Sports & Recreation

Several miles removed from the suburban sprawl of eastern Palm Beach County is Grassy Waters Preserve, a 20-square-mile chunk of Everglades land untouched by development. Needless to say, it's a bird watcher's heaven. The preserve runs across both sides of Northlake Boulevard. And while you can catch plenty of the feathered beasts at either location, the south side is where it's at. Simply take a stroll down to the Charles W. Bingham Wilderness Pavilion, find an empty spot on the boardwalk, and put those binoculars to work. You'll get an eyeful of the Everglades' finest (ospreys, spoonbills, herons, egrets) as well as the sense of calm that comes with standing over our beloved River of Grass. If you're a newbie who's looking for pointers, take part in master naturalist Kurt Gebhart's Birding Swamp Tromp program. It's a good introduction to the lifestyle of South Florida's true natives.

When your business is nightclubs, you want to spend some time in the fresh air. From time to time, you want to stretch out in grassy open space. That's why Larry Wald, owner of Cathode Ray Café, started to gravitate to Fort Lauderdale's Holiday Park, and it's why he became a soccer fan. The park, with 11 playing fields up and running during the season, is home to one of the busiest soccer programs in South Florida. During his park forays, Wald learned to love soccer as a spectator sport. It's not about the teams, he says, but the quality of play. And at Holiday, the quality is good. "It's great to go to the park without following any particular team," he says. "You can't be disappointed. You're just watching it for the game." Wald, who owns not only the gritty gay wi-fi club on Fort Lauderdale's Las Olas Boulevard but also Boulevard Café next door, would rather be at Holiday, assessing a crossing pass than watching the Heat at Triple A. And when the soccer season is over, Wald drifts over to the softball fields or the racquetball courts. "There's enjoyment for everybody," he says. It's a sports spectator's paradise.

Surprised at this choice? Well, before you start looking for somebody to chop block, think about it for a moment. Crowder was a rookie last season, a lowly third-rounder in the 2005 draft. Why so low? There were questions about his character after having a couple of run-ins with the law at the University of Florida. But the only law broken since he left the Gators was theft -- by the Dolphins for getting Crowder as the 70th pick. In the NFL, Crowder has proven to be more than a standup guy. Forced into more playing time after future Hall of Famer Junior Seau was injured, he stepped up big, and his sturdy play helped turn the team around at midseason. By the end of the year, the rookie was second on the team in tackles. At six-foot-two and 245 pounds, Crowder is a dream linebacker, tough as hell and with a nose for the ball that he was born with. Literally. His dad, Randy Crowder, was a defensive lineman for the Dolphins and Bucs back in the 1970s. Look for big things from the Chan man next year.

This is easy. The best Heat player is a guy named Shane. Or is it Dwaq? You know, the scary, 325-pound guy who muscles the ball to the rim like a breaching whale, who also happens to be the high-flying six-foot-four guard who zigzags through opposing defenses like a barracuda in sargasso weed. All right, we equivocate. Shaq or Dwyane? Dwyane or Shaq? One has the Superman shoulders that can carry a team through the rough spots, the other the creative moves and the torrid shot that put fear into the hearts of opponents. The big guy has been notable in his absence this season, missing 18 games with an injury early on while the Heat muddled along at .500. Since Shaq got back, they're a .700-or-better team. Powerful evidence of Shaq preeminence, wouldn't you say? But shouldn't we factor Alonzo Mourning in there? Could O'Neal be anywhere as effective without a Hall of Famer as backup? (Can you say Dwaqzo?) Then there's Wade, the money player, the guy who sells the tickets, keeping the team within striking distance when others are having a bad night, single-handedly winning games with furious fourth-quarter scoring. So we're going to go with the acrobatic Dwyane Wade. Let's just say he's the emotional heart of the team, an inspiration to his compañeros, and, damn, don't even think about going all the way without him. Does this smell of arbitrariness? Hell, yes. And so what?

Cabrera's groupies have put up an Internet fan site that carries this disclaimer: "Everyone in this group is considered Miguel's #1 fan. Please do not argue over it!" The group could include any pro baseball fan in South Florida who watched Cabrera rotate positions with ease during the Marlins' 2003 World Series run and who will watch him perform as the best player on a lousy team in 2006. Stat freaks adore him. He was third in the majors in batting average in 2005. The youngest ever to have back-to-back 30-home-run seasons (Albert Pujols, a future Hall of Famer, was 80 days older). The fourth-youngest to have a 30-homer, 100-RBI season (behind Mel Ott, Al Kaline, and Ted Williams, HOFers all) and youngest to do it while scoring 100 runs. All fine and good, but he wouldn't be here if the kids didn't love him too. Now 23 years old, he looks 16 -- just old enough to drive the SUV he stopped after a game last season when it became clear he was the head of a comet with running children as its tail. You have to wonder about the arguments breaking out at the driver's-side window, over who wanted his autograph most. No matter. He signed and signed.

