Tarzan And The River Cruise 03/12/19

Jonathan Dickinson State Park, Hobe Sound, Florida (Jupiter)

Anyone then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn’t do it, sins. ~ James 4:17

It was a great day to tackle the Loxahatchee River.  It was pretty foggy when we first got up, but it disappeared quickly. 

We had two options for a launch area.  One required a long drive, the other, a long portage.  We took the drive.  It’s about 7-8 minutes, and I tell you that because we arrived only to discover we’d forgotten the map we purchased for a $1.00, and that’s important because there are tributaries along the way and we weren’t interested in getting lost today.  So while Blaine stayed behind to inflate us, I went back home. 

Soon into my journey, I came upon a Sandhill standing right beside the road!  I was sure wishing I’d had Blaine’s phone instead of mine!  We could’ve had a spectacular picture!  But it’s still pretty nice.

Twenty minutes later, we were in the silky smooth water; destination the Trapper Nelson Interpretive Center. 

Two hours and almost 5 miles later, we arrived at the very primitive looking place.  It felt like we were entering an old jungle movie set.  And there was no one around.

Once we were on the property, we were soon met by a volunteer who said he was a retired homicide detective.  The reason that matters is because Vincent aka Trapper, died under mysterious circumstances.  Being a homicide detective, he put his lifetime of skills to work and determined (in his opinion) that Trapper committed suicide.  However.  He told us the guy was found under the ‘tiki hut’ with a gunshot wound to the head, while Anna says stomach in his cabin, and the Park sign just says ‘mysterious death’, which to me does not say ‘gunshot’.  Hmmmm . . . .

Here’s what Anna has to say about the legendary man:

Even more interesting than the history of how Jonathan Dickinson State Park got its name is the story of where the land for the park came from.  A good chunk of it came from an eccentric man who was famous for his gator-wrestling, among other things.  Trapper Nelson was born Vincent Nostokovich in New Jersey, but ran away from home at an early age (15 according to our volunteer).  He hopped trains across Colorado and into Mexico.  Here, he was arrested for suspected gunrunning, but Nelson, a big eater, was allegedly released because he “wrecked the jail’s food budget.”

After his release from prison in Mexico, Nelson gambled his way to southern Florida, where he, a friend, and Nelson’s stepbrother set up camp on the banks of the Loxahatchee River in the 1930s.  Sadly, Nelson’s stepbrother murdered their friend by shooting him in the back.  Disturbed by this, Nelson testified against his own stepbrother during the murder trial, sending hi to jail.  With his friend dead and his stepbrother in jail, Nelson found himself alone, depressed and distrusting of others.  He borrowed some money and bought 800 acres of land deeper in the forest.

Within 38 years, he became a local legend known as “Wildman of the Loxahatchee”.  And with his limited education, he managed to make a living, construct a much-visited wildlife zoo and acquire large land interests.

He earned money trapping animals and selling the fur, and began to acquire more land at Great Depression-era auctions. He made money when the trapping season was off with “Trapper Nelson’s Zoo and Jungle Gardens,” aimed at tourists taking boat trips along the river from West Palm Beach.

Trapper Nelson quickly gained notoriety as a local celebrity of sorts. Floridians and tourists alike watched him wrestle alligators. He brought exotic animals to parties and could trap any wild animal that was giving anyone a problem. Trapper Nelson was a great help to anyone caring for exotic pets. He was also known for his many lovers and his ever-impressive eating habits. It was normal for him to eat entire pies and 18-egg omelets during a meal. He was drafted into the army during WWII. Luckily, he wound up at Camp Murphy, right near his land (more on Camp Murphy in a minute). After the war, he continued to invest in real estate, but a health inspector visiting his zoo deemed it unhygienic and forced its closure in 1960.

