guided tours #4

Tours A - N
(scroll down to find the river you're looking for.)
* (Click here for tours O - Z)

The rare opportunity to paddle on Paynes Prairie only happens with exceptional flooding in Alachua County.
On average, these conditions happen once every couple of decades. Besides being a fun opportunity to paddle on the
Prairie, it is good for the marsh habitat to flood occasionally and kill back upland species. So, let's hope for rain!
At other times (between high water events) we lead hiking tours on this historic and ecologically important
wetland prairie (see Paynes Prairie).

Cost: $45.00 per person (plus $5/person park fee) (includes boat, paddle, vest, and your guide)
Using your Own Boat - $25. (plus $5/person park fee) (many paddlers with their own boats
like to join us to learn more about the history, archaeology and natural history of these rivers).

Group size: 1 - 20 people

Trip time: 2.5 hours

Skill level: beginner (but the pro's enjoy this one too)

Join us for a scheduled tour. (see calendar for trips being planned).
If you see a free date on the calendar, suggest
the trip of your choice and we'll post it!
or,
schedule your own private tour. Call for details (386-454-0611)

Paynes Prairie is a large, 20 square mile basin formed by dissolution and collapse of underground limestone. This same process forms the many lakes and sinkholes in this part of Florida. In fact, Paynes Prairie would be a lake if not for one significant feature - it has a leak. At the northern edge of the Prairie basin, a hole in the limestone bottom, known as Alachua Sink, drains water into the underground aquifer system. It's a relatively small hole however, perhaps the size of a small car, so it takes a long time to drain the basin when it floods. This constant dampness---rarely dry and only occasionally flooded---has created a fantastic, and relatively unique marshland.

Located a few miles south of Gainesville, this 20 square mile wetland prairie is not only a wildlife hotspot, but one of the most historically significant natural features in North Florida. For the first nomadic hunter-gatherers who entered Florida about 12,000 years ago, it was all about location, location, location -- location of big game (including mammoths, mastodons and more), location of water and location of tool making materials, most notably a type of stone known as chert. Chert, the best material in Florida for making spear points and blades, is abundant on an around the Prairie.

In later periods, the Prairie continued to be an important location for native settlements. Archaeologists have found abundant artifacts dating from every cultural; period up to the present.

Paynes Prairie has a long history of flooding during high water events (if this comes as news to you, there's a book I'd like to recommend ;-). Since the 1800's, the ephemeral lake created when the basin floods has been referred to as Alachua Lake. In dry periods, the diminished pool that remains in the low center of the basin retains the name - like a devoted keeper of the flame, waiting for the rains to return. During active hurricane seasons, we sometimes get enough rain to refill Alachua Lake.

Over the centuries, all kinds of boats have been used in the occasional lake. The nearby dugout canoe graveyard that is Newnan's Lake gives ample proof that North Florida's aborigines were paddlers. It seems likely they took to the waters of Paynes Prairie whenever water levels allowed.

The first documented boats on the Prairie were small steamboats used to ship goods and supplies (and the occasional brave passenger) during a 20 year flood that lasted from 1871 to 1892. The convenience of water transportation as opposed to the treacherous, sugar-sand wagon roads around the prairie perimeter, was a boon to area planters. Citrus cultivation was enjoying it's heyday in North Florida and the heart of the industry was centered at Paynes Prairie. Recreational sailing was also popular on Alachua Lake. Contemporary accounts mention days when many sails could be seen skimming through the wind-ruffled whitecaps.

In the 1920's, as highway 441 was being laid across the Prairie, flooding rains filled the basin. Once again, locals brought their boats and launched into reborn Alachua Lake. By now, it was gas-powered motor boats that plied the shallow lake. The elevated, half-completed roadbed for the highway became a favorite launch site.

The flooding of the 1920's proved to be a temporary mood swing of the Prairie. Within a couple of years the waters had receded. By the '30's, the highway was complete and a new system of dykes and canals was completed by the cattle ranching Camp family who owned the Prairie. The new water control structures made the possibility of ever seeing another prolonged "lake" period, unlikely. Wrong again. In the 1960's, the Prairie seemed to be on the verge of becoming a permanent lake - this time, with the help of humans.

When the Prairie was named a "wildlife sanctuary" in 1960's, there was much debate about what to do with it. One of the most strongly lobbied ideas was to permanently flood the basin. The plan called for raising the Hwy 441 roadbed and constructing a tramway to carry tourists across the water. Boats could once again enjoy the open waters of Alachua Lake. The list of organizations was considerable and even included the local Audubon Society! Luckily, the State bought the Prairie in 1970 and all efforts turned to restoring the Prairie's to it's natural state. Today, the park service is committed to restoring the natural habitats and wildlife communities that existed on the Prairie before European encroachment.

Highlights

At all water levels (including no water at all) Paynes Prairie is a Mecca for wildlife. There's a healthy alligator population, but when ythe basin is flooded we don't see any more than an average river trip or lake paddle. Birding is always good, with the full roster of common wading birds, assorted warblers, grackles, redwings, osprey, bald eagles, northern harriers and red-tailed hawks all being commonly seen. Sand hill cranes spend a lot of time here. The Prairie also has a reputation for surprising us with some bird species that are uncommon in the Gainesville area, including white pelicans, roseate spoonbills and the large fulvous whistling ducks. On all recent trips, we've spotted black-necked stilts, osprey, bald eagles, house swallows, barn swallows, American bitterns, and many wading birds of all persuasions.

Sandhill Cranes
Grus canadensis

With their tall stature, brilliant red cap and distinctive, rattle-like trumpeting, sandhill cranes are among the most loved and recognizable bird species in north Florida. Even non-birders stop in their tracks to scan the skies when they hear the distant trumpeting that announces the return of wintering cranes. By night, they gather by the hundreds in remote marshes and then disperse by day to feed in nearby fields and high marshes on seeds, fruits and small plants, as well as the occasional insects, worms and grubs. While there is a small year-round population in Florida, winter is the real season for sandhill cranes. The rarely seen courtship dance is performed by an enamored couple of cranes that face each other and then alternately bow their heads low and then jump into the air, flapping their wings and cackling like overgrown turkeys.

Winter 2004 and Spring '05 - The deluge of rains brought by a parade of fall hurricanes, revived the ephemeral lake. Thanks to the park services refreshing commitment to sharing the Paynes Prairie experience with all who love her, we have been allowed to guide tours on the lake since November. Be sure to watch the calendar for trip dates.

April 24, 2005 - Another beautiful day on the lake. Osprey, sand hill cranes, egrets, herons, moorhens, black-necked stilts and only a few alligators. The mats of pennywort, water hyacinth, smartweed, water lettuce, frogs bit, pickerel weed and more are spreading.

June 17, 2005 - Our recent trips have been highlighted by sightings of rare (in Florida) black-bellied whistling ducks. These spectacular birds have striking orange bills, and legs to match. Their grayish head sports an attractive dark stripe starting on the crown and going down to their shoulders, giving them one of the finest "Mohawk" hair-do's (feather-do??) in the bird kingdom. They've been slowly building a population in Florida and there's apparently a hefty population of several hundred of them in the Sarasota. Increasing reports from other parts of the State seem to indicate that this beautiful, large duck should soon find it's way into Florida bird guides - to date it is not listed in any except in the occasional appendix of rarities. American lotus plants have burst open with their incredible huge, yellow blooms in scattered locations. The much more abundant yellow water lilies that formed a sea of yellow on last months trips, are now passing out of the blooming stage and are busy developing seeds for future generations.

July 8, '05 - Recent rains have brought the levels to their highest point this year. With hurricane season bearing down on us, it looks like this rare opportunity might be extended for a while.

Sept. 11, 2005 - Recent trips have been a botanists dream. Dense stands of American lotus blooms on their 3 ft. stalks make for a surreal paddling experience. On the down side, this lush growth of marsh greenery is thriving and expanding. The route we follow out into the open water is getting increasingly clogged. It looks like we might be down to our last couple of trips - at least until winter freezes kill back some of these plants.

