Salty Bushwhacker: “A Way of Livin”

     Living on a houseboat full-time is a dream or an idea many talk about… but perhaps it's not for everybody.

    Many visitors to our area of the Florida Keys love the idea of waking up on the water, watching the sun rise over the marina, and falling asleep to the gentle movement of the boat. They picture quiet mornings, cool breezes, fishing off the back deck, and evenings spent watching the sky turn orange and purple while enjoying a cocktail with the one you love. Some dream of this life as they slave at their job hoping to earn the chance to be able to live this life.

And all of these things can be more than just dreams, and they can become reality.

    But so are the tight spaces, the constant upkeep, the storms, the humidity, the strange noises in the middle of the night, and the endless list of things that need to be repaired, cleaned, checked, tightened, replaced, or rebuilt.

Living on a boat is not always easy, but for me, it is the only way!

    There is something about waking up on the water that makes life feel different. Before I even step out of bed, I can hear the marina beginning to wake up. Water gently slaps against the hull. Ropes creak against the cleats. The birds start scuffling overhead. Somewhere down the dock, the fishing guides are icing the boats and getting ready for the day..

    When I step outside, I smell the salt air, bacon from the restaurant, and my fresh coffee steamin from my mug. It is summer time in the Keys so I’m enjoying what little bit of coolness we have. The sunlight is just making its way over the palmtrees. I realize every morning is kinda like ground hog day, which is what I love about this place.

That is our version of “marina life”.

    It has its own rhythm, sounds, smells, and its own kind of community. You get to know the boats around you almost as well as you know the people who own them. You notice when someone has been gone for a few days. You help somebody tie up when the wind is blowing hard. You lend tools, share advice, have dinner on the dock together, fix boats, go fishing, and talk about what happened that week (AKA “the coconut wire”).

    There is also a freedom in living this way that is hard to explain to someone who has never experienced it. The freedom to leave whenever you want? NO…. It is the freedom of living with less. The freedom of realizing how many things you thought you needed that you really did not need at all.

    When you live in a 38-foot boat, there are no spare rooms to fill with boxes. There is no giant garage where you can pile up things you might use someday. Every cabinet, drawer, shelf, and storage compartment matters. You fall into a minimalist frame of mind and there is a freedom to it. There is less clutter to manage, and less stuff demanding your attention. You begin to understand that owning more does not always mean living better. A wise man once said…..”sometimes the things we own end up owning us.”

    What do I really need? What do I actually use? What is important enough to take up space in my life? On a boat, everything has to earn its place.  Life becomes simpler. Not always easier, but simpler.

    Of course, houseboat life comes with responsibility. A boat floating in the water cannot be ignored. You have to keep an eye on the bilges and make sure they are always working. You have to check the batteries, electrical systems, plumbing, hoses, lines, fittings, and through-hulls. You have to clean the bottom and deal with barnacles, algae, salt, moisture, mildew, rust, and corrosion.

    Something is always going to need attention. Pumps quit., hoses leak. wires come free…..AND OF COURSE the air conditioner will act up on the hottest day of the year. The wind changes direction, and suddenly you are outside adjusting ropes in the rain.

You are part electrician, plumber, mechanic, carpenter, and part detective. OR you know someone in the marine who can help or teach you.

Some people cannot handle that. They want everything to stay dry, level, quiet, and predictable. They do not want to think about whether the bilge pump is working or whether the lines are secure before a storm.

There is nothing wrong with that. Houseboat life is not for everyone!

But if you think about it, owning a house comes with struggles as well. Roofs leak. Air conditioners break. Pipes burst. Lawns grow. Appliances quit. There is always something to clean, fix, paint, replace, or pay for also.

    For me, the marina life and being on a houseboat really is “A Way Of Livin”! Yes there is a bit of work like anything else, but what this life does to my body and soul is truly magical. It heals years of struggle and gives me the opportunity on a daily basis to enjoy these amazing waters in a number of ways.