The Nobody Home League resumed play this year, and unfortunately for the Panthers, the team is still borderline at best. Billboard-ready goalie Roberto Luongo started the year gangbusters, then tapered off to merely good. This is a team that needs a stopper, no doubt, because while scoring is up leaguewide, Florida is mired in the bottom third. Only the six-foot-three, 215-pound Jokinen has proven capable of putting the biscuit in the basket with any regularity. Not only have the Panthers failed to find another offensive threat -- Jokinen is the only Panther among the league's top 50 scorers -- they depend on the center's touch for wins. Of the 22 games in which the baby-faced Finn didn't score or assist on a goal, the Panthers lost... all 22. As if that weren't enough, the 27-year-old captain was quoted earlier this year as saying that his philosophy about opponents once he gets a lead is to "break their necks." Exactly the guy you want taking your face-off.

The Heat has demonstrated once again that all a team needs to win in the NBA is two superstars and about six or eight warm, giant bodies to fill floor space. That formula almost took the Heat to its first finals appearance last summer, until a couple of dippy plays and Dwyane Wade's hurt ribs kept them from knocking off the defending champion Pistons. Most general managers would have locked in the principals from the club's best-ever team, but not Pat Riley. Out went Keyon Dooling, Damon Jones, Eddie Jones, and Rasual Butler. In came Gary Payton, Antoine Walker, Jason Williams, and James Posey. Now, Posey's a no-frills workman and fine to have aboard. Payton, Walker, and Williams are all oversized niche talents (Payton, once upon a time as a defender; Walker, making baskets; Williams, handling the ball like a yo-yo). They're also recovering malcontents, every one. Along with Alonzo Mourning, then, Wade and Shaquille O'Neal have an all-hothead supporting cast. Will the Heat win a title? The team is among a half-dozen teams who have a legitimate shot. Even if it doesn't, this playoff meltdown should be nothing short of nuclear, a guilty joy to behold.

It took about five seconds last August for Hermida to go from anonymous rookie to the answer to a trivia question: Who was the first player since the 19th Century to hit a grand slam in his first big-league at-bat? The six-foot-four outfielder was the 11th overall pick out of high school in the 2002 draft and was considered the Marlins' best hitting prospect even before his right-field grand slam made a game of an eventual 10-5 loss to the Cardinals. That dinger gave him a perfect 4.000 slugging average to start his career. Naturally, it was all downhill from there, but not too far; his season total of .634 was second in the bigs for players with at least 25 at-bats. He finished with a .293 average in 41 at-bats, with four home runs and two doubles among his 12 hits, a ridiculous amount of power for a guy who at the time was just 21 years old. For a team that jettisoned nearly all its big bats in the offseason, Hermida's emergence has been nothing short of grand.

While Florida Atlantic University sinks millions of dollars into a losing football team, fans have overlooked the school's best athlete, who doesn't put on shoulder pads or a helmet. (Well, except when he's batting.) Mickey Storey, FAU's hotshot pitcher, graduated from Deerfield Beach High School with more than 300 strikeouts and a career record of 22-7. Since the Owls snatched him up, he's kept improving. In his freshman year, Storey was named Collegiate Baseball's Pitcher of the Year, was chosen as a preseason All-American, and got named to Baseball America's All Freshmen Team. So what earned him all these honors? Well, he went 10-1 with an earned run average of 1.70, the lowest ERA the school has ever seen. The scary thing is, he's still improving. But already, he's written his name in the history books as FAU's greatest athlete.

He's a six-foot-nine forward but can handle the ball like a point guard. He helped lead the University of Kentucky to a national championship in 1996. His hands are about as quick as anybody's in the NBA. He's played on the All-Star team and averaged nearly 20 points a game in a nine-year career. Yet Walker couldn't find the basket for much of the season after the Miami Heat picked him up from Boston in the offseason. Often, he has looked like some brain-damaged insect, dashing around like mad before inevitably clunking the ball off the rim. You just knew he was going to miss, no matter whether he was under the basket or behind the three-point line. He fills fans with dread every time he touches the ball, like watching a manic-depressive on reality TV. But there's a great player lurking somewhere under Walker's big bald dome -- and you can only hope it comes out of hiding during the playoffs.