Sept. 24, 2005 - We knew this day was coming : - ( Today's trip was beautiful as always, but..... we couldn't get out to the main body of open water. After our initial paddle around the Alachua Sink area and over toward Ice Rink Sink, we steered our course down the canal toward Prairie central. About a third of the way out, we met a thicket of water hyacinth, pickerel weed and all of the other marsh vegetables that, under any other circumstances would have been most welcome. But their stubbornness was greater than ours and we were denied further passage. We still have a couple of trips on the calendar, but these will be listed as "X-Stream" trips, suitable only for the most determined (and physically fit) paddlers. We may get permission to manually clear a little channel through the vegetation, so if you're hoping to do this one, don't give up yet. Keep an eye on the calendar for possible updates. Either way, the end of this very rare opportunity is in sight.

Nov. 6, 2005 - We hand-cleared a small channel through the vegetables (I always grin when I read Bartram referring to wild plants as vegetables - thought I'd pass that grin along to you) so we are able to continue or paddles on the Prairie. Today's trip was spectacular. The fall setting was dominated by burmarigolds, but many others, including smartweed, bladderwort, pickerelweed and a few yellow water lilies and fragrant water lilies were showing off their flowers as well. We spotted a half dozen glossy ibis, great blue herons, grackles, black-bellied whistling ducks, double-crested cormorants and more. Coots stole the day however, with several gatherings of different sizes, ranging upwards of a hundred birds, kept our attention - especially when making their A couple neaContrary to the breath-taking numbers of gators we see in this area during drier times, we've seen very few on recent trips. The 2 footer we saw today was the first we've spotted in the last 4 trips (mid - Oct. thru early Nov.) With the new little channel, it looks like we may still have at least a few more months of these Prairie trips. WOOHOO!!

Jan 29, 2006 - Water levels holding steady and recent rains have added a few welcome inches. At this point the celebration of blooms has has passes, and we find only a few scattered burmarigols, spatterdock and climbing asters. The prairie plants are now focusing their energies on producing and dispersing their progeny - coppery brown broom sedge seed heads waving in the breeze, small brownish gray tufts of aster crowd the bushes, a few relict "shower heads" of American lotus stand lonely in once crowded marsh, swollen brandy bottle pods of spatterdock, masses of amaranth seeds perch in large clusters atop buttressed red stalks. Browns of a thousand shades dominate the sweeping vistas in all directions. Glossy and white ibis still wade in the shallowest places, sharing these prime feeding grounds with a mutually beneficial feeding regimen - glossys probing the ground primarily for grains while the white ibis focus on insects and other small animals.

Feb 26, 2006 - Recent rains have added more water than is being lost to the combined workings of Alachua Sink, evaporation and transpiration. The levels are presently about where they were a couple of months after the hurricanes!! At this rate, we could be paddling the prairie for many months to come.

Spring is just starting to show on the Prairie. Willow trees are taking on a soft yellow-green tinge from developing catkins and tiny, fresh leaves just poking out from swelling buds. While we don't see much spatter dock on this trip, those plants we do see are sending up new, yellow blooms. Oddly, the most noticeable blooms are bur marigolds, holdovers from the brilliant autumn show. Smartweed, pickerelweed, water hyacinth (whose beauty can't be denied, even though we wish them gone!) have yet to get into the spirit of the season. Soon!! Tree swallows are still actively swooping and darting after flying insects while red-winged blackbirds work the marsh vegetation. I caught one beautiful banded water snake who was kind enough to let us check him out for a few minutes before sending him on his way. Well-healed but significant scars on his neck and a lopped-off tail told of a violent encounter in earlier years. Gators? What gators??

Oct. 4, 2006 - Water levels continue to recede. So, while paddling on the great Alachua Lake is relegated once again to the realm of happy memories and wishful thinking, the prospect of hiking, once again, on the Great Alachua Savanna looms ever closer as our favorite trails - La Chua, Bolens Bluff and Cone's Dike - continue to dry.

Cost: $45 per person. (includes boat, paddle, vest, shuttling and your guide)
Using your Own Boat - $25. (many paddlers with their own boats like to
join us to learn more about the history, archaeology and natural
history of these rivers).

Group size: 1 - 24 people

Trip length: 4 - 5 hours

Skill level: Beginner

Difficulty: Pull-overs and short wades are a possibility. There are a few tricky forks on all of the side
cannels and on the Ocklawaha itself so you won't want to get too far away from the guide.

This remote little stream offers a great opportunity to explore the wild beauty of a swamp without getting wet (usually).

On this trip, we explore the maze of creeks and sloughs that braid through the backwaters of the lower Ocklawaha basin. The first leg of our journey follows Bear Creek and Indian Village Slough into the heart of the swamp. Much of this section lies within Little Lake George Wilderness Area. Cypress, tupelo, maple, cabbage palm, holly and more, form a closed canopy overhead. In their shadows, we take in the rich sights, sounds and smells of the regal bottomland forest.

After a couple of hours paddling, we emerge from this shaded, intimate serenity onto the wide open expanse of St. Johns River. Here we rest, drifting in a floating garden of spatter dock, water lettuce, water hyacinth, duckweed and water ferns, enjoying lunch and watching the hustle of myriad river-craft, with shapes and sizes as diverse as their tasks. Many birds live along the big river and there's always the possibility of spotting a manatee. After our brief, rejuvenating siesta, fed and fluffy, we resume our trip, entering the mouth of the Ocklawaha.

This part of the Ocklawaha starts out fairly wide but narrows as we make our way up against a modest current. Soon, we succumb to the lure of the swamp and we turn our boats away from the wide channel and reenter the river swamp. Following a series of small watery trails, with names like Turpentine Creek and Tusintak Creek, we pass through a section of Caravelle Ranch Wildlife Management Area before returning to our original launch site. This is a round trip.

Florida's swamps, in general, are a virtual smorgasbord (are my Danish roots showing?) of wildlife. The Ocklawaha river swamp is a prime example. The year-round abundance of woodland birds swells considerably in winter with arriving migrants. Manatees are a possibility in the vicinity of the St. Johns river. Other wild residents include bears, eagles, osprey, deer, otters, egrets, herons, ibis and other water birds. This section also has a healthy 'gator population, as well as snakes and an occasional wild hog. We often see wading birds, ranging from lone limpkins to 100+ flocks of white ibis feeding among the cypress knees and buttressed trunks of ash, tupelo and oak.

- Forager's Notebook -

Spatterdock (Nuphar luteum) - Our northern clients often know this plant as pond lily or cow lily. The small hard seeds found in the little 'brandy-bottle' seed pods (so nick-named because of their waisted, flask shape and also because the flowers sometimes smell like stale brandy dregs), are edible. Knowledgeable fishermen gather small "bonnet worms" that live in the stalks to use as bait. The ripe, dried seeds can be popped like popcorn, but don't get your hopes up. While they make a unique snack when parched over a a fire, they don't pop like popcorn. A few seeds will swell and pop slightly, but they don't expand much bigger than the un-popped seeds. Even so, they are fairly tasty - especially when seasoned, salted and buttered. We see small patches of spatterdock on the open sections of this Bear Creek exploration. But, its' at lunch where we find ourselves drifting dreamily in a large, several acre patch of their deep green leaves and attractive, yellow blooms.

Remains of an ancient Indian village site and a nearby shell mound, located on the high ground south of Indian Village Slough, attest to prehistoric occupation of this area. In the historic period this section of the Ocklawaha River, with it's vast swamp lands, has gone relatively untouched. For more on the Ocklawaha river's past, see Ocklawaha trip history).

Trip Notes
(Interesting sightings or notes? Let us know and we'll post here)

Oct 14, 2001 - Fall is showing its colors. Red maples, black gum, sweet gum and dogwoods are providing reds of all shade, while wild grapes, hickory and others add some yellow. These, when mixed with the beautiful copper crowns of the bald cypress and the many hues of green offered by the die-hard leaves of the evergreens species and set against the electric blue winter sky, made this a very scenic trip. Several large flocks of white ibis were seen in the swamps as we quietly maneuvered down the thin, "north leg" stream.

