Two Weeks of Solitude in the Ten Thousand Islands
Two Weeks of Solitude in the Ten Thousand Islands
As you read this, I am paddling into two weeks of solitude in Everglades National Park.
With no books to read, no electronics to distract me (except a small solar lamp), and just the bare essentials, this will be a deep connection with Earth, with myself, and with the plants and animals I’ll be sharing this home with.
No phone or computer to reach me, no camera to document the adventure, not even a GPS.
The birds can reach me, but no human can unless they are up for a real adventure.
I’ll be in 300 hours of silence, so if you find me, just know that I will not be speaking.
I have seven pounds of wild rice, a quart of deer fat, a bag of freshly foraged citrus, salt, herbal teas and spices. All foraged, of course. If all goes as planned, I’ll nourish myself on the fish I catch each day, along with these basic staples.
Where I’m paddling in particular is the Ten Thousand Islands; a world of water, mangroves and life. It’s about 80 miles from Flamingo to Everglades City where I’ll emerge on January 24th. In between, I will be in the present moment, taking in all the elements of Earth and communing with life. I’ve been quite busy lately and you can consider this my vacation from it all.
Yet, I will certainly remain productive. I have my notebook with me and will be planning the year ahead as I find clarity and focus out here.
Should you be afraid for me? My answer is ‘no.’ That would be a waste of your precious energy and time. Instead, rejoice! I am in my happy place, that brings me wholeness and completeness and helps me to be of service to others on this journey of living in service to Earth.
When I return, I will be on a speaking tour throughout Florida, sharing this love and connection for Earth. (See my previous posts for details.)
Love,
Robin
PS. ‘Thank you’ to Isaiah and Aizen for getting me to the Everglades, and to Levi, who will be waiting for me on the other side. What I do is possible through the support of the community. My teammate Marielle is managing the organization while I’m gone.
1/26/2026
I have returned and I am ALIVE!
Two weeks of solitude and silence in the 10,000 Islands of Everglades National Park, the largest designated wilderness of the Eastern US. I embraced this Earth as my playground and I had thousands of friends with fins and feathers to play with.
No clock to tell the time.
No phone, computer, GPS or radio. No contact with the outside world.
My only electronic, a small solar light.
Cooking exclusively over wood fires under the open sky.
Out here I experienced LIFE. I spent countless hours being absorbed, enthralled and in LOVE with my plant and animal relatives. Close encounters with dolphins, sharks and a myriad of bird species had me largely forget about my life outside this land and water. I tuned into the rhythm of life through the tide, the sun, starry nights, the ancientness of the mangroves, and the activity of life around me.
I paddled 70 miles from Flamingo to Everglades City, and although I saw many boaters, there was a stretch of true solitude in the middle. This was both my longest solo nature immersion and my longest time without speaking (13 days, 21 hours).
I went in with minimal food, and estimate that 75% of my calories came from what I foraged and fished. I ate 25 pounds of fish, 5 pounds of sea purslane and 17 coconuts. The rest – 5 pounds of wild rice, 20 ounces of deer fat, a bag of citrus, and dried herbs, teas and mushrooms – I brought with me from earlier foraging. I am amazed at the abundance of this place where land meets water.
These immersions with Earth all ALONE, fasting from the overwhelm of modern society, are deep medicine for me.
It was not all play and not all easy though.
The elements were brutal at times and there were certainly moments of concern. I spent many hours tucked into my tent – my only respite from the mosquitoes and no-see-ums, was forced to give up making it to the next camp because of high winds, and spent many hours working just to meet my daily needs. This was all part of the joy.
This was also not a vacation from my mission. I digested 2025, organized my life, tied up many loose ends, wrote numerous in-depth articles, planned the majority of 2026 and strategized my service for the next years. Clarity and focus come to me when it’s just me, Nature and my notebook.
I am rejuvenated, recharged and rested, ready to be back in service.
