Capt. Randy Harris handed us each a headset much like the ones you wear in small planes. The cold, squishy black plastic covered our ears, protecting us from the growl of the engine, and an adjustable mic let us speak to one another like football coaches. The airboat heaved forward, took a hard left turn and launched into a labyrinth of coffee-colored creeks spanning all directions through the grass like spider veins.
“Look at that,” Harris said through the headset, taking his foot off the gas pedal and letting the aluminum hull coast to a stop. I thought he may have seen a gator or a spoonbill, but when I turned back to see what he was looking at from his perch above the deck, he was standing, facing east, holding his phone with both hands and taking a photo of a remarkable sunrise. The fiery ball had parted the dark, still morning sky, creating an eruption of color above the quiet waters. The west coast of Florida is better known for sunsets, but this sunrise was stunning.
I had heard about Harris’ airboat trips from a friend who boasted about nonstop redfish and trout action along the backwaters near
