Sports & Recreation

Marlins fans are the most spoiled in baseball. A few years ago, Big Wayne built them a World Series champion on a huge mountain of cash and then yanked it away. Fans whined and cried. They wanted their multimillion-dollar stars back. Get real. A greedy garbage tycoon giveth and a greedy garbage tycoon taketh away. But a funny thing happened while the crybabies complained: A talented team was born. The rebirth of the Marlins began with a bunch of losses, miserable losses. But gradually, as time went on, certain young, hungry players began emerging as the real deal. Millar. Gonzalez. Wilson. Dempster. Floyd. Kotsay. And even as they were losing over and over again, true baseball aficionados were beginning to realize that this motley team had a chance to be (dare they even say it?) good. They have a nasty bullpen, a great infield, and a bunch of guys who can hit in the clutch. And now all the spoiled, bandwagoning pseudofans can take advantage of the best bargain in baseball: At every single home game, you can get four upper-level tickets, four dogs, four sodas, four bags of peanuts, and a game program for a mere $34. That's a ticket and a good ol' baseball meal for $8.50 apiece. Break it down and this is worth $68 (at the inflated concession prices at such venues). They also throw in a discount card for food at IHOP, which sponsors the deal. Sure, it's the upper level, but you're still in the park, soaking up the atmosphere, root-root-rooting for the home team, and not caring if you ever get back. The same basic offer, if you're unlucky enough to be a Braves fan, runs $49, or some 40 percent higher. The 4 for $34 will be a great bargain until John Henry breaks up this new team -- and if he does that, then we'll all really have something to complain about.

This local chapter of the Hare-and-Hounds- style chase is no different from any of its global counterparts. (The races originated in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, in 1938 and has followers worldwide.) It's a drinking group with a running problem. Every weekend, bands of Harriers and Harriettes chase hares (or follow marks of flour) on three- to six-mile trails throughout the county in search of exercise, camaraderie, and -- most important -- good beer. Terms such as down-downs, poofter (and poofterism), run books, theme hashes, and nymphomaniacs are frequently used among members. Too bad you have to know one to become one.

Catching a quick bite in this quaint park on the New River, locals can become a tourist attraction. While you're gnawing on a sandwich, visitors to Fort Lauderdale may well wave and point as they float by on any number of tour boats that pass. The small park sits on a lot between two waterfront homes on the north side of the river, just a couple blocks south of Las Olas Boulevard. Only one full-fledged table occupies the site, but picnickers can lounge on a scattering of surprisingly comfortable metal benches, which are strategically placed in shady areas along a serpentine brick pathway. Heck, the lawn is so well manicured, it's even safe to put down a blanket without sitting on an ant colony. Most weekdays park patrons include moms and little ones, business people with takeout food, a few folks dropping fishing lines, and a guy who's usually there with his huge pet parrot (who always wants a cracker -- or whatever you have). The view of the serene river and the mansions across the way is periodically interrupted by the aforementioned tour boats and by ostentatious yachts headed out for daytime luxury cruises while you're on your one-hour lunch break.

Urban implies something in the city, and in a couple counties where beaches form the eastern boundary, we thought a favorite beach stroll might have been cheating a little. The Riverwalk, however, keeps to the city definition -- being set in the heart of downtown Fort Lauderdale and all -- while offering a slice of nature to go along with the trodding. The red-brick promenade meanders along the placid New River for a couple of miles, starting at a marina just west of the Seventh Avenue bridge and working its way east past the Broward Center For the Performing Arts, historic Himmarshee Village, and the Las Olas Riverfront entertainment complex before terminating at a spot behind the Hyde Park Market. In fact a giant arrow has been strategically painted on the side of the grocery store, directing walkers to the heart of the Las Olas Boulevard shopping and dining district just around the corner. But there's plenty of shopping, dining, and imbibing available along the Riverwalk itself. A convenient detour away from the river's cool breezes and views, the Riverfront complex offers a chance to catch a movie, grab a bite or a refreshing drink from one of several restaurants, or step into a tobacco emporium and pick up a stogy to puff as you stroll the tree-shaded sidewalk. And on the first Sunday of every month, the picturesque walkway is crowded with revelers enjoying the SunTrust Jazz Brunch, which features several stages of live music and food offerings at river's edge.