March 2, 2006 - Water levels are a little high, giving the river forest a good soaking. Usually, this would men fewer wading birds, but on today's trip we were treated to quite a few feathered companions. A couple of large flocks of white ibis were making their way up and down the channel, while pine warblers and scores of other LBJ's (little brown jobs) worked the under story. We spotted a half dozen gators, and twice as many turtles (mostly red-bellies) soaking up the sun and gearing up for the carnival of spring. At this time of year, we get a great demonstration of the subtle differences a few fractions of a degree in latitude makes on the environment. Here, in the Ocklawaha valley, red maples are a bit greener and more of their ripe, red samara (seeds) have dropped than those in the next valley to the north, along the Santa Fe. Elm leaves are bigger, newly unfurled ash leaves are a bit longer, the dust of oak pollen is more apparent. The forests of the Suwannee are just a shade less green. Fewer flowers have dared open and unopened buds are not as plump. But in either place, there's no mistaking it - spring is here!!

Oct. 3, 2006 - It's hard to believe the entire summer season passed without a chance to explore these quiet backwaters. Our last trip was a celebration of re-emerging spring foliage, while this trip was heavy in the subtle signs of autumn. All of the hard work of summer - producing flowers, attracting pollinators, developing seeds - is now paying off. Seeds, nuts and fruits decorate branches of many swamp plants. Dogwoods formerly greenish-white fruits are now purple. Female hollies are brilliantly decorated with orange berries, while the males rest - their work long done. Tupelo, haw, and bay trees all boast the fruits of a successful season. Less showy, but no less important, are the dried seeds of ash trees that hang heavily in dense, brown clusters. But, of course, for us passing human guests, it's the show of colorful foliage that highlights autumn paddling in these forests. While we're far from "peak" here in central Florida, there are signs of the coming season. Weakened red maples, tupelos, dogwoods and even poison ivy are showing their first inclination to give up the summer, while cardinal flowers and swamp lilies are in full bloom. No sign yet of the true harbinger of fall - climbing asters - but it won't be long. Several gators and assorted birds made good company on this days exploration.

Cost: $45.00 per person. (includes boat, paddle, vest, guide, shuttling and, of course, your guide)
Using your Own Boat - $29. (many paddlers with their own boats like to join us to learn
more about the history, archaeology and natural history of these rivers).

Group size: 1 - 24 people

Black Creek is one of those river's you don't hear much about - not in paddlin' circles anyway. This, in itself, wouldn't be so unusual if it weren't for the fact that Black Creek has been one of the most well known, thoroughly explored, and important waterways in Florida history.

Most of our trips are on the north prong, originating in the Jennings State Forest.

This river retains an age-old reputation as a haven for monstrous alligators. And, while the you might spot some large individuals, most of the gator's here are average sized, ranging from 6 - 10 feet. The shore line of Black Creek displays excellent showcase of native varieties of some common nursery plants. Wild roses, native wisteria, wild azalea and swamp dogwoods are some examples. For some reason, on this trip, we often stumble upon reptiles that are rarely seen. Ring-necked snakes and rough green snakes are often in the branches overhanging the water. On one trip in the fall of 1998, our clients were treated to a rare, up close look at a coachwhip snake, which, aside from being mildly entertaining, had the added benefit of demonstrating how many blackberry briars our river guide will endure for the sake of introducing our clients to Florida's amazing wildlife - in this case, our fastest snake..

Ogechee tupelo
Nyssa ogeche

Nyssa, the genus name of Tupelo trees, is a Swedish word for a Troll. When standing alone on the riverbank, the short, stout trunks and long, gnarled branches of these trees give them a rather troll-like appearance. In Florida, there are many place names which are of Creek Indian origin, but not many plants. Tupelo is one of them. It is derived from their word topilwa, or "swamp tree." Ogechee is the name of a river in Georgia. In the fall, the small, 1 - 1.5 inch fruits, the "limes" for which the plant was nicknamed "Ogechee lime", turn a beautiful scarlet color that add a beautiful element to the autumn forests.

For local Indians, who called it White River, this waterway was an important route for travel and commerce. During the Second Seminole War, the U.S. Army established a supply depot and military headquarters at the "fork" where north prong and south prong meet. Named Ft. Heilman, this fort was to become one of the most important in the seven year war. The town which grew from Ft. Heilman was named Middleburg. With an exceptionally deep channel, Middleburg became developed into a port as the steamboat era came to life on the St. Johns River, into which Black Creek flows.

Trip Notes & Recent
(Interesting sightings or notes? Let us know and we'll post here)

January, 2003 - With above average rains this winter, there have been some periods where this river has channeled a torrential gush of water out of the Jennings forest and through Middleburg. Between these brief periods of extremely high, fast water, such as is the case now, the levels are running a little above average. Catch this one a day after a good soaker and you'll enjoy an awesome ride!

August 4, 2006 - The new, improved canoe launch area and parking made for a slightly longer haul to the water with boats, but no complaints. It looks great and bank erosion will be much less of a problem now. Today's paddle took a little longer than average due to low water levels, but was still an easy paddle. Several gators kept us alert. The two dominant tree species here, hazel alder and Ogechee limes, were loaded with ripening fruit and seeds.

Cost: $45.00 per person. (includes boat, paddle, vest, guide, shuttling and, of course,
your guide) Using your Own Boat - $25. (many paddlers with their own boats like to
join us to learn more about the history, archaeology and natural history of
these rivers). ** There's also a $5 park entry fee.

This is one of the most interesting and diverse areas on the Adventure Outpost "Launch Menu". With a fantastic variety of historical, archaeological and natural features, tours in the CNS are a non-stop learning experience. There are many possibilities for customizing your trip by adding some biking, hiking and driving elements to paddling adventure.

On this trip, we paddle the quiet lagoons of one of Florida's finest parks. Extensive dunes and a maze of salt marshes, island hammocks and mangrove lagoons are home to nearly 1,045 plant species and 310 birds, not to mention a fine array of mammals, insects and (my favorites) reptiles.

Canaveral National Seashore has more than its share of outstanding and unique natural features. Perhaps the most noteworthy is it's extensive pristine beach, which stretches for nearly 24 miles. The only high-rise building you'll see here is NASA's massive Vehicle Assembly Building (with more open space inside than any other building in the world), but even this architectural behemoth is a mere speck on the horizon.

For wildlife viewing and nature study, you'll do best on the backside of the dunes and into the park's extensive marshes and mangrove lagoons.

- Forager's Notebook -

Wild Spices - If you're going to treat yourself to some wild cuisine, there's no reason it should be bland. There's no rule that says wild food has to be mild food. Salt is probably the most popular (and necessary) flavoring in the world. Thankfully, it can be found in abundance in Canaveral Nat'l Seashore, as well as other coastal wetlands. The best source is saltwort and glasswort. These two succulent plants grow abundantly at the waters edge, often forming dense, knee-high thickets. Toss a few leaves and stems into your wild salad or sandwich, or cook it up with wild vegetables. Another local source for salt is cord grass. To survive in this harsh, salty environment, cord grass exudes excess salts from microscopic pores on the leaf surface. The tiny, glistening crystals can be seen on the leaf surface. Run a leaf blade between your fingers and you'll be amazed at how much salt comes off - finger lickin' good! Other wild flavorings that can be obtained from local plants range from hot and peppery to sweet. Others don't fall into any specific category and are best described in terms ranging from "tasty" or "not exactly tasty" to "edible in a pinch" and "better than shoe leather". Of course some are (yes, I'll admit it) "disgusting". Be sure to use reliable guides to identify plants and determine edibility.

Within the bounds of this amazing preserve, there are over 100 registered archaeological sites.

Many shell middens and burial sites remain as silent reminders of thousands of years of native occupation of these low, coastal lagoons. One local site (not in the park) discovered in 1982, known as Windover, has proven to be one of the most significant archaeological sites in the country. Among the remains of over 40 sets of human remains, some dating back 8,000 years, researchers discovered some intact brain tissue.

