In the south west corner of Florida lie the Everglades, 7 million acres of low-lying wetlands, a unique and delicate ecosystem of huge ecological importance.  Constantly under threat from human activity, the area supports a unique variety of animal and plant life. Driving along the Tamiami Trail, beneath a dull grey sky, we were surrounded by an endlessly flat and seemingly uninspiring landscape.  From Lake Okeechobee in the North, the land slopes only 2 inches per mile as it edges towards the Gulf of Mexico.  But the mix of land and sea, salt water with fresh and the constant ebb and flow of the seasons make the Everglades dramatically surprising. The rainy season begins in May, flooding the lake to create a sheet river system, which drains off slowly over a period of months.  We went out canoeing in the peace and quiet of the mangrove swamps for a couple of hours, although the truly adventurous can take a week to navigate the Wilderness Waterway.  Easily visible in the clear waters were the distinctive roots of the mangrove tree, adapted to survive in the watery, salty swamp where other trees would drown. Turning off the Trail to the Everglades National Park we found deserted, dusty Wagon Wheel Road.  This former logging trail, abandoned when logging was stopped in 1950, is now guarded by alligators.  Hoards of these big reptiles float in the roadside river and lounge on the banks.  I swear they watched our every step, and they moved horribly fast when disturbed. We stayed in Everglades City, a former Pioneer camp consisting of a pub, a school and an ice cream parlour.  The town has hardly changed since the 19th century but our accommodation in a log cabin was nicely cosy. The next day we took a boat trip into the Ten Thousand Island Archipelago, finding amongst the tiny tree covered islands, snowy egrets, great blue heron and nesting osprey.  We also saw dolphins, shy to perform here, but better by far than in a tank somewhere. North of the town is Big Cypress Swamp, a huge area of sandy islands, wet prairies, dry prairies, marshes and estuarine mangrove forests.  The cypress cover about a third of the swamp, growing in the big long strands which give the area its name.  We took one of the area’s boardwalks skirting the edge of this huge, primeval area, looking out for a Florida panther or black bears.  I’m not sure if I was disappointed to see only a couple of shy deer playing hide and seek as they watched us pass.  We also saw mahogany, tropical hardwood hammocks and the alarming strangling fig.  This last seeds itself in another tree then grows downwards to the earth, wrapping its unsuspecting host in a hand-like iron grip. After only a couple of days we left the area, rejoining the modern world, a world which sadly exists in direct competition to the life of the Everglades.