Best Of :: Sports & Recreation
Drive time from Miami is almost exactly the same as to Key West. But the similarities stop there. Captiva does not cater to inebriated college kids staggering down its main tourist drag. Captiva doesn't even have a tourist drag. The closest thing to Duval Street you'll find on this barrier island west of Fort Myers and north of Sanibel is a dusty little path called Andy Rosse Lane, which dead-ends at the beach and the venerable Mucky Duck pub and grill. A cluster of restaurants and shops dot the lane, but there's nothing approaching a Key West saloon. That's not why people vacation here, or build waterfront mansions here. Captiva is captivating because it is quiet, relaxed, civilized, and hemmed by a wide, inviting beach. Another attraction: The shoreline faces west, across the Gulf of Mexico, which means every day you can saunter down to water's edge and watch the sun set. The light shows are often spectacular. Aside from the South Seas Resort (941-481-3636), a sprawling complex occupying the north end of the island, there are only a small number of hostelries: 'Tween Waters Inn (941-472-5161), Jensen's on the Gulf (941-472-4684), Jensen's Twin Palm Marina (941-472-5800), and the Captiva Island Inn (941-395-0882). Demand is high, supply is limited, and therefore rates can be pricey, though summertime is reasonable. But you're not staying for a month; you're just popping over for a quick getaway, a weekend retreat to restore your soul. Captiva is worth it.
Without doubt this park is the greatest gift ever bequeathed to the public in Miami's history. Back in 1940 the Matheson family, which had owned most of Key Biscayne since early in the century, agreed to a deal proposed by Dade County Commissioner Charles Crandon. The family would donate the northern two miles of its holdings for use as a public park. In exchange the county would construct a causeway from Miami to the island. As Crandon later wrote, the Mathesons "recognized that it would make the remaining land they owned immensely valuable once the causeway was built and in use, which is exactly what happened." The 975-acre park, named in honor of the commissioner, opened along with the causeway in 1947. Since then the Mathesons have been vigilant in protecting their gift from commercial exploitation by government bureaucrats hungry for revenue. Stretching from the Atlantic to Biscayne Bay, Crandon Park comprises more than most people realize: a marina, boat ramps, moorings, and a dive shop adjacent to Sundays on the Bay restaurant; Crandon Golf Course and its driving range, clubhouse, pro shop, and restaurant; the sprawling tennis center and its associated facilities; various storage and maintenance yards; Calusa Park and its tennis courts, playground, and recreation center; a county fire station; the lovely Crandon Park Gardens (the old county zoo); the new Marjory Stoneman Douglas Biscayne Nature Center; an extensive kids' play area featuring a grand carousel; rental cabanas, concession booths, and many picnic areas and athletic fields along the park's eastern half; three significant archaeological sites; three ecological preserves of several hundred acres; and of course the world-famous beach itself. Need we say more?
For the uninitiated: Those people dressed in white and huddled together on the grassy area over by the south bank of the Miami River are not health-care workers on a break. They are students and practitioners of Santería, the Afro-Cuban religion whose spiritual emissaries, or orishas, rule all facets of man and nature. Believers can call upon these deities for guidance and assistance. It's no surprise that Miami, with its large Cuban population, should have lots of Santería devotees, but what is it about Sewell Park that draws the faithful? Look no further than the Miami River and its orisha, Oshún. Here's what OrishaNet, a comprehensive Santería Website (www.seanet.com/~efunmoyiwa/ochanet.html), has to say: "Oshún rules over the sweet waters of the world, the brooks, streams, and rivers, embodying love, fertility. She also is the one we most often approach to aid us in money matters.... All who are to be initiated as priests, no matter what orisha rules their head, must go to the river and give account of what they are about to do." Down near water's edge, hidden among the large rocks that form the bank, you can often find offerings to Oshún: candy, fruits, candles, and other favored objects.
Tucked away behind the exquisitely funky American Legion Post No. 29, this Miami city park is little more than a ramshackle public boat ramp and dock. But it's quiet. And it's always kissed by a soothing breeze. And it provides a lovely view of several of the spoil islands made famous by their role in Christo's 1983 conceptual project Surrounded Islands. If you have a vessel of some sort, you can navigate over to the islands for a picnic. If not, you can simply enjoy gazing at them from the mainland. Accessible from Biscayne Boulevard at NE 64th Street, the park is open every day from sunrise to sunset.
If Kendall Drive is the clotted artery of southwestern unincorporated Miami-Dade, the neighborhood of Calusa is an oasis amid suburban sprawl. Pull off Kendall at SW 133rd Avenue and head south one block. All of a sudden the strip malls fall away, the blank-block apartment buildings disappear, and you're in a haven of green space and single-family homes built around the Calusa Country Club golf course. Wrapped around the course is Calusa Club Drive, a three-mile thoroughfare that sees its share of family-laden SUVs, especially just before and after school, but is more frequently traversed by dogs, ducks, recreational walkers, joggers, and kids on bikes. With its smooth sidewalks and low-density traffic, the circle is especially suited to inline skates. No need to fight for parking or dodge idlers on South Beach. No bumpy boardwalks, no sudden drifts of sand that can make it a hazard to skate too near the beach. Just the scent of fresh-cut grass, the kiss of the sun through flowering dogwood, the sound of your wheels whizzing over sparkling pavement.
If you live anywhere near the center of Miami-Dade County and you find yourself overcome with the urge to go snorkeling, we suggest you head to the rock jetty at the southern tip of Miami Beach. (Metered parking available at South Pointe Park.) When the water is relatively calm, the north side of the jetty offers surprisingly good snorkeling, especially out toward its end, in deeper water. Lots of colorful reef fish, some barracuda, the occasional moray eel, even a shark now and then. But for the real thing -- namely, snorkeling on beautiful coral reefs -- we once again recommend Biscayne National Park. The big advantage: Only one snorkel boat per day, carrying a maximum of 49 people. No other commercial dive boats are permitted to operate within the park's watery boundaries. That sure beats John Pennekamp Coral Reef and State Park in Key Largo, which is so crowded you'll see more people than fish. The Biscayne National Park snorkel boat departs daily at 1:30 p.m. For $32.95 you'll get all the equipment you need (including wetsuit if desired), more than one hour in the water, and a delightful cruise to and from the reef. Reservations are recommended, especially on weekends.