God help us, but this Miami Herald writer makes us laugh every now and then. And that's a lot more than you can say for most of the humorless sportswriting corps in South Florida. Mixed in his comic "Random Evidence of a Cluttered Mind" columns are the occasional gems that remind us of that other funny Herald guy, the semiretired Dave Barry. Take this snippet: "The Heat's stirring victory over Detroit renewed sagging championship hopes. Experts say the key for Miami from here on in will be Dwyane Wade averaging 17 points in the fourth quarter." Or this small riff on Olympic downhill skier Bode Miller, from the same column: "Speaking of Miller, his disappointing fifth-place finish in the first downhill race is being blamed on unexpected sobriety." For every one of Cote's pieces of beauty, there's an equally bad groaner. At times, he seems to channel the worst lounge comics in America's history. But the good outweighs the bad, and, all in all, he's a minor local treasure.

Fort Lauderdale pugilist Juan "Iron Twin" Urango isn't scared of anyone. The junior welterweight has a 13-0-1 record, enough courage to fuel an Army brigade, and cockiness that would have impressed even Muhammad Ali. In true ring hype, Urango once described himself to the boxing press as the "new generation" of welterweight fighters. But unlike many boxers, Urango has the punch to back up his mouth. A 25-year-old southpaw with Hollywood-based Warrior's Boxing Promotions, Urango scored more than 100 wins and five titles as an amateur fighter in his native Colombia. For Urango, boxing is the family business. His nickname, the "Iron Twin," refers to his brother, Pedro, who is a professional fighter in Colombia. After Urango turned pro at 21 and moved to South Florida, he rapidly earned a name for himself in U.S. and Latin American boxing circuits, winning the WBC Latin American Light Welterweight Title and IBF Latino Light Welterweight Title in fights at Hard Rock in Hollywood. He has won all of his bouts, most by knockout, except one -- finishing in a draw with Greek fighter Mike Arnaoutis in August 2004. Urango suffered an injury to his hand in his last victorious match, but don't count him out. Urango, father of three, is on his way back to the ring and remains one of the great hopes for South Florida boxing.

Unless you're buddies with H. Wayne Huizenga, paying to watch Dwyane and Shaq could leave you homeless. Fortunately, the Heat isn't the only professional team 'round these swampy parts. Last year, Broward County got its own squad: the Florida Pit Bulls, headed by player/coach Tim Hardaway. They share the BankAtlantic Center with the Florida Panthers and the likes of Bon Jovi, and competed in the ABA -- the reborn professional basketball league with that famous red, white, and blue ball. The team earned a spot at this year's ABA playoffs, entertained fans for $15 to $35, and even threw in halftime concerts that included old-school rapper Doug E. Fresh and local act Trick Daddy. It's too bad, however, that the Pit Bulls got sideways with ABA management. After a spat over Hardaway's attendance record, the team declined to show up for the playoffs, took their basketball, and left the league for good. But have no fear, local fans. Hardaway's group has applied to be an affiliate of the NBA Development League (NBDL). If approved by the NBA, the Pit Bulls could become a farm team for the Heat. We've got our fingers crossed.

Finally, a Dolphins coach who deserves to walk the same sideline as Don Shula. Saban is smarter than the mentally challenged Dave Wannstedt and more stable than the half-loony, teary-eyed Jimmy Johnson. First, he proved himself to be one of the best college coaches in America at LSU, where the folks still damned near worship him. Then Saban showed last year that he can lead an NFL team with the best of them. He turned around a team that went an abysmal 4-12 in 2004 to a respectable 9-7 mark last year. Just as impressive, the 2005 team won six games in a row at the end of the season, ending the Dolphins' seeming curse of starting like strong, capable mammals and finishing like butter-fried mahi mahi. Look for a playoff spot this coming season for the Fins, because that just seems to be where Saban belongs.

You're never too old to relive the glory days, and the guys at the Broward County Modified Pitch Softball League realize that. This new softball league, located at the park behind Henry D. Perry Middle School in Miramar, is designed for guys who want to have fun but also take their down-and-dirty softball seriously. Standard softball rules apply, with one change: pitching. Unlike most softball leagues, the pitchers at Broward County Modified Pitch Softball League don't loft the ball toward the plate in a soft arc. They bring the heat (but not as hot as fast-pitch). Not sure if the league is for you? Then go watch a game or two. Spectators are welcome. The league's inaugural season runs through May 21, the day of the championship game. Dates for the second season have not been announced yet. Fees, which range from $30 to $60, depend on which team you join and the cost of that team's uniform.