Another, more obvious site, that is in the park is Turtle Mound. This 35 foot high Indian mound (50 feet when first excavated in the 1800's) is composed of millions of sea shells, discarded as dinner scraps by Timucuan Indians during the period from about 800 to 1400 A.D. This massive shell mound stood as the highest landmark on Florida's east coast for hundreds of years before Europeans arrived. In the early 1600's, the Indian village of Surruque was located here.

During the Civil War, this quiet lagoon took on great importance as a port for importing and exporting goods for the Confederacy. All regular ports were blockaded, so blockade runners made this a regular port of call. Arriving shipments were brought through a small canal to Indian River and from there, a short overland wagon ride brought them to the headwaters of the St. Johns River.

On this exploration, we pass the ghost town of Eldora, a 19th century community which once boasted a population approaching 200. Like so many other early settlements, nature dealt a crippling blow to the citrus trees which were a mainstay of Eldora's economy. In addition, when the Intra-coastal waterway was dug, it routed boat traffic to Mosquito lagoons western shore, opposite Eldora's scenic little bluff on the eastern barrier island. The communities decline was slow, but finally in the 1960's and '70's the last residents moved away.

In the open waters, crossing the lagoon toward the mangrove islands, we often see bottle-nosed dolphins rolling in the surf. Water birds including terns, gulls, egrets, herons, osprey, cormorants and eagles are all common. Birding is good during the migrations, especially in the fall.

As we enter the lagoons and winding passages between islands, we find ourselves in the world of mangroves. Four varieties of mangroves flank our watery trail as we skim between the islands. Raccoons, can often be seen grubbing around for crustaceans and bivalves among the large "meadows" and saltpans of saltwort and glasswort. On larger islands, oaks, bay, palm and nakedwood trees dominate the over story, while a fantastic variety of shrubs and herbaceous plants cover the forest floor. A number of species reach the northern extent of their range in this park.

On warm days, this minimally shaded area can be uncomfortably warm. There's also the possibility of strong breezes, so watch the weather before you go. Watch the tides. Even though the tide range is minimal in this sequestered lagoon, the shallow areas get barely passable around some of the islands if you don't time your paddle accordingly.

The open nature of this paddle always exposes us to the whims of weather. With only a narrow spit of land separating this lagoon from the Atlantic Ocean, winds can occasionally blow us around a bit. In the summer, watch out for rain squalls and quick developing and fast moving thunder storms. Keep an eye on the sky. This can also be a warm paddle, with plenty of sunshine and not much shade, so dress appropriately and bring plenty of fluids. Bug stuff is also a good idea in the warmer months.

May 14, 2005 - Washed out beaches in New Smyrna brought many visitors to the beaches of Canaveral Natl. Seashore. But, the lagoon side of the barrier island, where we focus our explorations, was as quiet as ever. Didn't see the usual dolphins this time, but plenty of birds. Found a fantastic cluster of prickly pear cactus, heavily laden with those world famous crimson crawlies, the cochineal beetles (if you like quirky history, you should check out the story of these important beetles!).

March 10, 2008 - Lots of dolphins! We usually see a few of these wonderful companions on this trip, but today's sightings were exceptional. Lots of birds, including more osprey than usual. There were no campers on the island where I prefer to take lunch, so we enjoyed a nice walk around the coastal hardwood forest looking at the plants - some of which are tropical species that reach their northern limit of their range here.

Cost: $45.00 per person. (includes boat, paddle, vest, shuttling and, of course, your guide)
Using your Own Boat - $25. (many paddlers with their own boats like to join us to learn
more about the history, archaeology and natural history of these rivers).

Difficulty: This trip can be strenuous, especially if there are winds or waves.

The Cedar Keys are situated in the remote, Big Bend region of Florida's west coast - where the transition from land to sea is as subtle as a Gulf coast sunset. There's no well-defined shore line. For west bound travelers heading to this coast, the declining elevation is so slight (about one foot per mile) that there is little indication that you're approaching the Gulf of Mexico. Slowly, sandy pinelands give way to swamps and marshes. Except for occasional scrub-covered ridges (formed on ancient sand dunes), it is a sodden land where wildlife abounds and human habitation is sparse.

As land meets the sea, the low ground becomes inundated by water, and higher ridges form myriad small islands. It's an area of constant change, tides rise and fall, the shore line surges in and out. A boat left at the waters edge may, within a few hours, be sitting a hundred yards inland. Unfortunately, the opposite is also true. Local lore is rich in tales of people being stranded when rising tides had carried away their vessel.

In the "tidal zone," between high and low tides, a fascinating ecosystem thrives, fueled by a bounty of marine life that washes ashore with the rising tide and is left stranded in tidal pools as the water line recedes. Here, in the salt marshes and mangrove swamps, you'll find animals such as fiddler crabs. When you see these comical little guys sitting near their burrow, waving one huge claw as an enticement to passing females, you'll understand how they got their name.

On the larger islands, pines, cabbage palms, mangroves, red bay, laurel oak and live oak dominate the over story, while at their feet, dense thickets of hardy plants and shrubs, such as Spanish bayonet, salt bush, wild olive, yaupon, red cedar, palmetto and prickly pear cactus can make hiking difficult. On smaller islands, vegetation is more sparse, ranging from those with just a few ground-clinging grasses, to slightly larger ones sea purslane, Christmas berry and mangroves might add more variety.

Most of our trips start at Shell Mound, a 2000 year old Indian shell midden. From there, we make our way out to a few of the many barrier islands that line the coast around Cedar Key. We get out and stretch on a couple of the islands, taking lunch and checking out some of the wildlife before making our way back to the boat ramp.

Nearly 2,000 years ago, Florida's changing landscape coupled with the dynamics of interacting native populations prompted some aboriginal tribes to move to the Cedar Key area. With abundant sea food, settlements thrived until the early 1400's (before the arrival of Europeans). Evidence of this long occupation is most noticeable in the numerous shell mounds that dot the coast, not only here but all along Florida's Gulf coast. One of the largest of these middens (large mounds of discarded shells, pottery and broken tools) is located a little north of the town of Cedar Key. You can see this mound at Shell Mound County Park, where many of our paddle explorations begin.

During the Second Seminole War (1835 - '42) Seahorse Key, near Cedar Key, was the location of a military hospital and a detention center where Indians were kept before being shipped west to the Indian Territories. After Florida became a State, the U.S government built a lighthouse on the island. Later, during the Civil War, it was used by the Union Army as a military prison.

On nearby Atsena Otie island, the army built a supply depot during the Second Seminole War. Over a century later, in the wake of the Civil War, a large mill was built on the island, where much of the area's vast stands of cedar trees were buzzed into pencils and shipped to distant ports. The town's population grew to nearly 300 before the mill was shut down and a hurricane destroyed most of the homes. On days when our journey brings us to this little island, we enjoy a nice hike to the old grave yard where we find the graves of some notable characters including a pirates family, politicians and mill workers. On other days we head for a different island where we explore an old home site, abandoned early in the 1900's, where we learn about many of the local wild plants and how they were used by the Indians and settlers.

Wildlife thrives on these beautiful islands. While the lack of fresh water limits mammals to a few representatives such as some rodents, otters and raccoons, the reptiles abound. As a young snake hunter (catching, not killing), I spent many days wandering these islands studying the wildlife and, of course, catching snakes. Ironically, the animals that were an irresistible lure to Lars the snake-catcher have become, to Lars the river guide, the greatest concern - poisonous snakes. Unlike so many bits of local 'wisdom' - often the fruit of overactive imaginations - the legendary abundance of water moccasins on these coastal islands is true. I've never heard a good explanation of this phenomenon. But, as is the case with most wild animals, these fascinating predators are as wary of us as we are of them. By staying alert, we've always been able to file our reptile encounters under the heading of "exciting learning experience" rather than "clients buried at sea."

