Circumnavigating
the Florida Peninsula
in a Sea Kayak
Table of Contents
Preface.......................................................................................................................................................................... 2
Chapter 1 – Reasoning........................................................................................................................................ 3
Chapter 2 – Preparation................................................................................................................................... 4
Chapter 3 – Space Coast to Cumberland Island.............................................................................. 5
Chapter 4 – Up the St. Marys to the Okefenokee............................................................................. 12
Chapter 5 – Down the Suwanee to the Gulf....................................................................................... 16
Chapter 6 – The Remote Coast South of Big Bend.......................................................................... 24
Chapter 7 – The West Coast.......................................................................................................................... 24
Chapter 8 – Ten Thousand Islands and the Wilderness Waterway................................. 24
Chapter 9 – Florida Bay and the Keys.................................................................................................... 24
Chapter 10 – South Florida and Homeward Bound...................................................................... 24
Epilogue...................................................................................................................................................................... 24
In December of 1995, upon graduating from Florida Institute of Technology with a Masters degree in Computer Science, I did something that I had been promising myself for a long time. I purchased a sea kayak. It was a reward to myself for the years of work involved in advancing my education, and I looked forward to spending my new found leisure time exploring the waters of the Indian River lagoon. My work as a software engineer often extended into weekends and evenings, but I still found the time to enjoy the natural beauty that presented itself to me on and around the waters of Central Florida.
I remember my first outing, which took me into the open water of the Indian River west of downtown Melbourne. After all, this was a sea kayak, made for open water. It was a windy day and I learned the effectiveness of a spray skirt as the waves and spray washed over the pointed bow of my new little ship. It was exhilarating. I soon began exploring the waters north and south of Melbourne, up and down creeks and rivers which fed the lagoon. I obtained maps and often looked for loop trips so that I could explore a given area without having to retrace my path.
This quest for loop trips kept me searching the pages of my Florida Atlas and Gazeteer. This detailed map of the entire state of Florida is probably intended for land travel, but does an excellent job of showing the waterways in it’s fine scale pages. I found ways to circumnavigate parts of Merritt Island using the barge canal and a way to Circle Cape Canaveral with a short portage over the dunes at Canaveral National Seashore. I found there are many ways to form loops and routes through the myriad of islands and channels in the Wilderness Waterway, which runs from Everglades City to Flamingo on the southwest coast where the river of grass meets the gulf. But as I planned these day trips and weekend adventures, my eye seemed to focus farther and farther out on the map. I realized that it would be possible to bisect the entire state using the St. Lucie canal, Lake Okechobee, and the Caloosahatchee River. That trip could be extended into a loop around the entire southern third of the peninsula. This got me thinking; wouldn’t it be great if one could cross the peninsula to the north, thus allowing a complete circumnavigation? On the map I followed the St. Mary’s River as it winds inland from Jacksonville and noticed how close it’s path comes to the headwaters of the Suwanee River which then meanders southwest all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. The only thing separating the upper St. Mary’s from the source of the Suwanee is the Okefenokee Swamp in southern Georgia. But on further inspection, I noticed a thin blue line, which seemed to connect the two rivers accross the middle of the swamp! On the map this obviously man-made waterway is called the Suwanee canal.
A century ago, the Suwanee Canal Company built canals in an attempt to drain the swamp and make it easier to log and farm. The company went bankrupt before it succeeded. But the canals now provide easy access to the Okefenokee’s interior, and ultimately, a path from the St. Mary’s to the Suwanee with only a short five mile portage over the ridge from the St. Marys river to the eastern end of the Okefenokee.
So there is a way. It is possible to circumnavigate the peninsula of Florida given a small enough boat and a strong enough will.
I certainly had the right boat for it, but at the time the thought of taking my growing fondness for sea kayaking to this lengthy extreme was more of a daydream than a plan. I continued my occasional weekend and day trips and even ventured out for a four or five day paddle on a couple of occasions. But I remained in the long entrenched routine of putting my career ahead of my interest in nature and kayaking adventure.
It would be another four years before the will to journey along this ultimate tropical loop found it’s way into the forefront of my mind. And it would be almost another year after that into November of 2000 before the first paddle strokes of this kayak odyssey began to lead me into ever increasing knowledge of the natural beauty and character of this great state.
Why would anyone want to give up their comfortable home, steady job, home cooked meals, and daily family time, to spend four months paddling a kayak and sleeping in a tent? The mindset that I had grown up with shouted that this type of thinking was a sure sign of insanity. In fact, I had repeatedly disposed of any thoughts of extended kayak adventures in the past by telling myself that it was just not normal behavior. I was a professional. I had worked my way through college, and had spent the past eighteen years applying and extending my knowledge in the field of computer science. Why would I throw all that away to pursue some freewheeling dream of paddling a small boat for a long distance for the fun of it? But these thoughts of freedom and adventure kept coming into my head. And although I enjoyed my work, something was missing. The fact is, I like the natural world. I like breathing the ocean air, and feeling close to the earth and water. Yet I spent the better part of my time inside an air-conditioned building working with machines. Something was out of alignment. Why did these thoughts of adventure continue to come into my mind, and have to be dismissed by my “rational” brain? Occasionally I would allow myself a weekend trip or even four days and would return totally satisfied with the experience, but yearning for more. I would go back to my job and at times spend way too much time there, trying to accomplish the next crisis task. It was around September of 1999 that I decided to make some changes in my life. I decided to stop following my pre-conceived notions about working hard now to save for some undetermined future time of leisure. I decided to live for today. Why not spend more time doing what I truly enjoy? Why not share some of this time with my family? I had a good bit of vacation time saved up at work, and decided to end the millennium by using all of it. That vacation began on November 24, 1999 and ended January 4, 2000. But in a way, it is still going on.
I came to realize that those who are truly happy in life are those who do what they love to do. When I returned to work, I asked for and was granted a reduced workweek. I began to work Monday through Thursday and spend Friday through Sunday on paddling and family activity. I collected some used kayaks and a trailer and began to take extended family members and friends out on guided weekend tours. And I finally began to take seriously my dream of paddling that long loop trip that I had spotted on the map so long ago. In fact, it hit me after hiking a section of the Appalachian Trail with my family.
During my long year-end vacation, my wife, two sons and I spent a week in the mountains of north Georgia. We stayed in a cabin near the Appalachian Trail; hiked during the day, and had a great time. One day, while the four of us were returning from a hike up Blood Mountain, the highest mountain on the Appalachian Trail in Georgia, we met a party of thru-hikers. They had started at Mt. Katahdin Maine around mid July, and were only about 50 miles from reaching their goal, Springer Mt. Georgia. They were going to be home by Christmas. They took a break from their determined, hustling pace, and spoke with us about their trip. They were bearded and smelled of not having showered in weeks. They were obviously happy to be reaching the end, but seemed to be totally enjoying the experience, and not the least bit self-conscious about their appearance or odor. What struck me most was that they had temporarily traded their “normal” lives for this simple existence of daily living close to the earth, that would ultimately add up to an amazing journey that they would remember the rest of their lives.
That chance meeting with those spirited thru-hikers was the last bit of inspiration that I needed to begin the transition from dreaming to planning. I didn’t want to duplicate their trip. In fact, that journey is attempted by over 3000 well-meaning hikers per year, and completed by about ten percent of them. The magnitude of the journey inspired me, but my trip would be a different one that would never take me more than about three hundred driving miles from my Florida home. One that would allow me to pause and return home on occasion and maintain my close family ties. As we returned to Florida, I stopped at the Welcome Center to gather some references to contact about the waterways along my intended route. It was the beginning of my preparation for a journey that was becoming more real all the time.
Fall and winter in Florida are much more favorable to paddle due to cooler temperatures, more predictable weather, and fewer mosquitoes. The 1999/2000 winter season being almost half over, I gave myself a year to prepare both mentally and physically and planned my trip for the fall and winter of 2000/2001. This would also allow time to request the required leave of absence from work.
I also needed to further convince the ones I loved most that the separation involved would be bearable and worthwhile. Whenever I tell someone about this trip for the first time, it seems their first question is "what do your wife and kids think about this?" My family’s first reactions were understandably skeptical, but they knew me and knew that this idea wasn't going away. They knew that I would want to involve them as much as possible and that I didn’t desire to be apart for any long duration. The fact that my wife is a stay-at-home mom to our children made the trip possible in the first place. But the lack of any other income during the three or four months of the trip required me to start saving a year in advance. And I needed to plan the trip to include visits from them and returns home. We decided to rendezvous regularly where we could spend time together, either at home or along my planned route. Given this, I needed to plan the route a little more carefully. I took my old Florida Atlas and Gazeteer and dissected it into its individual pages. I taped these pages together on the wall in my family room until I had the entire map, in huge detailed scale, in front of me at a glance. This required two copies of the map since some of the west coast pages are on the back of east coast pages. I then proceeded to trace and measure the route, dividing it up into reasonable days of paddling, averaging about 15 miles per day, and ending at feasible campsites.
I needed to choose the best vessel in which to make the trip. I had thoughts of being sponsored by a kayak company and paddling some elegant composite kayak for free in return for describing the trip in their boat. However in January of 2000 I came across an ad in the newspaper for a polyethylene Wilderness Systems Sealution XL for sale used. This was the larger version of my original Sealution that I had bought in 1995. This XL model was made for a larger paddler and/or to store more gear for longer trips. I bought it, not necessarily for my trip, but to add to my growing fleet of kayaks and to give me another touring boat with rudder to take my wife and friends out in. The Sealution XL does not track as well as the smaller model due to it's wider beam and more rounded hull. These are the result of increasing the volume without increasing the length proportionately. However the rudder easily compensates for that and I am not against using it for the purpose of keeping my track straight even in calm conditions. The size of this kayak also gives the added benefit of providing room inside for my 5'9" body to completely extend and lie down with my head on the seat. I considered the benefit of this, and carefully removed the front bulkhead to test it out. It worked out well and was quite comfortable. I would need to add some flotation in the bow, but removing the bulkhead would allow me to drop a small anchor and remain afloat for periods of rest or even to camp for the night without landing if necessary. Using a spare paddle, broken down and two paddle floats, I devised portable outriggers to provide stability and keep the boat upright in the event of waves or an unbalanced rollover in the night. This method of camping would not be my first choice, but would certainly be a welcome option in the absence of a decent campsite. In the back of my mind I realized this boat would certainly be capable of meeting my needs for this trip and would keep me independent of any kayak company.
I wanted to accomplish this journey myself, but not entirely by myself. I began looking for friends who might be interested in paddling sections of the trip with me. I found a lot of interested paddlers, but only a few who wanted to commit to join me on a section. I would be on my own for most of the journey and the solitude would be enjoyable, but there were a few sections that I could now look forward to some company as well.
As my start date approached, I bought plenty of non-perishable food and snacks that could be used to re-supply me at one or two week intervals. I sorted my camping gear and verified that everything would fit. I even performed a wet-exit and re-entry test in my swimming pool with a fully loaded kayak, to know how it would feel to go over, get out, right it, pump it out, and get back in with a full load. An eskimo roll is not a very feasable option with this size kayak loaded. Luckily the water temperatures in Florida would not normally require it anyway.
