Over Peggy's objections, I quietly paddle closer to take a photograph. As I reach for the camera, I accidentally bump my paddle against the kayak. The alligator explodes forward like a bay skiff with a 150-horse engine going from a standstill to full throttle. I sit paralyzed as the head and most of the body of the eight-foot gator comes completely out of the water, propelled by its powerful tail. It lunges across the water in my direction, then dives and vanishes from sight about 20 yards in front of me.

As startled as we are, we realize that the alligator was most likely fleeing rather than feigning an attack. But the experience serves as a reminder that, despite its role as an often cuddly symbol of Florida tourism, the alligator is a powerful and dangerous predator. It's hard to miss seeing alligators on any wilderness kayak trip in Florida, and it's always a thrill to spot one sunning on a bank or floating like a bumpy log in the water. If a photo opportunity presents itself, just make sure to keep your distance-a full-grown alligator can move its 1,000-plus pounds at more than 30 miles an hour.

We backtrack out of Big Bayou, continue east for about a mile and then turn south down the broad base of St. Vincent's triangle-shaped shoreline toward West Pass. Strong currents accompany the rising tide in the narrow pass, so we do a ferry-glide sprint across the half-mile span of deep water. Once out of the current, we turn toward the primitive campground on the eastern tip of Little St. George Island.

Like St. Vincent, Little St. George Island is completely undeveloped. As a part of the National Estuarine Research Reserve system, the island is jointly managed by the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration and the Florida Department of Environmental Protection. Primitive camping is permitted at either end of the island and at Cape St. George in the middle, but paddlers are asked to contact the Cape St. George State Preserve in Apalachicola before camping on the island. And when I say primitive, I mean it in the most literal sense of the word. There are no toilet facilities (cat holes are OK), no water and, of course, you must pack out all of your refuse.

St. George was once a continuous, 29-mile-long island. In 1954, the Army Corps of Engineers cut a channel just west of center to allow shrimp boats quicker access to the Gulf. Now, St. George Island is the larger (20 miles long) of the two islands while Little St. George Island includes the westernmost nine miles. Separating St. George Island from Little St. George is the pass known as Bob Sikes Cut. Unfortunately, you can't launch near the pass from the road system on St. George Island unless you're a property owner or guest at St. George Plantation, a ritzy private development that covers the entire west end of the island.