    There are nights when everything becomes still. We just had a fresh fish dinner (perhaps a few lobsters)  and are enjoying a few laughs with the others on the dock. The marina lights shimmer across the water, and all you hear is the soft tapping of waves against the hull. You feel a soft breeze and the world feels quieter out there. Then the morning sun comes up again, and the entire marina looks like a different world. Those are the moments that make every repair, every cramped storage compartment, and every sacrifice worth it.

    For me, living on a houseboat is not about running away from life. It is about choosing a different kind of life. One that we talked about and worked hard to achieve for decades. Now is the time to enjoy it because we still have our health!

    It means trading square footage for sunsets. It means giving up closets full of possessions for open water outside the window. It means accepting a little discomfort, a little uncertainty, and a lot of responsibility in exchange for freedom, simplicity, and beauty.

    This lifestyle forces you to pay attention. You pay attention to the weather, the wind, the tide, the sound of a pump running, and the way the boat sits in the water. You become very connected to your surroundings and one with your boat. The water is not just something you look at from a distance. It is part of your everyday life.

I imagine this way of living would drive some people crazy. The limited space would feel confining and the maintenance would feel exhausting. The movement would make them uncomfortable. They would miss the storage, convenience, and predictability of a regular home.

    When I imagine spending the rest of my life somewhere else, surrounded by more walls, more rooms, and more possessions, something feels missing.I would miss the sound of the water against the hull. I would miss walking down the dock toward home. I would miss the smell of the marina in the morning, and the conversations with neighbors. Above all, I would miss the feeling that every day begins and ends on the waters of the Florida Keys.

    This lifestyle is not perfect. It can be messy, wet, noisy, cramped, frustrating, and expensive. It requires patience, work, and the willingness to fix things when you would rather sit down and relax.

But it is honest. It is simple. And every day is an adventure in paradise!

That is what Salty Bushwhacker means to me. It is not just the name, a channel, or a brand. It represents choosing a life that may not make sense to everybody else but feels completely right to me.

Living on the water is not just where I want to spend the rest of my life.

It is how I want to spend it.

Salty Bushwhacker.

THAT MY FRIENDS IS WHY WE SAY IT’S  “A Way Of LIVIN”

Go “AWOL”

Where the Water Leads

“In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous.”

— Aristotle

    The Florida Keys -There is something about this chain of islands that reaches far deeper than scenery. It is in the warm tropical air, the smell of saltwater, the mangroves leaning over the shoreline, and the endless shades of turquoise, blue, and green that you see from your boat or crossing a bridge. It is in the 

sound of the wind moving through the palms, the tide slipping beneath a bridge, the sunlight dancing across the flats, and the sun disappearing into the Gulf at the end of another day with the chance of a “green flash”.

    Many years ago, the Keys was a place my family visited for vacations. Now we live here with a passion for the wildlife and beautiful tropical waters . I can honestly say when I am on this small chain of islands,  my soul feels most at home.

    This is where Salty Bushwhacker was born. It was created from the water, the islands, the wildlife, the freedom, and the way of life that exists here. It came from early mornings on the boat, long days beneath the Florida sun, lobster trips, fishing, diving, photography, encounters with wildlife, and those quiet moments when the water becomes so calm that the entire world seems to stop.

To me, the Florida Keys are paradise.

But they are not an isolated paradise.

    The clear water, shallow flats, healthy seagrass, mangrove shorelines, abundant marine life, and coral reefs are connected to a much larger living complicated ecosystem. The Keys are tied to Florida Bay. Florida Bay is tied to the Everglades. The Everglades are tied to Lake Okeechobee, the Kissimmee River, and the rain that falls hundreds of miles to the north.

Amazingly, all these waters are all intertwined.

    What happens upstream eventually finds its way downstream. Decisions made far from the Keys can affect the water flowing around our islands, across the flats, through the mangroves, into Hawk Channel, and toward the coral reef.

    To truly understand and protect the Florida Keys, we must also understand the journey of the water that flows into them. For thousands of years, Florida’s water moved like a slow heartbeat.

