By Robert Silk

I must admit, I was a little dubious. The Florida Park Service brochure describing North Miami Beach’s Oleta River, which once connected Biscayne Bay with the Everglades, made the urban waterway sound something like an oasis.

“Today the Oleta River no longer flows into the Everglades, but its beauty and splendor lives on,” the brochure says. “Waterbirds feed along the mangrove-lined shoreline and the endangered West Indian Manatee finds refuge from South Florida’s crowded waterways.”

But this waterway, I ascertained from a quick glance at a map, hardly seemed isolated–at least not the two-mile stretch I was planning to paddle. After all, the Oleta River joins the Intracoastal Waterway just south of the Sunny Isles Causeway. And to the southwest, where I planned to stop, the river is visible from the heavily trafficked State Road 826.

Still, a couple of hours after reading that brochure, as I paddled steadily down the Oleta, I found my doubts being assuaged. The river’s mangrove-shrouded shorelines, which are part of Oleta River State Park, concealed the urban jungle that has sprung up around it. And just like the brochure says, great blue herons, little blue herons, ibises and other wading birds were abundant. Side creeks sprung off the main river channel, tempting my adventurous side, and in spots even the omnipresent sounds of traffic took a back seat to the sounds of nature.

In a typical Florida tale, the Oleta River was given its present name in 1922 by land developers. But according to the park service, human habitation on the river dates back more than 2,000 years to when Tequesta Indians camped along its shores.

In 1841 the Oleta, then called Big Snake Creek, was used as a transport route by American soldiers fighting in the Second Seminole War. The North Miami Beach portion of the river was settled more permanently in the late 1800s. Today the river goes for only seven miles, ending at Ives Dairy Road near the Broward County line. It’s reportedly the only river in Miami-Dade County that has been neither dredged nor channelized.

But my paddle did not begin in the river itself. Instead, I launched from the Blue Moon Outdoor Center, a canoe, kayak and mountain bike concessionaire located a couple of miles south of the river but within Oleta River State Park. At 1,043 acres and bordered on two sides by the Intracoastal Waterway, it’s Florida’s largest urban park.

Heading out from Blue Moon’s beach landing area, I steered my kayak briefly north into a narrow inland creek. On the shoreline above sat a few of the 14 rustic cabins that the park rents out on a nightly basis. The cabins are equipped with electricity and air conditioning but cooking facilities are limited to only a fire pit. If you ever want the feeling of getting away to the wild but don’t have time to stray very far, the Oleta River State Park cabins might be worth a try.

After a little exploring, I turned my kayak around and headed toward the Intracoastal. As I paddled south the two sides of the inlet presented strikingly different views. On the left lay the park’s picnic areas and untouched shoreline. On the right lay Florida International University’s Biscayne Bay campus. That contrast between natural and urban became a consistent theme of the paddle.

Soon I reached the end of the inlet. I turned briefly to the east, passing the park’s pier and man-made beach area. A moment later, as I turned north and began an approximately 1.5-mile trip up the Intracoastal to the mouth of the Oleta, a fisherman was cleaning his catch along the rocky shoreline.

The late May day had threatened rain but as I moved steadily along the Intracoastal the weather remained benign. A light cloud covered shielded me from the late spring sun and there was barely more than a whiff of breeze. Boat traffic was also light and I reminded myself to enjoy the wake-free reprieve.

As with the inlet that had led out of the park, the journey up the Intracoastal was marked with contrasts. On one side lay the park’s shoreline, a combination of rocks, mangrove and beach. In front of me, what appeared to be a needlefish jumped out of the water to avoid a would-be predator. But on my right, across the waterway, lay the high-rise condos of Sunny Isles.

Eventually I reached the river and headed west again. After a short distance I spied a narrow and very shallow mangrove creek. Temptation got the best of me so I made a detour, heading into the unknown, bug spray at the ready.

Fortunately I never had to apply the Deep Woods Off! that I kept in the kayak, sparing my skin for at least another day. But within the creek I did paddle above two small schools of what I surmised to be mangrove snapper. They jumped as my kayak approached.

After returning to the Oleta I soon approached my turnaround point, Blue Marlin Fish House, where I planned to stretch my legs. Colleen Guido, who also runs Blue Moon Outdoor Center, recently took ownership of the historic restaurant. And just like when the restaurant was owned by former North Miami Beach Mayor Daniel Diefenbach, who opened it in 1938, Blue Marlin specializes in smoked fish.

On this afternoon, however, the restaurant was closed so I didn’t get to sample any fish, smoked or unsmoked. I had to settle for water, a half-melted fruit granola bar, and the Oleta River view from the Blue Marlin deck.

After a short rest I began the trip back to the launch site, retracing my previous path. Heading up the Oleta, I took the time to marvel again at how wild this small stretch of river still is.

A few miles later, when I reached the southern edge of Oleta River State Park, I strayed from the path I had taken earlier. I chose as my closing leg of the trip a mangrove creek rather than the inlet abutting FIU’s Biscayne Bay campus. A few moments later, as I drifted by the only other kayak I saw on this 7.5-mile trip, two low-flying pelicans glided overhead. The woman who sat in the front of the tandem kayak pointed at tem, her voice resonating in high-pitched excitement.

As I reached the take-out point I myself was a bit too fatigued for any high-pitched exclamations. But my soul felt satisfied and a little renewed.