Go into some shooting ranges and you're likely to meet an intimidating stare from an employee packin' heat. Not the most reassuring combination. But at Delray Shooting Center, that's not the case. The specialists behind the counter are friendly and kind, and they treat newbies with respect. The staff caters to couples learning to shoot and goes out of its way to make the inexperienced feel comfortable with firing guns. The 15 indoor pistol ranges and two rifle ranges are clean and full of holes, just the ambiance required to spend a few hours firing high-caliber weapons at plain bull's-eye targets or caricatures of Osama bin Laden. The range offers private lessons at great prices, along with Concealed Weapon Permit classes. If you're more experienced, rent one of the fully automatic machine guns and do some paper shredding. If not, rent a .22 plinker and go for as many ten-point X's as possible. It may sound strange, but it's the perfect place to take the wife and kids to fire off a few hundred rounds over the weekend.

Unless you live on a houseboat, it's impossible to escape the congested roadways and pushy attitudes that are overtaking South Florida... or is it? All it takes to get some quiet time is a quiet place. And there's no better place to unleash your inner shaman than the trails behind the Okeeheelee Nature Center. However, before beginning your journey, you might want to pick up a map, unless you have a spare hour or two. Make no mistake -- without a map, you will get lost. It's not because the 2.5-mile trail is confusing by design; it's the myriad distractions you'll no doubt succumb to while donning your explorer hat. Surrounded by 100 acres of woods and wetlands, you'll find it difficult to stay on path. You'll want to explore everything -- the labyrinthine maze of pine trees, cypress trees, and marshes containing the birds and tortoises that populate the area. It's one of the few places in Palm Beach County where you can walk more than a mile without hearing a car horn or seeing a condo. Trail hours are sunrise to sunset, and there's no annoying parking fee. That's why we pay taxes, right?

A sliver of sand between the Atlantic Ocean and the Intracoastal, Coral Cove Park isn't just for snorkeling. It could have easily been named Best Picnic Spot or Beach. It's just that good. And if you feel the need to venture out in the water for a little aquatic sightseeing, it's got the goods. And you don't have to swim far. Just off the shoreline, there's a giant artificial reef made from limestone boulders that magnetizes a wide variety of beautiful tropical fish. This isn't heavy-duty stuff -- it's something the family can do, especially since the beach is protected by professional lifeguards. But watch out -- there have been several shark sightings there, prompting numerous closings of the beach. But hey, nobody's been bitten yet. And if there's a shark sighting, there're worse things than having to hang out on the rock-strewn beach.

Sure, you can drive all the way out west to Markham Park. Or you can make a big to-do and hit one of the area beaches. Not telling you not to. But sometimes you want a place nearby. And that's one thing about Heritage Park: Nobody's too far away from it in Broward County. The park is located smack dab in the middle of the county. And its rolling acreage and large duck pond soothes the savage breast. There are plenty of gazebos to sit under, but it's preferable to cozy up next to the pond. Hell, bring a fishing pole and throw out a line. Do a little bicycling. And before you mosey on home, let the kids play in the big playground on the eastern end of the park.

Getting your picnic on isn't just about plopping your rump down under a tree and noshing on a turkey sandwich while sipping iced tea. It's all about ambiance. Relaxation is tough in a world run rampant with cell phones and PSPs. What's needed in a picnic spot is a place with plenty to delight the eye and keep the mind off modern distractions. John Prince Park is just the place to bring the picnic basket, the kids, and the boat. With 726 acres of grass and 338 acres of lake, it's a veritable mind eraser. Take a break from the potato salad and get dragged around the lake at 30 knots on a kneeboard, or bring the bike and ride the five miles of trails. Too lazy to pack a sandwich? Hit up the Publix around the corner and get some beefy hot dogs to drop on the dozens of grills sprinkled around the park, or if that's too much of a hassle, just go to the snack bar. The park is so huge that if any rude picnic disrupters show up, just walk a few feet to another spot -- there are hundreds to choose from.

Getting to Janes Scenic Drive is easy. Just take Alligator Alley west and head south on Highway 20 about 12 miles until you see the sign marking the road. Finding your way out of the heart of the dense swamp it leads to -- unless you go back the way you came -- is not. The 11-mile gravel road takes drivers, cyclists, and hikers through some of the finest wildlife-spotting turf in the state. Fakahatchee Strand, of course, is also home to numerous species of colorful bromeliads and orchids, including the Ghost Orchid of Adaptation fame. The road ends at one corner of the massive maze of Golden Gate -- the grid of streets planned for a huge subdivision never built (this is where the "Wanna buy some land in Florida?" scam was hatched). Enter this labyrinth with less than a full tank of gas and a good sense of direction and you're in big trouble. The intersections are mostly unmarked, the lonely streets indistinguishable, and all but a couple dead-end at alligator-choked canals. The only way out is to find (through trial and error) either Everglades or Desoto boulevards somewhere there in the godforsaken muck and head north. By the time you stumble upon civilization again, you're damned near Immokalee, and you've had a day not soon forgotten. Miamians have Loop Road to find backwoods adventure that flirts with peril. But out in the real Everglades, you just better hope that cell phone works.