It's a Saturday in mid-April, eighth race of the day, and the small crowd is ready for the Hialeah Park races at Gulfstream. A few old-timers play to stereotype: linen suits, fedoras, and stogies, hovering over their racing forms at the rail. A handful of families drink Cokes and eat hot dogs, paying little attention to the track. Most of the action takes place inside, by the simulcast screens. The Wood Memorial is about to start, then the Arkansas Derby and the Blue Grass Stakes, all taking place far away from Gulfstream, and all with major significance in the racing world. Yet even on a day of low-stakes races, when all eyes are elsewhere, there is a quiet dignity to Gulfstream. Like a half-empty Yankee Stadium in September or Boston Gardens before -- well, before they tore it down. When the red-coated bugler steps to the winner's circle and announces the arrival of the horses for the race, dwindling attendance is momentarily forgotten. Statuesque palm trees sway in the infield. Even the massive condos lining Hallandale Beach look picturesque from afar. Then the horses are in the gate, the buzzer sounds, and the chase is on. Nickthehousebuster comes out strong but soon fades. Star of Rajab moves to the front, fighting off Shady Lawyer. The favorite, Actspectations, is nowhere to be found. A few stray shouts and grunts bounce off the empty chairs that line the grandstands. As the horses head down the stretch, Locked On makes his move, emerging from the pack and taking the race by a couple of lengths. A five-to-one shot, $10 on a $2 bet. Life is good.

Never had a 300 game? No problem. At Davie Lanes almost anyone who joins one of their many bowling leagues is guaranteed a better average. Try the Fun League, where for 22 weeks you can play three games one night a week with a weekly payout of $100 per week. If that doesn't thrill you, try the Marlins League, in which bowlers receive tickets to two Marlins games, a team jersey, and a chance at a mysterious prize fund. There's also the Boomerang Bowlers League for gay and lesbian bowlers, plus the Have a Ball League, which used to be called the Lousy Bowlers League. If you prefer to throw your ball by black light, check out Extreme Bowling on Friday and Saturday nights. The décor at Davie Lanes could probably use a little updating, and its 32 lanes might pale in comparison to some of the newer, larger bowling centers, but you'd be hard-pressed to find a more user-friendly place.

You lookin' for some action? You found the right place. This 16-table hall has offered hustlers from around the globe a shot at winning big for nine years running. Four billiards tables attract Brits and other Euro players, as does management's care of its wares. Balls are cleaned and polished after every game, and tables are wiped down and vacuumed as well. This bodes well for billiards lovers, because grungy balls mean shorter-rolling shots. A small bar in the corner offers a buck and a half beer specials Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and three booths by the door boast backgammon, checkers, and chess. Although some players stroll in with sticks valued in the thousands, there are also some available for purchase in the $50-to-$110 range. Or get one handmade by local cue-crafter Joe Picone, whose sticks are reputed to be so fine, players will wait up to a year to get their chalked hands on them. Beginners: Don't be daunted. You can use the smooth and utterly unwarped house sticks, and everyone's too enthralled with his or her own game to notice your lame shots.

Think of it this way: Lord Nelson himself threw "darts" in the form of cannonballs, and the 16-pounders flew into the French fleet, which is why he won the battle of Trafalgar and which may be why the British love this pub game so much. Owned and operated by a couple of expatriate British citizens who refuse to relinquish their citizenships, Lord Nelson's is a perfect place for the dart novice. The pub is spacious, the dart boards sit well away from the crowd in the comfortable expanse of the main room, and the pub provides the darts -- just ask at the bar. A couple of strips mark the throwing line, conveniently labeled "7-feet, 2-inches," the official game distance. And that's all that's official. Since the pub isn't on the local dart-league circuit, you can get in and learn over a couple of pints of Bass Ale or a hefty serving of shepherd's pie, bangers and mash, or fish and chips.

