was open for exploration, so I took a stroll along the sandy beach. Even while the ferry was still docked, I hardly encountered anyone on my walk out to Bush Key. I realized the next day, when the next ferry arrived with a full load of day trippers, how many people had been successfully deterred by the choppy sea and rainy forecast on Wednesday, which was lucky for the ones who went anyways and had the Dry Tortugas almost to themselves for a whole day.

White sands, blue skies and blue water

I stopped about halfway down Bush Key to sit in the sand and watch the birds for a while. Even though I am not a birder, and did not come to the Dry Tortugas expressly for bird watching, it was cool to see the abundance of birds frequenting the islands. While I was sitting on the beach, a group of Brown Pelicans was trying to fish only a few feet away from me, apparently completely unperturbed by my presence.

A Brown Pelican just about to lift off

A group of Ruddy Turnstones was rooting around in the sand right next to me, hardly noticing me at all. They came close enough to touch, and seemed only remotely intrigued by my camera. 

Apart from the calm, anything-but-frightened attitude of the birds, the most amazing aspect of my stay on the Dry Tortugas was the solitude. Especially after the departure of the ferry, when the only people left on Garden Key were fellow campers (who also came there to experience solitude and tranquility, and thus mostly kept to themselves) and a few NPS employees, there was this almost indescribable stillness that took hold of the islands. It was a quietness, with the only sounds being those of winds, waves, and birds. A feeling of remoteness, triggered by the absolute absence of connection to the outside world. But most of all, it was the realization that there was nothing TO DO.

No emails to send, no deadlines to meet, no errands to run, no friends to catch up with, no phone calls to make, no chores to get caught up on, no internet, no social media, no TV, no radio, no Netflix. Had I stayed more than one night, I might have stopped checking my watch completely, because "What time is it?" becomes an almost inconsequential question. Being on the Dry Tortugas means it's time to simply be. To sit quietly on one of the benches in the abandoned parade grounds and imagine it full of the hustle and bustle of soldiers and prisoners, when today there are only empty rooms, the wind, the birds, and the ghosts of times past. To wander along the sandy beach, watching birds and fish go about their business. To climb to the top of the fort and look out at the horizon or sit and read a book in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. To make a fire in the grill and wait patiently for the coals to get hot or the water to boil. To stare up at the night sky, marveling at the number and brightness of the stars, so far away from light pollution. To snorkel or swim or dive or lay on the beach. To look for fish and the crocodile in the moat. To explore the old fort, or to simply sit by the water, enjoying the beauty of Garden Key or Bush Key. The only moment that matters in the world of the Dry Tortugas is the present moment, with no reason to make plans or to-do-lists, or to spend the day with the oppressive feeling that, to make one's day worthwhile, one has to "achieve" some tangible goal, something other than simply savor being alive.

A Ruddy Turnstone walking past only inches from my feet

It was amazing to me how little time it took to get used to this new rhythm of being. Knowing there was no reception, I lost every urge to check my phone. In fact, during my entire stay on the Dry Tortugas, I did not see anyone checking their phone, not even out of habit. The only time people took their smartphones out was to take pictures.

It is amazing how "alive" the sand is, which you notice immediately when you sit down 

Despite this remote stillness, and this slow pace, much closer to the unhurried pace of nature, there is an unmistakable feeling of aliveness to the Dry Tortugas, even though, with basically no fresh water to speak of, it is almost a "salty desert" of sorts. But there was life everywhere. Hardy plants holding on and surviving on rain water, birds and fish and jelly fish, sea turtles, crabs, insects of all kinds, weeds being tracked to the top of Fort Jefferson on the shoes of visitors from all over the world and etching out an existence on the mix of dirt and sand blown or tracked there by the same means, as well as the elusive, lone American crocodile. What is glaringly absent from the picture, however, are most (land-dwelling) mammals. In fact, the only mammal inhabiting the Dry Tortugas, except for humans, are rats, who arrived there with the first Europeans in the 16th century and have lived there ever since.