November 24
Finally my start date arrived and my wife and sons dropped all my gear and me at Melbourne Riverview Park on the Indian River at 9:15am. My good friend Henry joined me for the first day's paddle and the launch was joyous but with mixed emotions as I left my family behind. A strong southeast tailwind soon began to wash spray over our boats and we realized the need for sprayskirts. After reaching the calmer waters in the lee of the eastern shore, we continued North. Soon after, I looked in my under-deck bag for a snack, and found a note from my youngest son Ryan. It was his reminder to me that he loved me. I decided to keep it as a bookmark in my journal to remind me of what is important. When we stopped at Sampsons Island for lunch, I noticed the St. Christopher medal that I had been given to take on this trip, had somehow broken loose from the chain around my neck and was gone. I tried not to consider it a bad omen. A few minutes later, Henry noticed something shiny on the dock and picked it up. It was my medal. I quickly decided that this was definitely a good omen. At the Pineda Causeway where we had left Henry's truck; I bid him farewell and continued alone to my first camp at an unnamed island in the Banana River south of Newfound Harbour. The large campsites on the leeward side of the island were occupied with Thanksgiving Holiday campers, but I found a good small site on the windward side. I performed my camp set-up routine for the first of many times, and turned in early to the sound of palm leaves rustling in the continuing south wind.
November 25
Then next morning as I awoke to the gradual lightening of the sky through the tent walls, the palm leaves were still at full volume. The wind had persisted that way all night, and it wasn't until I had loaded up and started cruising downwind that it finally began to abate. Before leaving though, I had stopped to meet my neighbors who had been anchored just offshore in a small sailboat. A man and young boy; they had stayed on the windward side like me due to the many boats and campers on the leeward. I shared my dissapointment at the trashyness of my campsite. It is a shame the way people misuse such rare natural places. I hoped that perhaps by making this trip and writing about it, I could make a few people more aware of the opportunities we have and the importance of respecting these places. I decided to always take at least one piece of any trash I may find at my campsites and dispose of it properly at the next opportunity. This action often did little to improve the appearance of the worst spots, but it made me feel better to know that if everyone who visits these places did the same, they would soon be back to their original beauty, and much better places for future visitors to enjoy. The gray sky continued all morning with threats of rain. Lunch was a stop at Kiwanis Island park where I took full advantage of the rest rooms with soap, running water, and paper towels to wash up. I continued up Sykes Creek, donning my rain gear when the rain finally came. At the barge canal I headed west toward the Indian River. I passed two fishermen in a flats boat and when asked "where ya headed partner", I gave a quick reply "All the way to Jacksonville". I heard him exclaim "No kidding!" as I glided out of conversation range. I would need to come up with some way to concisely describe my true goal. I raised my bimini top as the rain increased and it worked well to protect me from the wetness. The sun shone though around 2:00 pm and reflected of the wide Indian River as I entered it and headed north once again. Holiday campers again filled all of the good sites on the islands that I had planned to camp on. I was invited to join them but was not in a party mood and so continued north to Pine Island Conservation Area on the eastern shore. I trolled and caught a small spotted sea trout in the last mile before making camp, but threw him back and watched him gratefully dart away. I had plenty of food with me. I had seen several ducks in the water and had heard hunters guns on and off all day. That evening I heard the buzzing of the power lines which crossed the river near my campsite, but they slowly quieted as the night progressed.
November 26
Next morning the sun burst through the clouds early and lit up the wide glassy Indian River. A light northwest breeze started up as I crossed open water to the NASA causeway with views of the distant Vehicle Assembly Building standing tall in the morning sun. It seemed awkward from this perspective. Such a huge man-made structure surrounded by miles of pristine wildlife refuge. The sky quickly returned to gray as I approached Indian River City and Titusville along the west shore. I lunched with blackbirds and squirrels at a riverside park in Titusville. One bold bird enjoyed my cracker crumbs so much, he called all his friends and family to come over and join in. I met a man named Keith Garret who seemed to keep the squirrels well fed at this park. He said he comes regularly with his newspaper to read and acorns for his pals from an oak tree along his way. He seemed to know them well and pointed out to me how the old veterans teach the newcomers not to be so shy. I photographed him feeding them from his hand. Shortly after this lunch stop, rain started to sputter from the sky intermittently. I put on my spray skirt and poncho as light sprinkles dotted the glassy surface. I watched as the rotating drawbridge at the Titusville causeway swiveled like a slowly revolving door to let pass the many boats heading south this time of year. I could see the cold front moving in as a line of darkenss across the rest of the gray sky. As it moved, many shades of gray swirled like whirlpools along it's length. I could see the rain falling in sheets behind it in the distance, and an occasional bolt of lightening with loud thunder following. I thought of sheltering under the causeway bridge but instead continued to an island just north of it. I stopped there to wait out the lightning. I could paddle comfortably in the rain with my sprayskirt, poncho, and bimini, but being on open water during lightening did not seem a wise choice if I could avoid it. Before the hard rain arrived, I took out my tripod and got a self timed picture with rain gear deployed. Later I continued in the rain but remained dry except for my arms. I even listened to a football game as I paddled with my wind-up radio and earphone. I also was able to use the cell phone during brief rests on the water as it continued to rain. I now felt more confident about my ability to paddle comfortably and make progress in this type of weather. My spirits were high as I completed the last few miles to Haulover Canal. This day was the longest yet at 21 miles and I felt fine physically and mentally. At the takeout, I saw dolphins leaping and swirling the water as they fed. I actually saw their open mouths and happy dolphin faces, usually only seen at theme parks. I tried to photograph this but the timing was too fast. However as I waited for Henry to pick me up, I did see and photograph pelicans, gulls, and osprey quite close up in the rain. My high spirits lessened as I waited two hours in the continuing rain for my ride. Ironically he had been held up by a dead calm in the sailing race he was in, and then accidents caused by "Florida Ice" on Interstate 95.
November 27
I enjoyed a rest day and spent time running errands, Christmas decorating, running a Cub Scout meeting, and drying and re-organizing gear and food. It was such a full day of non-paddling related activity, it was hard to believe that I was engaged in this expedition.
November 28
The next morning, my friend Henry dropped me off early at Haulover Canal with a heavy boat, steady headwind, and a long way to go. It was a clear, cool, breezy day and my goal was 23miles but I only made 18 before spotting an excellent camp site at 4:30pm. It was on a high sandy bluff with sand pines and palms to block the wind. At the beginning of the day, I had felt great knowing this leg of the trip would really put some miles behind me. I had stopped at the small island we had camped at with my family 2 weeks before during the test trip. I was glad to see it was as clean as we had left it. As I continued north, I found very shallow water on the inside of the chain of spoil islands. This slowed my pace due to resistance of displaced water against my hull. But it seemed better than bucking the wind and waves outside the island chain and offered more wildlife views too. I saw flocks of cormorants who were sharing their habitat with some temporary visitors. White Pelicans who fly in from the Texas gulf coast every winter, were plentiful. At 11:30 I spotted condominiums in the far distance at New Smyrna, and also saw buildings in the much nearer distance at Oak Hill. I stopped on a sandy spit of island for lunch. A pod of dolphins passed as I was preparing to set off again. The five or six of them seemed to have a determined pace and a definite destination. A while later I met two guys in a canoe at Oak Hill who said they knew the islands south of New Smyrna had camping potential. I saw evidence of tidal flow and flocks of American Oystercatchers with black heads and bright orange beaks as I progressed closer to New Smyrna. A flock of Forster Terns took off together as I passed. Finally I saw the southernmost causeway at New Smyrna in the distance and this lifted both my spirits and my speed. As I write this journal entry, I find myself enjoying the beautiful campsite I had found and not wanting to go inside the tent. The sunset was fabulous and I had a great dinner, tea, and cocoa. I estimated the next days distance to Tomoka at around 25 miles or more. I would need a very early start. When I called home, Ryan told me he had done his Christmas shopping and wanted to show me the present he got for his Mom. That is one of the joys of Christmas for him, and joy of fatherhood for me. I told him to secretly bring it with him to St. Augustine on Saturday. Four days away.
November 29
I awoke the next morning to the annoying sound of powerboats zipping by my island at 3:30am. I had heard them on and off during the night, and finally decided to just get up and start packing, rather than go back to sleep only to be awakened again. I made a mental note not to camp across the river from a public boat ramp again if I could avoid it. The weather radio had said low tide at Daytona would be 3:30 am. I figured that Ponce Inlet would stop flowing out by 5 or 5:30 and then start flowing back in. The sooner I got past it, the sooner I would be going with the flow. So this extremely early start (the earliest of the entire trip it turned out) would be worthwhile. Paddling in the winding channel in the dark was a challenge. I needed to stay close to the channel to avoid shoals, but stay out of it to avoid any earlybird power boaters. I had my flashlight handy at all times in the event I needed to warn off a fast approaching boat. Occasionally a paddle blade would touch bottom, or I'd feel the sluggishness of shallow water and have to correct my course back toward the channel. The flashing green and red lights on the channel markers were the only way to be sure where it was. I made it past the second causeway and after another couple of miles, the sky gradually began to show some signs of lightening up. My first sight of the Atlantic ocean was when I passed a side channel to the northeast. It was far in the distance as the sun began to color the clouds orange in the southeast. At this point the current started to favor my direction as I had hoped it would when I got past Ponce Inlet. After passing the Port Orange causeway, I stopped in at Seven Seas marina and bought a hot cup of coffee to go. It was only around 10:00am and I had put a good many miles behind me already. The coffee was a nice treat, but I learned a lesson about tying up to tall docks. My deck bag was scraped by barnacles on the ladder. I should look for landings whenever possible. I passed many condos and buildings in contrast to the unspoiled scenery of the day before along Canaveral National Seashore. I stopped for lunch on a small island between the Daytona causeways and got splashed by boat wakes. This would not be the last time for that. I could see the Ormond causeway far out in the distant north. It was noon. It seemed like forever to reach that causeway and the last few miles to Tomoka State Park were slow and difficult in the persistent north wind. My shoulders were beginning to ache and I could not afford any injuries this early in the trip I vowed no more days of this distance and duration for awhile. Upon arriving I portaged into the canal in the park and got a good tent site near the water. I met fellow campers Earlene and her dog Suey who whared their dinner. I offered my canned mandarin oranges for dessert. The hot shower, picnic table, fire pit, and store were all worth the hard work of getting to this campground. I hope my shoulders would feel better in the morning. He next day would be a much shorter one.
November 30
I started the day with another hot shower and let the heat soak into my shoulders. Took 600mg of ibuprofen before turning in last night and once again at 3:00 am. It seems to help she soreness. Breakfast was as big as last night's dinner. Had eggs, potatoes and onions, and sausage with Earlene and Suey. Got a photo of them at their campsite. They were good company and the extra rest was good for my shoulders, but I got a late start. I was on the water at 11:00am and paddled directly into a strong north wind coming across Tomoka Basin. Waves rolled over my bow and broke on my deck bag, spraying into my face as I crossed the two miles of open water. I landed on a sand spit after that and noticed that now both wind and current would be against me in the narrower channel north of here. I called Sue and helped her fix the display settings on the computer. It's amazing what can be accomplished from a remote sand spit with a cell phone. I headed north into the relentless wind and current, watching my progress as the reeds crept past on the bank. At one point I got the GPS receiver out and checked my speed in these adverse conditions. I found it to be less than two miles per hour. I lunched in the lee of a remote drawbridge. There in the quiet sunshine, I realized that this day was beautiful despite the challenging wind, and that this feeling of closeness with nature was what I had come for. I watched the sun reflect off the water and warm my face and enjoyed a peanut butter on rye. At around 3:30pm I arrived at Gamble Rogers State Park and had a decision to make. I could camp now and have a guaranteed good campsite and hot shower, etc. Or I could continue north and risk not finding a primitive campsite at all. I took my chances to avoid a longer day tomorrow and continued north. It paid off and I camped that night in the soft pine needles beneath an old sand pine with lots of branches to hang things and tons of firewood. I wrote this journal entry by the light of two candles from Earlene and saved my batteries. Made some calls and all was fine back home. Life was good! At 10:05 that night I watched the Space Shuttle launch and saw it fly for several minutes across the sky before hearing any sound. It was magnificent. Just before turning away, I saw a shooting start cross it's path.