Once you've experienced Bathtub Reef Beach, you'll understand how it got its name and why it's the perfect place to bring kids (or not). Every day at low tide, water collects between the beach and the live Anastasia Worm reef that sits about 75 yards away, creating, yes, a natural bathtub to frolic in. (The waves keep their distance beyond the reef.) Anytime is a good time to visit, especially if you're looking for a small, intimate place with a newly regraded beach, new restrooms, a recently rebuilt dunes crossover and, as if that weren't enough, lots of free parking. Come to think of it, this could be one of the best beaches in the entire state.

So what if some steel-and-glass-happy developer plopped a Goliath-size condo just outside the southern end of this beach? Don't look over there. Instead shuffle over the always clean and gold sand and stretch your terry towel under a chickee hut, or for a measly buck, stroll 920 feet due east into the Atlantic Ocean courtesy of the Dania Beach pier. A bait shop sells chum, pilchard, and sand fleas -- also cheese and crackers, gum, smokes, and soda pop. Watch the marble-eyed pelicans watching you as you flick your rented fishing pole over the pier's railing. Cast your lures and lines into jade waters, or maybe pop a quarter into one of a few stereoscopes stationed on the pier, and check out the cargo ships sliding across the horizon. If you're lucky you might spot a school of manta rays or, more often, manatees. For those who like to picnic, coolers and drinks on the pier and beach are allowed. If you prefer to eat out, a modest snack grill dishes out hot dogs and cold beer. Extra bonus: The pier's open 24 hours. This beach's unspoken credos remind us of Key West's: Say hello to strangers, pick up after yourself, and always carry a Koozie.

If variety is the spice of life, then the nine and a half-mile loop trail at Jonathan Dickinson is one flavor-filled hike. Wending along its way, the trail itself varies from loose-packed sand to dirt to downright bog (especially during the rainy season, from June through October). The path is well maintained by the Florida Trail Association, though, and while it's changing its geological makeup, the strand carries hikers through six different habitat zones, from open plains to a thick forest of vine-covered trees that seem to form a wall. Toward the end of the one-way loop, a lake comes into view, and the area is a good one in which to spot the occasional armadillo, alligator, or raccoon. About midway around the loop, a well and pump have been installed, but water from them needs to be thoroughly treated and filtered, so you might as well bring enough of your own clean H2O -- at least two quarts per hiker. As if more than nine miles isn't enough for a good day's trudge, a spur trail heads off some three more miles to a primitive campground, where wanderers will find another water pump and an outhouse. (Hey, we said primitive.) Camping overnight requires advance authorization from the park.

When they need a respite from the hubbub of the city, lawyers, journalists, and other downtown Fort Lauderdale workers zip into this health club inside the Auto Nation Tower, Broward County's tallest building. Enter through the marble-floored lobby and take the elevator to the seventh floor. Where else can you jog on an outside track with a sweeping view of downtown Fort Lauderdale, then dive into an aquamarine, heated outdoor pool? The sounds of the traffic and hustle and bustle seven stories below are a distant melody. For those who prefer their workout after hours, nightly yoga classes are also held on the outer deck, amid palm trees, a decorative pond, mood lighting -- and the stars. We love the state-of-the-art treadmills with individual TVs and the racquetball courts, but the little amenities are what really stand out. In the ladies' locker room, gals can hang up their suits in full-size lockers and relax in a hot or a cold Jacuzzi, without worrying about muscle men hitting on them. Management has thoughtfully provided every tool a professional needs to return to the office after an afternoon workout: blow dryer, moisturizer, iron, hair spray, bathing suit dryer. You can wait for your massage in a special room with a wicker couch and fresh flowers and make complimentary phone calls. Free coffee, newspapers, and razors, too.