Full journal from my time alone in the Everglades
Day One
Food log: Citrus and scoop of deer fat
Day Two
Food log: Cooked three servings of rice, jack, ladyfish, citrus, nopal pads/fruit
Fish abundant trolling, attempted coconuts but forest impenetrable, discovered tiny papayas! Discovered abundant dragon fruit, no fruits, nopal cactus – pads and fruit, glochids in hand. Papayas large in summer? Harvested seeds for medicine, Brazilian pepper.
Day Three
Food log: Coconut, leftover rice, sea trout, jack, mullet eggs
Coconut score! Three trees. Twenty coconuts. Ate two small ones and drank one green. Canoe loaded. Fishing abundant. On NW Cape, sharks and dolphins feeding. I caught 25 mullet in half-an-hour. Best mullet fishing ever. And it would have been great to can 1-3 pounders. Food is very abundant out here. Two people spoke to me and I was able to maintain my silence – new practice.
Day Four
Longest paddle yet: 11 miles. Was very unsure of wind, but all went well. Some physical pushes, but fairly smooth: 9 – 4:30, with leisurely fishing along the way. Saw so many sharks, more dolphins, manatee and sea turtles. Got very close to some sharks. Arrived here just in time to settle in. Noseeums very strong so went straight to tent without cooking dinner. Fortunately, I have plenty of rice to eat. This morning, I cooked four servings and ate the big mullet. Very minimal anxiety. Perhaps least ever on a solo nature immersion. Some very high levels of joy and contentedness. Getting settled into the flow, gear dialed in.
Day Five
Very challenging day, paddling against the wind and attempting the Nightmares to get out of this wind and was driven out by mosquitoes, too many to make it preferable to the slow paddle on the Gulf, plus low tide was coming, with the risk of being stranded in the Nightmare.
Arrived at Highland at ~5 p.m., no fish today. Too occupied with wind and waves and averting getting flooded. At night I felt it, wilderness, not a light in any direction. Only one boat today, from a distance. I’m quite a ways out here now, far from any town or even home. So glad to be here, comfortable on solid, dry land.
Day Six
It was the right call to paddle a day ahead to avoid paddling on the forecasted storm day. Although only minor ran, the wind was constant at 15-20 mph. I attempted to go a mile north and it was nearly impossible. I turned around and returned to my site. I had packed up hoping for a better beach site just north. The water was very stirred up. Fishing was no option. Another day without fish. Rice, deer fat, coconut, sea purslane. The wind disturbed my sleep last night. I have been having the most enjoyable, joyous dreams most every night. This is rare. No sign of a human or boat today. So happy I’m still have eight full days out here. Although this is my longest solo immersion, I feel no yearning for anything. No desire to return.
This is not a vacation. I am working hard out here. I gained clarity and focus to plan my life and my service. I am clearing it all out, digesting the path and moving forward – organized, clear, focused, energized, revitalized with inner peace, balance and contentment. Strategizing and planning, planning 2026 and contemplating 2027. I think I know, it came to me so clearly what is next.
I’m quite hungry now. Difficult conditions for fire making in wind. Rationing my rice- not for this trip – but for the year ahead. Hoping to write in the days ahead. I have barely written in the last six months.
I am so, so alone out here. The weather has kept others on land. Not a shred of loneliness and no fear. I’m surprised with my mental gains, since my last immersion, which had so much more anxiety. Very smooth heart. Finished the citrus today. Wind is a blessing because it has reduced number of people out here. More solitude. Also reduces biting insects.
Scorpion experience!