Rain fell across Central Florida and fed the Kissimmee River, which flowed into Lake Okeechobee. During the wet season, the lake gradually spilled south into a vast, shallow sheet of water nearly fifty miles wide.

This slow-moving “River of Grass” is known as the Everglades, and a lot of magic happens before the water reaches Florida Bay. As this water moves through sawgrass marshes, cypress swamps, soil, pond apple forests, and mangroves, the landscape acts as a natural filter. It absorbed nutrients, trapped sediment, recharged freshwater supplies, supported wildlife, and helped maintain the delicate balance of salinity in Florida Bay.

    That freshwater created one of the most remarkable transitions on Earth—a place where freshwater slowly meets saltwater, wetlands become mangrove shorelines, shallow bays open toward the Keys, and the water eventually reaches the Florida Keys reefs.

    The Everglades are home to alligators, American crocodiles, turtles, river otters, manatees, snakes, frogs, and the Florida panther. Its skies and marshes support roseate spoonbills, wood storks, herons, egrets, ibis, limpkins, anhingas, osprey, bald eagles, and snail kites.

    These historic slow moving waters hold bass, gar, bluegill, mullet, mosquito fish, tarpon, snook, and countless smaller creatures that support the larger food chain. Its plants—sawgrass, cypress, pond apple, mangroves, orchids, and bromeliads—do far more than make the landscape beautiful. They slow the movement of water, absorb nutrients, filter pollution, protect shorelines, and provide food and shelter at nearly every level of the ecosystem.

    Unfortunately, the Everglades have a long history of fighting their way back from the damage caused by humans. Long before canals, roads, farms, and development changed the natural flow of water, hunters nearly wiped out some of Florida’s most beautiful birds. Great egrets, snowy egrets, reddish egrets, and roseate spoonbills were killed for their feathers. The Florida panther was pushed toward extinction through hunting, habitat loss, roads, and development that divided its remaining wild territory.

    Wood storks declined as changes in water depth and timing damaged the shallow feeding areas they needed to catch enough fish for their young. Everglades snail kite numbers dropped when changes in water quality and water levels nearly eliminated availability of apple snails, which is their primary food source.

    As a photographer, my personal favorite is the roseate spoonbill—a bird so bright, colorful, and unusual that it almost does not look real. Its beauty was once part of what nearly destroyed it.

By the early twentieth century, Florida’s roseate spoonbill population had fallen to only a few dozen breeding pairs. Hunting protections helped the birds recover, and their nesting numbers eventually climbed to well over a thousand pairs in some years. The spoonbill's struggle did not end when hunting stopped. As South Florida’s water system changed, spoonbill nesting numbers fell once again. This time, the birds were not being killed for their feathers. Instead, people had changed the landscape around them. Water arrived at the wrong times, in the wrong amounts, or not at all. Changes in water depth, salinity, and the availability of small fish made it harder for spoonbills to feed themselves and their young.

In recent years, there have been signs of hope, with hundreds of nests being monitored in parts of Florida Bay.

The story of the roseate spoonbill is, in many ways, the story of the Everglades itself: something beautiful pushed toward the edge by human actions, yet continuing to fight for survival.

The strongest people are often those who have been broken.

Not defeated—humbled. 

They have a quiet confidence that comes from recognizing their limits and finding a way to push through them anyway.

    Life can sometimes feel like swimming against a powerful current. The harder you fight, the more it wears you down. Every wave, every obstruction, and every ounce of pressure hits you along the way.

But when you finally reach the other side, you carry something with you—strength, wisdom, or perhaps a deeper understanding of how precious things truly are.

    Florida’s natural environment has been broken in many places. It has been drained, divided, polluted, overdeveloped, and forced to fight against the current.

But broken does not mean finished.

    The Everglades have been swimming against that current for more than a century.

Canals, levees, roads, farms, cities, and flood-control projects cut apart the natural River of Grass. An ecosystem that once covered nearly eleven thousand square miles of South Florida is now roughly half its original size. 