What makes this rectangle of tropical lushness with a paved loop exceptional? Its prominent location facing Fort Lauderdale's beach and its relative obscurity for a park in a city. (You can bet some green space-hating developer sees lost millions every time he looks at it.) Pull in off Sunrise Boulevard and park for $3.25, or walk in for $1. The 1.9-mile loop offers a quiet, frequently shady refuge from heavy traffic. The park is sandwiched between the beach and the Intracoastal Waterway, and the loop sports a long view of big boats and homes on the inland shore. Beautiful people frequently work out on the loop, so the scenery is humanly as well as naturally appealing. You can Rollerblade or bicycle, and dogs on leashes are welcome too. You'll find trails to hike, picnic tables in quiet places, and a canoe-rental service for those who want to paddle the lake. Got a sedentary wastrel in your party who wants to do nothing? Stick him or her on the shore of the inland waterway under a tree and let him or her sleep. For runners who care, the loop is hill-free, and after the workout you can walk out on the beach for a swim and a shower.

Named after Chris Evert's dad, Jimmy, who coached here for decades, these city-owned courts are a testament to municipal beauty and utility at prices affordable to most, if not all. That's what we like about public tennis courts -- everybody can get in to play. This facility in Holiday Park, surrounded by palms, flowering plants, and verdant expanses of grass, includes 18 "hard-true" courts (a tidy dirt surface that qualifies as clay) and three asphalt courts. The best way to get court time is to show up. You'll find showers and a lounge, and you can arrange lessons from a pro if you need them. A stringer works on the premises if you need your racket restrung from blasting serves, and the help is as pleasant as any country-club fawner. The place is clean, well managed, and open seven days a week, morning to night.

NEWSFLASH! SNIPE EXIST! And you, too, can go snipe hunting, which is no joke, unless you think it's a joke. Most land west of U.S. Highway 27 is public, managed in part by the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission. You'll find about 672,000 acres of excellent habitat for migrating waterfowl such as the snipe, a fast-flying, small bird that's hard to shoot and makes excellent eating. In the southern end of the huge area, you'll need a boat to hunt. But in the northern end, and in the Holey Land/Rotenberger tract in Palm Beach County, you can wade in the water to hunt. We prefer that, since boats have to be thoroughly camouflaged and waders get to move quietly. Other waterfowl include the blue-winged teal, green-winged teal, and the rare Florida mallard (also called the mottled mallard). The long waterfowl season extends from the week before Thanksgiving through the third week in February. Deer and hog populations remain low after Hurricane Irene, so don't plan to get a permit this season to hunt them.

Freshwater or salt, catch-and-release or catch-and-eat? Questions, questions. Florida is about saltwater, so we'll answer by sending you to sea. For convenience, quick access to the ocean, and virtually certain catches, try the 65-foot Flamingo. This boat beats the competition in part because of its size -- you have more room to move than you'll find on the 45-footers, and you'll have more stability at sea. So you're less likely to spend your time throwing up during a small-craft advisory. You'll also find free parking at the nearby Radisson Hotel, always a plus on the beach. It's a short boat ride out to a perennial hot spot -- three parallel reefs loaded with fish. The reefs range from a few hundred yards to a mile offshore, so you spend your time fishing, not boating. What about gear? Well, you have to show up only with what you want to eat and drink. Among the likely catch: king mackerel, amberjack, and grouper. Good luck!

Even Yosemite's great cliffs aren't much more of a stretch than the 4000 feet of climbing surface you'll find inside Coral Cliffs, where Florida's subtropical, flatter-than-Kansas geography doesn't matter a whit. Owner Robert Christenson used to climb in Yosemite and the Sierra Nevada, and he learned two things: one, that it's safer to climb 4000 feet of rock wall if it's only 25 feet high (that's the height of his climbing wall, which has a rotating and variable surface offering climbs that range from beginning to advanced), and two, that he prefers the beach to the mountains. That's why he moved to Florida. But his shop includes everything you need for the real thing -- harnesses, carabiners, and rope (it's Sterling Dynamic in 50 to 60 meter lengths), shoes made by 5.10 and Boreal, and all the other climbing stuff. There's also basic instruction in how to belay, and in the skills of lead climbing, crack climbing, and others.