The real stars of the island community are the birds. Numerous species, some resident and others migratory, can be found here. The more commonly seen birds are terns, gulls, sandpipers, ibis, cormorants, oyster catchers, pelicans and osprey. Most of these islands are part of the Cedar Keys National Wildlife Refuge, where thousands of water birds nest each year. Nesting or not, there are always plenty around. We often spot dolphins as we skim between islands. Less frequently, we'll happen upon one of the wonderful gentle giants of these waters, a manatee.

Beachcombing for shells and other interesting gifts of the sea is a nice change of pace from our inland excursions. On the islands, we often find broken bits of pottery (shards) that remind us of a time when sea levels were much lower and the shore line was many miles out. Also of interest are scores of horseshoe crab shells on the beaches.

Horseshoe Crab
Limulus polyphemus

These are among the oldest animals on earth, claiming an ancestry dating back nearly 550 million years. Millions of years before dinosaurs, these relatives of spiders (not crabs) looked exactly the same as they do today. Their secret to success? Perhaps it's their two sets of eyes, or the 'jaws' in their legs that require them to walk when they eat (the original multi-taskers!). Maybe it's their blue blood (a result of having a copper basis in respiratory pigments rather than iron) which has some poison neutralizing properties, and sells for $15,000 per quart! Birds love eating them, but not humans - though they aren't poisonous. Indians used to eat the muscle in the abdomen which moves the tail (telson). At first glance, the telson looks like a dangerous spike, but in reality, it is used to help the animal turn over when it gets flipped onto it's back (turtles could use such a tool!). The telson's lethal appearance wasn't lost on the Indians who used them for spear points. They also used the shells as scoops to bail water from their canoes. Their large eyes and optic nerves have made horseshoe crabs popular for eye research. When mating, the female carries a male (sometimes several) on her back onto the beach. She digs a hole, deposits thousands of tiny eggs, then drags the male over the eggs for him to fertilize them. That's not the only time they're used as fertilizers. Some farmers continue the old practice of tilling horseshoe crabs into the soil before planting.

I guess I'll never get tired of catching snakes. I caught (and released) this
4.5 ft. eastern diamondback rattlesnake in the marshes of Cedar Key.
(Thanks to Liz McGonagle for the picture)

Trip Notes and Recent Conditions

(Interesting sightings or notes? Let us know and we'll post here)

The open nature of this area always exposes us to the whims of weather. Even the slightest wind can kick up some fair swells that can make for a challenging paddle. In the summer, watch for rain squalls and quick developing thunder storms. Keep an eye on the sky.

August 29, 2006 - Dolphins, horseshoe crabs and a gazillion (really, we counted! :-) shore birds, and others, kept us craning our necks all day.

June 14, 2008 - Amazing numbers of birds - including magnificent frigate birds (that's their name, not my glowing opinion of them ;o). We saw several dolphins. Horseshoe crabs are going through their elaborate mating and egg laying ritual. Very interesting to watch.

Cost: $45.00 per person. (includes boat, paddle, vest, shuttling and, of course, your guide)
Using your Own Boat - $29. (many paddlers with their own boats like to join us to learn
more about the history, archaeology and natural history of these rivers).

Group size: 1 - 24 people

The Chas (a common nickname) is the quiet, unpretentious little sister of the popular GOMER (Gulf of Mexico Region) spring rivers. With Crystal and Homosassa rivers vying for attention to the north and the siren's song of rhine-stoned mermaids luring tourists to Weeki Wachee to the south, the Chas has gone relatively unnoticed. That, in itself, would usually be enough to make this a must-do trip for the "wanna go" crew - but there's more! This river's isolation is no mere fluke. It runs through the heart of a beautiful, 40 square mile wetlands - the Chassahowitzka Swamp. And, if that's not enough, there are springs too. Granted they're not big, showy fountains like those of her sisters - in fact some are choked by a brown, flakey (probably algal) material - but some make for a nice swim.

*CAUTION* Some of the springs near the mouth of the river are tidally influenced and periodically reverse flow - changing from an out flowing spring to an inflowing siphon with a strong pull.

An old crab-man once told me "there ain't no ho's in Chassahowitzka." It took me a moment to realize he wasn't trying to crush any dreams I might have of finding a hooker, but was simply letting me know that the locals call the river, "Chassawiska.".

I had been drifting alongside the grizzled old-timer - me in my little canoe, he in his flat , open crab-boat - for nearly an hour. And, for nearly an hour, he had kindly doled out colorful anecdotes and lore in answer to my questions. He told of outlaws, such as Al Capone, who sought refuge in the area's remoteness and of huge tarpon which, even today, draw fishermen from around the world every summer. He even waxed a little poetic when describing the thousands of water birds which sometimes fill the trees during nesting season, and were the driving force behind the creation of the Chassahowitzka National Wildlife Refuge.

It was getting near dusk - time to part ways. As he went to crank up his motor, I guess he decided I had shown enough appreciation for this remote little river to be worthy of knowing it's name. As he pulled away, his sparsely-toothed grin grew especially wide as he shouted again, over the roar of his motor, "nope, no ho's here, he he." I don't know if it was the joke or the love of his lot in life, but at that moment he was truly delighted with himself - and so was I.. -- Lars

As you'll learn from the caution signs on the highway coming down, there are bears in these woods. But here, as elsewhere, the Florida black bear is an elusive critter. You have a much better chance of spotting a deer or wild hog rooting along the river bank. On the river bank, there is an otter 'scent post' where a number of otter's ranges overlap. At this spot, passing otters roll and rub themselves in scented oils left on twigs, leaves and rocks by other otters. As they roll, jump and tumble excitedly in the irresistible aromas, they deposit their own musk for other passing otters to enjoy. When there's an otter wallowing in the musky 'scent post' it's usually so immersed in it's rapture that it doesn't pay any attention to us as we watch, only 10 yards away in our boats. But, as with all of our wildlife encounters, our first priority is to not disturb the wildlife or make them alter their behavior in any way by our presence.

As mentioned, the winter brings great birding to this area. A new program to encourage whooping cranes to migrate to Florida began in the fall of 2001. Led by an ultra-light airplane, the small flock of birds were led to the Chassahowitzka marshes where they will spend the winter.

The Chassahowitzka swamp is a lush nursery of exotic wetland plants and ferns. Swamp lilies, spider lilies and tall leather ferns thrive under the dense canopied shade of cabbage palm, cypress, cedar, black gum and ash.

Cabbage palm
Sabal palmetto

This is Florida's State tree, yet it is not so much a tree as an overgrown grass. In fact, they are more closely related to the lilies huddled at their feet than the trees at their side. The fruit (dates) of this 'tree' are an important food for wildlife including bears. Bears will also occasionally tear out the crown of the tree to get to the growth bud. This has long been a favorite dish on the tables of southern woods folk, and still finds its way onto the menus of many local restaurants, listed as 'swamp cabbage' or 'heart of palm'. It's really does taste good, but removing this 'heart' kills the tree, and is illegal. For Florida Indians, the dates were an important part of the diet. They also made cordage from leaf fibers and used the fronds to cover huts and chickees.

Trip Notes and Recent Conditions
(Interesting sightings or notes? Let us know and we'll post here)

The Chassahowitzka is a fairly wide, tidal river, and even during the stronger periods of the coming and going tides, the current is relatively weak. Even the little feeder streams, some of which we explore, are slow.

January 20, 2006 - This was one of those day on the Chas that almost defies words. So, here are a few picture instead. Captions, from left to right: "Jodie spots a raccoon", "wading in to the Lost Spring", "This group of dolphins stayed with our group for nearly 1/2 hour - fantastic!", "Cooling down in the Fountain of Youth - hard to believe it's mid-January!! " (sorry, I had to remove these pictures because they took too long to load - you'll just have to use your imagination and picture lots of dolphins and wide-grinning paddlers).

May 27, 2008 - There's no such thing as bad conditions on the Chas. The shallowness of the run make for minimal tide range, so only the lowest tides present any problems. This days levels were ideal. Family of raccoons were working the expose mud flats alongside one of the islands we explored. They were as curious about us as we were of them, so a great timer was had by all as we all (coons and paddlers alike) paused from our task at hand and enjoyed a shared moment with each other. Dolphins were seen in the distance as we skirted the sawgrass marshes, but we never got close enough for a good look.