December 1
I got up at 6:00am and was on the water by 7:00. I saw several Great Blue Herons, a Golden Retriever on a dock, and then later a Bald Eagle in the tall pines of the west bank. He caught my eye as he flew from one tree to the other, and then perched majestically as I passed. I stopped once along the bank of the narrow channel to make a phone call home, and was caught off guard by a large boat which approached quickly around the corner. It's wake arrived at my cockpit sooner than my sprayskirt did and I learned a lesson. I must always wear the sprayskirt in these narrow areas. This narrow stretch lasted seven or eight miles and I paddled through many large boat wakes. The sailboats usually wave. I saw several from Canada in the continuing parade of boats traveling from north to south. During the monotonous times, I looked forward to my reunion with Sue and the boys planned for the next day. In Palm Coast I saw many huge mansions along the channel. Soon after that I realized I was working against an increasing wind and incoming tidal current. This slowed my progress greatly. At one point I just took a long break in the sun on a sandy bank and made some hotel reservations for the next day. Toward the last mile or so I tried to fish but got no bites and then lost my last weedless gold spoon lure. I arrived at Rattlesnake island around 4:15 and made camp in soft grass under a sand pine. Took a walk after dinner and also listened to news updates about the continuing presidential election saga on National Public Radio. Before the sun went down, I could see the Atlantic and Matanzas inlet on the other side of the island. Got up to relieve my bladder at 1:00 am and noticed the tide was high. Saw another shooting star in the beautiful starry sky.
December 2
I was up before 6:00 am and all outside was wet with dew. Heavy fog hung over the water as I carried my boat and gear back down to shore from my camp 50 feet inland. I loaded up and called Sue before setting off at 7:20 or so. She and the boys were planning to leave Melbourne later that morning to meet me for a visit and re-supply in St. Augustine. I hugged the shore of the island to avoid the foggy channel and to keep an eye out for Fort Matanzas on the island. Found a small sea turtle surfacing for air as the sun tried to shine through the fog. Soon after that, Fort Matanzas appeared from out of the haze as a large rectangular shadow. I paddled to the sunnier side and took photos before heading back north. I could hear the ocean somewhere off to my left, but could not see it. I soon crossed to the eastern shore and followed it through dense fog, periodically wiping the water collecting on my glasses and following a constant rainbow ahead of me. How different it was to only see the nearby scenery and have no distant landmarks. Listened to NPR to avoid boredom and kept up with the continuing election saga. Soon after Crescent Beach causeway, where I could hear the cars passing before I saw the bridge, I had to leave the eastern shore for deeper water. This left me out of sight of land and unable to see the channel markers either. Surrounded by fog with no landmarks, I was totally dependent on my compass, map, and last known position. To make matters worse, there was no boat traffic to help me determine where the channel was. I began to come up on some shoals of oyster beds. This was getting interesting quickly. The radio was no longer needed. In fact I needed all of my senses to listen for boats and watch for markers and feel for shoals. My ideal position would be just outside the channel, but close enough to it to remain in deep water. But how could I know I wasn't right in the middle of it? I erred towards the shore but ended up in a maze of oyster beds. Finally I spotted the white styrofoam sphere of a crab trap buoy. This indicated water deep enough for the crab boat. I followed it and found another, and then finally a channel marker materialized through the haze. After that I only lost the channel once more before the fog finally lifted and I got to the next problem. Somewhere in the fog I had crossed a threshold from the point where the incoming tide from Matanzas inlet meets the incoming tide from St.Augustine. Now suddenly I was fighting a raging current. Luckily the north wind hadn't kicked in yet but I knew that was only a matter of time. I was determined to make the 312 bridge by 12:30 so I made a healthy effort in my stroke and watched the reeds slowly pass by. A huge power cruiser passed and I saw a dolphin surfing and playing in its immense wake. Just after noon I had the bridge in sight and Sue called from Crescent Beach. They had made it and would meet me at the 312 bridge. When they got there I was sitting on the side of the road waiting and we had a great reunion. Hugs and kisses all around. The next two nights would be spent in the relative luxury of an Econo Lodge with adjoining rooms, laundry, hot showers, etc. I am so lucky to be able to do a trip like this and still have the love and support of my family at the same time. The St.Augustine parade was fun. Good food and ice cream too. And to think that only hours before I was lost in the fog.
December 3
Slept in late and enjoyed breakfast, coffee, newspaper, and each other. The boys liked having their own room and own TV. We enjoyed that fact too. Went out around mid-morning to find a tide chart and replace my lost fishing lure. Got charts for St.Augustine for December, and copied the Jacksonville tide chart for the week from the Jacksonville Sunday paper. Then we all went to the beach for as long as we could stand the cold north wind. Tested out Ryans new slingshot that he got at the oldest schoolhouse. Later we checked out Ripleys Museum and just before dinner the boys and I walked over to the St. Augustine Fishing Pier. I was impressed by the size of the waves which shook the pier, and the continuing strength of the wind. I was not looking forward to facing it tomorrow. We dined out at a nice local place with live music and turned in early.
December 4
The sky started out clear but gradually turned cloudy and then overcast on this extremely windy day. I launched at 8:15am after loading up all the re-supplied food, water, clothes, etc. that had been brought for me. Hugs and thanks for Sue and the boys and they headed back to Melbourne as I paddled north into the already strong wind. I thought once again about how lucky I was to have both the ability to do this adventure and the love and support of such a wonderful family. I am truly blessed. These good thoughts carried me across the river and toward the Bridge of the Lions in the wind. I took photos of it and of the Castillo de San Marcos. Then I decided I must follow the channel into open water to the Vilano Bridge. This began the toughest mile and a half of paddling I've ever done. Due to my pausing for photos, etc. the tide was now coming in and that combined with the raging wind and my fully loaded boat made progress very slow and challenging. With every wave breaking over my bow, the wind would spray it forcefully into my chest and face. I had not put on my rain poncho since it was sunny, and I hadn't anticipated this. I got soaked. But my focus was on reaching the bridge and finding some cover and also getting on the good side of the incoming tide north of the inlet. After about forty minutes, I was past the bridge, but there was no place to hide from the relentless wind. I took a break on some oyster shells and consumed all of Sues great strudel and coffee. Watched birds pecking the oyster shells. Some type if sandpipers or oystercatchers. I took on water getting back in as waves slapped the side of the kayak. The wind never let up as I continued north. I was continually looking for a lee shore as the river made slight turns, but never finding one. There were no trees to slow the wind or break it's force. Finally after nine and a half miles, I got to some trees on the east shore and took a one hour break. Called Sue and found her safely home. Ate bread and cheese for lunch and tried to dry some of my clothes. Another four miles against the wide open wind and I found Pine Island, my goal for the day. It was no good for camping though, being all marshy and low, so I crossed over to Spanish Landing on the west shore. Some old jeep trails were around, but no sign of people on this day. I made tea and dinner. Then strung up a clothes line inside the tent to try and continue drying my wet clothes overnight.
December 5
I awoke to sunlight permeating the tent walls. My wet clothes had actually dried somewhat on my makeshift indoor clothesline. It was very cold out with the temperature in the low 30's. My plan for this day was to reach an island that I had circled on the map in the vicinity of Jacksonville Beach. I had no idea that morning that my actual camp would be far from there. The tide was still flowing back toward St.Augustine so I took my time, hoping that it would soon flow in my direction. I enjoyed a hearty breakfast of homemade cereal. I broke up some crunchy granola bars into a bowl, added a handful of trail mix, and cut up an apple, then poured on a box of Parmalat milk. I ate this with a cup of hot cocoa, which I kept warm in my thermal cup as I busied myself breaking camp. Finally I got going around 9:30 even though the tide still hadn't turned. I stopped for lunch where the channel narrowed, made my usual peanut butter on rye, and watched the southbound boat parade go by. The sun felt good on my face in the cool air. The tide still hadn't turned. Many docks and homes lined the waterway as I passed through Ponte Vedra. As I approached Jacksonville Beach I realized that the slight current against me now must be incoming tide from the St. Johns River. Finally reaching my intended island, it turned out to be nothing but marsh. However I did not despair because several things were in my favor. It was still before 4:00pm, relatively early; the tide was almost at flood stage and would soon be going back out thus aiding my continued progress; the moon was rising in the clear afternoon sky, and the wind was calm. I was keeping my eye out for camping possibilities but also noticing an increase in homes and populated land as I entered the Jacksonville suburbs. A coast guard boat which I had seen earlier, patrolling the waterway, slowed to avoid hitting me with its wake. I decided to see what advice I could get from them and paddled over to ask about the camping options in the miles north of there. There were three of them in the boat and they asked where I had started and how far I normally paddle per day. They seemed impressed with my trip and my progress. The skipper seemed to think that my only camping options were some undeveloped lowlands beyond the next bridge. But then one of his mates offered this idea which I will never forget. He said "Cap'n, if you push on all the way to the St. Johns, you'll find an island there on the right that people do camp on." He had paid me the highest compliment in two ways. One, he had called me Cap'n, and two he seemed to think that I could make it the five or six miles to the St. Johns river before nightfall. I thanked them for the advice and pressed on with the outgoing tide and the rising moon. Being captain of my ship as acknowledged by the Coast Guard, I commanded her onward with a confident smile. Make it so. Being also the crew, I carried out that order and it was well after sunset when I arrived at the island just south of the St Johns river at around 6:00 pm. Thank God for the Coast Guard! It was a welcome sight, right where they said it would be, and I could see the lights of shipyards and industry across the wide river to the north. I would camp that night on the edge of the mouth of the greatest river in the state of Florida, and all I could think about was the next morning in which I would cross it.
December 6
I slept in and took my time packing up and eating as I was in no hurry this morning. I made and drank two cups of hot cocoa as I waited for the tide to go completely out so that I would not have to fight the six to eight knot current of the St. Johns on an outgoing tide which my Coast Guard friends had warned me about. I could see the whole ship channel for the first time in the morning sun and watched in awe as a huge container ship was pushed slowly by tugs upriver against the outgoing tide. I launched at 10:00am and quickly reached the spot where I had seen the ships pass. None coming in either direction, I paddled across at a brisk pace. I stopped to photograph some ships at a shipyard on the north side. I felt very small looking up at their mammoth hulls from my vantage point on the water. I made my way around them and found the continuation of the intracoastal waterway. I entered it and left the noise of the ports along the river for the quiet and beauty of the waterway to the north. The day was clear and calm and I enjoyed the paddling. I took a moment, as I often did during peaceful quiet times on the river, to close my eyes and breath deeply, fully absorbing the goodness in just being where I was. I often took these opportunities to give thanks for my surroundings, and the simple blessings of life. I passed some sleeping pelicans and when some aroused, I got to see them do the pelican yawn. It's comical to watch as they stretch their neck way out, putting their head back and opening wide, almost like a human. I lunched atop a pile of oyster shells and invented the peanut butter and cheez-it sandwich. It was quite good. I continued under perfect conditions to Nassau Sound, stopping once to photograph a dredging ship clearing the channel. Very noisy but impressive. I crossed Nassau Sound easily in the relatively calm conditions and incoming tide. I then continued past the tiny town of Amelia city to Crane Island about four miles south of Fernandina Beach. I had a fire that night for the first time in several days, and dried some wet clothes. The sunset was spectacular and I got some of the best photographs of the trip thus far. Acorns fell from the tall oaks under which I was camped, bouncing off the tent walls as I laid in my sleeping bag, planning my route to the town of St. Marys the next day.