Whether you're the Brian Boytano of the pavement or decked out in more pads than an American Gladiator, this one and a half-mile stretch of beach is the perfect place to strap 'em up and wheel. The ride begins just south of Garfield Street at Hayes Street, where, if you don't own your own wheels, you can rent some at Sun and Fun Cycles and Rollerblades. You are rewarded on this path with a clear, unobstructed view of the sand, water, and sunbathing bodies for added motivation. We suggest first heading into the wind to get the exercise aspect out of the way. The 25-foot-wide path is relatively smooth and gives you plenty of room to stay clear of other bladers and walkers. This particular stretch is an area where wheels of all kinds coexist peacefully. Usually a friendly ring of a bell or an "On your left/right" provides ample warning of other bodies in motion. Groups of tall palm trees scattered along the way fronted by patches of swaying sea oats remind you of why it's great to live in South Florida and why the motels and time-shares on the west side of the pavement are full of tourists admiring your native color. Cool off with a quick dousing of the head under one of the many showers along the way and then make the turn and ride the breeze back. Mother Nature befriends you this time with a gentle push from behind and a smooth return ride. At Garfield Street you can relax with a slice of pizza at Angelo's Corner or get a soft-serve cone to cap off the day.

As you enter keep to the right and wind around the shore of the large lake in the center of the park. If you want, wear earplugs to protect yourself from the roar of jets taking off and landing at the Fort Lauderdale/Hollywood International Airport, which is barely a half-mile south. The noise doesn't appear to have scared off much of the animal population, which you'll notice as soon as you depart the pavement and head off into the thicket on the well-marked series of nature trails. You'll see raccoons of all sizes scampering about unconcerned -- probably because so many stupid visitors ignore signs warning against feeding the wildlife. On the lake's north shore, just before the road dead-ends, you'll see a wooden shelter and a sandy volleyball pit. On sunny days this sandy area is home to a butt-load of lumbering iguanas, some small, slender, and bright green and some upward of two feet in length. Depending on their temperament, they'll hang out and eyeball humans suspiciously or they'll noisily turn tail and scamper up the nearest tree. Bring insect repellent, as even the big lizards can't eat all the flying bugs near the lake.

From downtown Fort Lauderdale, take Andrews Avenue south to Davie Boulevard, and park at the gas station on the northeast corner. Or better yet, ride a bike. Proceed east on Rose Drive, and listen for a sound that resembles a cat's meow -- only a lot louder. The sound is coming from four pairs of peacocks that roam the turf near the Broward County Bar Association's verdant grounds and have taken up permanent residence on the lawns and roofs of nearby residents. Arrive when a couple is in the throes of courtship, and you'll witness males sparring over the affections of a female or puffing up their purple plumage in a spectacular display. The peacocks seem quite content and comfortable in these surroundings, and even the neighborhood's roaming felines give the big birds their space and can often be spotted crouching nearby, eyeing the gaudy critters with great interest.

What's the best sight from the highest point in Palm Beach County? We believe it's a drive rocketing off the head of your golf club and sailing over the fairway, all easily seen from the tee high atop the Superdune at Emerald Dunes. It may be only a little more than 50 feet high, but the Superdune is a nice perch from which to launch tee shots that do fly a little bit farther thanks to elevation. It's a man-made hill with boulders and a waterfall, and it sits in the middle of this lush, 18-hole course that's open to the public. The elevated tee is the signature element on a fine course designed by the internationally famous golf architect Tom Fazio. But to us it's the totality of the design that makes this course a pleasure to play. A lot of dirt was moved to carve out the holes and lakes that make this a challenging and well-manicured course. You don't usually see this type of layout in South Florida except in private clubs, which means that the price in winter can be as steep as the Superdune itself. So press your bets against the rest of the foursome on the 18th hole and launch a drive from on high.

When you're six feet, 220 pounds of sculpted muscle with a shiny, shaven head, you should have a nickname suitable to your look. This hometown hunk has been filling up kickboxing and hip-hop aerobic classes in gyms in Broward and Palm Beach to the point where he is known by simply one name, "Silk," as in "smooth as," because his athleticism comes across so effortlessly. Silk's fitness repertoire has grown over the past year thanks to regular appearances on ESPN2's Gotta Sweat with buff babe and former Ms. Olympia Cory Everson, who has personally invited him back to Las Vegas to record more episodes. For now he still belongs to South Florida, where he teaches aerobic classes that are usually filled to capacity, mostly with women looking for top-quality instruction as well as the visual motivation this chiseled instructor provides. Now that motivation can be found on video-store shelves. His new kickboxing aerobics video can be found right next to the reigning champ of fitness videos, Billy Blanks' Tae-Bo, as if the local kid is duking it out with the king of the fitness infomercial to see whose tape packs the most punch. C'mon Billy, this is South Florida. We know our fitness, plus we hear women think our guy is buffer.

