Some visitors to Everglades National Park are content to stick to the marked hiking and paddling trails on the park map. But not Terry Helmers.

The 58-year-old South Miami man — a stalwart volunteer at both Everglades and Biscayne national parks — is fond of the trail less taken.

About a year ago, Helmers decided to explore the vast marsh east of Nine Mile Pond near Flamingo. On aerial maps, he found an old airboat trail no longer used by park researchers but still bearing white PVC markers. He got in his aluminum canoe equipped with food, water and GPS, and set forth from Nine Mile Pond, located just off the main park road. Over four trips to a remote marsh called Craighead Pond, he plotted a map with GPS coordinates for all the trail markers overlaid on Google Earth photos. During his explorations, he never saw another human being. But a couple weeks ago, Helmers decided to share his find, leading eight paddlers on a daylong, 16-mile round trip to Craighead Pond.

“I have found over the decades that this stays a remote thing,” Helmers said. “This is about the most solitude that you can get.”

He was right.

No one but Helmers’ group was at the roadside put-in at 6:30 on that Saturday morning. Mosquitoes sucked on exposed skin like tiny vampires as the paddlers readied their craft in the predawn darkness. Even the huge, inky-hued crows that frequent the area were still asleep, and only a few tired-looking vultures wandered the parking lot.

But the group quickly left the insects behind as it headed east away from the mangrove tunnels of the pond’s loop trail at sunrise. A stiff headwind pretty much guaranteed to keep the bugs away — but it also meant the first leg of the trip would be an aerobic exercise.

Helmers decided to forgo his GPS unit unless he really needed it to locate the first airboat trail marker. About a quarter-mile after departing marker 65A at Nine Mile Pond, he spotted it — still standing tall amid dwarf red mangroves and intermittent spike rush.

Due to recent rains, water levels in the marsh were plenty high enough for nonstop paddling, without having to exit the canoe or kayak to push. At least a foot and a half of crystal-clear fresh water covered the marsh, providing a transparent view of the spongy, periphyton-coated bottom.

Surprisingly, the group spotted no fish other than mosquito-eating gambusia, and no gators. Perhaps it was because high water levels spread out the wildlife so it had plenty of refuge from human interlopers. Helmers said the water would probably drop so much that the area would be impassable in a few weeks.

A couple paddlers cast lures en route, but nobody caught anything. Overhead soared the occasional black vulture, ibis, and great blue heron.

The group continued east from one PVC marker to the next, skirting the small mangroves and thin tufts of spike rush. Occasionally, a canoe or kayak would brush up against the mangroves, flushing small black-and-red dragonflies.

After a fairly strenuous 3-plus-hour paddle, they reached Craighead Pond, really more of a slough that harbored a long, elevated wooden platform holding two aluminum ladders and some round pens made of plastic sheeting — the remains of a defunct park science experiment. The paddlers were mildly curious, but the main concern seemed to be eating lunch. Unlike many picnic sites, Craighead Pond was devoid of raccoons or diving birds.

Looking around at the deserted waterscape, Donna Buckley, paddling with husband John, said, “We’re the only animals out here.”

Helmers said that if the group were to continue east for another 14 miles or so, it would pass through Taylor Slough and end up at park headquarters. Nobody really wanted to do that in the now-blustery east breeze.

Max Evans, 15, of West Palm Beach paused from lunch to cast a lure into the marsh. When he didn’t catch anything after a few casts, he began to hone a fallen tree branch into a canoe pole. It was his first trip to the Everglades, though he and dad Bill previously had taken other paddling excursions.

“It was a bit of a paddle, but it was good,” Max said. “I loved it.”

For the return trip, several of the paddlers came up with ways to take advantage of the wind at their backs. Max fashioned a sail for the front of the canoe out of a rain jacket. Ross Hancock and Brian McGrath, both of Coral Gables, put up homemade spinnakers on their kayaks. And the Buckleys pulled out two beach umbrellas.

Joked Helmers: “That works, but it looks pretty tacky.”

It turned out the speed-boosting techniques were unnecessary. With little effort, everyone was back at the Nine Mile Pond put-in in about 2 ½ hours, greeted by the signs of civilization: gaggles of paddlers and several aggressive, lunch-plundering crows.

Stowing gear, Helmers’ group talked excitedly of future explorations in the Everglades.

Said Hancock: “Terry is filling in all those big blank areas on the Everglades maps that just say ‘marsh.’ He is a true explorer.”