. . . all reference to land slips away and all that’s visible is a brick fortress floating in a swimming pool of pristine Caribbean waters. It’s a sight that deserves a pinch and a double-take.

April 8, 2024

It’s unusual to only spend a couple hours in a park and deem it a full-fledged “trip” but with remote parks like Dry Tortugas, sometimes that’s all that you can do. The journey to the park becomes part of the experience itself. That’s what I am realizing as I begin the drive from mainland Florida down to Key West along U.S. Route 1.

This three-hour trip is quite spectacular. Hopping from key to key along the bridged highway, everything slowly turns more and more tropical. The hammocks and marshlands of Everglades give way to coconut palms and sandy beaches. I arrive in Key West at noon, with 2 hours to spare before my seaplane adventure to the park. I pull over at a nearby beach to watch the surfers and eat lunch.

1:30 rolls around and I check in for the seaplane tour. Armed with just a backpack and a beach towel, eight other guests and I pack into a small single-prop aircraft. The pilot starts the engine and we lift off the runway. Key West fades behind us as we chart our course to Dry Tortugas. The weather is perfect. Sunny skies, a little atmospheric haze on the horizon and puffy white clouds suspended over shallow turquoise waters and emerald green reefs.

I can tell the 40-minute flight is soon over when I look out my window and behold the brick behemoth, Fort Jefferson. We circle around the key for all to see before landing as smooth as ever on the water. Taxiing into the beachfront, the pilot hops out and secures the plane. One by one we step out into another world. Soft white sand, electric blue waters, and birds—birds everywhere: sooty terns nesting in the thickets, pelicans perched on pier ruins and seagulls soaring overhead.

With limited time on the island, I make straight for the fort’s visitor center to orient myself and make the most of my stay. Maps detail the labyrinth of passageways and stairways open to guests inside the fort. Unable to memorize it, I choose a direction and head up to the top level of the fort. Popping out on the fort’s roof, I first notice the breeze. It is windy up here. But the view is incredible. In the distance, I can make out Loggerhead Key and its famous lighthouse. I spy below me a brick moat wall the width of a sidewalk. My plane mates are walking it. I have to get down there somehow I think to myself. But not without first traversing the rooftop. This place is so neat, I want to be everywhere at once! The loop atop the fort is roughly a half-mile long with views over every inch of the island. Understandable, given it was once a military base to protect the gulf waters near America.

Back on the ground, I find my way around the fort and step out on the iconic moat wall. This is perhaps one of the most impressive views of the national park system. On the wall, all reference to land slips away and all that’s visible is a brick fortress floating in a swimming pool of pristine Caribbean waters. It’s a sight that deserves a pinch and a double-take. Unfortunately, the wall is broken in sections and cannot be fully traversed. I snap pictures of the surreal scene and turn back to the key.

By this time, the ferry passengers have left the island leaving everything eerily quiet. Our group of plane passengers and a few other private day-trippers are the only ones left. I work my way around the grounds to the North Swim Beach to hop in the water. Tragically, the waves whipped up by the wind churn the waters making visibility murky and dull. Not the best snorkeling conditions. Enjoying the warm water, swim along the moat wall for a time before hopping out and drying off in the sun on the wall.

As I head back to the plane for our return trip, a small hermit crab crawls across the sand. Stretching my time on the island, I take some photos of this little guy, the only animal (besides birds) I’ve seen all day. Back at the plane, we all climb aboard. On this return journey, I’m allowed to sit up front with the pilot. He starts the engine and takes off for Key West. I am hoping he circles back over the fort, but he never does—just heads straight back. But the views are still incredible. I will forever remember these scenes. A straight horizon of water for miles and miles punctuated by puffy white clouds. Shipwrecks below us catch waves from the gulf. The pilot signals to me of an approaching plane, probably also visiting the park. The tiny yellow speck coming our way puts everything in proportion. This region is vast. Here we are, a small group of ten, soaring over endless waters as far as the eye can see.

We land back at Key West International Airport, exhilarated by the flight. I just experienced a once-in-a-lifetime event. I drive back to my hotel on mainland Florida high on memories from the successful trip to Dry Tortugas. I’m once again stunned by the surreal beauty of the drive back. Seven Mile Bridge between Little Duck Key and Marathon is jaw-dropping. The sun is setting behind me igniting the clouds in a pink fury as I drive over the water with no land in sight at 55mph. I feel as though I’m still flying over the water in that seaplane. This day can’t get any better.

I pull into the hotel late at night, unpack my day bag and hit the bed. It’s been a full and savory day, and I still have one more park to explore tomorrow before I fly home: Biscayne National Park.