December 7
Pearl Harbor Day and the weather was fair and cool as I got an early start since this would be my last day of paddling for this leg of the trip. I had planned on a couple of rest days before heading up the St. Marys river and I wanted to make it to the town of St.Marys by 4:00 in the afternoon. My sister Pam had agreed to meet me there by 4:00 and give pick me up there and drive me back to Melbourne. I passed the paper mills south of Fernandina Beach and many boats anchored in the waterway adjacent to the town. At the northern tip of the peninsula on which Fernandina Beach resides, I came to a state campground with a restroom and showers. I took this opportunity to enjoy a hot shower and put on some clean clothes for my ride home later in the day. Across Cumberland Sound to the north I could see Cumberland Island Georgia, and to my east was the Atlantic Ocean. The wind was light as I made the mile or so crossing of Cumberland Sound and I pulled my kayak up on the beautiful white sand beach of Cumberland Island. I would not have the opportunity to explore this beautiful place. One could spend weeks exploring the waterways, beaches, history, and trails of Cumberland Island National Seashore. But I did take a nice walk up the dunes, enjoyed a quiet lunch there overlooking the sea oats, beach, and sound, and got some good pictures. It felt good to stop and realize that I had paddled from my home in Melbourne all the way up the coast to this neighboring state of Georgia. I walked back down to my kayak and launched into the incoming tide. I had both wind and tide favoring my planned course across the wide Intracoastal into the mouth of the St. Marys river. As I entered the river I came closer to the paper mill whose smoke had been visible to me all day, always marking for me my destination. I had first seen it in the distance as I passed the first of two similar paper mills in Fernandina beach in the morning. I could already see feel and smell the different paddling atmosphere as I transitioned from coastal to river kayaking. The air and water began to take on a different feel and smell, less salty and more earthy. And the view of the wide curving oxbows in the river ahead were quite a different perspective than the long, mostly straight nature of the intracoastal waterway. As I paddled around a very large oxbow leading me south, west, and then back north, I could finally see the buildings and anchored boats at the small town of St. Marys Georgia on the north bank. The town itself looked quaint and sleepy in the shadow of the paper mill. I had arrived early as I pulled up to a floating public fishing dock at 2:30pm and began unloading gear. I met an interesting and cordial man named Jack Hall who watched me from the gazebo pier as I unloaded. He had grown up in St. Marys and told me how the town had changed in some ways from it's days as a small fishing village, to the home of a nuclear submarine base and paper mill. But in other ways it had stayed the same. He said he was surprised at how the kids today are afraid to go into the water. He reminisced about how he and his friends would jump into the river and swim with the incoming tide for miles upstream. They would spend hours exploring and then jump back in and ride the swift outgoing tide back home. We chatted a bit more and learned a good bit about the town. I finished unloading and hauled my kayak and all my gear up the ramp and under a palm tree in the grassy park overlooking the river. Since I was early, I had time to visit the local kayak shop called "Up the Creek". I spoke with Pete the owner about my plans to paddle up the St.Marys river in the coming week. He sort of dashed my hopes, telling me there were no camping possibilities in the first twenty miles upstream except for some private land. He also warned that the tidal flow would inhibit my progress for at least that distance. This gave me some food for thought regarding my planned route on Monday. From the sound if it, I had some challenges ahead.
Pam was right on time and found me sitting under the tree writing in my journal. We had a good time talking on the drive back to Melbourne and enjoyed each others company as the miles flew by. As we arrived home I thanked Pam and looked forward to three days and four nights in the comfort of my own home with my family.
December 8,9,10
This time of rest and relaxation with Sue and our boys was much anticipated and much needed. On Friday I slept in, spread some gear out to air out, went to breakfast with Sue, did some chores around the house, shopped for food and supplies, and attended the Cub Scout pack meeting. Saturday I slept in, did some Christmas shopping, had new tires put on my truck, and went to a movie with Sue and the boys. Sunday I again slept in, packed some gear, watched football, took the boys to the store to buy a football, played catch in the backyard, and watched the news. It was amazing how quickly I fell back into the comforts of home life. I appreciated them much more however after living and sleeping in the wilderness for so long. I enjoyed the simplicity of the day-to-day existence of paddling and camping, but it was good to have a "normal" life to come back to as well.
December 11
Not wanting my wife to be alone on the long drive home from St.Marys, my mother offered to ride up with us and accompany her back. The three of us drove up from Melbourne through mostly rain and fog, arriving in St.Marys around 1:00 pm. We ate lunch under the gazebo and they helped me haul gear and the kayak down to the floating dock. By 2:00pm I was loaded up and gave hugs of love and appreciation to them both. The tide was still flowing out at a good rate as I paddled up the wide river with marsh and mud along its banks. At one point I stopped and let my bow rest on the bank without getting out as I adjusted some gear and put up my bimini in case of rain. After just a few minutes I tested how hard aground I was by pushing with my paddle and was surprised as the blade buried eight to ten inches deep in muck which I had thought was firm sand. I immediately dropped what I was doing and focused on getting off this bank. I was soon free of it but learned a lesson. A few minutes longer and I would have been stuck hard as the tide went out, leaving me to wade in the muck to push off, which I didn't even want to think about. After about five miles of opposing current as the outgoing tide slowed and the gray sky dimmed, I passed some high bluffs on the left and soon after came to a boat ramp. It was marked as Crandall Landing on the map. It must have been the private land that Pete from "Up the Creek" had warned about, but there were no signs identifying it as private or saying to keep out. I picked a flat secluded spot among some trees near the ramp and set up my tent, happy to have found high ground for the night. After Pete's warnings, I had feared that this lower St. Marys might be the first occasion where I would need to resort to my on-the-water camping idea. I could hear trucks in the far distance on Interstate 95 as I fell asleep, pleased to be camped on dry ground and not floating in an anchored kayak.
December 12
I awoke at 6:00 am and was on the water by 7:05, skipping breakfast to catch the incoming tide. I wanted to take full advantage of it since high tide at the town of St. Marys would be at 10:00am. The current definitely helped as I made good progress up the wide and winding river. It was very foggy and gray until after 9:00am and I ate granola bars and snacks while paddling to make up for skipping breakfast. I stopped for lunch on the Florida side at a park for employees of Gilman paper mill. It had looked like a public park at first, but after stopping I found the signs that it was private. However with nobody there to challenge my visit, it was a fine place to eat and rest. Soon after that I passed Scrubby Bluff, my goal for the day, and to my surprise the current still had not turned against me. I passed a few homes on the Georgia side, each with a Confederate battle flag flying prominently by the river. One was a shack, another a good sized home. Both apparently loyal to the same historic symbol. At 3:00pm, with the current still flowing with me, I realized I had been riding the crest of that incoming tide all day. Thus to my delight, I had made excellent progress and was 27miles upstream from my starting point that morning. I made camp at 4:00pm on the Florida side and twenty minutes later I noticed the current flowing back downstream. I decided that if my progress was as good tomorrow, I would surely reach Traders Hill or beyond.
December 13
I slept in to wait for the tide and then took my time, making a good breakfast as I periodically checked the direction of flow. As soon as I noticed it beginning to flow in, I quickened my pace and finished packing. The launch was tricky since I had landed at high tide and the surface had then been above all of the roots and branches which were now exposed and in my way. Once launched I enjoyed the favorable current and breeze as I drank in the beauty and quiet of this remote area. Many birds gently broke the silence, the changing leaves of orange and yellow reflected off the mirror surface of the calm water, and the cool light breeze wafted across my face as I paused to take it all in. What an enjoyment to be able to pause and absorb the beauty while slowly being pushed along on my way by the favorable current. At around 11:00am I passed an excellent campsite on the Florida side. It was at a bend at one of the northernmost points on the river. There are two points where the St.Mary's comes within half a mile of the latitude 30 degrees 50 minutes North. I had camped at the eastern of these two points. This campsite, a much better one, was at the western of the two northern points. There was a large sand bank to land on, and tall oak, pine, and cypress surrounding a large flat camping area. I resisted the urge to stop there for lunch as my mind was on making it to at least Traders Hill and possibly beyond. At around 1:30 I had passed the bridge at Boulogne and the railroad bridge as well. I came around a sandy bank and saw my first alligator of the trip so far. He moved off the bank and slid underwater well ahead of me. I reached Traders Hill at 2:00 and went up to the campground office to call Steve and Jo. They are the proprietors of a private campground called Okefenokee Pastimes about 6 miles upstream from Traders Hill and a mile west of the river. I had found it last September when Henry and I had driven up here to scout the portage from the St.Marys to the Okefenokee. Steve and Jo had said to call when I got close and they would give me the one mile ride from the river to their campground so that I could then arrange for a portage the remaining 4 miles over Trail Ridge to the Okefenokee from there. Jo answered the phone and was surprised to hear from me this early but said she'd meet me at the river. Steve had already given me some landmarks to identify the place to take out. There was a friendly dog minding the store at Traders Hill while I talked on the phone and I shared some potato chips with him as I enjoyed a cold soda. I walked back down to the river and before setting off I met some locals who had driven down to the river and were eyeing my kayak. They seemed interested in it and in my plans and we talked briefly. They seemed to have local knowledge of the history of the Suwanee Canal debacle, and told me their view of it. In their version, the swamp would never drain into the St.Marys because the river was higher than the swamp. I arrived at the bank where Jo had arranged to meet me around 4:00 and we loaded my gear and kayak into her van. She drove us up the bumpy road to Okefenokee Pastimes and rented me a small but clean cabin with a tiny kitchen and bath and comfortable beds. I looked forward to three nights of rest and showers. The next day I planned to walk the four miles to the eastern Okefenokee and paddle the canal run as far as it was open. I planned to do this in a rented kayak to avoid the hassle of shuttling mine there and back. Then I planned to rest on Friday and my friend Bob Wiedenhafer would arrive to drive us to the west side of the swamp on Saturday. I was very pleased with my progress and with what I had learned about staying with an incoming tide. On both of the last two days the incoming tide had lasted all day for me because I followed it all the way in.
