| When Is a Park Not a Park? |
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| Written by Jim W. Harper | |||||||||
| March 2009 | |||||||||
When it’s actually part of a college campus -- thank goodnesS
It may sound like mammoth Oleta State Park, but it is actually Oleta’s conjoined twin. Together they offer one of South Florida’s largest patches of green east of I-95. Both are on state land. However, only one of them is free. The secret is now out: The best park in town is the Biscayne Bay campus of Florida International University. The eastern half of FIU’s 200-acre property is more like a park than a campus because it houses no buildings and remains in a mostly natural state. It is possible to explore the area for hours without coming across anything remotely academic. And the best way to experience the campus’s better, greener half is from the back-door entrance. A new bike trail leads you down 135th Street -- North Miami’s version of the Champs-Élysées -- and brings you to nature’s version of the Arc de Triomphe. Giant Australian pines create an arch above the newly marked pathway into the forest. Two footbridges cross over idyllic canals of dark, brackish water that reflect the silhouettes above. This former access road at the terminus of 135th Street is unmarked and inaccessible to cars, which makes it perfect for the many bike-riders, joggers, and dog-walkers who visit daily. You can hardly miss it, as the street loops around right where it begins. The lack of lighting makes it too spooky for nighttime use, and there is no security. But in the daylight, it is our private little slice of paradise. Connecting to the access road, the improved trail loops around the entire campus for nearly four miles, but the section along the bay is by far the best place to spend your time. At one point, the mangroves have been cleared and the view opens up to a circular thumb of Biscayne Bay that is dotted with glistening white yachts. I call it Manatee Beach, and it is one of my favorite spots in Miami. I bring my dogs here to take a dip, though people are not allowed to swim. On one of my first visits to this shore of large pebbles, I saw a huge manatee in shallow water resting under the shade of a mangrove. On other visits, I have heard what sounds like a plastic soda bottle being opened – that’s the whoosh of dolphins breaking the surface to exhale. I have also witnessed barren trees crammed with black vultures, and a single white heron reflected in the water.
Take a few moments to search for the smaller, less obvious creatures along the shoreline: the hermit crabs, land crabs, and snails in the rocks. But be prepared for some disappointment, too. The rocks are covered with washed-up litter. Most of the area near the bay is clean, wide open, rocky, and weedy. There is not a lot of shade. For some reason, I never see people flying kites, but I have seen a model airplane or two. This eastern stretch of the FIU campus is so wide open that people actually say hello to each other when walking by. Call it a Miami miracle! Try it, you’ll like it. Unlike at Oleta State Park or the nearby spoil islands, fishing and dipping in the water is not permitted, although it is possible to kayak for miles. Check out the southwestern corner to experience an impenetrable mangrove forest, broken up only by a few canals. Here is another remarkable element: 13 acres of waterfront that will never be developed. In 2007 the City of North Miami preserved its piece alongside the FIU pie by creating the Arch Creek East Environmental Preserve in perpetuity. North Miami Councilman Scott Galvin calls the 5-0 vote “one of my proudest moments.” Other large sections on the public university’s land are also protected by their status as swampy mangrove preserves, but most of the land could be developed. FIU considered selling some of its valuable waterfront property to private developers a few years ago, but Gov. Jeb Bush quashed the proposal. Any development here requires state approval, and the state wants it reserved only for educational purposes. Given that this state land is free to visit, it is easy to overlook its shortcomings. The litter embedded in the shoreline rocks is disheartening. The towering, shady trees are actually invasive Australian pines that crowd out native species. Invasive Brazilian pepper plants are also common. The bugs can be insufferable at times, and as isolated as the area may be, it is still too close to the crazy people of Miami to feel completely safe. But these transgressions are forgivable, because the Biscayne Bay campus gives the community something it really lacks: wide-open spaces. Here is one of the few places in town where you can wander around and truly forget where you are. Campus police do appear at times to keep the peace, but usually the peace has not been disturbed. The crime of arson has been committed on the forest repeatedly, but I am unaware of any recent, major assaults in the area. A thin but steady stream of university types and dog-walkers acts as the civilian patrol. Here’s hoping that the word will not spread too widely and people will not begin swarming the place in droves, because its magic might diminish. “I’d hate for humans to ruin this place,” said the dolphin to the manatee. In response, the sea cow burped, “I indubitably agree.” Feedback: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it |
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