Seeking the origins of Florida place-names, like other intellectual pursuits, often spawns more questions than answers. No sooner do you learn that Chassahowitzka means "Place of the Hanging Pumpkins" than your satisfied grin morphs into a confused scowl. "Hanging pumpkins? Really?" Of all the interesting things that grow there and all the significant events that must surely have transpired over the centuries, was it really hanging pumpkins that natives found to be the most notable? Perhaps this was just the locals way of proclaiming this to be a far more exciting place to live than, say, Apopka, "the potato eating place."

In my youth, as I tried to track the meanings of every native American place-name I could find, I eventually came to accept that the original Floridians had no flair for drama. Names like "Big Creek, "Little Creek and "Big, Little Creek" were typical. So, it was a welcome surprise when my inquiry into the name Steinhatchee revealed the name to mean "Dead Man's River." Finally, a vague reference to the excitement that I "knew" must have prevailed on the Florida frontier!

Of course, that was as far as the information went. Whatever killed this man, and why his death became a point of reference, I never learned. Probably just as well. With so many blank pages to fill, my young imagination had free reign to conjure the possibilities - a casualty of the Seminole Wars? tribal warfare? domestic violence? Perhaps he was simply a poor horseman who fell off his steed into the river. I considered many scenarios, but in none of them did anyone even think about eating a potato or give a passing glance to a hanging pumpkin.

Cost: $45.00 per person. (includes boat, paddle, vest, shuttling and guide)
Using your Own Boat - $29. (many paddlers with their own boats like to join us to learn
more about the history, archaeology and natural history of these rivers).

Skill level: Beginner - Expert. (This is an easy paddle on slow, tannin-stained waters. The open waters of the
lakes can get choppy in wind, but we are never very far from the protected channel of the creek.)

Cross Creek is a charming little thread of water connecting two of North Florida's most beautiful and storied lakes, Orange and Lochloosa. On it's brief, mile-long run, the slow flowing creek meanders lazily under a nearly complete canopy of oak, maple and moss draped cypress. On the down steam end, Orange Lake is a vast, open expanse, famous for it's "floating islands." In the past, it was a world-famous bass lake, but water levels and water quality issues in recent decades have reduced the fish populations greatly. Levels have come up, but there's still a long way to go.

On the north end of the creek, Lochloosa Lake has faired a little better. The shoreline close to the creek inlet is much more accessible than that of Orange Lake, where wide marshes keep us nearly a quarter of a mile from the tree line. There are plenty of marshes on Lochloosa also, but in many places, you can paddle right up to the sandy, cypress lined shore. The lakes shore is an fantastic unbroken forest of cypress and granddaddy oaks, maples ashes and others, with the only houses seen (after leaving the Creek) being in the far distance.

We usually make this a "sunset paddle" not only to enjoy the many roosting and nesting birds that fill the trees at the end of the day, but also because of the beautiful, wide open vistas that make the perfect backdrop for the area's beautiful sunsets. Marjorie Rawlings knew them well. "The sun at the horizon came into its full glory and the west was copper, then blood-red, blazing into an orgy of salmon and red and brass and a soft bluish yellow the color of ripe guavas. Northeast and south faded instantly to gray, timid at having usurped the flame of the sunset. Then suddenly the west dimmed, as though a bonfire charred and dimmed. There was only a bar of copper. All the sky, to every point of the compass, became a soft blue and the clouds were white powder, so that in the end it was tenderness that triumphed. I went home to sound, cool sleep." (MKR, Cross Creek. p. 289).

Even on those days when the Big Girl (Mama Nature) offers a more dramatic end to the day, we still come away feeling far richer for the experience. On summer afternoon, the day could end more like another afternoon that Rawlings described - "The air is so still that even the restless Spanish moss hangs motionless. Although the sun is hidden the atmosphere is stifling. Then an impalpable breath stirs. The tallest palms in the east grove bend their heads, the moss in the hammock lifts as though a silent hand moved through a gray beard. There is a sibilant sound in the pecan trees, the grayness thickens, and rain marches visibly across palms and orange trees and comes in at the gate. Sometimes it is a gentle shower, sometimes a rushing flood. After it has passed, the air is as fresh and clean as April and the night will be cool for sleeping. The sun strikes through the wetness, there is likely to be a rainbow, and the palms are rosy in the evening light." (MKR, Cross Creek. p. 285)

Regardless of how it goes, clear, cloudy or wet, the only thing that could make ending a day any better, is to go home after the trip, curl up in bed with a Rawling's book (sunsets are best served with the book "Cross Creek") and let her magical descriptions of the places and wildlife you've just experienced lull you to sleep.

In addition to the wildlife mentioned in the above description, there are lots of birds. And there's hardly a more scenic setting in north Florida to enjoy Bald eagles, osprey, several species of duck, egrets, herons and, of course those two amazing fish catchers, cormorants and anhingas. There are also many reptiles, including alligators, snakes and turtles.

Bald Eagle
Haliaeetus leucocephalus

This large bird of prey almost lost it's status as U.S. national emblem because, in Ben Franklin's words, it is a "bird of bad moral character." This poor review was based on the birds habit of stealing fish from other birds - especially osprey. It does, however, catch plenty of its own fish as well. Eagles are long-lived birds which may have contributed to ancient beliefs in their power of rejuvenation. One myth said eagles fly to the sun then return and dive into the water. This is why they are often seen in Christian art as a symbol of rebirth. The name "bald" is derived from the old English "bhel" which meant white.

Prehistoric Indians found this an ideal area to live, and left plenty of evidence to attest to this fact. Near the north shore of Orange Lake, one of the oldest burial mound complexes is found near an interesting village site surrounded by earthworks. By the time Europeans began their exploration of Florida, the main village of the powerful Potano tribe was situated a short distance from the ancient earthworks.

Life changed for the Potanos in 1539, when Spanish explorer Hernando DeSoto led his expedition through this area. The chroniclers of his expedition mentioned Potano but fortunately the soldiers didn't stay long enough to create the kind mischief which highlighted much of their journey.

In the mid 1500's, the Potanos withstood several raids from French and then Spanish soldiers, fighting alongside some of the Potano Indian enemies. Eventually the Potanos were forced to relocate their village to the San Felasco hammock, north west of Gainesville. Several decades later, another band of Indians moved onto the abandoned Orange Lake site. The area was now at the southern fringes of an expanding system of Christian missions being established by Spanish monks. It's believed there was a mission briefly established here at this village, but it didn't last long.

During the late 1800's, several small steam boats conducted business on these waters - mostly carrying lumber, oranges and produce. The most active "port" seems to have been at the small community of Lochloosa on that lakes eastern shore.

The most colorful chapter in Cross Creek's past began with the arrival, in 1928, of famed author Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. For the next 25 years, until her death in 1953 of cerebral hemorrhage, she captured the essence of rural life in this area. Her writings brought Rawlings worldwide acclaim (and a Pulitzer Prize in 1939 for The Yearling) and inspired people around the world to dust off their atlases and search for this tiny hamlet. Today, her enchanting words still lure thousands of people every year to visit her home, now a quiet and appropriately "off-the-beaten-path" State Park with scheduled tours. (For park info, call 352-466-3672).

Recent Trip Notes & Conditions

(Interesting sightings or notes? Let us know and we'll post here)

Sept. 17, 2006 - I've been slacking on trip notes in recent months, but if I'd been keeping up, the Cross Creek notes would be loaded with words like "beautiful" (as in sunsets, vistas, egrets, etc.), "lots" (as in fun, relaxation, birds, etc.), "interesting" - (as in found Indian artifacts, plant lore, etc) and "relaxing" (as in relaxing). This years colonial bird rookery of egrets, herons and anhingas, was near the Lochloosa end of Cross Creek. It broke up in the early months of September. At the same time, we started seeing the returning bald eagles, a pair of whom have returned to the large nest we observe from our lunch/stretch stop.