December 14
I stayed up until 11:00 last night listening on NPR to Al Gore's concession speech and George W.Bush's acceptance. We finally have a president-elect. This morning at 4:30 am I awoke to a rooster crowing loudly nearby. My first thought after checking the time was a comical idea that if I started this early, I could haul my own kayak the four miles to the swamp. After that I lay there entertaining that idea more seriously, and it would not leave my head. So I got up and began to make preparations for my trek. I put what I needed for a day paddle into my under-deck bag and slid it into my backpack. Then I placed the halfs of my paddle into each side of the backpack held by side straps. Then I attached a rope to the bottom loops of the backpack and tied it to the bow of the kayak. With my portable wheels attached to the back, I was a kayak hauling machine. The backpack gave me the ability to take the weight on my back and leave my arms free. I crossed highway 121 in the dark and got about 1/4 mile down the road toward the swamp when a car passed going my way. The thought occurred to me that if anyone offered me a lift, I had not straps or pads for securing the kayak to the roof of a vehicle. I left everything by the side of the dark road and jogged back for my straps and pads. I continued for about another mile, reaching the top of Trail Ridge or so and several more vehicles began to pass, going toward the swamp. I realized these must be park employees and I decided to put out my thumb and see if I could get a ride. Soon after that a small pickup truck with a topper pulled over and a woman asked where I was going. It was still dark and I was hauling my kayak west on a dead end road, but I decided to just give a simple answer. "To the swamp" I said, and added "you'd be surprised how easy it would be to put this kayak on your truck". Within minutes I was riding and talking with Cindy the wildlife biologist. She said the pay was bad, but the work was interesting. Had there been more time, I'm sure I would have learned more about the red-cockaded woodpeckers. But I was soon dropped off at the boat ramp and soon after that a well dressed ranger named Shaw drove up with my life-jacket. I had left it on the road when we loaded the boat onto Cindy's truck. Nice folks these Okefenokee park people. I told them all about my wanderings, including Joy at the concession who made me a sack lunch. I was on the water before 8:00 am and happy to feel how easily my boat paddled without all the weight of camping gear in it. After a few miles I could smell the rich musty aroma of peat , hear the wind in the tall cypress and pine trees above, and see the reflections in the still black water below. At 11:30 I reached Canal Run shelter and passed it, continuing west for another half mile or so. Here the canal lost its monotonous straight nature and began to wind back and forth a bit as trees and brush began to close in on the sides and overhead. My paddle began to hit submerged stumps more often too as the water got shallower in this interior part of the swamp. Ahead I could see a great blue heron which I had been following all morning. I quietly got out my camera but too late. I photographed the dense path ahead anyway, and turned back. I enjoyed my sack lunch at the Canal Run shelter and noticed as I sat there in the silence that the canal had a slight current moving slowly west. This indicated to me that I was truly at the headwaters of the Suwanee River. The way back was long and slow with no help from wind or current. But I saw much wildlife and took time to photograph many allligators, turtles, scenere, reflections, and even shelters along the way. The sun came out on my return trip and this enhanced the photo opportunities. Upon finally arriving back at the boat ramp, after many interesting encounters with alligators, I loaded up the backpack, connected the kayak to it, hefted it onto my shoulders, and waddled over to the concession to announce my safe return. Joy agreedto take a photo of my hauling configuration before I set off. I was anticipating a long hot walk and had only gone a hundred yards or so when Mike, an employee of the concession, drove up in a full size pickup truck. He offered a ride back, and also some brownies. Nice people. Back at Okefenokee Pastimes I thanked Mike for saving me from the long slow haul. I rested the remainder of the afternoon, doing some laundry and making dinner. My twenty one mile round trip paddle on the east side was now complete. The next day I would rest and wait for Bob. Then it would be on to the west side of the Okefenokee and finally the Suwanee river.
December 15
I slept in despite the persistent rooster, relaxed and read, enjoyed breakfast, showered, and packed a day pack for hiking. Although this was a rest day for my arms, I decided to walk the four miles to the refuge and tour the visitor center, administrative offices, and trails. My first experience was the Long Leaf Pine trail on trail ridge just west of highway 121. Here I learned from reading the informational signs along the trail, that it is the lack of fires that is reducing the number of long leaf pines. They depend upon periodic fires to clear the brush so their seedlings can grow. That in turn is what is endangering the red-cockaded woodpecker who evidently are very particular about which trees they prefer to feed and nest in, favoring the long leaf pine above all others. By putting out fires thinking we are protecting the environment along with our homes, we are actually harming it. This example of man disturbing the balance of nature makes it seem a very precarious balance that we must take care with. I continued on to the administrative office, built to resemble the old cracker style houses the settlers used. This place was not meant for the public to visit, but I hoped to learn something about the navigability of the western swamp from the rangers. Inside there was some kind of meeting going on but Judy Drury and Jim Shelton were nice enough to step out and speak with me about water levels in the western Okefenokee and upper Suwannee. They gave me lots of information about closed areas. I now realized that my planned route for tomorrow would be severely shortened by this news. We would not be able to paddle all the way to the sill that separates the swamp from the rest of the upper Suwannee. Even the eastern end of Billys Lake toward Billys Island was closed. Jim also gave me advice about the upper level of the upper Suwannee, saying it was passable but with many logs and sandbars to go over. That would be another difficult 25 miles or so. Jim, when hearing of my plan, told me of a guy who had wanted to cross the state along the same route in a jet ski some years back. He was not allowed in the refuge, nor could he have succeeded due to the same problems I was facing. I continued to the Visitor Center and learned much more about the swamp (which is technically not a swamp but a peat bog) and its wildlife and history. I sat in the large theater and was the only one there to watch the movie that morning with spectacular views of the many faces of the Okefenokee. I had seen some of this in person the day before, but enjoyed the beautiful photography and new perspectives in the film. I took a walk along the canal diggers trail, learning of the failed efforts to extend the canal eastward to the St. Marys river in an effort to drain the swamp. Looking at the high banks of the unfinished canal in this area, it was easy to see the difficulty they must have faced in digging it. I then stopped in at the concession and had a leisurely lunch with Joy, the proprietor, and her employees Mike, and Nicky. They were all interested in my extended trip and I promised to send them my story whether it was published or not. They were very friendly people and I'm sure that helps their business to be successful. I turned down an offer for a ride back and enjoyed the walk down the long straight road. Back at the cabin I met Roger and Rachel from Gainesville who had checked into the cabin next door with a Grumman Canoe. I worked on the Christmas gift I was making for my wife, a hand carved wooden sculpture of my kayak. I walked the small nature trail around the cabin grounds and noticed the low ditch that runs by the property is in fact the Suwanee Canal that they had started even this far from the swamp. They had hoped that the water would continue to erode it naturally once they got it started flowing. Had the plan worked, there would be no more Okefenokee Swamp. Thank God it didn't.
December 16
Bob Weidenhafer arrived at 11:30 last night. I had fallen asleep around 11:00 and wasn't awake to help him find the cabin. He woke me when he knocked on the door and told me the story if his efforts to find me in the dark. I had told him it was cabin "A", but hadn’t noticed that there was no outside marking that indicated it as such. He had driven by a few times before guessing that it was mine. Perhaps the large yellow kayak out front tipped him off. He took some flak from Steve for waking the whole campground. The next morning at 4:30am, the rooster started his daily blast. We tried to ignore it and finally got up around 7:00am. Bob said "and they were upset with me for waking people up"! We loaded up my gear into his little Kia. With two seventeen foot kayaks on top, it looked like we might lift off if we went too fast. We headed to the nearby town of Folkston, Georgia for breakfast. I had been eating my camping food in the cabin, with no means of transportation to seek other options, and this breakfast was my best meal in several days. I thoroughly enjoyed the buttered toast, eggs, sausage, and coffee. It was a welcome change from my routine of trail mix and tea. After breakfast, we made a quick stop for some bread and fresh fruit and checked the local newspaper. The Folkston Christmas parade was gearing up for later in the day. We beat the crowds and headed out of town towards the west side of the Okefenokee. Just after crossing the St.Marys river into Florida at the town of Baxter, we came to a railroad crossing where we could see a train crossing the road ahead. As we approached, the train seemed to be slowing, and by the time we arrived at the crossing, it had come to a complete stop, blocking our way. We waited patiently for awhile and passed the time taking some photos each other in front of this odd occurrence, but the train did not move. After about 15 minutes a tractor trailer rig pulled up behind us. The driver, "Slim" said he'd been driving trucks down this stretch of road for 25 years and this was the first time he'd seen this happen. We decided to look for a way around the train so we followed a dirt road along the side of the tracks hoping for another crossing. Slim didn't condone this idea, and he was right. It dead ended at Mocassin Swamp after a mile or so. Our next option was to backtrack to St.George and then go south to Interstate 10 and follow it west to the Fargo exit. We vacated our front row spot in the line of cars which had now reached about five or six, and headed back the way we had come. But before going more than 1/4 mile or so, we stopped at Lacy's Country Store, for gas and sandwiches. It took some time for the made-to-order turkey sandwiches on white bread (no wheat or rye at this place). Just as we got ready to pull out, we heard a train horn. Our stop had taken just enough time. We continued on our original route, over the RR crossing and on to Stephen C. Foster State Park. When we arrived we opted for a tent site, but as we were getting ready to pay for it, we noticed the weather report called for tornado warnings. We switched to a cabin and ended up with the biggest cabin I've ever seen. It was more like a full blown house with two large bedrooms, a living room, dining room, kitchen, huge screened porch, bathroom, television, and all the comforts of home. We moved in and then drove back to the boat ramp and launched into Billys Lake. We paddled past the area-closed signs and went on to explore Billys Island and a little ways past it until the way quickly became clogged and shallow. If the water were not so low and we could continue a few miles further this way, we would arrive at the point where I had turned back two days before near Canal Run shelter. We turned back and landed at Billys Island to do some exploring. We found the old main road bed of the town that had once stood there, and some old logging equipment left behind from the Hayward Logging Company days. We saw several deer grazing near the Indian burial mounds on the island. We returned to the kayaks and re-traced our path back westward on Billys Lake, passing many circling turkey vultures and a perched red-tailed hawk. We saw a few small alligators too as we passed the put-in and continued west on the narrowing Billys Lake which became the headwaters of the Suwannee River. We could not go all the way to the man-made sill which was build to regulate water in the swamp. The trail leading there was closed due to low water. But we came within two or three miles of it before turning back. Back at our ranch style cabin, my friend Bob Barney showed up. I had asked him months ago to join me on this trip and yesterday he had called Sue at home and left a message. He wanted to go with me from the top of the Suwannee down to White Springs. He could then give me a ride back to Melbourne. I had called him and made arrangements to meet him Sunday morning at Griffis Camp, just outside the boundary of Stephen C. Foster State Park. But he showed up early and here he was so we asked him and his daughter and grandson to join us in our spacious cabin. They had not heard of the tornado warnings and quickly agreed to forgo their tent site for the security of the cabin. We made plans for an early start. Bob Wiedenhafer would see us off and then head back to Melbourne. Bob Barneys daughter would drive his van down to White Springs where her car was, and leave it there for us. Bob Barney and I would begin the Suwannee River journey from Griffis Camp. That was our plan as we watched the weather channel and turned in, hoping the tornadoes would stay away.
December 17
We launched at around 9:15 into the narrow winding upper Suwannee at Griffis Camp, just outside the Okefenokee. The big storms of the night before had knocked out power for a few hours, and unloaded some much needed rain for this area. This morning it was clear and cold. Packing the boats, I realized I had left my camp stove back at Okefenokee Pastimes on the east side of the swamp. They had asked me to not bring anything flammable into the tiny cabin back there, so I had left it under the picnic table outside. That is where it remained. Luckily however, Bob Barney had one and we would be able to share. He also brought a full size bright red cooler which he strapped behind the cockpit of his new Perception Carolina touring kayak. I thanked Bob Weidenhafer for the shuttle and re-supply. Bob Barney said goodbye to his daughter and grandson, and we set off into the cold clear day. There were lots of bare branched gnarly oaks and tupelo trees lining the narrow river here and many sandy banks, but we saw little wildlife at first. We hit many submerged stumps, logs and branches as we progressed. We had to be alert not to tip or be knocked off balance as the kayaks would be forced up out of the water by the unseen obstacles. I took on some water on one just before lunch, but quickly dried out. We passed Rives Landing shortly after 2:00pm and got to Fargo, Georgia at 3:00. Bob stayed with the boats while I walked to the store for some ice, snacks and film. We continued another mile or so to a decent campsite among some small trees and palmettos overlooking a sandy bank with tall cypress trees. There was plenty of firewood and it was good to be able to share the work of keeping the fire going while cooking our dinners. Many stars appeared in the clear sky and we knew that it would get plenty cold on this night.