Rainy days: don't they just make you want to climb the walls? Well, at Coral Cliffs, you can! This indoor rock-climbing gym ($15 for a one-day pass) may not be Mount Everest, but with routes rated from 5.5 to 5.13, there's plenty of challenging terrain as well as climbs for beginners. One route requires you to ascend using itty-bitty handholds and do a Spider-Man over a giant arched doorway. If you make it to the top, we salute you. If you fall (which we like to do on purpose, 'cause it's fun), you swing like a pendulum until your belayer lowers you to the ground. They have some free weights lying around and a little bouldering area with a roof. A couple of pointers: one, it's OK if you don't know how to tie a figure-eight follow-through -- but you'll look cooler if you do. Two, don't talk smack to the 15-year-old kids who work there. These homeboys are stronger than you! And they have the authority to boot anyone who acts aggro or ignores the rules. Safety first, people!

So you're desperate to see that movie everybody's talking about, the one where the naked guy does pig noises while the girl underneath him in the bed prays to the Virgin Mary and makes like pinwheels with her eyes? Oscar-winning performances all around, of course, but not exactly family fare. What do you do with Junior while all of this is going on? Muvico Theaters, with multiplexes in Pompano Beach, Boca Raton, and Davie, has a civilized solution. They have children's playrooms where, for a modest fee, trained child-care specialists will watch your kids, aged 3 to 8, while you're satisfying your aesthetic needs. Junior gets crayons, games, a computer zone, a reading corner, and a chance to see free movies in which the pigs act not like farmyard beasts but like kids. They'll even equip you with a beeper so that, if Junior flames out over the lame entertainment menu, you can be summoned to try to set things right. The service is available Fridays through Sundays, 5 to 10 p.m., and it costs $5. Get there early; slots are available on a first-come, first-served basis. The service is also available at Muvico's Palace 20 in Boca Raton and Paradise 24 in Davie.

Bowling alleys are falling faster than tenpins as cities chase after the fast buck of redevelopment. Built in an era when land was cheaper than cable TV, bowling alleys took up city lots that turned out to be worth far more as shopping centers or condos. These days, the hallmark of a great bowling alley is as much a matter of location as anything, and for central Broward County bowlers east of I-95, Manor Lanes is the only thing resembling a city alley. The games are cheap (as little as two bucks on Sundays); air hockey, pool, and shuffleboard tables dot the premises; and the 20 lanes ensure that you can generally get in a couple of games, even on a weekend night. Weekdays are crowded with leagues, but when a team of women arrives with pink-on-black shirts embroidered with the name "Guttersluts," you know you're in the right place.

Pass by Fort Lauderdale Beach on a Saturday morning and you can't help but notice personal trainer Bob Weinstein, a.k.a. "The Health Colonel," in full camouflage regalia and combat boots exercising with his "troops." On the home page of Weinstein's website, www.nomorecrybabies.com, there's a link that says, "Here's why Bob trains on Fort Lauderdale beach." Click it and it leads to a picture of the sun rising over the horizon -- no words required. But we can scribble a whole list of reasons why this long stretch of sand, with its wide brick path, should keep you motivated. First of all, there's free parking at the corner of A1A and Sunrise Boulevard. From there, you can choose to run north and watch the surfers, run south to Las Olas Boulevard (1.5 miles), or run west and tack on a couple of loops in shady Birch State Park. For a challenge, go barefoot on the beach sand. Along the way, shoppers at BeachPlace, drinkers at the landmark Elbo Room bar, and even the colonel himself will be cheering you on -- and checking out your hot legs.

Nature, schmature. The best paddling route around here takes you through a uniquely urban jungle via Fort Lauderdale's New River and its adjoining system of man-made canals. If you've got $65, you can take a three-hour guided tour with the knowledgeable staff from the Full Moon Kayak Co. (954-328-5231; www.fullmoonkayak.com), who will be sure to point out the boathouse where gangster Al Capone used to stay. If, however, you have your own boat, put in at Cooley's Landing Marine Facility (450 SW Seventh Ave., Fort Lauderdale, 954-828-4626), where metered parking is the only thing that'll cost ya. (The office staff will even give you a free area map.) Paddle away past multimillion-dollar mansions and luxury sailboats and yachts. Birds (including the species known as "flamingo yard ornament") and fauna are omnipresent; four-foot-long red and green iguanas sun themselves on docks; and lazy manatees sometimes make cameo appearances. As you wrap up your trip and return to downtown, wave to patrons on the banks at the Riverwalk shopping complex or the Downtowner Saloon. And be sure to smile when the Jungle Queen paddlewheel boat goes by -- for the camera-happy tourists on board, you are the scenery.

