Kurt Zuelsdorf loves the water. He spends his days on a kayak, leading locals and tourists through an off-the-beaten path nature park, Clam Bayou.
Kurt doesn’t think of his guests as guests but students. As he folds his tall body into his kayak and pushes off into the bayou, he tells his “students” that even in the middle of a city, wild Florida exists.
Clam Bayou, the last remaining estuary on Boca Ciega Bay, is sandwiched between St. Petersburg and Gulfport. Brackish water runs through a maze of mangroves that are home to brown pelicans, bright pink roseate spoonbills, and diminutive blue herons.
“This is nature’s art gallery,” he says, pointing at the specks of color peeping at the kayaks from the leafy confines of red mangroves. “People spend their vacations here, visiting Gulfport’s galleries and St. Pete’s museums, but they never see the natural art living right here.”
Kurt doesn’t think of his guests as guests but students. As he folds his tall body into his kayak and pushes off into the bayou, he tells his “students” that even in the middle of a city, wild Florida exists.
Clam Bayou, the last remaining estuary on Boca Ciega Bay, is sandwiched between St. Petersburg and Gulfport. Brackish water runs through a maze of mangroves that are home to brown pelicans, bright pink roseate spoonbills, and diminutive blue herons.
“This is nature’s art gallery,” he says, pointing at the specks of color peeping at the kayaks from the leafy confines of red mangroves. “People spend their vacations here, visiting Gulfport’s galleries and St. Pete’s museums, but they never see the natural art living right here.”