Day Seven
Another day of solitude. (Only a couple of sightings of some fishermen from a distance. Absolute medicine for the soul.) I am experiencing such deep joy out here. Gratitude bubbled up inside me multiple times today, especially for the people in my life. The wind subsided today, finally a day of quiet. I could hear the birds from morning until dusk. What about these deep solitude in nature experiences is so deeply nourishing, healing and revitalizing? The respite from the infinite expanse that is the internet? A break from communication? From the nonstop of the digital world? The conflict and chaos of daily life in the times we are in? The noise? The lights? My great struggles with communication? My habit of keeping myself busy, although I am busy out here, too. Is it the fresh air, clean water, being surrounded by so much life: sharks, dolphins, fish, birds, scorpions, roseate spoonbills and even some creatures that I’ve never seen before and do not know? The sun on bare skin? The basking of my whole body in the expanse of the ocean? The starry nights. The passing clouds, the gentle breeze, the tormenting gusts, the sunrises and sunsets, the nightly coos and calls of the barred owl? The lack of options? The simplicity of my tasks? The slowness. The long nights of sleep. The 24/7 outdoors, the overcoming of daily challenges? The extensive usage of my body? The application of my skills? The time to think, to breathe, to be? The time to ponder, strategize and plan for the future? The organization of my life as clarity and focus flows in? The accomplishment of tasks long clinging to my ‘To Do’ list – removing logos from all of my possessions, writing on topics I deeply want to share with all who benefit from my perspective and knowledge? It’s all of this and more.
It is hard to fathom that the seventh evening is upon me. Nearly a week out here has passed. If I hadn’t diligently crossed out each on my schedule, I would not believe it. Today of all days, time ceased to exist the most. Timelessness for at least a moment. Timelessness. Oh, it is flowing: life, the mind, the spirit, the physical being. It is all flowing. Flowing, flowing, flowing. I could write more of my experience, but I have other tasks to prioritize. But to say, many hours of fishing, both by pole and castnet and only one mullet for dinner with my rice, sea purslane and dehydrated maitake mushrooms. The mullet, this mullet, a gift, a gift, a gift. I am so grateful. Oh, and one more element, of course, that leads to this flow, six days now without a word. The silence … oh, the silence. The silence, silence, silence!
Day Eight
After a few miles of paddling today, I turned a corner and the water cleared up and was much warmer. Then I came into a school of redfish and caught two for dinner. The cold weather had probably slowed the fish. I’m glad that’s over. Tonight I didn’t have to cook any rice. I paddled through some stunningly beautiful shorelines today. I found some of the most peaceful moments of the trip accompanied by ibis, heron, egrets, pipers/plovers and more birds. This really is wilderness out here. The power boats do hamper the peace. They can be heard from a couple of miles away. But I probably only heard ten today and it is a weekend. Saw one other paddler today and at Hog Key, there’s a camper, but I pulled just around the bend and it’s as if there’s not another human here with me.
I had some real nice shark encounters today, with some of the largest yet, perhaps 8-10 feet. When I see them in the distance, I gently paddle directly toward them and get my face just about eight feet from theirs. Today I had much more anxiety, which seems to have arisen since I started to try to accomplish much more in a day, writing and taskwise, but also it often has to do with arriving before dark, length with the tide schedule, fishing, and avoiding the biting insects. Anxiety was strong while cooking dinner, completed at sunset, but has subsided in the tent. It’s difficult to find a campsite. I’ve missed multiple.
Day Nine
I arrived at Turkey Key midday, and I have the next two days here. This will be a change of pace – slower. I’ll have more time to write and plan the rest of 2026. A group of three has also reserved this site for tonight, but I am grateful to write that they are not here. The next three nights here, and at Mormon Key, no one had reserved (based on the night before I left). And tomorrow is Monday, so it is likely I’ll have solitude the next three nights as well. As I lay in bed, I hear the wind and waves roaring to the north, on the other side of the island. I had smooth paddling here today, and made the right call of getting here early, because the winds began roaring after I had set up camp. I had a hard time finding the site once again. The maps do not seem to show what I am seeing. Two hours before sunset, I paddled out on the protected side to attempt to catch a fish for dinner. With the sky darker and a cold wind, a feeling arose inside me. It felt like what I generally call ‘loneliness,’ yet when I ponder it, I’m not yearning for human contact. So, what is this feeling? A touch of melancholy or sadness, but where it grows from inside me, and what exactly it is, I cannot put my finger on. It was fleeting, and in this moment,
I feel joy inside.
