Recently I joined a dozen crazy adventurers on a two-day canoe journey to the infamous Hell’s Bay in Everglades National Park. We were outdoorsy scientists/bio-fuel algae people who wanted to get away from our urban jungle and explore nature, while having some fun. We brought wine.

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In a caravan we drove from Dade, Broward and Palm Beach and stayed overnight at the Everglades International Hostel in Florida City. The hostel was overflowing with character, from the giant tropical palm that even my botanist friend couldn’t categorize to the brightly painted walls featuring Buddha and Rastafarian themes.

Half of the group camped in tents on the lawn and half slept in dorm beds. But before crashing for the night we talked excitedly and played a trumpet, a wooden flute and guitars. It was great to be with outdoorsy, athletic, open-minded, fun people!

Groggy from staying up half the night, in the morning we ate homemade pancakes from the hostel’s kitchen and pastries from the local bakery.

Loaded up on sugar, we walked to the canoe shack where we learned how to properly strap our canoes onto our cars so they wouldn’t fly off and hit the cars behind us. Then five cars with rented canoes drove into the late morning sun, stopping briefly at the Robert Is Here Fruit Stand for milkshakes.

After entering Everglades National Park we drove through a dwarf forest and then a seemingly endless sawgrass marsh before finally hitting the mangroves.

We arrived at the Hell’s Bay dock in the early afternoon and threw our backpacks, food and equipment into garbage bags that we dropped into canoes. Then we started the trip.

My twin sister Mija had canoed to Hell’s Bay three years earlier and warned the rest of us about the super tight twists and turns and crashing into mangrove roots for the first two hours. At first we didn’t comprehend the challenge of this maze but soon it became hell. It was frustrating, but fun.

We learned to let go of our expectations—life usually steers its own course—and allowed branches to hit our heads and scratch our arms. Mija lost a giant clump of hair in the process.

Eventually we broke into laughter over how much fun we were having in this incredible bioregion. City stress melted away as we paddled and steered, usually running straight into mangrove roots! At one point we stopped, connected our canoes and had a wine and cheese party. The cheese was in goldfish crackers and the wine was in a box. It was splendidly ridiculous!

Four and a half hours later we arrived at the Hell’s Bay Chickee, a wooden platform two to four feet above water. By now the temperature had dropped to 50 degrees and the wind had picked up to around 25 knots. We quickly bundled up and made tea and coffee on our little stove, then we were subdued watching the sun drop over the horizon.

The stars came out and we became joyous that urban light pollution would not affect our star seeking. The dark sky was amazingly clear.

We started chatting about the moon, stars and what lies beyond our planet. Shooting stars canvassed the sky and soon we broke into song. It become a karaoke singer’s dream, from Ace of Base’s I Saw the Sign to anything and everything anyone could think of.

We danced and sang for hours under the stars, standing right in front of the port-o-potty on Hell’s Bay Chickee. It couldn’t have been a better party.

Wearing warm clothing and hats, eventually we climbed into our sleeping bags. The stars were so bright that it seemed like dawn. We fell asleep around 11 p.m.

The next morning we drank coffee to warm up, ate granola bars and Pop Tarts, and finished the wine. Then a few of us did yoga stretches to relieve our aching backs.

We paddled away just in time to see a pod of dolphins swim in front of us. We followed them as they porpoised and frolicked in only a few feet of water.

Eventually the dolphins left us, but soon we saw an otter.

As we paddled back to the mainland countless birds circled in the air and dove to avoid predatory birds while our canoes spread out and the canoe teams started to hit their own paces. The sun shined, sometimes blindingly off the water, and kept us warm through the high winds on the open bays.

The labyrinth of the mangroves provided us with shelter from the winds, but at the price of losing all sense of direction. Fortunately the canoe trail was marked, although sometimes misleadingly. As one guidebook noted, “One of the hazards of reaching and returning from Hell’s Bay is the completely confusing terrain.”

We learned the hard way how true that was.

Bring enough food and water for twice as long as you plan on being in the wilderness.

Cell phones work sporadically in Hell’s Bay.

Mosquitoes are not bad in the dry winter but bring repellent just in case.