Modern life has a tendency to trap people in cubicles, cars, and cookie-cutter suburbs. Thankfully, someone comes along now and then to remind us of the beauty that presents itself when we turn off the information feeds and turn away from the daily grind. Bill Belleville’s enchanting Salvaging the Real Florida invites readers to rediscover treasures hidden in plain sight. Join Belleville as he paddles a glowing lagoon, slogs through a swamp, explores a spring cave, dives a "literary" shipwreck, and pays a visit to the colorful historic district of an old riverboat town. Journey with him in search of the apple snail, the black bear, a rare cave-dwelling shrimp, and more. Everywhere he goes, Belleville finds beauty, intrigue, and, more often than not, a legacy in peril. Following in the tradition of John Muir, William Bartram, and Henry David Thoreau, Belleville forges intimate connections with his surroundings. Like the works of Marjory Stoneman Douglas and Archie Carr, his evocative stories carry an urgent and important call to preserve what is left of the natural world.

Losing It All to Sprawl is the poignant chronicle of award-winning nature writer Bill Belleville and how he came to understand and love his historic Cracker farmhouse and "relic" neighborhood in central Florida, even as it was all wiped out from under him. Belleville's narrative is eloquent, informed, and impassioned, a saga in which tractors and backhoes trample through the woods next to his home in order to build the backbone of Florida sprawl--the mall. As heavy machinery encircles Belleville and his community--the noise growing louder and closer, displacing everything Belleville has called home for the past fifteen years--he tells a story that is much older, 10,000 years older. The story stretches back to the Timucua and the Mayaca living in harmony with Florida's environment; the conquistadors who expected much from, but also feared, this "land of flowers"; the turn-of-the-century tourists "modernizing" and "climatizing" the state; the original Cracker families who lived in Belleville's farmhouse. In stark contrast to this millennia-long transformation is the whiplash of unbridled growth and development that threatens the nearby wilderness of the Wekiva River system, consuming Belleville's home and, ultimately, his very sense of place. In Florida, one of the nation's fastest growing states (and where local and state governments encourage growth), balancing use with preservation is an uphill battle. Sprawl spreads into the countryside, consuming not just natural lands but Old Florida neighborhoods and their unique history. In Losing It All to Sprawl, Belleville accounts for the impacts--social, political, natural, personal--that a community in the crosshairs of unsustainable growth ultimately must bear, but he also offers Floridians, and anyone facing the blight of urban confusion, the hope that can be found in the rediscovery and appreciation of the natural landscape.

First explored by naturalist William Bartram in the 1760s, the St. Johns River stretches 310 miles along Florida's east coast, making it the longest river in the state. The first "highway" through the once wild interior of Florida, the St. Johns may appear ordinary, but within its banks are some of the most fascinating natural phenomena and historic mysteries in the state. The river, no longer the commercial resource it once was, is now largely ignored by Florida's residents and visitors alike. In the first contemporary book about this American Heritage River, Bill Belleville describes his journey down the length of the St. Johns, kayaking, boating, hiking its riverbanks, diving its springs, and exploring its underwater caves. He rediscovers the natural Florida and establishes his connection with a place once loved for its untamed beauty. Belleville involves scientists, environmentalists, fishermen, cave divers, and folk historians in his journey, soliciting their companionship and their expertise. River of Lakes weaves together the biological, cultural, anthropological, archaeological, and ecological aspects of the St. Johns, capturing the essence of its remarkable history and intrinsic value as a natural wonder.

"Can it still be hurricane season? Must be, because here come Serge A. Storms and his perpetually stoned bro, Coleman, in Tim Dorsey’s gonzo crime caper.” –The New York Times Book Review The “compulsively irreverent and shockingly funny” (Boston Globe) Tim Dorsey returns with an insanely entertaining tale in which the inimitable Serge A. Storms sees dead people and investigates a creepy urban myth that may be all too real. Though another devastating hurricane is raking Florida, its awesome power can’t deter the Sunshine State’s most loyal son, Serge A. Storms, from his latest scenic road trip: a cemetery tour. With his best bro Coleman riding shotgun, Serge hits the highway in his gold ’69 Plymouth Satellite, putting pedal to the metal on a grand tour of the past. Beginning in Key West, the sunshine boys’ odyssey includes a forgotten mass grave in Palm Beach County holding the remains of African Americans killed by the Great Hurricane of 1928, and the resting place of one world-famous television dolphin (RIP Flipper) from the 1960s. But one deadland—a haunted old sugar field—holds more than just the bones of those who’ve passed. For years, local children have whispered about a boogeyman hiding among the stalks. Could it be the same maniac known as Naked Florida Man, who’s been raising hell all over the place? There are few things Serge loves more than solving a good mystery and bestowing justice on miscreants who sully his beloved home’s good name. With his partner Bong Man, Florida’s psycho superhero will find the truth in this hilariously violent delight—packed with history, lore, and plenty of motel antics—from the insanely ingenious Tim Dorsey.

Salvage of a sunken slave ship, devastating hurricanes and the odd doings of locals such as Jimmy Buffett and Hemingway's cats.

Meandering through Orange, Lake, and Seminole Counties, this "purest form of Central Florida nature," as described by one of its champions, is also bordered by some of the region's most densely populated suburban sprawl. The Wekiva River makes up some of the best protected waters in the state with laws designed for its preservation, as it is recognized as a regional "jewel" and a resource worth saving in public trust as parks, preserves, and forests. Today visitors who paddle, boat, and hike here discover a sanctuary that seems unchanged since its earliest history, when ancient tribes piled fresh water shells, sand, bone, and pot shards to create midden mounds, and when Clay Springs and other early settlements helped draw river traffic and railroads hauled out its forest products. Its cooling springs have provided recreation for generation after generation.

When Skip Strong, the thirty-two-year-old Captain of the 688-foot oil tanker Cherry Valley received the call, all he knew was that an ocean going tug with five men aboard was in distress off Florida's east coast. Caught in an unusually powerful storm, the tug's engines failed, and as the winds gusted to more than sixty miles per hour and the sea whipped into a frenzy, the tug--and the barge it was towing-- were in danger of being swept ashore. Captain Strong also knew that he would follow the age-old tradition of sea rescue. Coming to the aid of the crew, the tug, and its cargo, he would have to maneuver his ship--laden with 10 million gallons of oil-- in extremely hazardous conditions. One mistake and Strong would be responsible for an ecological disaster on Florida's beaches equal to that of the Exxon Valdez. What Captain Strong didn't know was that the tug was carrying a 150-foot aluminum fuel cell worth upwards of $50 million. And that in the instant he decided to rescue the tug and its crew, he was opening the door on a dramatic and tense legal struggle that would pit him against the United States Government for salvage rights.