TECO Manatee Viewing Center
Our first road trip as Floridians was to see the manatees and we hadn’t even visited family yet.
Our move to Florida from Pennsylvania was complete. The truck has been refueled, swept out, and returned to Penske. The hole that I–that is–that the tree limb put in the roof has been disclosed to the manager on duty. Our boxed belongings are neatly stacked in the garage and being systematically emptied out as we require the contents. The furniture is arranged, the television is connected and the refrigerator and pantry are stocked. Our kitties are settled in and acclimating to the new digs.
All’s right with the world for the first time in almost a year and lest we become bloated sea cows lounging on the couch all day, we were ready to get out and do something.
Being new in town means not knowing what to do for fun. Ironically, this is a larger problem in a place like Florida, the vacation capital of the nation. Many of the sights and activities are tourist oriented and cost a pretty penny to see and do. As newbie residents, we are keen to avoid those places rightly known as “traps” that offer little reward for the expense. When living amid amusement parks, exotic animal parks, and beaches it becomes easy to forget that most families save up for a year or more to enjoy these things.
We’re no exception. Our budget demands that we scrimp and save and therefore be selective about what we consume. Getting the most value for our dollar and time will be a key criterion when evaluating potential activities, sights, and foods–or, as I call them, spots and vittles. And, I don’t know…pastimes? Activities? Diversions? Recreations? I’ll get back to you on that one.
Like most everyone, we find ourselves relying on websites and the opinions of others to find spots to visit and vittles to eat. It helps to have an inside man or woman to give you the honest dope and the tips and tricks necessary to make the most of your time. Fortunately for us, I have family in the area with over a half-century of experience in making the most of Florida’s extracurricular offerings.
So it was one December day, only a week into our residency, that my Grandpa called to say that the current cold snap and sunny skies were the perfect makings to see herds of manatees at the TECO Manatee Viewing Center. Best of all, it was free; so we planned a trip, posthaste.
This would not be my first visit to the center. Way back in February of 1994, while staying with my grandparents for a month, G-mom took me out to see the gentle giants of the sea (or is that whales?) and…there were none to be seen. Apparently, the weather was too hot and they were out doing what manatee do when not huddled around a power plant for warmth. So it was with some desire to make up for an unfulfilled trip and in some remembrance of one of the few personal experiences with my grandmother before she passed that we chose to see some aquatic mammals.
Additionally, this would be our first official day trip and we were pretty excited to get out and see our new surroundings. We drove to Gibsonton to take Rt. 41 for a scenic drive to the Manatee Viewing Center. We cruised along the old route, not yet aware of its historical significance–the Tamiami Trail markers did cast us a clue–as a major route prior to modern superhighways.
The country landscape was mostly farmland for crops and grazing, but the highway frontage still held some commercial value. Like most old highways that lost their traffic to bypasses and interstates, vine woven structures of rusty steel and crumbling concrete were plentiful sights. Gas stations, used appliance centers, and auto repair garages filled the gaps between salvage lots, bait shops, and vacant motor courts.
Rt. 41 reminded me a lot of Rt. 40 back home in Delaware before the suburban sprawl of developments and shopping centers cluttered the landscape. That sprawl is occurring here, too and at a rapid pace as more and more folks (ourselves included) relocate to sunny Florida.
North of Gibsonton we encountered great, mountain-sized, chalky berms. Christa asked what they were and, not knowing, I guessed maybe a landfill. They resembled landfills back home, some covered with grassy emerald slopes. “They’re huge,” she marveled. I let the timing for a cheap joke peter out. We crossed over Bull Frog Creek and I made a note to look into its potential for kayaking.
I would later learn that the berms were called gypsum stacks and were a product of phosphate mining. After extracting the phosphate, the mostly gypsum remains were formed into massive plateaus surrounding lake-sized containment basins for the wastewater also used in the extraction process. The mining process is very invasive.
Existing before the tourist trade really took off, since the 1880’s this region was exploited for the mining of phosphate, used primarily for fertilizer. Florida phosphate helped fueled the nation’s farms during the postwar booms of the early twentieth century and continues to today. One could argue that Tampa and the surrounding counties were built, literally and economically, on phosphate. There exists a contentious relationship between the industry and the ever growing population of residents attracted by the warmer climes and Gulf beaches.
Manatee Viewing Center
6990 Dickman Rd
Apollo Beach, FL 33572
Phone: (813) 228-4289
Hours: 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily (the wildlife observation tower and habitat trails close at 4 p.m. daily).
Open: Nov. 1 through April 15
Closed: Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve (at 3 p.m.), Christmas Day and Easter
Fees: Free
https://www.tampaelectric.com/company/mvc/
We turned right onto Big Bend Rd. and headed for several towering columns belching steam like a Civic full of vapers. As we neared the cloud factory, I realized it was the same electric power plant visible from Apollo Beach. We visited there during our November house hunting trip. Only two weeks in Florida and already our world was shrinking.
The Manatee Viewing Center is a service provided by TECO Energy (the local gas and electric utilities). So, technically, it’s not really free–we all contribute a portion to its existence. Why does an electric power plant have a manatee viewing center? It’s the result of an interesting coincidental relationship between the natural world and industry.
In the colder months, when the water temperature of the gulf, bays, and rivers drops a little too chill for the manatee’s comfort, they make their way to the TECO Big Bend Power Station to soak in the warm waters heated by the steam turbines that generate electricity. So, when the temps drop, it’s a sure bet that these sirenian spas will be teaming with the docile manatees and their young.
