Mark Guss and I have now spent four days in Naples, traveling the backroads of Collier County, seeking out stories in the Everglades, meeting the people who seek shelter, those who provide care and many who still don’t know what to expect.

Sunday was no different. The routine now is get up at 6:30 a.m., meet in the hotel lobby for coffee and a waffle, plan strategy and head out to parts unknown, fielding phone calls from co-workers, our bosses and our loved ones. The hotel staff is like an extended family. We joke with them like longtime friends. They are a constant presence, wishing us well in the morning and saying goodnight once we finally return.

We keep up with Wilma by TV. There always seems to be a television broadcasting weather news. It could be worse, and believe me, it is, once you flip the channels away from weather in search of something distracting to watch at the hotel. I’ve decided I’m spoiled and rely too much on my DVR, knowing the bunch of new shows that have recorded since I left Tampa. I miss my girlfriend. And my house and our cats. The only relief for Mark and I is knowing that our families in Tampa and Bradenton should be spared the worst of the storm.

Today was filled with emergency shelters, and Immokalee, a migrant farming community northeast of Naples. It’s a stark contrast to the million-dollar mansions and ritzy restaurants that line the beach. Residents in Immokalee work hard for little pay. They pick the crops, live in mobile homes, speak Spanish mostly and have few comforts that we enjoy. To find a place where McDonald’s and Wal-Mart have not invaded is shocking. Five blocks from downtown is the Seminole Casino. Even with Wilma heading this way, the parking lot had cars. Inside, people played nickel, quarter and dollar slots. A big-screen television broadcast The Weather Channel, but few people seemed to notice.

Mark and I met Dennis and Peggy Burton at Collier County’s only special needs shelter. Their story of love and lifelong devotion is uplifting. Dennis is very ill, and Peggy is both his wife and nurse. Look for our story about them in Monday’s Tribune. It really is an amazing tale.

We met Viola Fuller, who cares for nine adopted children even though she is 73. She and her family took refuge at a shelter in Immokalee. Viola prayed for little damage. We wished her well, and we wished her safe return home.

Fewer businesses are open today. Subway, however, wasn’t closed. There seems to be a Subway on every corner here. Publix grocery stores too.

The only thing missing is the reason we’ve become so familiar with this area.

Soon. Not much longer now. I’ve got two candles out on the desk in the hotel. Water in the truck. Flashlight by our side.

We’re ready.

Come on, Wilma. It’s time to send you on your way.