I did catch one small lady fish that accompanied my wild rice and sea purslane. What an abundant and truly tasty gift the sea purslane is. It’s more of a hardy vegetable than a green, and I am getting my fill. Have I now surpassed my previous longest solo nature immersion? Let me explore.
Glacier, June 2025, approximately one week
Olympic National Forest, 2024, seven or eight nights
North Carolina lake summer 2023, six days
Everglades, spring 2023, six days
Boundary Waters summer/fall 2021
Indeed, it is so. I celebrate this growth! I had planned numerous times for longer immersions, and I always succumb to productivity. Two weeks will be my longest by an entire week. Although one big difference here is I’m rarely deeply alone for more than half a day, or a handful of hours, with all the boats going by. Perhaps that makes it less of a mental challenge, and I also don’t believe I am tapping into the depths of solitude like I had in Glacier, Olympic or Boundary waters. But this is Florida, a land where it is hard to be truly alone. This will also be my longest silence ever. My previous longest being ten days in Vipassana. This will be just a few hours’ short of 14 days – two weeks. I am elated to have five more days here to go deeper.
Day Ten
Five gallons of water left this morning with six full days, plus the day of leaving. Plus water in nine coconuts (0.5 gallon?) I need to ration. Use salt water for cooking rice. I was not careful enough with my water usage. I leaked some from one, used two-thirds a quart to wash my shirt and wasted some while transferring containers. (Half gallon?) I brought 15 gallons, used ten – one gallon per day. Caught three mullet by castnet for dinner, another very windy day which kept me off the water, spent much of the day organizing my life, planning for the year and also writing. Much time goes into fire making, cooking and eating. Much time looking out upon the water and watching life. A great dolphin show from afar today. The tide goes out so far that for many hours of the day it’s not feasible to get out on the water. A very simple, relaxed day. Another night of gazing at the stars before falling asleep.
Day Eleven
Another day on Turkey Key. Strong winds from morning until evening, a mental strain and a physical strain to get out fishing. Caught five small one pound mullet on the point again. It was bliss out there, protected from the wind by the shore to the north. Another day of no human interaction, I don’t recall even a boat gone by today. A wonderful dolphin encounter this morning. Hunting in the shallows, just twenty feet from me on shore. I basked in the water as they hunted mullet. I’m about 100 days into the year of foraging, but it feels like many months since I began. I can’t fathom eating food from a grocery store. It feels like this has been my life for so long. What a full fall and early winter it has been. Maine and the whole East Coast tour feels like the distant past. So does Wisconsin. I have experienced years of life in the last year. I realized today that I will reach the age of 40 this year. Or is it 80?
Very satiated on wild rice, mullet, sea purslane, deer fat and spices. (Cooked in ocean water.) A truly delicious dinner. The heads are in a pot on coals to eat and drink as a broth for breakfast. Gratitude to the wild rice, perhaps my greatest plant friend. Another starry night to soak in.
Day Twelve
The wind was unrelenting today. Hours and hours without a break for even a minute. Consistent strong winds with gusts and pockets of stronger winds. Ten miles per hour at minimum? Twenty-five miles at max? More? Big waves being created coming just a quarter mile from shore. (Wind coming from north, where shore is.) Paddled three difficult miles from Turkey Key to Mormon Key. Here there’s no protection from the wind, unlike Turkey Key. Wind has died now though, 1.5 hours after sunset. Caught one mullet right off shore from campsite and cooked a pot of rice with sea purslane and mullet for the big day tomorrow. Eleven-and-a-half miles and I’m expecting wind, although I may be able to hug the edge of mangroves tomorrow and be at least partially protected. If the winds remain the same as the last four days, it’s going to be a hard push. I’m going to leave at sunrise. My location is ideal as I’m not on the flats that have trapped me in the last mornings.