This was the beginning of a dark period for the Tarzan of the Loxahatchee.  Nelson spiraled into depression, his health began to fail, and he grew deeply paranoid about the government.  He installed padlocked fences across his property, put up signs that claimed the land was riddled with land mines and dammed up rivers so boats couldn’t pass through.  He went to town once a week to check his mail and pick up steaks, but wouldn’t allow friends to visit without sending hi a postcard to ask permission first.

One day in 1968, he failed to show up to a planned meetup with a friend.  His body was found in his cabin.  He had died of a gunshot wound to the torso.  His death was ruled a suicide, but he fact that it would have been difficult (possible, but difficult) for him to shoot himself in the stomach lead some friends to believe that foul play was the cause.  His land is now part of Jonathan Dickenson State Park: the Trapper Nelson Zoo Historic District.  To this day, rangers preserve the remains of his camp, including his cabin, a guest cabin, a chickee shelter, docks, a boathouse, fruit trees, and assorted cages from his zoo.

Here’s where you wonder who to believe.  The sign at the entrance says he died of “mysterious circumstances” and the volunteer/detective we met when we arrived said he was found on one of the tables with a gunshot wound to the head.  Hmmmmm . . . . .  Tragic in either case.

But this eccentric character’s legacy continues to live on.  In 1986, park rangers discovered his “treasure.”  A well-placed hiding spot in his chimney concealed 5,005 coins totaling $1,829.46.  of course, rangers searched the camp, turning up nothing else… but who knows?  There could be more surprises from the Tarzan of the Loxahatchee hidden around his old zoo at Jonathan Dickenson State Park.

We read the following in the Visitor Center we visited yesterday:

We took our time exploring this unique place and eating lunch, before heading back to the kayak and discovering the river about 4 inches higher than when we arrived. 

The sausage tree of sub-Saharan Africa is beautiful in flower. The blood-red to maroon flowers hang in long panicles. The fragrance of the flower is not pleasing to humans but attracts the Dwarf Epauletted Fruitbat (Micropteropus pusillus), its pollinator. As the flowers drop from the tree, animals come to feed on the nectar-rich blooms. Impala, duiker, baboons, bush pigs, and lovebirds all feed on the flowers of the Sausage tree. Grey fruits grow out of these flowers. These grey fruits resemble sausages and can grow for months to become over a foot long and weigh over 10 pounds.

The blood-red flowers of the South African sausage tree bloom at night on long, ropelike stalks that hang down from the limbs of this tropical tree. The fragrant, nectar-rich blossoms are pollinated by bats, insects and sunbirds in their native habitat. The mature fruits dangle from the long stalks like giant sausages. They may be up to two feet (0.6 m) long and weigh up to 15 pounds (6.8 kg).

The rind of the fruit is used to aid the fermentation of the local brews. The pods are kept as religious charms and fetishes, and produce a red dye when boiled. Ointment is made from the fruit and is used to treat skin conditions. And Meyer’s parrots are fond of the seeds. Mekoro are dug-outs made of the trunks and large roots of the sausage trees. These canoes have been used for thousands of years as transportation in the Okavango River delta in Botswana. The ‘sausages’ cannot be eaten but the skin is ground to a pulp and used externally for medicine. Its most important use is for the cure of skin ailments especially skin cancers. The fruit is burnt to ashes and pounded by a mortar with oil and water to make a paste to apply to the skin.

The Sausage Tree is found from Sub Saharan Africa south to the northern reaches of South Africa. ~ krugerpark.co.za (it’s a South African National Park)

Traveling left instead of right, took us into a ‘wilder’ section of the Loxahatchee, but we didn’t get very far.  Downed trees prevented us from continuing on.  We weren’t a bit interested in getting out and lifting our boat over.  Not in unfamiliar, potentially alligator and snake infested waters.

So we made an about-face and once we were near the Park’s boat dock, we quickly explored a short spur water trail, but didn’t encounter anything noteworthy.

After a 5 ½ hour day on the water, and almost 10 miles of paddling, we were ready to be back home.