    Much of the water that once flowed south through the Everglades toward Florida Bay is now managed, stored, redirected, or discharged east and west toward Florida’s coasts. Large-scale agriculture, including decades of sugarcane farming south of Lake Okeechobee, is also part of that history. Land that once helped carry water south was drained, farmed, fertilized, and surrounded by canals and levees.

Agriculture is not the only source of the problem. Excess nutrients and pollution can also come from lawns, golf courses, septic systems, wastewater, stormwater runoff, and continued development throughout Florida.

    Even with restoration and cleanup efforts underway, too much polluted water can enter parts of the system while too little clean freshwater reaches the places that need it most.

    That missing water matters—especially to Florida Bay and the Keys. When Florida Bay does not receive enough clean freshwater from the Everglades, its salinity can rise beyond the levels that parts of the ecosystem can tolerate. Extreme salinity, high temperatures, stagnant conditions, and excess nutrients can contribute to seagrass die-offs and algae blooms.

When seagrass disappears, the bottom becomes more vulnerable. Sediment can be stirred into the water, reducing clarity and blocking sunlight from the remaining grass. Fish nurseries suffer.

    Shrimp, crabs, juvenile fish, birds, manatees, dolphins, crocodiles, turtles, tarpon, snook, bonefish, sawfish, and countless other animals can feel the effects.

    The damage does not necessarily stop at the edge of Florida Bay. Florida Bay connects to the Florida Keys through natural passes and channels. Depending on rainfall, winds, tides, currents, and seasonal conditions, stressed water from the bay can move through and around the islands, into nearby channels, and toward portions of the Florida Keys reef tract.

    The coral reef is not entirely separate from the Everglades and Florida Bay. It exists within some of the same network of moving water. Corals need clean, clear, and relatively stable ocean conditions. When reefs are exposed to excess nutrients, sediment, algae, disease, warming temperatures, poor water quality, and sudden environmental changes, they become weaker and less capable of recovering.

Warming ocean temperatures are an enormous threat to coral reefs, but local water quality also matters. A reef already weakened by pollution, algae, sediment, or disease has a much harder time surviving extreme heat and bleaching events.

    When the water is damaged upstream, there can be consequences downstream. Areas in the Everglades are suffering in multiple ways and are on life support which are causing critical impacts much further south.

    Not all pollution begins hundreds of miles away. Sometimes it begins with an aluminum can thrown beside a shoreline, a plastic bottle left beneath a bridge, fishing line abandoned near the mangroves, or garbage dropped beside a road where rain can eventually carry it into a storm drain, canal, river, bay, or ocean. It begins when careless people treat wild places as though someone else will always clean up after them. This garbage can carry it into mangroves, across shallow flats, through Florida Bay, around the Keys, and out toward the reef. Plastic can break into smaller and smaller pieces. Fishing line can entangle birds, turtles, fish, and marine mammals. Cans, bottles, foam, discarded nets, and other debris can turn beautiful places into dumping grounds.

    It is easy to look at a problem this large and believe one person cannot make a difference, but I believe responsibility begins with what is directly in front of us. One of the things I do—and will continue to do—is pick up the garbage I find along Florida’s shorelines, islands, mangroves, roadsides, and waterways. I may not be able to clean the entire planet by myself, but I can leave every place I visit cleaner than it was when I arrived. Every bottle,fishing line and aluminum can we remove matters!

    I decided to get a little creative with my garbage. I have been keeping the aluminum cans I collect from these places. I am saving them, melting down the aluminum, and transforming that litter into a permanent part of my photography. Some of my prints I create will include an actual banded piece made from the melted aluminum cans I have personally removed from Florida’s shorelines and waterways.

The reclaimed aluminum will be incorporated into the finished print.

    By melting down the cans and incorporating that aluminum into the actual artwork, I am turning pollution into art and giving something discarded a new purpose. What was once trash lying beside a shoreline, trapped in a mangrove, or waiting to be carried away by the tide will become a permanent part of an image celebrating the place from which it was removed.