After wandering the beaches for a while, I decided to participate in the free tour of the fort offered by the NPS/the crew of the "Yankee Freedom" twice every day, as I was curious to learn more about the history of the fort itself. The structure still standing today is mostly defensive, with the barracks never completed, and the kitchen and officers' quarters destroyed.

The interior of Fort Jefferson

The fort itself is made up of sand and coral, with a layer of brick added to the outside of the structure (16 million bricks total). When the second and the beginnings of the third story were added, the foundations of the fort settled under the weight, and cracks appeared in the first floor structures as well as the expansive cistern system. The fort was intended to have enough cisterns to collect rainwater to withstand a one-year-siege, but all but three of them cracked when the fort turned out to be too heavy for its own good, leaving the others pretty much useless, as saltwater and sewage could seep in and contaminate the rainwater in the cisterns.

If you stand in one corner of the first floor, you can see how everything appears somewhat twisted and almost wrong, because of the way the floor and walls became angled and uneven. However, for most of the first floor, the picture presenting itself of the masonry structure is one of symmetry and great skill, especially when one remembers the location and conditions under which the fort was constructed.

The masonry is really amazing!

The fort is in relatively good shape, even though some destruction to the brick facade is visible, and maintenance crews were busy repairing it during my visit. Most of that damage is caused by the so-called "Totten Shutters", a state-of-the-art 19th century invention. Basically, the metal shutters are installed between the core of the structure and the brick wall. When the locks are unhinged, a cannon can be fired with the shutters closed. The gases escaping the cannon will push open the shutters just before they would be hit by the cannon ball. They then swing open, bounce back against the brick wall, shut, and the process can begin again.

However, the metal used for the shutters has been rusting and thus expanding over time, pushing the brick away from the fort's core structure and causing chunks of brick wall to break off and fall into the sea. The shutters are being replaced with cement-fiberglass replicas and the brick wall is being restored, but damage like that seen in the photo below has been caused by the expanding Totten Shutters all along the facade of Fort Jefferson.

Looking out from the second story onto the moat

While the fort never fired a shot at an enemy (it did, however, use a bluff to deter a confederate ship sailing down from Florida after the state seceded. Though Fort Jefferson was unarmed at the time, the bluff worked, and Fort Jefferson remained in Union hands), it did, at times, house considerable numbers of soldiers and serve as a prison - for Union deserters as well as other Civil War prisoners.

Probably the most famous of all the prisoners housed at Fort Jefferson is Dr. Samuel Mudd. He was the physician who set the leg of John Wilkes Booth after the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. He was convicted as a conspirator and sentenced to life at Fort Jefferson. However, after the resident physician passed away from yellow fever, he helped treat an outbreak among the soldiers stationed on the Dry Tortugas and was thus pardoned and allowed to return to his farm in Maryland after only a few years on the islands.

Selfie on top of Fort Jefferson

The fort was never finished, mostly due to innovations in weaponry. While it was originally intended to withstand a year-long siege, new weapons made it possible to destroy a structure like Fort Jefferson in a matter of hours. As a result of this, construction was abandoned before the third story could ever be completed. However, visitors can climb up to the unfinished third story to enjoy amazing views of the surrounding keys and the parade grounds.

The parade grounds

The color of the bricks (as one can see in the photo above, the parts of the third story that have been completed as well as the remnants of the officers' quarters were built with much redder bricks) tells us something about when each part of the fort was constructed and the historical circumstances. The sand-colored bricks were made in Pensacola, Florida. However, after the beginning of the Civil War and the secession of Florida, bricks had to be shipped in from the North, and these bricks were made from different materials and thus have a different color.

Several ships carrying these bricks made it all the way down the east coast, only to sink on the reef surrounding the fort. Over time, the ships have rotted away, leaving behind bricks in the shape of a ship!

Standing on top of Fort Jefferson, looking out towards Bush Key

When the fort was abandoned by the military, the cannons were sold off for scrap metal. However, the fort's largest cannons, the 15-inch Rodmans, were too heavy and thus to difficult and too expensive to remove. The platforms on which they stood were thus burned, the stands shipped off, and 25-ton cannons left to rot on top of the fort. A few years ago, the NPS, with the help of a Civil Engineers Squadron, the stands for a few of the cannons have been reconstructed and the cannons remounted, with the remaining ones to be remounted in the next few years.