December 18
I had to sleep completely enclosed in my mummy bag for the first time since leaving Melbourne. The cold air was like an icy blast on my face whenever I peeked outside the whole left by the drawstring.
I had put the thermometer outside the tent last night and when I checked it in the morning it read about 20 degrees. All our water bottles were frozen and there was frost covering the kayaks. Steam rose from the river in the morning sun, and the sand crunched under foot. We re-lit the fire from last night and began to thaw out. The sky was clear and blue, and the wind light, promising a beautiful day for paddling. We ate a hot breakfast and got paddling by 10:00am. We continued to hit several sandbars and logs in the shallow water, but made good progress in the quiet morning. Bob spotted two deer drinking at the river and then running into the trees. Just before noon we heard the bushes rustle to our left and a river otter came scampering down the high bank and dove into the river. We had a good lunch in the sunshine on the right bank. Soon after continuing, we saw two more deer and this time they didn't flee immediately. We stopped paddling and drifted closer. They watched alertly as we drifted slowly toward them. As my progress caused a cypress trunk to hide me from them momentarily, I saw one of them stretch it's neck so as not to lose sight of me. They finally headed into the trees as we went by them. Around 3:15 we began to see some limestone rock formations as we approached the Florida border. We crossed into Florida around 4:00, stopping to mark the spot and take pictures. I wrote "Welcome To Florida" in the sand with my paddle blade. We saw no other indication of the state line. We camped at a perfect campsite about a mile into Florida high on the left bank overlooking the river with plenty of firewood and level ground. It was a great ending to a great day of paddling. The sky was filled with stars as I wrote in my journal by the light of a warm fire on another cold night. We had spent the entire day in remote wilderness, seeing no other people or boats, only one house, and no bridges or roads. We did see more wildlife though including a great blue heron, some hawks and ducks, and of course the deer and otter.
December 19
I awoke to cold rain splattering on my tent. I had not checked the weather radio last night and when I turned it on this morning, it confirmed the rainy forecast. When it let up for a short while, we made a break for it and got loaded up and paddling. The forecast called for a strong cold front and said that, after the rain temperatures would "plummet". That was a scary thought since it was already in the 30's! We skipped breakfast and made a dash for the route 6 bridge where we planned to find shelter and cook some hot food. I had misread the map last night and thought it was 5 miles away. It was a long ten miles in the cold rain. About a quarter mile before we got there, we hit a long stretch of shoals that was impassable without poling over the bottom with our paddles and scraping our hulls across the rocks. I kept topping out on high spots and took a full twenty minutes to get through the 150 yards or so of shoals. Bob had gotten through in ten minutes and he walked up the bank to try and coach me through. Finally we made it to the highway 6 bridge and we landed there and hauled our cooking gear and food up under the shelter of the bridge. We cooked hot soup and cocoa to warm our insides and it was good to be able to get warm and dry for awhile. The rain had lasted all morning on and off and it had been hard to keep our hands warm. I had occasionally put mine inside my shirt and under my bare armpits where I could feel them start to thaw before continuing to paddle. After lunch the wind picked up and the clouds gradually started to clear up to some degree. We passed little waterfalls trickling down the limestone on both sides of the river, and limestone caves, some very deep. Blue sky patches started to show through as the afternoon progressed. At one point we passed a tall tree with a large knot hole in it about 20 feet up. Inside the hole sat a squirrel comfortably watching us pass by from his cozy home. We saw several ducks which always flapped away noisily downstream as we came around bends, surprising them. Also another red-tailed hawk was seen and many odd tree roots seemingly cascading over the limestone to get to the water. This night we found another excellent campsite with wood for a fire and plenty of room for our tents and boats. The landing was good too. We were on the right bank again and we prepared for another extremely cold night. Again I wrote in my journal by the fire and studied the map. The next day would be nine miles to Big Shoals, and then nine more to White Springs. Then it would be home for Christmas! I had tried to call home for the past three nights but could not get through in this remote area. I looked forward to being home again after almost two weeks away.
December 20
When I checked the thermometer this morning it was around 20 degrees again. This time however, it remained much colder all day long. It only got up to the low fortys according to the radio. Everything was frosty and icy again and we got the fire going to warm our hands as we made breakfast and broke camp. There were little swirls of mist on the water that looked like tornadoes. We got going around 9:00am and headed for Big Shoals on this bright clear frigid winter day. I stopped paddling occasionally to warm my painfully cold fingers under my arms and would listen to the sounds of small birds in the trees and small waterfalls trickling down the banks. Many sounds of life around despite the icy cold. Just after passing Needmore, which was just a series of hunting camps, I saw a great egret hunched on the bank, motionless in the cold. He made no movement to flee as I took his picture. He was bright white against the brown background in the sun. I saw a hawk or falcon soaring high and calling out about a mile above Big Shoals. My sleep had been restless last night, partly because of the cold and partly because of the unknown events to unfold at Big Shoals. I had heard this well known set of rapids was un-runnable at low water and expected we might have to portage around it. But I knew that if it was doable, my partner Bob with his white water kayaking knowledge, would find a way. We passed a faded sign on the left - "Danger Shoals Ahead 500 Feet". We pulled up on the left to scout the passage. The portage trail led up the bank and showed the first few rapids looked passable, but further inspection of the biggest falls was less encouraging. It was about a two to three foot drop through a rocky section requiring some quick maneuvering at the bottom. However the remainder of the 200 yards or so of shoals looked navigable. We decided to go for it with the option of stopping mid-way and portaging if things went bad. Back at the boats we secured all gear in water tight compartments, put on spray skirts and PFDs, and pushed off toward the right bank where the deepest running water was. Bob led the way and the first couple of rapids went by very smooth. Then came the big drop at the center. Bob ran it no problem. My kayak was about three feet longer than his and it was difficult for me to line up to run it the same way he had. But I did the best I could and paddled hard straight inti it. My bow wend underwater at the bottom and water rolled right up to the cockpit as the rest of my long sea kayak followed over the falls. I leveled out at the bottom and let out a hoot for joy. The worst was behind us. Bob led the way down the last few rapids and we pulled over for lunch, rest, and congratulations on a sandy bank downstream. We had run Big Shoals at low water and I for one was quite happy about my first ever white water experience. There were several smaller shoals between there and White Springs but they were easy by comparison and kept the remaining nine miles interesting. We saw a deer that was caught by surprise on a steep bank with no place to run. So he jumped into the river and swam downstream to a place where he could leap up the bank. At Stephen Foster State Cultural Center, just past White Springs, we pulled out and unladed gear. We had to haul the gear and boats up many flights of steps and ramps to reach the parking lot where Bobs van awaited to take us back to Melbourne. It had been a great four days of paddling on the Suwannee. We'd even seen icicles hanging on the banks. I had never paddled in such cold, nor on such an interesting stretch of river. I was glad to have someone to share it with and glad to be returning home for Christmas. I turned on my cell phone and it got a signal for the first time in four days. We had seen no other boats or people on this entire four day section, except for two locals in a truck at Big Shoals who were surprised to see us braving the cold, and didn't stick around to see us conquer the rapids. The ride home went quickly and Bob stayed over for some Littlefield hospitality before going on his way the next day. I looked forward to a few days of rest and Christmas cheer before heading back up to finish the Suwannee and this first half of my circumnavigation.
December 21,22,23,24,25
I enjoyed five wonderful days of rest and family activity including sleeping in, taking in some movies, shopping, contacting friends, attending church, watching football, watering plants, and spending our traditional Christmas day in Melbourne and Orlando. We took the kayak and all my gear to Orlando so my dad could take me directly to White Springs on the 26th. In the confusion, we left a bag of presents in Melbourne. My nephew Kyle and I made the trip back for them and all enjoyed the day of family togetherness and sharing.
December 26
The weather was clear and cold with high clouds as my dad dropped me off at White Springs after an enjoyable early morning ride. The kayak had ridden well on his Honda and we made good time. We talked, shared some old stories, and enjoyed each other's company. Upon arriving at the front gate of Stephen Foster State Cultural Center, Dad yelled to the attendant from the passenger seat "He's going all the way around the state, I'm just dropping him off", and the lady let us pass without paying the entrance fee. It was nice to know that he was excited about my ongoing accomplishment. We hauled everything down the long set of steps and ramps, stopping to marvel at the water level post, which marked levels of the river during past flood years. The highest ones were above the tops of many trees. Dad noticed some old fishing line caught on the floating dock. He gathered it up and removed it to dispose of it. I was pleased to see him caring about the environment as much as I do. I finished loading up the kayak, thanked him for the ride, and was paddling by 10:00 am. The Carillion tower began chiming Christmas music as I paddled away, almost as if on cue. As I got downstream a ways, I noticed a feeling of tiredness, upset stomach and achy muscles. Almost like some kind of stomach virus was coming on. I hoped not, but by around 11:30 I felt the need to stop and rest in the sun. I ended up taking about a 40 minute nap, drifting off to the sound of crows and wind in the trees. Afterward I ate a sparse lunch of crackers and a piece of fruit. I felt a little better and went on, looking forward to more rest in the tent that night. I passing through small shoals where the river narrowed and swift moving water swept me through. These kept the paddling interesting and aided my progress. At around 11:30 I spotted a canoe with two paddlers way up ahead on a straight strech of river. I caught up with them after twenty minutes or so. They were Bud and Niki who were on a two day trip. I paddled with them for an hour or so and learned that Niki was a self-published writer of a book about a spirit quest in the wilderness called "Earth the Forgotten Temple". She told me about her experience in writing about her quest and publishing it. They were both very nice people and we ran a few shoals together. I was glad to have shared part of my paddling experience with them, but my pace was a bit faster and I moved on. Due to my nap earlier, my sluggish feeling, and my slower pace for awhile, I did not make my goal of Suwannee Springs that day. By around 4:30 pm, I stopped on a wide sandy beach and set up my tent. I made no fire, just cooked a quick dinner, wrote in my journal, and crawled inside. I was still feeling weak and sickly and hoped the rest would help. After checking tomorrow's route on the map and listening to the weather radio, I began to read from a book that I had brought with me. I would often read a few pages before going to sleep, but on this night, I don't think I had read more than a few sentences before I was out cold.