    Every aluminum band will represent litter that is no longer lying in the environment. Each banded print will carry physical evidence of restoration. I want your eyes to find the band of reclaimed aluminum, and remind you that the beauty shown in the photograph is fragile—and that protecting it requires more than admiring it. I want the aluminum to stay on your mind as a symbol and a reminder. Maybe it will inspire you to bend down and pick up trash in the future.

    That one small action may not feel like much, but imagine what could happen if every person on this planet picked up just one piece of trash every day. Billions of pieces of litter could be removed from our roads, parks, rivers, shorelines, beaches, and oceans. One person cannot clean the entire planet alone. But if each of us took responsibility for one piece at a time, every day, together we could make an enormous difference. We could drastically reduce—and perhaps one day eliminate—the litter covering so many of our coastlines and wild places. That is what I want the aluminum band to represent.  

    Because loving Florida—and loving this planet—requires more than admiring its beauty. It requires action, responsibility, and a willingness to care for these places even when nobody else is watching.

That is why protecting the Keys cannot begin and end at the shoreline of the Keys.

We cannot celebrate turquoise water, healthy flats, thriving mangroves, abundant fish, and living coral without also caring about what happens in the Everglades, Florida Bay, Lake Okeechobee, and the watersheds farther north.

    We cannot claim to love these places while leaving our garbage behind. The Everglades, Florida Bay, the Florida Keys, and the reef system are connected. Understand, that conservation is not only something done by scientists, governments, or large organizations. It can begin with one person bending down to pick up one piece of garbage. Small actions matter when enough people are willing to take them.

I want to show the beauty that remains before people forget what it once looked like, and also  the damage before people begin to accept it as normal.

And I want to show the signs of hope before people decide it is too late.

    My work is centered on the Florida Keys because this is the place that has my heart and soul. This is where I find adventure, peace, inspiration, and purpose. This is where Salty Bushwhacker became more than a name. It became A Way of Livin’.

    Loving and enjoying the Keys means caring about more than the islands themselves.

It means caring about all the water that flows from Central Florida, through the Kissimmee River and Lake Okeechobee, across the Everglades, into Florida Bay, through the Keys, and eventually toward the reef.

    Florida has been pushed against the current for a long time. Its waters have been redirected, wetlands have been drained, coastlines have been crowded, wild spaces have been divided into smaller and smaller pieces, shorelines and waterways have been treated carelessly, and Florida is BROKEN! But broken does not mean finished.

    If we restore a more natural flow of clean freshwater, reduce pollution, improve wastewater and stormwater systems, protect remaining wetlands, limit destructive development, preserve wildlife habitat, clean our shorelines, and remember that every part of the system is connected, we can still move the current in the right direction.

What do I want my photography and videos to accomplish? I want them to help people fall in love with the Florida Keys the way I have. I want people to see why this place is paradise—and why paradise is worth protecting. I want them to understand that the beauty of the Keys does not begin at the first bridge and does not end at the reef. It begins with rain falling far to the north and continues through an incredible living system that connects freshwater to saltwater, marshes to mangroves, Florida Bay to the islands, and the islands to the sea.

    Through my lens, I want people to see the tropical beauty that remains, the damage that has already been done, and the hope that still exists.

Most of all, I want as many people as possible to understand that the Florida Keys, Florida Bay, the Everglades, the reef, and the waters connecting them are still worth fighting for……

    If Land that was deliberately purchased, protected and set aside for conservation it should not have to be defended from development or human manipulation all over again. Its future should already be settled,and its purpose already be understood.

    Weeki Wachee Preserve should not be treated as an obstacle standing in the way of growth. It should stand as a lighthouse……. What I mean, is that this should be an example guiding the future of Hernando County and, perhaps, the entire state of Florida. Showing the rest of the state what land management looks like before the looming environmental crisis facing Florida becomes even more devastating.

    In case you did not know, we are on the verge of a real big problem. Across our state, unchecked growth is consuming valuable land, destroying water supplies, polluting groundwater, damaging springs, fragmenting wildlife habitat and placing increasing pressure on the natural resources that make Florida worth living in.