Sept, 20, 2007 - While we've had a fair amount of rain in recent months, it wasn't enough to make significant improvement in paddling conditions. We'll need a few more inches before paddling get good again. in the meantime, take heart in knowing the wading birds are loving it! Egrets, herons and wood storks are wading knee-deep in the rich hunting grounds. The exposed flats at the lakes edge are the happy hunting ground for lots of peeps (sandpipers) of all persuasion. Glossy ibis and black-necked stilts are enjoying the conditions as well.

June 15, 2008 - Despite recent rains, water levels remain low. Of course, being the determined paddlers that we are, we found a nearby fish camp from which to launch and off we paddled. We saw three bald eagles nests - all vacant. The only eagle seen was a full-sized juvenile (still in juvenile plumage), sitting on a high pine branch a couple of hundred yards from one of the nests. Osprey, on the other hand, are still in the throes of child-rearing. Three large juveniles were crammed into one nest while mom and dad worked feverishly to keep them happy. I'm guessing these youngsters have already been flying, but we didn't see any leave the nest.

Sept 13, 2008 - Water levels are up and paddling is great. There's a bit of current going down from Lochloosa to Orange lake, but we paddled upstream against it with minimal effort. A mass of vegetation under the bridge required either a strong arm to paddle through the narrow flume of water pouring through the gap, or getting out of the boat and pulling a few feet over. No big problem either way. Our crew, which included some first-time paddlers, made it with smiles intact! The sunset photo at the top of this "Cross Creek" entry was taken on today's trip.

Crystal River
"Manatee encounter"

(Please don't kiss that manatee, Patsy!) (A magic moment in Three Sisters Springs)

Cost: $45 per person. (includes boat, paddle, vest, shuttling and guide)
Using your Own Boat - $25. (many paddlers with their own boats like to
join us to learn more about the history, archaeology and natural
history of these rivers).

Group size: 1 - 24 people

* We do this trip most weekends (and some week days) from November through March.
Join us for a scheduled tour. (see calendar for trips being planned).
If you see a free date on the calendar, suggest
the trip of your choice and we'll post it!
or,
schedule your own private tour. Call for details (386-454-0611)

On this trip, we explore Kings Bay, the headwaters of Crystal river. This is the winter home of over 300 manatees, making it one of the most important refuges for these amazing, endangered mammals. In addition to the manatees, there's a world of exploring opportunities in this beautiful bay. Over thirty crystal clear, artesian springs are scattered about the bay, while on shore, Indian village sites and mounds lie hidden among the tangle of sub-tropical vegetation. The most notable of these lies a short two miles downstream of the area we paddle. Here, overlooking the river from a low bluff, sits an amazing complex of temple mounds. Today, this site is known as the Crystal River State Archaeological Site, but for nearly 1600 years, Florida natives called it home. According to archaeologists, this is the longest continuous occupation of any site in Florida. (For comparison, it's only been 500 years since Columbus and a couple of boatloads of Europeans found this New World!) Ironically, the natives abandoned this site just a few generations earlier, probably in the early 1400's. Many visitors round out their day of exploring Crystal River with a drive to this park where a fine interpretive center describes the various cultures that lived here. An easy, shaded trail takes you through the site where you can even climb to the top of the largest temple mound overlooking the river.

King's Bay is home to a fantastic array of animal species - finned, furred and feathered. With it's close proximity to the Gulf of Mexico - seven miles to the straight soaring eagle - the variety of birds is fantastic. Species that prefer the coast, including brown pelicans, gulls and terns, share the air-space with land-lubbers like warblers, orioles, cardinals, grackles, night herons, etc. Green herons, little blue herons and egrets work the shorelines of some of the smaller channels we explore. While on the open water, we might run into a group of white pelicans, working together in their unique feeding strategy in a quiet back marsh. And always ... always, the vultures. Crystal River and vultures (both turkey and black) have a long history together. One of the islands we circumnavigate on our exploration is called Buzzard Island. And, be sure to watch those soaring flocks closely - bald eagles often run with that crowd.

Of course, the real stars of the show are the manatees. Every winter, as the waters in the Gulf of Mexico cool down, over 300 endangered manatees come into King's Bay, seeking out the relatively warm water that gushes from the 32 clear artesian springs that are the lifeblood of Crystal River. This is nearly 10% of the entire population of Florida manatees in existence.

Manatees

Any exploration of wild Florida holds the possibility of wonderful surprises. But few experiences compare to drifting over a huge manatee. These stone-gray mammals average ten feet in length and tip the scales at about 1200 pounds (the largest ones are over 13 feet long and weigh over 3000 lbs!). Being gentle herbivores with no common predators, they quietly go about the business of being manatees, giving little thought to passing kayaks(swimmers are a different matter - please don't swim with them). As air breathing mammals, they surface every few minutes for a breath of air, often pausing to gaze curiously into the eyes of their wide-eyed admirer. Occasionally, one will even roll over and rub its belly on the hull of your boat. We often see mothers with young, usually just one, but sometimes twins. They reach sexual maturity anywhere from 4 - 6 years of age and can be observed in the wild throes of manatee love at any time of year, though most breeding takes place in spring. They are known to reach over 50 years of age.

Paddling among manatees is an experience that every animal lover should have. You would never imagine such large, wild animals could be so gentle and tolerant of humans. Sometimes they'll even roll over and rub their belly on the bottom of your boat. As we paddle between a collection of small islands, making our way from spring to spring, watching for manatees, we're treated to the company of hundreds of water birds, including pelicans, cormorants, herons (frequently night-herons) gulls and such. The only downside to this trip is that civilization is pressing hard against the shoreline around the east side of the bay, especially in the areas most frequented by the manatees. Needless to say, we make our way to the beautiful expansive marshes on bays west side as quick as irresistible manatee encounters allow.

By now, I guess it's obvious manatees are the stars of Crystal River. Each fall, as cool autumn weather sweeps into north Florida, manatees congregate at sites with relatively warm water. The 31 springs in Crystal River and King's Bay, fit the bill perfectly. But there are some other, less reliable stars such as bottle-nosed dolphins, who frequently make an appearance. Other animals we see include bald eagles, osprey herons, egrets, many pelicans and an occasional yellow-crowned night heron. This is also one of the few places where we occasionally see Canada Geese in the winter. You'll also see an wide assortment of fish, some which are usually thought of as solely salt water species. Mullet, needle fish, shad, grey snapper and even an occasional tarpon keep the waters alive under our boats.

On the north shore of King's Bay, a large temple mound and village site remain as monuments to the longest, continuously occupied site in Florida. This site, the Crystal River Archaeological Site, is several miles downstream from the area's we explore in our search for manatees, and few people have the energy to make the journey after paddling around King's Bay. A couple of the mounds are visible from the river, but you can't enter the park from the river. A good alternative is to round out your day with a drive to the Crystal River State Archaeological Site after our paddle. Admission is $2 per vehicle and includes admission to a very nice interpretive center.

Recent Trip Notes & Conditions
(Interesting sightings or notes? Please let us know and we'll post here)

January 13, 2004 - All trips so far this month have been great. Today's trip got off to a good start when we met a group of manatees
lolling about outside 'gator hole' spring. Over the next couple of hours we saw dozens more manatees. After a welcome
stretch and lunch break on a sunny little isle, we resumed our exploration of the Bay. After sharing a bit of lore about the Bays
beautiful plant life and enjoying some great bird sightings (and even a sizeable alligator sunning on bank) we made our way to the
back bay. Around 2:00, we came upon a pod of feeding dolphins. Some of our group started paddling hard to get near the roiling,
splashing action. No need! Unconcerned about the gentle paddlers in their midst, the dolphins came toward us. Working in groups, the
dolphins chased fish in all directions, often surging very near to our boats. At times, I'd look over at one of our group and they looked
like they had been dropped into a huge washing machine and the dolphins had turned the setting to "heavy duty wash." Occasionally, a
fish would jump out of the water, with a dolphin hot on it's tail. At one point, I looked over to see about a 3 foot tarpon shoot straight
up into the air and then straight back down, tail first. It was spectacular! For nearly half an hour, our group became dispersed over a
few hundred square yards as they followed different groups of dolphins. From my central position, I could hear giggles, squeals,
laughter and an occasional scream of excitement coming from all directions. I finally had to close my eyes and drink it in. To a
nature guide, whose life's calling is to foster a love of wildlife and nature in his clients, the moment was pure magic and the
sounds around me were the finest music imaginable.

