Pack up the bikes and head west to Shark Valley, where there are no sharks but plenty of sunbathing gators lounging around the 15-mile looping path. It's a nature-filled workout with ample views of pristine sawgrass and loads of migratory birds between January and March. What's that, you say? Pedal-pushing your way past gators and birds is sooooo touristy? Well, there's also a decent chance of spotting one of the much-hyped Burmese pythons that are grabbing national headlines. Park ranger Eric Riordan says five of the suckers were removed from the park in December, including one that was 16 feet long. If that's not motivation to keep pedaling, what is?

To the nongrizzled newbie, bait shops can be a bit intimidating. They're beacons of seafaring manliness where tales and tips are swapped in a vernacular impossible to fake. Rather than wimping out and heading for one of the watered-down Walmarts of fishing (Outdoor World — where you can buy a boat, a snazzy flannel to look the part, and loads of other stuff you'll never need), show some love for local retailers and drop into Angler's Bait & Tackle. The staff is as knowledgeable about the local scene as anyone and willing to share its insider info on nearby hot spots with customers. During a recent visit, one of the managers, Juanito, walked an FOB Midwesterner through all the twists and turns, from how to get a license to what baits work where to the best internet boards. He even recommended that the newcomer test out some gear at Outdoor World, then come back and order it through the shop for a better deal. It's tough not to give preference to the shop after that suggestion.

Wakodahatchee Wetlands

Though it's more a stunning example of the avian diversity residing in our great state, Wakodahatchee also is proof that once in a great while, humans do get it right. What previously sat vacant as 50 acres of "unused utilities land" has been transformed into a manufactured wetlands where the Palm Beach County Water Utilities Department naturally filters a few million gallons of water daily. We know, we know: Florida governmental body engaged in a successful eco-innovation? It's a little hard to believe. But this shit is real, and it's something to behold. More than 140 species of birds have been spotted from the boardwalks throughout the facility, from hard-to-mistake regulars like the great blue heron to rarefied hermits like the least bittern. You don't have to be the progeny of John James Audubon to get a thrill out of the view. Hell, you don't even need to own a set of binoculars. Simply walk in (there's no cost) and you'll immediately be assaulted with a landscape littered with flying, wading, and swimming feathered creatures who are delighting in the fact that, for once, humans didn't mess it up.

Jonathan Dickson State Park

They really need to make a movie about Vincent Nostokovich, AKA Trapper Nelson. According to legend, he grew up trapping muskrats in New Jersey during the industrial revolution. He ran away from home to Mexico but was arrested by Federales for gunrunning. So he headed back East with ten cents to his name, grew that into a living wage by gambling, and landed in South Florida. With a loan, he bought vast swaths of land — 800 acres eventually — where he trapped animals and sold their fur and meat. Weird rumors about him abounded — he could eat 18 eggs for breakfast, he dined on raw 'possum — but his reputation soared when he turned his land into a tourist stop and zoo and began wrestling alligators. Next thing, the six-foot-four beefcake was nicknamed "Tarzan of the Loxahatchee River" and started dating beautiful heiresses. He married but was drafted for World War II. Upon his return, he found his wife cheating and his tax bills piling up. He went cuckoo, chasing visitors from his land and becoming a recluse. Nelson was found dead in 1968 with a gunshot wound to his stomach. Was it suicide, as authorities ruled, or was he murdered? Conspiracy theorists have noted that men wanted his girlfriends, thieves wanted his treasure (rangers in 1984 found coins stashed in his chimney), and the government wanted his land — which it eventually got and made part of Jonathan Dickinson State Park. You're not supposed to camp here, but tour boats and canoes make pit stops. If you visit, see if the trapper's ghost will tell you the truth — locals have reported multiple sightings.

Dry Tortugas National Park

Before drone strikes and cyberattacks, long-range missiles and nuclear annihilation, wars were fought with cannonballs and other solid orbs of destruction. That mode of attack might help explain why more than 16 million bricks were used to build Fort Jefferson and it has still never been completed. Construction of the "Guardian of the Gulf of Mexico" began in 1846; officials called it off in 1875 due to concerns that the sheer weight of all those bricks was too stressful for the tiny island and its water system, according to the National Park Service. Located about 70 miles west of Key West in Dry Tortugas National Park, the imposing structure is little more than a subtropical ghost town these days. More than 160 years of storms and salty sea winds have taken their toll, but if you can get out to the small remote islands, you'll stroll around a one-of-a-kind artifact that would never be deemed feasible in these modern times.

Once in a blue moon, our elected officials decide to restore a natural habitat instead of bulldozing it for development. In 2005, Palm Beach County created the Snook Islands by filling holes in the Lake Worth Lagoon with dredged sand imported from Peanut Island. Volunteers planted red mangroves on the barren landscape, and today the islands are full of scampering crabs and leggy birds. In February, the county created a new way to enjoy the islands near the western end of the Lake Worth Bridge. There's a small, grassy park overlooking the water, along with a fishing pier, dock, and boat launch area. The highlight is a 545-foot-long wooden-plank boardwalk winding past the mangrove trees into the lagoon. Visitors can walk over the water, listening to the gentle lapping of waves, as birds skim the water and soar above the trees. It's a true oasis in the city.

Despite being tasked specifically with dealing with the public, many spokespeople seem to pretty much hate dealing with pesky reporters. Unlike other public relations professionals who are either unbearable cranks or dissembling sugarcoaters, Mandell tells it like it is in reference to investigations and public records. He sometimes even — gasp — engages in friendly chit-chat. He's a straight shooter of the metaphorical kind.

It's easy to see why David Garrard is the best Dolphin — he's been practicing way longer than everyone else. When Garrard played his first game for the Jaguars in 2002, Dolphins center Mike Pouncey was 13 — that's what we in the biz call "a big head start." He's thrown for 89 touchdowns in ten seasons, which means, if he keeps it up, he's on pace to pass Dan Marino for career touchdowns in the 2048 season. He'll only be 70 years old!

Even the Outfielder Formerly Known as Mike Stanton is getting in on the rebranding craze — though his dad calls him "Mike" and his mom calls him "Cruz," Stanton said during spring training that he was more comfortable going by his real first name, "Giancarlo." With 34 home runs last year and a .893 OPS, one can't help but agree with catcher John Buck: "When I think of 'Giancarlo,' I think of someone with long, flowing hair like Fabio. But if he keeps hitting homers, I'll call him whatever he wants me to call him."

The Panthers picked up this 32-year-old Canadian last year, and it's paid off big time — in addition to four three-assist games, he had a four-assist game last October and now sits comfortably near the top in the league for feeding goals up to the offense. Plus, who can resist those glimmering white teeth?

Best Of Broward-Palm Beach®

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