Dang hurricanes. Not only did last year's batch of storms flood our yards, close our businesses, and leave us without electricity for, like, ever but they chewed up and spat out big chunks of public parks. This was especially problematic for mountain bikers in Broward or Palm Beach counties, who never had much in the way of challenging terrain to begin with -- just Quiet Waters and Markham parks, really. Now here we are in the spring, and only half of the trails at Markham have reopened; a park attendant at Quiet Waters says groundskeepers "haven't even gotten to [the bike trails] yet. They're still cleaning up the campground." That leaves people who want to ride, and ride hard, heading out to a place simply known as "the levee" -- essentially a long, flat gravel road on top of a mound of dirt that holds back the swampy Everglades. The route begins at Markham Park (16001 W. State Rd. 84, Sunrise; go west on the trail near the entrance and walk your bike around the concrete barriers) and you can either ride north until you get tired (Loxahatchee State Park is about 20 miles away) and then turn around or make a 27-mile loop using about three miles of State Road 27 and five miles of State Road 84 (which gets exciting when those Mack trucks fly by!). Although you might spot deer and gators, one rider calls the punishing adventure "not fun at all" but considers it great for endurance training; another described it as "a spinning class with mosquitoes." So, yeah... it's not for pansies. Newbies should contact the friendly folks at Synergy Outdoor Adventure Racing (www.soarteam.com), who won't mind you tagging along on their weekly ride -- and won't laugh if you turn back early.

Covered in mangroves and tucked away from major roads, John U. Lloyd State Park has that going-to-the-end-of-the-world feel and a sense that what happens there is secret. Its history reinforces that vibe. During Prohibition, smugglers used the land as a drop point for importing rum from the Bahamas. Its thick mangroves sure do look like an inviting place to dump a body, and indeed the corpses of two secretaries were found here in 1967, killed by a surfer named Murf the Surf who had already infamously heisted gobs of jewels from New York's Museum of Natural History. Today, if you pay the entrance fee and then take the road all the way to the end of the long, narrow park, you'll still find people doing top-secret stuff -- at FAU's oceanographic lab and an adjacent Coast Guard station. Unfortunately, big, intimidating warning signs advise you not to trespass. That's OK; there are plenty of other ways to amuse yourself here. Like, by bringing a pair of binoculars and looking into the cabins of massive cruise ships that float by just a few feet away. Or by bringing a Jet Ski and putting in at the boat ramp. Or fishing off the jetty. Or swimming in the ocean. Or renting Hobie cats, surfboards, or giant floating tricycles (!!!) from a beachside trailer. Getting hot? Walk along the boardwalk through the shady, mangrovey nature trail and look for pelicans. Hungry? Bring charcoal and cook on the grills. Thirsty? Grab a beer at the concession. Don't have a car? Boat in and out of the park on its Intracoastal side. Don't have any friends? Says a boy who visits frequently, "The squirrels will dine with you." And if they won't? Look for the "Red-Eyed Lady," the ghost of Murf the Surf's victim, who is rumored to hang around and keep visitors company.

We were thiiiiiis close to naming Red Reef Park in Boca as the county's best beach, considering the fact that it has a golf course, a pristine snorkeling reef, and the seemingly well-funded Gumbo Limbo Nature Center. But when we saw the $17 entry fee, we were like, Whaaaaat? "It certainly keeps the riff-raff out," said a cocky lifeguard who works there. But, um, what if we are the riff-raff? Which is why Lake Worth beach rules. Lake Worth Beach will always rule. It ruled when we were 15 and got really excited to steal our mom's car and drive in circles around the parking lot and flirt with 17-year-olds until the cops booted everyone at 9 p.m. It ruled when we first started surfing and had to put up with locals' show-me attitudes and pay our dues and get better. It ruled when it had a pier (pre-2004 hurricanes) and the fishermen would throw smiles and chat. Lake Worth Beach hasn't changed that much over the years. It still has Hispanic guys yelling "Hey Mami" and old folks who will strike up a conversation as they wait for the bus. It has an amazing breakfast place in John G's (note the line around the building), a great pizza place, a shop where you can buy cheap towels and sunscreen, a swimming pool, a playground, and bonfires during winter months. Drinking a beer at Benny's on the Beach as you watch the sun set and lick the salt off your lips is heavenly. With its aging façade, its broken pier, and even -- no, especially -- with its riff-raff, this is a place to flip-flop your way down the boardwalk and feel beautifully, democratically alive.