A 15-inch Rodman smoothbore cannon, weighing in at 25 tons, on a reconstructed stand

After the tour was done, and the day trippers left on the "Yankee Freedom", I returned to the top of the fort to enjoy the view and the solitude. I spent some time taking in the sun and simply watching the birds drift over Bush and Garden Keys, enjoying the tranquility of this beautiful, pleasant afternoon, with no plans or obligations beyond lighting a fire in the grill to cook dinner, and watching the stars after dark, if weather permit. It was a strange, wonderful feeling. Peaceful, even.

Looking west ...

I wandered around the perimeter of the fort as far as I could. A section of the parade grounds and all three stories is off-limits to visitors, as the structure is either unstable, or houses the NPS staff. The NPS has remodeled a few casemates as living quarters for its employees. They are powered by diesel generators, and the fresh water is produced by collection rain water and desalinating ocean water.

... and looking east

Just before sunset, the clouds returned. While I regretted not being able to watch a true sunset, as the setting sun was obscured by the clouds, it was quite a sight to see the dark clouds roll in and the winds picking up. Everything changed color, even the water became less turquoise and more steel gray in a matter of minutes. 

Luckily, the rainclouds moved past Garden Key quickly, and without any precipitation. Despite the wind, I was able to make a fire (quite the accomplishment, I must say!). After dark, the cloud cover broke up enough to allow some glimpses of the night sky. Being so far removed from light pollution, one realizes not only how many more stars there are in the sky than one can usually make out, but also how much brighter they are! 

Evening on Garden Key

The tranquility and feeling of solitude was only broken once during the night, by the boom of several fighter jets, presumably from the base in Key West, performing training maneuvers over the Dry Tortugas. At first, I thought a thunderstorm had arrived after all, but the noise was more prolonged and accompanied by several red lights darting across the sky. No matter how far removed one feels from the world, the world is, after all, always still there.

Before boiling water for breakfast, I wondered over to the dock for a glimpse of the sunset, and it was magnificent!

Sunrise over the dock

The wind had almost completely died down by sunrise, and the water in the moat was so smooth, it almost looked like glass or polished metal. Colorful fish darted in and out of the moat, and some even followed me as I walked along the moat wall, once again looking for the fort's lone saltwater crocodile (in vain), before they ferry arrived with the day visitors at 10:30 am.

Fort Jefferson in the morning light

My boots get to go to the beach, too!

Resting in the shade

The calmer weather also made it possible for the seaplanes to land in the waters surrounding Garden Key. Only when the first plane arrived even before the ferry did I realize that nobody had arrived by plane at all on the previous day. Seaplane rides are offered out of Key West, and the landings are quite a spectacle to watch!

The arrival of the ferry also made it obvious how many people had taken advantage of the previous day's offer to reschedule the trip. There were a lot more people on the boat than the day before, and after watching the ferry dock from within Fort Jefferson, I wandered over to a panic table close to the dock to watch the day visitors and new campers arrive. People-watching has always been one of my favorite pastimes, and the snorkelers and swimmers and birdwatchers swarming off the boat were certainly quite a sight, after a day of almost complete solitude.

Watching the ferry arrive from inside Fort Jefferson's casemates

A seaplane departing the Dry Tortugas

The Dry Tortugas, as remote and hard to reach as they are, are certainly worth a trip, especially for those able to stay over night. The remoteness, tranquility, solitude, and the mixture between natural beauty and imposing historical structures, the almost haunted feeling that takes hold of anyone wandering the abandoned parade grounds alone, with only the wind whispering in the trees and abandoned casemates, gives this place a uniqueness, a flavor I have never experienced anywhere else.

I feel lucky to have been able to visit this special place, and I certainly hope to return at some point in the future, to once again experience its magic and its solitude.

The sign and I