W e picked up our kay- aks from a local rental shop near
Back in the water, we paddled past a string of riverside homes— some sleek and new with clean modern lines, others older with sh- ing gear piled up on private docks. A few homeowners gave a wave. One guy in a Boston Whaler slowed down to ask if the Snook were biting. By the time we reached the Roosevelt Bridge, the town had fully emerged. More boats. More movement. e nal land- mark was Sailor’s Return—set across the river, bold and white, perched above the marina. We didn’t stop there—too up- scale for two people in shing gear—but it marked our turnaround point. From the water, the restaurant looks like the edge of something—where the river ends and downtown Stuart begins.
Halpatiokee Regional Park. Easy pro- cess—no need to haul anything. Within 20 minutes, we were on the water.
e South Fork of the St. Lucie River starts out wide near the launch, but narrows quickly as you head east. My friend paddled ahead in his own kayak while I trailed behind, watching the man- groves pull in around us. Red roots crisscrossed the surface, and overhead the branches formed tunnels just wide enough to move through. It was calm and shaded, with the occasional osprey over- head and mullet jumping near the banks. We brought lightweight rods, rigged for Snook. In one of the deeper bends of the river, under a canopy of trees, we anchored ourselves with
a foot against the roots and cast toward the shadows. e hits came fast—small Snook, nothing huge, but aggressive. We caught and released several in under an hour. It’s a good stretch for shing if you know where to pause and look for current breaks.
We dri ed back on the current, casting a few more times, mostly just taking it slow. e full loop, from launch to the bridge and back, took about four hours with stops. Not rushed, not exhausting. ere’s a side of Stuart you only see by water. Mangrove tunnels. Fishable pockets. Sandbars that aren’t marked on any map. If you’ve got a half-day, bring a friend, rent a couple of kayaks, and go.
Farther down, the mangroves opened into a broad section of river where sandbars rise up during low tide. We stopped at one, climbed out, and stood ankle-deep in clear water. It was quiet, except for the sound of a boat passing far o . We stretched, had some snacks, and watched a manatee surface in the distance.
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