If there's a Huntington Beach of the East Coast, Jupiter is it. All the girls are cute, all the boys are rippers, and scores of little grommets crowd the surf. Everyone, it seems, is friends! Everyone is in a surf band! MILF-y moms drop their kids at the beach, while old longboarders with beer bellies plaster their cars with stickers that say, "Surfing Impaired: Too Old, Too Fat, Don't Care." If you can already shred, paddle out and prove it -- just show the locals some respect. If you're just learning, be content with your status as a whitewater ranger and it'll all be good. The pier is a beach break -- meaning that waves break when they hit sandbars and if you go over the falls, there's no danger of hitting your head on a reef. But, oh... just one thing... You're not scared of sharks, are you?

For years, kids have been coming to this wooded spot on the New River to hang out, party, and soar over the water on a rope swing. But residents of this peaceful Fort Lauderdale neighborhood have hated the cars and the kids roaming through the 3.42-acre parcel, and after a high school sophomore drowned last August, the rope swing came down for good. Now Shady Banks activists are working with Broward County to discuss turning the tangle of Australian pines into a waterfront park, which seems the best way to preserve the sweet spot of undeveloped land just a stone's throw from downtown.

Better late than never. Originally scheduled for a 2002 grand opening, construction delays kept Riverland Woods from opening until late 2005. Finally, Fort Lauderdale has more than one free public boat ramp, and it's thanks to the tireless efforts of residents of Lauderdale Isles -- at one point, the land had been promised to a machine shop firm that wanted to build its noisy headquarters there. Now, this thin green strip along the New River bustles with sunup-to-sundown traffic and boat trailers, kids hang from monkeybars, and the parking lot is full. If the county would just follow through on its plan to build a bike-and-pedestrian ramp across the river, connecting with the new bike path along the waterway, Riverland Woods could become a nexus for all sorts of outdoor recreation.

A butterfly festival, a farmhouse museum, a model steam railroad... When did Disney open a park in Broward County? Um, it didn't. Those are just a few of the various attractions you'll find at Tradewinds Park. Situated on nearly 700 acres on both sides of Sample Road, Tradewinds is home to a hodge-podge of leisure and sports amenities (ball fields, batting cages, boat rentals, fishing, golfing), as well as the world-famous Butterfly World. And that's just on the south side. The north side is all about rides -- whether on the back of a pony, atop a bale of hay, or on a steam train. That doesn't mean your feet can't get a good workout too (and we're not talking just a quick tour of the Tradewinds Educational Farm, fun though it may be). There are miles of ample pedestrian paths. And hey -- once you're comfortable with the terrain, the park's annual Holiday Festival of Lights 5k run/walk will seem like a cakewalk.

The marketing tag line for this state park is "More than just a beach... but wow, what a beach!" And in this rare case, reality matches the PR. Part of the allure of this park is simply getting from the parking lot to the sand. Walk up a shaded path, go past the massive nature center, look at the butterfly garden, and venture across a wide, 1,600-foot-long boardwalk that crosses a lively estuary full of fish and birds. The approach creates a drama, so that when you hear the waves crashing, you can't help but run over the dunes... to find the most vast, pristine, majestic stretch of shoreline in all of South Florida. It's pretty cool that the park offers yoga, surfing lessons, kayak tours, and butterfly walks... but this is the kind of magical beach where you should take a child, who will find you a seashell, which you should take home, put on a ribbon, and keep in a special place forever.

Credit Dr. Steven G. Paul, a Coral Springs vet, with organizing a community building project of Florida's first dog park nine years ago. In a manicured suburb where people outnumber dogs only about two-to-one, the two-acre park provides agility equipment, water stations for drinking and bathing, a paved running track, and a gazebo and is open 7:30 a.m. to dusk daily. Get over the seven-word name already. After all, it's free, and unlike some other parks in the area (we're looking at you, Boca Raton Dog Park), it's open to residents of any city.