    These are no longer distant problems. They are happening now. Our water supply is being strained. Our water quality is declining. Wetlands and forests are being replaced by developments, shopping centers, and golf courses. Wildlife is being displaced, isolated and exposed to contaminated water and damaged habitat.

    Weeki Wachee Preserve should not be another piece of land we are forced to rescue from development. It should be the example we follow.

    Instead of asking how much of the preserve can be used, altered or developed, we should be asking how its success can be repeated throughout Hernando County. Instead of fighting over the little preserved land we have left, we should be creating more preserves. Instead of treating natural land as wasted space awaiting development, we should recognize it as essential for protecting our water and preserving the character of Florida.

A preserve is land that society has already decided is more valuable in its natural condition..That is kinda what the word PRESERVE means! BUT unfortunately GREED might have a few more friends.

    Preserves are created because certain lands perform functions that cannot simply be replaced once they are destroyed. Natural land holds and filters water. Wetlands absorb floodwaters. Forests provide habitat and migration corridors for wildlife. Undisturbed soil allows rainfall to soak into the ground and help recharge the aquifer. The natural areas that we protect and preserve also give us and future generations to see and experience Florida for what it is. 

    A preserve is not just sitting there doing nothing. It is actually providing a service for nature and humans for survival. This land is protecting water, reducing flooding, supporting wildlife, filtering pollution, and preserving a piece of Florida that can never truly be reconstructed once it is gone. We sometimes measure the value of land only by what can be built on it and how much tax revenue it might produce. But land can be tremendously valuable precisely because we choose not to build on it.

Weeki Wachee Preserve was not created by accident.

    The preserve’s land-management plan states that its primary purpose was to protect, restore and maintain the natural functions of the land, water and wetlands; promote natural flood control and water detention; support wildlife and fisheries; and provide recreational opportunities based on natural resources. In other words, the preserve was created to do exactly what Hernando County increasingly needs today: Hold water, Filter water, Protect groundwater, Absorb floodwaters, Provide wildlife habitat, Preserve natural Florida before it disappears.

    Weeki Wachee Preserve contains wetlands, hardwood swamps, salt marshes, freshwater habitats, pine-covered sandhills and portions of the Weeki Wachee and Mud rivers. It also protects one of the last significant expanses of natural land along the developed Hernando and Pasco coastline. Its wetlands help carry spring water toward the Gulf, filter surface water and provide natural flood protection.

    That is not unused land. That is working land—just not working in a way that produces houses, shopping centers or immediate profits. It is a living breathing eco system that serves a purpose. 

    Protecting the preserve does not mean locking the gates and refusing to let people experience it. People should be able to hike, bicycle, birdwatch, photograph wildlife and learn about Florida’s natural environment. Reasonable access can include carefully located trails, signs, limited parking and accommodations for people with disabilities.

    There is an important difference between using a preserve and developing a preserve. “Creative politics” have always found a way to try and cross those lines with a big white smile and a lie at the commissioner meeting.

    Development forces nature to accommodate people.That attitude is creating less land and less nature. We need to rapidly start accommodating nature and in time we will have more land and more nature to utilize. A modest trailhead is not the same as creating a recreational complex or a boardwalk. A kayak launch is not the same as building an engineered attraction. Allowing families to experience the preserve is not the same as gradually turning it into another conventional county park.

    The preserve already contains miles of trails and offers hiking, bicycling, wildlife viewing, and other nature-based activities intended to minimize impacts on the natural system. Public access should remain secondary to preservation. We should not begin with a list of amenities and ask how many we can squeeze inside the preserve. We should begin with the natural system and ask how people can experience it without damaging it.

This should be a “vision plan” as it pertains to a preserve 

#1 We can utilize it without commercializing it.

#2 We can appreciate it without consuming it.

#3 We can enjoy it without developing it.

    I want to talk about water now, and the first thing I want to say is the water emergency is already here if you really look at the signs! For years, water shortages have been discussed as though it were a distant planning issue…..something Florida might have to address decades from now…Right?

It is not decades away…..