December 27
I awoke around 7:00am and got paddling by 9:00. The long rest did me good as I felt much better. No more aches or upset stomach. To save time, I ate breakfast on the way. A bagel and some crunchy granola bars, washed down with water. The thermometer this morning read 33 degrees and the sky was clear with winds calm. I passed Suwannee Springs, and abandoned antique bridge, and Spirit of the Suwannee campground all by 10:30. Soon after I started to pass areas where I could smell sulfer and see water bubbling up under the river. Probably many of these underwater springs help to make the river deeper and more easy to paddle in this area. At one point in late morning I paused to listen and heard many songbirds and crows filling the quiet morning with their calls. That and the beautiful reflections on the calm water filled me with a feeling of peace and reminded me why I was there. I saw my first motorboat on this river, actually two guys in a motorized canoe, which passed me by going downstream as well. Ate lunch at a sandbar on the sunny right bank. I removed my long pants and jacket, and continued on in shorts and a long-sleeved shirt. It felt like around 70 degrees. At 2:00pm I had a full nine miles to go to Suwannee River State Park. Just before the highway 249 bridge I passed a stream pouring lots of water into the river from the right side. Then just after that I passed Holton Springs with its tables and picnic area. Soon after I passed another significant tributary on the right. Occasionally I continued to hit swirls and whirlpools caused by underwater springs. I could see why the river remains wide and deep here even in times of drought like this. Clouds and wind increased as the afternoon wore on and I finally arrived at Suwannee River State Park boat ramp on the left at 4:30. I looked forward to a shower and picnic table. It was not far to walk and I made use of my wheels to haul the kayak up the ramp and over to the campsite closest to the river. After making dinner and writing and reading at the picnic table, I secured everything in preparation for the 100% chance of rain the radio called for. It started sprinkling about 10:00pm as I crawled into the tent for the night. I had no idea at the time just how much rain I was in for.
December 28
I awoke to continuing rain, and waited it out for awhile. I had brought some trail mix, fruit and milk into the tent so I took my time and made my special recipe of cold cereal for breakfast. I knew that waiting out the entire weather system was out of the question since it was forecasted to last all day. So I made my break during a period when it slacked off a bit. I packed up in the light rain, took down the tent in the rain, and loaded the kayak in the rain. Just before leaving I walked in the rain on the short trail to the old Civil War confederate earthworks built and manned here to protect the railroad from Union attack. Finally I launched in the rain around 9:30am and began a long day of paddling in the rain. I swept through some unexpected shoals that were running fast with lots of water. I shot straight through with no problems but it was quite exciting and fast. The rain increased to downpours by mid-day. I saw my first palm tree on the right bank just before stopping for lunch. Around noon I saw a shelter on a high bank above a boat ramp on the left and decided to go for it. I was still relatively dry under my bimini top and the rain had not penetrated my rain jacket. However I made the mistake of forgetting to put up the hood on my jacket before stepping out to head for the shelter, and the downpour increased to a deluge as I made the walk up the ramp and over to the shelter. I was totally drenched by the time I got there and when I took off my jacket, I found barely enough dry real-estate on my t-shirt to wipe my glasses off. The rainwater had even permeated my waterproof socks which had never happened before. I stayed there for about half an hour, listening to the rain on the tin roof and making and eating several PBJs and snacks. The rain finally let up a bit, but as I sponged out the kayak before launching it started up again. I looked forward to Dowling Park a few miles downstream and started hoping to find a hotel there. I saw another palm tree, some interesting overhanging rock formations, and a cormorant. Passed a boat ramp just before Dowling Park, but I could see buildings ahead and continued. Then I was blessed. I came to a large sign on the left facing the river : "Village Landing, Restaurant, Groceries, Lodging, Public Welcome". It was only about 2:45 but I knew that I would paddle no farther that afternoon. I found the office of the lodge, sponsored by the Seventh Day Adventist church, and was literally dripping wet as I paid for a room. For $44 I got a large room with wood furniture, double four poster bed, heater, coffee maker, television, porch overlooking the river with rocking chairs, and best of all a hot shower. I could now make the transition from cold and wet to warm and dry. I thanked God for this find, and started hauling wet gear to my room. I hung all that was wet up to dry and called home. I ate like a king at the restaurant that night and as I laid in that soft bed I felt truly grateful to have found exactly what I needed, when I needed it.
December 29
After a great nights sleep and packing up my dried out gear, I ate a good breakfast and was on the water by 8:00am. I intended to go 25 to 30 miles this day, leaving me only 5 to 10 miles for the last day into Branford, where I would get a ride to High Springs and spend New Years Eve there with Joe and Patty Carr and Sue and the boys. I was well rested and set off at a good pace. At 10:30 I passed a house on the right with a man outside tending a fire on his high bank above the river. He told me there were 104 miles to the gulf and was interested in my trip. He gave me some other info about landmarks and distances ahead. He even invited me to come up and get warm by his fire. I thanked him but declined, stating I had a long way to go. That was when it first crossed my mind that if I could somehow go all the way to Branford today, I wouldn't have to camp in the cold. I dismissed it though since 40 miles in one day was just too much to expect. I stopped for lunch at 11:00 at Blue Springs, a nice spring on the right with a campground and picnic tables. I was making good time. At 1:40 I passed a Florida monument. The old abandoned railroad bridge from the second railroad ever build in Florida was an awesome sight. It was a revolving drawbridge and it has been left standing open in the middle of the river, its turret too massive to tear down. A couple of small trees are growing out of the center of it, giving away its age. Otherwise from a distance it looks like it may close any minute and support a train rumbling past. Passing this landmark, I was now really thinking that I could make it to Branford. The current and wind were both helping me to make great progress. I passed Convict Springs, my original goal for the day at around 2:00pm. I didn’t even stop for a break. I was making good time and enjoyed passing through several fast moving shoals and rapids. I passed several trees completely filled with turkey vultures, and also saw several red-tailed hawks, making their high pitched call which was becoming very familiar to me by now. Even when I stopped to coast and rest, I continued to make good progress in the current and wind. At 4:10 I passed Troy Spring and finally got within range of a cell phone tower. I called Patty and asked for a ride at Branford, estimating I'd make it there between 6:00 and 7:00. I felt great and knew that I would make it and would be sleeping in a bed again tonight. The sky was still gray, but not too cold yet. As I paddled the last mile into Branford, I could see the lights of homes along the bank in the darkening dusk. It was 6:00pm and almost dark when I pulled up to the boat ramp just past the bridge. What a day. Joe picked me up at 7:00 and I was looking forward some sleep and a few days of rest and fun with family and friends. My shoulders were sore but some ibuprofen would help. So would the three days of rest.
December 30,312000 and January 1, 2001
My family and I enjoyed three days of rest and relaxation at Joe and Patti Carrs house in High Springs as 2000 rolled into 2001. Sue, Artie and Ryan arrived late on Dec 30 and we let the boys have fun with Jacob and his bicycles and new go-cart, while we talked and ate well. The soreness in my shoulders quickly abated as I rested with the Carrs hospitality. We had a celebration on new years eve after going into Gainesville for supplies to fix frozen water pipes. On New Years Day we launched model rockets in Joes driveway and said goodbye to Sue, Artie, and Ryan as they returned to Melbourne. I contacted Roy Morrison and made sure he was set to arrive on the 2nd. He planned to paddle with me for the last five days on the Suwannee. His wife Kelly would be dropping us of in Branford, and picking us up in Suwannee at the end of the river. I made sure to tell him of the neoprene gloves Sue had gotten me for Christmas and where he could get some. I was anxious for his arrival as I spent my last night in Joe and Pattis house, looking forward to getting back on the river.
January 2, 2001
I slept in and enjoyed the warmth and comfort of the Carrs home for a few more hours before starting the final leg of the first half of the trip. Roy and his family showed up just after we had finished a great breakfast of sausage and eggs. We added my kayak and gear to Roys Jeep Cherokee. Before leaving we met the neighbors John and Ann who talked of Johns canoe trip in the Okefenokee and his knowledge of the Suwannee. By 10:45 we were headed for Branford and by 11:45 wer were paddling downstream. My first significant event of this leg was to promptly drop my camera in the water just before we launched. I had set it on the deck to remind myself to get a picture of the launch, and then forgot and hauled the boat into the water. Splash it went and spent about one second sinking before I rescued it. It was quite wet and would have to spend some time drying out. I hoped the pictures already taken would be salvaged at least. Roys wife Kelly took the bon voyage picture with Roys waterproof camera and we were off. The going was easy with good current and favorable wind. We came around a few bends to the north where the wind was against us, but not many. The banks along this section seemed not as high as they were upstream and many of the steps on the banks had RV trailers and campers at the tops instead of houses. By 2:45 or 3:00 we had made it to the Santa Fe and found a nice campsite on a high bank on the right across from the Santa Fe mouth. There was plenty of fire wood and we started up a good fire as we set up camp and made dinner. We made good use of an old table that had been repaired by lashing limbs to the bottom as legs by former campers. Roy and I talked of fatherhood and it was good to share stories with someone who also has two sons. We knew the weather would be icy cold that night, and we prepared to weather it in our separate tents, his in a low spot below the ridge, and mine on top of the ridge overlooking the river. We planned to compare notes in the morning on which site was colder.
January 3, 2001
We were both equally affected by the cold. In my case, it was cold enough to affect my sleep this time. Cold air invaded the sleeping bag, being sucked in through the drawstring hole whenever I turned. I put on an extra sweatshirt in the night to help the situation, and kept my knit hat on and up against the hole. But despite my efforts, sleep was restless when it came. I just couldn't get quite warm enough. In the morning, I emerged from the tent into a world of frost. It was covering everything, from the tiniest branches of the trees, to the kayaks, and every item that had been left out. The water bottles that had been left outside the kayaks were frozen solid, and steam rose thickly from the river. We got a fire going quickly, ate well, called home, packed and got on the water by 9:30. We passed a turtle in the sun at around 11:00 with an octagonal pattern on his shell. He needed every bit of warmth he could get from the sunshine which was beginning to warm the day. At noon we made it to Rock Bluff Springs and paddled the quarter mile or so up the run to the source. The water was clear and warm to the touch since the air was still much colder than the constant 72 degree water temperature. We paddled on to the boat ramp past the bridge and as we pulled up there I mentioned to Roy that last time I was here, paddling this section of the river four years ago, I met my old high school science teacher Mr. Evans. Roy and I ate lunch at the boat ramp and then walked to the nearby store for snacks and coffee. As we returned to the ramp, a man came walking out from the side and I couldn't believe who it was. I said "Hi Mr. Evans, I'm Art Littlefield from your biology class back in '75." He said "Art Littlefield! and gave me a hug, exactly the way he had four years ago, and the way I had explained it to Roy just minutes before. Roy was amazed. It turned out Mr. Evans lives right by the ramp and helps as a volunteer with canoe trips for wayward youth. We talked awhile and exchanged email addresses. I regret not getting a picture. As we continued we passed some nice homes on the bank. We arrived at Hart Springs around 4:20 and passed it right by, thinking that the day use area was the only option. Realizing we couldn't camp there, we looked across the river and then noticed upstream on the same side as the day use area was a spring run. As we paddled up it, we surprised some fish and one jumped right across Roys kayak and missed his face by a couple of inches. He said he felt water spray from it's tail onto his cheek as the fish flew by. We got to the campground about 5:00, just in time to catch the caretaker before he left for the day. He took our $9 payment and directed us to a site, hot showers, and firewood. We would be the only campers there that night other than the campground host.