At some mysterious point, Big Bend Road becomes Dickman Road. We hung a big bend to the left and arrive at the gates of the Manatee Viewing Center. It was fairly busy, but we found a parking space with little trouble and made our way to the building.
It should come as no surprise that a bit of marketing for TECO Energy is included in the experience. Along the boardwalk pier and around the main building speakers broadcast the benefits and virtues of TECO and electricity. I like electricity; it makes life grand and I know how the sausage is made, I could just do without the sales pitch. They provide the center for free(ish), so I let it go in one ear and half out the other. Portions of the looped program are pertinent factual information.
The pier runs through a mangrove that dominates the banks of this man-made channel. Memories of my trip with grandmom twenty-four years ago—TWENTY FOUR YEARS—resurged and I recalled walking the boardwalk through the same verdant mangroves to spot…nothing at the time. It was too warm. But I reminisced all the same as we walked out to the end of the pier. We were not disappointed this day. The manatees were all over the cove, though few were close enough to the pier to get a good look.
People gathered at a few points along the pier where one to several of the manatees had settled just below the surface of the water. They don’t do much, manatees—they mostly just float like grey tubers in a brackish stew. With snouts. Being mammals, they need to breathe some air through their lungs now and then, so they surface for a few seconds like tiny submarines and dip back below just as you start to get a good look at them.
Out twenty-five yards or so, several aggregations (ooh la la) of the sea cows were frolicking as best as sea cows can—swimming around each other and rolling somersaults with a flick of their paddle-like tail in the air. They seemed to be evading a research boat that looked to be slowly creeping in pursuit. Few came close enough to the pier to give us a really good look. After about fifteen minutes we decided to head to the building and see the exhibit.
We noticed a second pier behind the building, so we climbed the steps and went to investigate. It was a hexagonal loop that ran through mangroves and out over the cove. And here was where all the manatees were. They littered the shallows of the little cove and we were finally able to get a real good look at the critters.
Curiously, they had flat and oval-like beaver tails rather than wide and bifurcated like dolphins or whales. The manatees used them the same way the other marine mammals did—like snorkelers use foot fins to propel and turn through the water—but they didn’t seem to be large enough for fast propulsion to me. Me. The expert in sea cows.
The largest of the West Indian species, the Florida manatees come in all sizes from babies the size of a Power Wheels to adults the size and weight of a Volkswagen Beetle. I leaned over the railing to watch a baby and its mother rising and sinking in an endless cycle of feeding and breathing.
Her puckered round black eyes made me think of teddy bears. They don’t have lids or lashes, but round ocular muscles that close like a camera iris, or…an anus. She’s got teddy anus eyes.
They’re called sea cows, but they ought to be called sea sloths; they don’t move much or quickly. But they do graze and give milk; from their armpits. They digest more like a horse and are more closely related to an elephant than a dolphin. None of that info is necessary to appreciate them in person.
These snouted yams grazed below the surface, occasionally projecting a whiskered schnozz above the plane to exchange lung air, then sinking back below. It was then that I realized they look more like a seal mated with a bulldog. And a sweet potato. And a ping-pong paddle.
Also clearly visible aside from their questionable genetics, were the stark scars and gashes from the boat propellers that strike these creatures quite often. The wounds heal into scar tissue that appears as white streaks against their dark grey-brown skin. It’s a sad thing to consider, but the wounded ones are the survivors. Many don’t make it.
Once we got our fill, we ventured inside to see the interpretive display. There were anatomical diagrams, models, and skeletal assemblies. A point was made about the damage done to manatees by boats, fishing nets, and other man-made hazards. It was fairly informative.
The manatees’ numbers are numbers are increasing, from only several hundred when first protected to over 6,000 today. And in 2017 the U.S. Fish and Wildlife service moved the manatee from the endangered to the threatened list.
Given their size, yet slow and docile nature, I was surprised they were never raised for food, though I learned they were hunted until the practice was prohibited in 1893.
I must be getting hungry when considering the culinary possibilities of dugongs and sea cows; little, winged potatoes though they are. A cafe and a gift shop adjoin the exhibit, but we were in the mood for something slightly more inspired.
We pretty much had our fill of the manatees after about an hour and a half of touring the exhibit and watching them from the deck, and we were growing hungry. Unsure of any local establishments, and still up for exploring, we decided to forgo the somewhat foodless stretch of Rt.41 that we drove to the Manatee Viewing Center and decided to continue further south and see what popped up.
Though stocked with chain restaurants and pizza shops obscured by their strip mall facades, Apollo Beach offered nothing that intrigued us from the highway. We didn’t Yelp, as we thought it’d be more fun to do it the old-fashioned way–sighting through the windshield. We passed a promising looking place called Beanie’s just before calling it quits and u-turning back. We pulled into the empty lot–a possible warning sign. There’s a brief write up of our experience here.
We enjoyed our time at the TECO Manatee Viewing Center. It was fun to finally see the flippered spuds and I was happy to get the chance to bring some closure to the previous trip with my grandmother. There’s a lot to learn about these docile creatures and the information is nicely presented in this well maintained and accessible facility. The manatees rely on these power plants to survive, which reveals an interesting dichotomy for those opposed to the coal-fired plants yet anxious to improve the welfare of the manatee.
If you’d like to see what resulted when God merged a coconut with a bratwurst, I heartily recommend a visit to the TECO Manatee Viewing Center. From November through April, it’s enjoyable outdoor educational fun for free. We’ll be making it an annual winter ritual.
Thanks for reading!