Finished two important articles today. I am joyous for that! Only one or two boat sightings today. Still no canoes, kayaks or campers. I couldn’t imagine many people in canoes being willing to paddle the waters I did today. It was safe, but if winds had picked up, it would have taken me over the edge. I was able to hop from island to island though.
Day Thirteen
Joy. That’s how I describe today. I packed camp and was paddling northwest at sunrise for my longest paddle yet. The wind was mild as I pushed off and remained this way for the morning. What wind there was at times gave me a boost, otherwise was neutral. With relative ease, I had already found myself five miles along, and the conditions were so perfect that I took the risk of fishing and basking in the serene morning environment. I casted at a redfish I saw in the shallows and it hit! After a long fight, it turned out to be the largest redfish I’ve ever caught, about 28 inches. I had managed to catch many mullet in the castnet and certainly wish I could take them home to store, but let them all go. This is the practice for when it really counts. I continued on, and on a calm day, I spent quality time with the dolphins. I got to watch some of the most fantastic mullet hunting I have ever witnessed – the dolphins nearly planing on the surface of the shallow water. At one point, I believe the dolphins were playing with me, just feet from the canoe. And at another point, I clearly heard their echo communication – just incredible. I arrived at Rabbit Key in the mid-afternoon, having experienced perhaps the most blissful day yet. I’m now only six miles from Chokoloskee, so there are many more boats and I saw some paddlers and campers, yet from a distance and I maintained my silence and relative solitude.
There are campers on this island, but we are at far ends from each other.
I fished again at night. With almost no wind, the noseeums were numerous on shore, so I thought I’d get relief on the water, but I was bitten consistently out there. I caught the second largest sea trout of my life (26 inches) and had some of my best fishing in years. I’m in my tent now, the sun having been down for an hour, waiting to go back out and cook a mullet and sea trout once the biting has lessened. I just discovered it was an 8.5 mile day, not 11.5. That played a role in the ease. Rain was coming this way around the time I was setting up camp, so I emptied and cleaned canoe, hoping for a downpour that would collect in the vessel. But alas, the storm missed this island. I have two gallons of water left, and that will get me through. Tomorrow is the last full day, and I’m hoping I can catch a bounty of fish in the second half of the day to bring back with me. It’s warmer than ideal, but I feel quite confident that they won’t spoil, and I’ll get them on ice at noon the next day. I have lived very abundantly from these waters and land. In fact, I feel right now I could benefit from a day-long fast. That is the ultimate sign of an abundant and successful foraging and fishing endeavor.
Day Fourteen
I awoke to the first misty morning and was reminded how challenging these waters would be to navigate with low visibility. I’m hopeful for a clear morning for my departure tomorrow. I had a joyous day, with some challenges. After some morning writing, I was delighted to see large schools of mullet just offshore in ideal waters for me to catch them. I casually made my way over, as I could tell they would be around for awhile.
And that they were. I managed to catch eleven mullet, totalling over twenty pounds, I would estimate. Numerous got out of the net, so I repaired the small holes. Perhaps many made it out before I fixed those. If I were skilled, I could have caught three, four, five times what I did. They were often just a couple of feet beyond my ideal casting range. Yet it was great fun, and there is nothing else I would rather be doing. I kept the fish and throughout the day put fresh cool water into the bucket. I am hopeful and relatively confident that they will not spoil before I get them on ice at noon tomorrow.