Hernando County is currently included in a Modified Phase III “Extreme” Water Shortage, extended through October 1, 2026.

    The Southwest Florida Water Management District has reported declining rivers and lakes, severely abnormal water conditions, extremely low public water supplies and a substantial regional rainfall deficit. That is not simply a future concern, but rather an emergency happening now. So in layman's terms, we do not have water to waste! Residents are being told to restrict lawn watering. Utilities are being told to increase conservation and enforcement. Private well owners are included in the restrictions.

    At the same time, Hernando County continues adding subdivisions that will eventually contain thousands of additional homes, lawns, vehicles and daily water users. That contradiction deserves far more public attention. We cannot tell existing residents that water supplies are extremely low while continuing to plan and approve growth as though the future supply were unlimited.We cannot tell families to conserve water while approving development that permanently adds thousands of new water customers.

    One of the biggest signs to me is Reclaimed water. Yes it can serve an important purpose. Using properly treated wastewater for irrigation can reduce the amount of drinking-quality groundwater sprayed onto lawns and landscaping. It can help communities make better use of water that has already been withdrawn from the aquifer.

    Reclaimed water should not be treated as proof that we have solved the water problem. It is evidence that the problem has become serious enough that we must capture, treat and reuse wastewater to keep up with demand. That makes reclaimed water both a conservation tool and a warning. When we must build pipelines and treatment systems so that drinking-quality groundwater is not continuously poured onto grass, we are responding to an existing emergency.

Reclaimed water may help us manage the emergency.

It does not erase the emergency.

It certainly should not become an excuse to approve unlimited growth..

    Now let's talk about Sandal Key, formerly known as Lake Hideaway, the large development along U.S. 19 in the Weeki Wachee area. This development covers approximately 870 acres and is planned to contain more than 3,000 homes. Its advertised amenities include a “recreational lagoon, pools, trails and other resort-style features”. Local plans have described a three-acre lagoon and trails surrounding the seasonal Whithurst Pond.

    This massive development has raised lots of concerns and questions which are understandable. I mean think about it, they want to put about a 3.5 acre man-made lagoon that will be at least 4-5 ft average depth. That's roughly 4 to 5 million gallons of water to fill the lagoon. If that does not pass, they are going for a lazy river system. Here are the few problems I have with this situation. One is the obvious impact on the water shed and how it will impact the surrounding areas, and the other is the lack of transparency and lack of information.

That deserves a clear public explanation. Where is that water coming from?

    “One more” project is always presented as understandable. One more subdivision, road, shopping center, and we are looking at artificial lagoons. God help us, no wonder they took the name “Nature” and replaced it with “Adventure” in an attempt to rebrand us. One more water allocation. Hernando County is not being transformed by one development. It is being transformed by hundreds of individual approvals whose combined effects are much greater than any single project considered alone. It’s a synergistic effect- 1+1=3

Water quantity is important for survival, but we must also consider the water quality.

    The Weeki Wachee Basin Management Action Plan covers more than 200,000 acres in southern Hernando and northern Pasco counties. It identifies the Weeki Wachee Spring Group as impaired by nitrate pollution and describes a highly vulnerable area where groundwater is closely connected to the springs.

    The state estimates that septic systems contribute approximately 49 percent of the nitrogen entering groundwater in the Weeki Wachee basin. Urban lawn fertilizer contributes approximately 15 percent, while agriculture—including fertilizer and livestock waste—contributes approximately 21 percent. Those numbers expose an uncomfortable truth, and that is water pollution is not caused by one thing. It is the result of how and where we build. Every development creates wastewater that must be treated somewhere. It adds lawns, roads, shopping centers, and human activity to a natural system that is already impaired.

    The limestone geology beneath this area allows water and pollutants to move through cracks, fractures and underground conduits. In some areas, contamination can reach groundwater and eventually travel toward our springs much faster than many people realize.

    A development does not have to be inside the preserve to affect the groundwater beneath it. That is why protecting a preserve requires more than defending the acreage inside its boundary. It requires paying attention to what is built around it and throughout the entire county.