Look around and you'll notice we're a wee bit short on mountains round these parts. You'll also gather that the automobile reigns supreme -- otherwise why would we have given so much territory over to it? Tucked in here and there, however, are some very challenging places to get your wheels in the dirt. Markham Park is our favorite. For you weenies, er… novices, Markham offers easy trails with a few hills, a few rocks, and a turn or two. Intermediates get bigger hills, bigger rocks, and some wicked switchbacks. Advanced riders can confront what looks to be hell's own footpath: ruts, logs, loose gravel, and sharp turns. The best part about Markham is that all the trails are accessed off a main trail that winds around ponds and lakes filled with wading birds. If you get in over your head, you're never far from the main trail, where you can take a rest and contemplate the scenery while your buddies are huffing away.

For a place that bills itself as "The Venice of America," there aren't very many good places to paddle a canoe. There's a lot of water around, but on most bodies you'll have to dodge yachts and personal watercraft and deal with their wakes when you decide to hit the water under your own power. Thanks to the low height of the Broward Boulevard bridge, however, motorboats can't make it up this way, which is why this section of the New River offers peace, quiet, and scenery right in the heart of urban South Florida. Launch from little-used Delevoe Park, then head east under I95. Soon you'll find yourself in a lush landscape of pond apple and cypress trees and banks lined with vegetation instead of bulkheads. Between the park and Broward Boulevard are islands galore and channels that wind off the main stream. Check out the old Sweeting Estates, a 22-acre riverfront parcel right in the heart of Sistrunk that used to be home to a revival church but now just nestles quietly in the luxuriant growth. Go west from the park, and the New River turns into a canal, which dead-ends near the Swap Shop in Sunrise. In either case this stretch of river is one of the county's best-kept secrets.

Precious few things in life are as much unbridled fun as go-karts. You may be going only 15 miles per hour, but when you're an inch from the ground, it feels like 60. Driving quickly with so little power requires a certain skill, however; the idea is to cut the corners right at the apex, turning sharply to make a curve into more of a right angle. The Grand Prix course is a tight series of banked and flat turns. It's deceptively long and technically challenging. And there is no better feeling in the world than riding up on the back end of some teenage hotshot who fancies himself a Formula One trainee and stuffing him in a corner. When it comes to carting, age and experience trump youth and enthusiasm every time. We recommend you visit on "Full-Throttle Thursday" for unlimited kart riding from 6 to 10 p.m. You might just get good enough to drive in our league.

Once you've finished this ride, it may be tough to go back to the real world. The path of paved asphalt that stretches along A1A (North Ocean Drive) is lined with so many beautiful houses and beaches that you may just want to turn around and do it again. Beginning at the south end, near Deerfield Beach at the bridge after Camino Real, the trail, which is wide enough for bikes to pass in both directions, goes north along the west side of A1A. To your left you can see boats docked in marinas and cruising along the Intracoastal. To your right, the Atlantic Ocean peeks out from time to time behind the green foliage that lines the road. Along the way are several parks and recreational areas for those adventurers who like to explore. About four miles into the trip, a green, hilly golf course rests on either side of the path, with sparkling blue water as a backdrop. The last three miles are filled with the amazing architecture of seaside villas and homes, most capped with elegant Spanish roof tiles. At this point you can either continue north or take Atlantic Avenue west onto a street full of outside cafés and specialty shops in Delray. On a sunny spring day, this ride is the wheel thing.