A giant billboard on Sample Road claims that this sprawling butterfly sanctuary in Coconut Creek has been "voted South Florida's #1 Attraction." That, coupled with the whopping $18.95 it costs for an adult's entry into its netted inner sanctum, puts Butterfly World squarely in the tourist-trap category. Happily, the three acres of aviaries deliver on the hype with hordes of iridescent moths waiting to swipe a hopeful proboscis at any passing Hawaiian shirt. There's a core of solid science to the place: Founder Ronald Boender dreamed of combining his butterfly hatchery business with a tourist-friendly interface, and as a result, the complex has a laboratory, hatchery, museum, and research facility on the premises. But like any tourist trap worth its snuff, Butterfly World has thoroughly mixed spectacle with scholarship: There's a gift shop (which sells live butterfly pupae along with the expected stuffed animals and kitsch), a simulated rain forest complete with waterfall, exotic birds ranging in size from hummingbirds to macaws, and one of the largest collections of hanging passion vines in the world. Which means that Butterfly World is well-equipped to make both armchair lepidopterists and their bored hangers-on happier than Monarchs on milkweed.

We like our swimming pools on two levels, thank you. The pool at the Westin Diplomat features a top level, with water spilling over the sides (travel agents call this an "infinity edge"), a submarine porthole with a swimmer's-eye view of the lower level, and more than 100 feet of glassy-surfaced water, which is a lap-swimmer's dream. Then there's the bottom, which crosses underneath the infinity pool and is more than twice as long. The spillover from above feeds a pair of head-rattling waterfalls, and you can look up through that porthole to see swimmers ogling you from above. The hotel still hasn't taken our advice and connected the two levels with a spiraling water slide (you have to use a landlocked stairway to go from one level to another). But the total effect is still mind-blowing. One big drawback: You have to be a guest at the hotel to use the pool. We like to get Mom and Dad to stay there when they visit, so we can claim a name and room number when we ask for one of those fluffy towels they hand out.

Come on -- the beach is way too obvious. Instead, how about indulging in an age-old pastime that, thanks to a legal loophole, remains somehow technically aboveboard in Florida. For decades, hippies living in the Gulf Coast states have known in which fields to find the hallucinogenic psilocybe cubensis 'shroom, which tends to grow right around the fragrant patties deposited by grazing cows. It's an elaborate ritual, finding the white-capped mushrooms after a heavy rain, avoiding gopher holes, rattlesnakes, roaming bulls, armed farmers, and the like, clipping the little blue stems with scissors, creeping back over the fence unseen... but since the fungus is so literally among us, Tallahassee can't really bust everyone who has them growing on their property. So having a small amount of fresh 'shrooms isn't a crime. Drying them out, however, is (so is trespassing), so it's sort of a stealth activity. That fresh mushroom taste isn't for everyone, though.

When poker skyrocketed in popularity a few years ago, games sprouted around South Florida like mushrooms. Poker fans can pick up games anywhere from pubs to megacasinos. Amateur players delight at the large number of games around town, but old, salty poker dogs aren't so thrilled. Where to go for a more authentic experience? The forgotten halls of Dania Jai-Alai's Cardroom are as real as you can get around here. The tables are small and intimate, live simulcast betting is a glance away, and jai alai balls crack against concrete in the background all night. The players know the game all too well and keep a close eye on their cards. Every day but Monday, from noon to midnight, games of Texas Hold 'Em, Seven-card Stud, and Omaha Hi/Lo keep the cards turning. But there isn't the crush of the bigger gambling palaces, with a hundred waiting players queued up to take your place. As soon as a table fills, it's a mini-tournament. On the weekends after 5 p.m., no-limit Texas Hold'em cranks up. But the real night to play is Wednesday, when the beer flows for a buck a cup and $1 chicken wings fill paper bowls.

One of only two shuffleboard courts in Broward County used for official Senior Games play, Hollywood's shuffleboard facility is where the aging Québecois masters of the sport come to practice. And unlike most deserted shuffleboard venues in the area, Hollywood is both well-maintained and packed. With the aura of a temple, the 36 covered courts in the heart of downtown hum nonstop from morning to siesta with the soft swooshing of cues on concrete and gentle French bantering, just as they have for the past 75 years. But don't be intimidated -- the loyal snowbird clientele is eager for non-Francophone guests to slap down $2 for a day of play alongside them (all equipment included). There's plenty of space to go around, and they say it'd be nice to have more "English players." Just be sure to get your shuffleboard fix before summer -- the courts close when the players flock back to Canada in April and stay shut until September.

This might stun anyone who automatically associates Sistrunk with blight, but this park just east of the African-American Research Library and Cultural Center has some of the nicest basketball facilities in Fort Lauderdale. The two well-surfaced courts are penned in by black chainlink, with plenty of space inside the cage for diving out of bounds. The backboards, breakaway rims, and canvas nets are in great shape and are held up by arching concrete supports that won't shake like the usual metal poles. Just outside the fence are playground equipment, bleachers, and a restroom with water fountains. Parking is about 20 yards north of the courts; to the south is a wide pond. This feels like the danged suburbs. Game on.