January 4, 2001
As we packed up to leave Hart Springs, the caretakers Amos and Bob came by, shared some homemade banana bread and talked with us a good bit. They were very friendly folks and gave us some maps and brochures. We asked about bringing the scout troop back for an outing and they said we could bring them and camp right by the water and stay for free in return for some service work. We got going around 10:15 and two ducks were there to see us off. They were the same two that had greeted us. We stopped for lunch at Fanning Springs and enjoyed the warm sun on the floating dock there. We met a man who was returning from the Citrus Bowl in Orlando, back to Auburn Alabama after watching his War Eagles play. HE was interested in our kayaks and their rudders. A sign at the floating dock said Manatee Springs 9 mi, Fowlers Bluff 17 mi, Suwannee 29 mi. There was another sign up in the park on the bank that told of a sunken river boat named "City of Hawksville" in the river about 3 miles upstream marked by buoys. We paddled into Fanning Springs run and again saw fish jumping at the mouth of it. We found out later that they were mullet. We arrived at Manatee Springs State Park at around 4:15 and several manatees and lots more mullet were at the mouth of the run. We came up the spring run and found out that the ranger office was several miles away up the road. Roy got a ride in a state park truck from Bill a state park employee and Elija, a young boy in his care. As I waited behind, unloading the kayaks, I met Tony and Peg Littlejohn who were fromo Mesa Verde Colorado. They were exploring some Florida rivers by canoe this winter. They were interested in our trip, and my extended journey. I advised them about the everglades Wilderness Waterway which they planned to paddle soon. When Roy returned, I learned that young Elija had a terminal illness. He was also mentally handicapped but as Bill drove us to our campsite, Elija seemed excited to be with us. Bill told us that he usually didn't show as much reaction as he did with us. He told me his name and we got a picture with him and Bill. It felt good to see him smile and I felt affection for him and silently wished him well in the time he had left. They gave us some firewood and our tent site was far from any other campers, but close to the showers and bathrooms. It looked like another freezing night was in store as we cooked our dinners and talked. Just before turning in I walked to the pay telephone to call home. The cell phone hadn't worked the past two days and I wanted to make contact with Sue and the boys. It was good to find them well, warm at home with the heat on. Afterward I walked in the moonlight down the boardwalk that followed the spring run through the cypress out to the river. The moon and stars were bright and I could hear the fish breaking the surface at the mouth of the run. The cold night air was quiet otherwise and I gave thanks to God for everything. I returned to my warm sleeping bag and had a good nights sleep.
January 5, 2001
We slept in in the morning since our goal was only about eight miles. The thermometer said 28 degrees but we were suspecting it might be incorrect since other sources such as the weather radio and people we met were reporting much colder temperatures. We packed a load of gear down the half mile or so to the boats and went to the concession for the biscuits and gravy we'd heard about the day before. To our disappointment they were closed. We walked down the boardwalk to the river and saw thousands of mullet at the mouth of the run, and several manatees in the clear water. Returning to the concession we finally got our biscuits and gravy, with coffee too. It was hot and good and warmed the insides on this cold morning. Back at the tents we learned the water would soon be turned off to fix a broken pipe. I decided to risk it and took a hot shower. The gamble paid off and if felt excellent. Pe packed up the rest of our gear and hauled it to the kayaks in one final trip. Loading up we met Rick Morse and his wife from the Adirondack mountains of New York. They were interested in our trip and my extended trip. They took our picture before we left. As we headed down the spring run a large manatee was surprised and raised himself up to flee, creating a huge wake that helped push Roy on his way. Roy was quite poised though and didn't have any problem riding the sudden wave. It was past noon when we finally got going down the river. At 12:40 we passed the first sailboat that I had seen since the town of St. Marys. It was docked on the left and was about a 35 footer. We continued into a persistent head wind with no help from the current due to the incoming tide. At around 3:20 we got to Fowlers Bluff and stopped in at Sids Treasure Camp Store. Madeline, one of the owners was happy to tell us some of the history of buried pirate gold. We took come photos of the coffer dams where hunters have dug for the elusive treasure as recently as last year. We agreed we'd rather camp our last night instead of staying at on of Sids cabins, and we headed on our way. We got a mile or so and realized we'd forgotten to call and confirm our ride home for tomorrow. We went back and Roy took the opportunity to ask about an abandoned sailboat across the river. What he found out left him wishing he could find the owner to buy it cheap. We left Fowlers Bluff a second time and went about two miles, spotting some tall trees at Little Turkey Island. The island itself was swampy, but we did find some high ground just next to it on the left bank. We pulled the kayaks all the way up to our campsite about 30 feet from the shore in the trees. We were glad to have found such a remote spot, but started hearing noises in the woods as we set up and got a small fire going. After we had eaten and were standing around our small fire talking, Roy noticed a boats lights and motor as it passed by on the other side of Little Turkey Island. We saw their search light scanning the trees as they came around the island and stopped, apparently looking and listening. We had been talking with Madeline earlier back at Fowlers Bluff and she'd told us we'd be taking our chances with the game wardens on this protected land. We had figured at the time that she was probably just trying to rent us a cabin. Now not wanting to deal with a stiff fine, or having to leave in the night, we began to quietly smother our fire. After a few minutes we heard their motor start up again and the search light resumed scanning as they approached up the narrow channel between the island and the shore on which we were campes. Thinking they would surely see our smoke, kayaks, and tents any second, we decided to turn on our headlamps and make ourselves known. At the exact moment that we turned them on and began walking toward the water, the searchlight switched to the other side of the channel and we watched as a fishing boat with three men aboard passed right by never seeing us. We went back to covering the fire but had to be quiet as their motor stopped again. After a few more minutes which seemed like many more, they started it up and sped away down the river. We both had a good laugh as we talked about this odd scene. We had earlier joked about how unlikely it would be to see another boat out here at night. As we turned in for the night we heard more noises out in the swampy woods surrounding our little high spot on the banks of the lower Suwannee. In hindsight we surmised that the fishermen must have smelled the smoke from our fire and stopped to look for it in case it was a forest fire so they could report it. They never found it and went on their way.
January 6, 2001
We woke to the echoing sounds of motorboats out on the river. Being excited to be going home, I packed up everything in the tent before stepping out. Roy made sure to mention that the huge dead tree towering over my tent, which he had noted several times last night, still had not fallen yet. Other than a few animal noises in the night this was a very quiet and peaceful campsite. We had both slept well in the above freezing temperatures too. When we got down to the water to launch, we noticed both our paddles leaning up against trees by the river. How had the fishermen missed seeing them? By 9:45 we were on the water and headed to Suwannee. About a quarter mile beyond our campsite we noticed a long boardwalk ending in an overlook at the river. Perhaps a public park. We weren't as remote as we thought. As we progressed into a long straight section of the Suwannee known as Long Reach, we noticed our voices bouncing back to us from the forested shore in strong echoes. We had some fun testing our echoes for awhile. At round 11:30 we approached the end of Long Reach and had seen three or four boats on the river, unlike any other day since the top of the river. At around 12:30, with about two miles to go, I saw the first Pelicans I had seen since the Atlantic Coast. I also saw an osprey with a fish in its talons, and many more boats speeding back and forth as we approached the town. We took our first canal on the right in Suwannee and arrived at Suwannee Inlet Marina and the Ships Wheel Restaurant. We had comleted almost 70 miles from Branford and were happy to be there and grateful for the great experiences we had on the way. The weather on this last day had been perfect. Sunny and cool with only a few sections where we had head winds. The cold weather of the past few nights was bearable and we had slept well for the most part in our mummy bags. WE had been lucky to have no rain for this whole leg of the trip. Kelly, Phil and Eric Morssison arrived right on time to take us home. After a good meal at the Ships Wheel and a bit of fishing with Phil, we headed back to Melbourne. Part one of my circumnavigation was complete. The west coast, keys, and south Atlantic coast await my return. I looked forward to it, but for now I was glad to be returning home to my own family.
Although I had to return to work, I planned to continue my trip on weekends when possible before the hot summer set in. The rest would have to wait until next fall. My first opportunity came the weekend after Valentines Day. I would be joined by some fellow Space Coast Paddlers. It was sunny and hot in Melbourne and I left work early for the long drive to Suwannee. I got on the road about 2:30pm and hoped to arrive in Suwannee by 6:30. The plan was to meet at Millers Marina, drop off boats and gear, then shuttle the cars down to Cedar Key, and return to Suwannee in Bob Barneys van. Then we'd camp at Millers Marina, spend the next two days paddling to Cedar Key, and most of us would have our vehicles waiting when we got to the end. There would be five of us, myself, Bob, Ann, Brian, and Kathryn. Brian planned to take Bob back to his van after we finished. It was a long day of driving and was 11:00 pm by the time we got back to Suwannee and headed for our tents. We had no idea what the weather had in store for us that night. A cold front was forecast to pass through, but no rain was predicted.
February 17, 2001
The wind picked up sharply during the night and by 2:00 am was raging in gusts through the oak branches above our tents. Rain squalls joined in by early morning and increased at daybreak. I turned on my weather radio to learn that small craft warnings were out for the waters outside the Suwannee river mouth. As the rest of the crew woke up, they began formulating a plan-B. I hated the thought of losing this opportunity to continue my trip with the truck already waiting at the other end. One of the options being discussed was to just paddle around the creeks and passes near Suwannee, and then drive down to get the cars at Cedar Key. I like the first part of that, but not the second. I suggested we go ahead and paddle East Pass, an arm of the Suwannee that extended south toward the gulf. We could follow it to the open water and if it looked too choppy, we could just paddle right back up it. It was agreed and we packed up the boats with the hope that the open gulf would be passable. The wind was at our backs as we cruised down East Pass after backtracking a mile or so back up the Suwannee. We made great time and soon could see the wide open surface of the Gulf in the distance as the trees on either side seemed to thin out. As we exited East Pass, there was a feeling of openness and space to a degree that I had not yet experienced on this journey. You could see for miles on almost all sides. Surprisingly the water in the open gulf was rather calm in this relatively protected area, given the current wind direction. As we cut across open water two miles to Deer Island, the chop increased but the wind was still behind us and we found ourselves half surfing, half paddling toward our destination. We soon spotted the white beaches of Deer Island and stopped for lunch on a small one. We decided to scout the bigger beach nearby for our camp and found it to be an excellent site. We landed there at about 1:30pm and spent the afternoon relaxing, exploring, setting up camp, and cooking. The sun set over the gulf in a cloudless display and we watched it sink into the endless horizon.
February 18, 2001
The morning was clear and cool, with much calmer winds than the previous morning. We had all slept a lot better. The tide was way out, leaving about fifty yards of hard mud between our beached boats and the water to float them on. We ate breakfast and re-lit the fire on the beach. Yesterday we had explored the woods behind our camp and found a huge pile of discarded cans and bottles. This morning Ann brought up the idea of cleaning it up. She had several large heavy trash bags and we all set out to clean up what we called "Bubbas Campsite". We crushed the aluminum cans and bagged them separately from the bottles and other debris. It felt good to leave such an ugly place looking natural again. The bottle bag was so heavy we had to ask some motorboat camping neighbors down the beach to haul it out for us. They were happy to oblige. We got a late start after that and still had to haul the boats across the mud although the tide was coming in quickly. We paddled around Deer Island and headed inland, past Buck Island and Shell Mound. Had we not taken the time for the clean up operation, the route would have been too shallow to navigate in the low tide. After Shell Mound, we moved back out into open water again and noticed a nice sandy island offshore that must have been Derrick Key. As we continued southeast we took a few wrong turns in the maze of channels leading to the boat ramp at Cedar Key. But we found our way and finished up with a brisk paddle into the northeast wind. I was glad to have extended my trip into the gulf coast with good company.
Dec 3, 2001 to Dec 6, 2001 – Paddled with Bob Barney from Cedar Key to Homosassa Springs
Dec 26, 2002 to Jan 1, 2003 – Paddling with Bob Barney from Everglades City to Flamingo in South Fla.