MacArthur Park

No doubt, the incomparable tune by Jimmy Webb contributed to the siren call of this park just north of West Palm Beach.  Thanks to my new wheels, I finally was able to explore it.

A long, wooden bridge with a pair of built-in picnic tables, crosses an unnamed estuary.

Only mangroves and dunes separate the estuary from the Atlantic Ocean.

I didn't spot any cakes left out in the rain, just high winds and big waves.  Swimming-prohibited flags deterred me less than multiple rocks and coral formations--exposed by beach erosion--that can injure a body a lot more easily than sand when a wave knocks you down.

That's Riviera Beach at the park's south end.

If you've ever watched a pelican dive bomb for fish, you'll know why groups of them are called squadrons.

Undeveloped shoreline--a rarity in south Florida--extends for two miles, reminding visitors how the state's east coast once looked to indigenous tribes and sailors.

Geniuses and viewers of PBS will be familiar with John D. MacArthur and his wife Catherine T.  The philanthropic foundation they established, one of the nation's ten largest, provides both fellowships and programming support.  MacArthur, a midwestern insurance magnate, invested well in Florida real estate.  His donated land--the only state park in Palm Beach County--is a tiny portion of 100,000 acres he owned in the Sunshine State.

John D. MacArthur (1897-1978)

The mile-long Satinleaf Trail offers a shady respite from the beach.  Thom once said dunes in the Sahara "all look alike."  I kinda feel that way about Florida nature walks although this one did sound and smell a little different, thanks to the roar of the surf and a frightened skunk.

This palm tree root reminded me of a sandworm in Dune.