    I don't care what you say, we are the “Nature coast”. That statement I made a few paragraphs up about the rebranding is true. That change has significant detrimental meaning to our historical identity and I recommend everyone pay attention. There was a time when this area identified itself as part of Florida’s Nature Coast. That name meant something because it actually described a place known for springs, rivers, wetlands, forests, wildlife and stretches of coastline that had not yet been swallowed by continuous development. It reminded residents and visitors that the natural environment was not merely scenery—it was the identity of the region.

But our political and tourism leadership rebranded Hernando County as 

Florida’s Adventure Coast, Brooksville–Weeki Wachee

.     Technically, Hernando County remains geographically part of the broader Nature Coast. But replacing “Nature” with “Adventure” in the county’s official tourism identity is still symbolic—and sad. Perhaps the change was intended to attract visitors and strengthen the local economy.

To me it is very simple- words reveal priorities!

    Perhaps we need more preserves? The fact that people are fighting so hard over the future of Weeki Wachee Preserve should tell us something. We do not have too much preserved land, there is too little. Instead of asking how much development can be placed inside or around the preserve, perhaps Hernando County should be asking where the next preserve will be. Instead of spending years fighting over the relatively small amount of natural land that remains protected, we should be acquiring additional environmentally sensitive property while it is still available. We should be expanding wildlife corridors, protecting aquifer-recharge areas, purchasing conservation easements and connecting isolated preserves into larger natural systems.

    Weeki Wachee Preserve should be used as the lighthouse to the rest of the county—let's call it a model that shows us what other areas of Hernando County (or Florida) could become if we have the foresight to protect them before development arrives. Perhaps significant new growth should be required to help finance significant new conservation. When hundreds or thousands of acres are approved for development, meaningful land should also be permanently preserved—not just retention ponds and leftover pieces of property that were difficult to build on.

    A genuine preserve must be large enough, connected enough and protected enough to function as a natural system. A retention pond between two subdivisions is not a preserve. A narrow strip of trees beside a highway is not a wildlife corridor.

    Florida once had the opportunity to preserve enormous areas before development reached them. Much of that opportunity has already been lost. We can actually preserve enough land to remain part of Florida’s Nature Coast in something more than name alone. Why are we debating how much we can develop within the small amount of protected land we have left? The answer is GREED. Why are we fighting to preserve a preserve? The answer is LOVE.

    Perhaps we should be creating more preserves so future generations do not have to fight over the last remaining pieces of natural Hernando County.

    So who should I point my finger at and blame? Whenever another forest is cleared or another major development is proposed, we blame politicians. We blame county commissioners. We blame developers, real-estate companies, campaign contributions, greed and money.

Some of that criticism is justified.

    Developers seek profit. Elected officials make land-use decisions. Government agencies decide what will be approved, where it will be built and what conditions will be imposed.

   Developers do not build thousands of homes unless people are willing to buy them. Stores are constructed because people shop in them. Roads are widened because more people are driving on them. Communities expand because people continue moving into them. We want to close the gate behind us. We want our home, our road, our grocery store and our piece of Florida—but we do not want the next growth, and growth is created by people.

    That includes us. Many of us voice our opinion or post about the subdivision being built down the road while living in a house that creates the same impact. That does not make ordinary people evil. It means the real cause of development is more complicated than one greedy company or one vote by a county commission.

People create the demand. Developers profit from it. Politicians permit it.

    Responsibility belongs to all of us. Growth is not weather. It does not simply happen to us. It is the result of thousands of individual, corporate and governmental decisions. We cannot keep pointing at everyone else while refusing to recognize our own part in the problem. Acknowledging our role does not mean giving up. 

It means changing what we demand from our leaders.

    Perhaps, it means asking for conservation with the same intensity that we ask for “no new taxes”, or better roads, or a 800k parking lot. It means supporting the purchase of environmentally sensitive lands before they are cleared. It means accepting that there must be limits and finding a way to enforce those limits. 

WHAT YOUR NOT CHANGING, YOUR CHOOSING! Time to draw a line in the sand……