
Stopped at Spanish Point in Little Sarasota Bay. This area was inhabited over four thousand years ago by American Indians so ancient, they have no name. I guess that's why they call it Spanish Point; even though the Seminoles were here to meet the Spanish when they arrived. But who am I to quibble with history.

Archeologists are excavating a midden left by these ancient people to understand them better. What is a midden you ask? It's a garbage dump. In this case, a giant hill of sea shells, animal bones, and stone tools.
The flora and fauna is as interesting as the scientific dig. It felt so right for a ghost story.

There are swamps all over the place. Look at this one. Can you imagine old Ponce de Leon and his men landing on this spot?

Then they must fight their way through tangles of mangrove roots. I'm sure there's a water moccasin just under that branch.

And just when they think they're getting to dry land, they stumble into spiky plants, which pierce their boots and send them toppling into the ooze.

They make it to land, only to be met by fantastical dragon trees.

Finally they find something normal.

Only to be drawn into trees dripping with Spanish moss. Zombies come rushing from the thickets.

So Ponce and the boys make for the boats.

Only to find the zombies have found them first.

Alas, no fountain of youth this trip.