The crushed-rock-and-shell roadbed is straight and flat, running for 12 miles atop the L-40 levy, which separates the Everglades from this stretch of southern Palm Beach County. The dike road, which opened to bikers and hikers last October, connects the Loxahatchee National Wildlife Refuge Visitor Center in the north to the south entrance of the refuge. A slight promontory in an otherwise flat landscape, the levy service road offers an expansive view of the seemingly endless river of grass, which stretches west to the bright blue horizon unchecked in its green sameness, save for a few stands of tall trees. The path, bordered on the east by thick mangroves, also offers close brushes with nature -- and plenty of bone-jarring abuse on the bumpy road. In the canal that curves along the edge of the Everglades just below the road, white egrets wade on gawky legs and dip their bills into the water as they hunt for food, unconcerned about passing bikers. But if you're cruising along at any decent speed, don't survey the scene for too long. The tight-packed dirt road is rife with washboard ripples and large chunks of rock that poke through the surface. This makes for a rough ride and creates the potential for a wipeout even on this benign-looking trail, which is bordered bucolically on either side by wild grasses and yellow and lavender flowers. With absolutely no shade, the road's white rock and sand glare brightly and amplify the heat of the day. This actually seems to be an attraction for the huge dragonflies that bask on the surface and flutter up as bike tires approach, continually flying into riders. Warning: There is no bathroom or potable water along the way.

We ain't never seen the varmints with our own eyes, but there's been tell of panther and black bear sightings along this section of the Florida Trail. There is no guarantee, but a shot at seeing these once-thriving Everglades species in their natural habitat adds extra excitement to hiking this 10-mile stretch of trail. Part of the state-long footpath, overall Section Two is a 60-mile chunk that snakes through the Everglades from I75 north to Lake Okeechobee, and it is maintained lovingly by the Broward County chapter of the Florida Trail Association. The portion with which we're concerned begins (or ends) at an I-75 rest stop and ends (or begins) a couple miles shy of Billie Swamp Safari on the Seminole Indian Reservation. (Passage into the Seminole portion of the trail requires advance authorization from the trail association or the Seminole Council, so be sure to obtain clearance.) In order to get from the rest stop parking lot to the trailhead, it's necessary to hike through a tunnel under the freeway. Once trailbound the scenery varies from thick pine woodland to open, grassy marshland, and along the way birds, deer, and small mammals are likely sights. The only hitch is that if you want to go only one way, you need to plan ahead for transportation at the other end.

Working late in his lab one night in 1869, Dr. Cyrus Teed of upstate New York saw God. And she was a hottie. Better yet, she showed him that the Earth is a hollow ball with the universe crammed inside, how to interpret the Bible, and how to turn lead into gold. So maybe the good doctor was inhaling the ether. But give the man credit for having the courage of his convictions. Based on these "illuminations," Teed gathered a band of followers and, like all good kooks before and since, headed straight for Florida. Once here he set about building a "New Jerusalem" that was to be home to ten million people. His plans didn't quite turn out, but Teed did manage to build a commune on the banks of the Estero River that supplied its own food, generated its own power, and operated a printing press. When Teed died in 1908, his followers came to their senses and drifted away. The last believer in "Koreshanity" (Koresh is Hebrew for "Cyrus") died in 1981. What's left of the utopian commune is now nestled in a lush state park where you can camp, canoe, hike, and ponder Teed's hallucinogenic view of creation. The park is located just south of Fort Myers, a two-hour drive from Fort Lauderdale.

Two years ago Robert Todoroff's dream came to fruition. An athlete who didn't want to give up his favorite sports, including inline skating, during the most brutal stretches of Florida's heat and humidity, he envisioned an indoor center where entire sports fields could fit in one temperature-controlled building and play would be open to the public. Now entering its third year, the Sports Mall is still the best place for kids and adults to join numerous inline hockey, flag football, lacrosse, volleyball, soccer, and basketball leagues. Team registration fees vary by sport and by league, which include men's, women's, coed, youth, and corporate. But for just $20 per month, members can enjoy any of those sports during open-play sessions scheduled throughout the week -- all indoors in the a/c. Recently added to the center, a sports bar adds to the complex's other amenities, which include a spa, a sports medicine center, a dance school, a martial arts school, and a Gold's Gym location. Gold's and the other businesses charge their own fees, but Sports Mall members can use the gym on Sunday nights as part of their deal.