I gashed my big toe open on an oyster shell. Fortunately, it’s not quite at the threshold of needing stitches. If that was the case, I would have used my needle and fishing line. The wind picked up today, which provided a great break from the noseeums and mosquitoes. I continued with chores and writing (what brings me joy and three years without sex and romance). And then a few hours before sunset, I paddled to the nearest mangrove, where I very successfully caught sea trout for dinner and for tomorrow. The biting insects were active when I returned to camp at sunset, so I paddled back out and cleaned fish, returning after dark, and they had subsided. Cooking was a bit of a struggle, as was eating, and I lodged a bone in my throat. It was slightly concerning, but I managed to swallow it. I am now in my tent, well beyond the time I was hoping to be, and not quite organized for my early departure. I must be at Everglades City at noon where my friend Levi will be picking me up. I do not want to arrive late, as I know that would cause him to worry. Plus, we have a foraging adventure planned and a 4.5 hour drive. The issue is I will be paddling against the tide through Sandfly Pass. That two miles may be very challenging, and I do have some concern it will be near insurmountable, as I’ve seen it to be so on other occasions.
I have about five hours to make it eight miles and the low tide is minimally flow, so I’m hopeful that I’ll manage. On my final afternoon, I felt equanimous to leaving tomorrow or being here another week. Both options excite me greatly. I would love for a couple of days of just relaxing and doing substantial writing, but I’m also very excited about each day that lies ahead of me back in civilization. In fact, I’m excited about every month this year. The 10,000 Islands hold the elements for bliss and for great despair. I have been very fortunate to have primarily received the circumstances for bliss. That said, I had my challenges. The wind, the extreme tidal fluctuations, the many sharp pointy things, the biting insects, the intense sun, the inability to catch food on some days, the need to ration my water (I have just one gallon left), fishbones in the throat, minor injury to a toe and a finger, and I’m sure there are more. The incredible abundance of sharks – and swimming in their waters – was never a challenge, but certainly had me on edge more than once. No doubt for the untrained mind, these exact conditions could break someone. Although I have completed almost two weeks of silence, I did curse almost audibly on likely two dozen occasions. I was also very fortunate with the solitude I was given. Although this is the largest designated wilderness east of the Rocky Mountains (1.3. million acres), it is hard to be truly alone here with the many motor boats and the limited locations where one can camp. I never expected as much solitude as I received, and for that, I am grateful.
I am substantially rejuvenated, recharged and rested. This is the exact medicine that I needed. The first days of solitude are a distant thought, and the days among society even more so. I’ve had substantial room out here to think, breathe, take the days as they came, be in love with the animals, take in the passing clouds and the starry nights, admire the many insects, sit by the fire, be present with my meals, and just have fun. The Earth is my playground, and out here, I have thousands of friends to play with.
Fish eaten: 26, totaling about 28 pounds – 20 pounds being brought home.
Wild rice: 24 of the 35 servings I brought eaten, five of the seven pounds.
Coconuts: 20 harvested (small/medium), 17 eaten, three left.
Sea purslane: numerous pounds eaten.
Deer fat: 20 of 28 ounces eaten, eight remaining.
Dry maitake mushroom and stinging nettle: made only two or three times.
Tea: basswood flowers, pineapple weed and valerian on many nights.
Morning tea blend on a couple occasions.
Spice mix: fully consumed, used relatively sparingly.
Salt: used a portion, perhaps half of what I’d brought and used ocean water for second half of the trip.
Citrus: a plastic grocery bag’s worth, eaten liberally and completed on Day Six.
Water: approximately 15 gallons brought, 0.5 gallons remain. Utilizing salt water in cooking (a couple gallons).
Percentage of my diet harvested while here: about 75% of calories.
Weight change: maybe on one pound fat loss, possibly muscle gain.
I could have lived out here 100% on what I harvested without bringing food, but there would have been a couple difficult days. Abundance!
Some notes from being back on land
It was a shock to get out. Seeing cars moving so fast, concrete roads, music, bright lights. My mind was not processing it, I was having a hard time comprehending that this is “normal” life to so many. Hard to put words to it.. It was painful. Very hard to speak. I feel no interest in social media at all.