Sept. 17, 2005 - The manatees are back!! Actually, it would be more accurate to say "we're back!!" because in recent years there has
been a year-round, resident population of manatees living in King's Bay. But, this was our first visit with them this season. On
yesterday's Weeki Wachee trip we saw some too, so we're off to a great start for the winter.

December 3, 2005 - Our recent trips here to Crystal River and King's Bay have reaffirmed its status as a wildlife watchers paradise. In
addition to manatees, the undisputed stars of the show, our other wildlife encounters have been outstanding (and to be out "standing"
on water is a tough act! Sorry, I couldn't resist :-). A large flock of nearly 100 lesser scaup warily allowed us to come within good
photographing range. We also saw a number of all the usual bay inhabitants - double-crested cormorants, herons (little blue, great blue,
tri-colored), snowy and great egrets and one lone bittern who was sure he was well camouflaged, even though he was completely out in
the open. A large flock of black vultures was joined on the thermals by a bald eagle. A special treat was finding a group of 11 white
pelicans feeding as a coordinated unit in a shallow back cove. In another nearby cove, last week, we watched a pod of dolphins in
a similar group effort. Corralling a group of fish into the shallows, they would suddenly charge into the crowd of trapped fish. In an
instant, the water exploded as dozens of fish jumped and somersaulted out of the water like a kettle of silvery popcorn as the
dolphins charged back and forth, mouths agape, through the chaos. Never ones to miss an easy meal, a few brown pelicans, who
had been loitering nearby and watching intently for their cue, quickly joined the action, diving headfirst into the fray.

March 10, 2006 - In the past two weeks, warm weather has sparked the wanderlust in our gentle friends and they are roaming far and
wide throughout the bay. They haven't left the bay altogether yet, and cool evenings brings them in to their favorite haunts. Along the
runs and lining the island shores, trees are in full spring regalia - full, fresh leaves, blooms and ripening seeds. It's a great time to
enjoy King's Bay, but if you want to see manatees this season, you'd better do it in the next few weeks. As April dawns on the
calendar, paddlin' season on King's Bay will be replaced by motor craft season.

October 4, 2006 - The most recent count found about 30 manatees in King's Bay. Air temps are not cool enough to prompt them to
hang out near spring vents, so finding them is an exercise in patience and awareness.

December 4, 2006 - They're back!! Everywhere you look on King's Bay, their rolling, smooth backs and the occasional spout of exhaled air testify to the fact that they have arrived in full force and are sure to be here every day for the next few months.
It's also obvious, judging from their huge numbers, that these creatures are far from endangered. What a shame! The Bay
would be a better place without them! Oh yeah, and the manatees are back too ;-) (For those who aren't familiar with
the area, I'd better explain - that last joke was in reference to people who swim with manatees - a practice we
strongly discourage.)

All kidding (and snide remarks about manatee swimmers) aside, our trips this winter have been great. In addition to seeing many
manatees, we've been treated to a full menagerie of wildlife sightings - dolphin, herons, egrets, white pelicans (and brown),
bald eagles, otters, raccoons, a hog, tarpon and more. Best of all, we've enjoyed the company of lots of new paddle
friends and good times.

March 06, 2008 - We've had warmer weather than usual in recent weeks so manatees are on the move. They're getting harder to find some days, but, of course your trusted guide knows where to find them ;o) (of course, now that I've exhibited a moment of pretend, un-Lars-like brashness, I probably won't see another manatee this spring!)

Some of my earliest introductions to the wildlife beyond Florida was Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom
TV show, hosted by Marlin Perkins (Marlin, if you're out there, I'll be watching for my product placement
check in the mail). In fact, it was probably while watching Marlin send his trusted side-kick, Stan (or was it Jim?)
to wrangle exotic man-eaters of every persuasion, that the seeds of a future river guide were planted.

Some of the program's most memorable scenes showed how deserts are reborn when the rains come after a
prolonged drought. The scene opens with Marlin firmly wedged in some desert shrubbery, only the snout of his
binoculars protruding from the foliage. Whispering enthusiastically, Marlin would describe the animals gathered
at the watering hole, and the life-and-death struggles they endured. Then, after describing some particularly
deadly creature, he'd send in Jim (or was it Stan) to annoy it. The segment would then conclude with Uncle
Marlin giving some finely crafted segue into the wisdom of having insurance - "as Jim scrambles across the savanna,
with the angry lion close on his heels, he's probably wishing he had more protection. Speaking of protection,
here at Mutual of Omaha..."

All-in-all, I have to give the Wild Kingdom show credit for giving me some valuable life lessons. For instance, I
now know that wildlife loves when the rains come, so I often go to recently dried-out areas after it rains to see
what's stirring. I also learned that insurance people are truly awesome creature, who can wrestle lions and run
like gazelles when things don't work out as planned. So, I avoid them altogether.

Cost: $45 per person. (includes boat, paddle, vest, shuttling and guide)
Using your Own Boat - $25. (many paddlers with their own boats like to join us to learn
more about the history, archaeology and natural history of these rivers).

Skill level: Moderate (physical ability, endurance and determination are needed)

The open water crossing can be a bit dicey - especially in breezy weather, choppy surf or moderate sized waves.
You'll be in the open for a long time, so dress accordingly.

There's no describing the wonderful sense of mystery and awe that greets every explorer who strolls onto the brilliant sand beaches of Cumberland Island. It hangs thick in the air, overpowering all other senses like the heavy fragrance of an aged orange tree in full bloom. Punctuating the extreme south eastern corner of Georgia, this seventeen mile long barrier island is a nature lovers dream.

Perhaps the most amazing thing about this beautiful island is that it remains in a primarily natural state. This, in spite of the fact that people have had their eye on settling here from the earliest days of exploration and settlement. Starting with the earliest days of colonization, when three different Christian missions were established to convert the natives, Cumberland has always been a much coveted chunk of real estate. Forts were built here, several plantations and even a small town were all located on the island. But none would endure the test of time. Finally, in 1970, it appeared as though civilization was preparing to flood onto the island in earnest, when electric lines were run to the island. But fate smiled on the island once again when Cumberland Island National Seashore was established in 1972.

Natural beauty is the hallmark of Cumberland Island. With a variety of well developed habitats, ranging from dazzling, sugar-sand beaches and complex dune systems on the east shore to a vast expanse of salt marshes bounding the island on the west. In the islands interior, a mature maritime forest of live oak and towering pines is interspersed with small, fresh water ponds.

Waders and other shore birds are usually found here in happy numbers. The three primary habitats found here - shore, dune and maritime forest - are all good places for bird watching. Sea turtles nest here, and one often sees dolphins in the surrounding waters. Less frequently seen are whales. Feral hogs, a problem throughout much of Florida are found here. As are about 300 wild horses - released here when Lucy Coleman Carnegie (yeah, that's the same Coleman you see on your lantern) died in 1916.

When Ponce De Leon first sailed passed this way in 1513, the native Timucua Indians referred to their home island as Missoe, which meant "beautiful". The main village on the island was Tacaturu. As was customary with many Timucua villages, the Chief had the same name.

In 1566, the first settlement of Europeans was established by the Spanish who called the Island San Pedro. Actually, it was more of a fort than a true settlement. In addition to the 80 soldiers garrisoned at the outpost, there were a number of Jesuit missionaries, determined to bring Christianity to the "heathens." They were soon run out by the Indians. Nearly twenty years later, more missionaries (this time from the Franciscan order) arrived and built a mission on the southern end of the island. They named it San Pedro de Mocama . Mocama was a Timucua word meaning "salt-water" and referred to the Timucua alliance of villages ranging from Cumberland Island south to the St. Augustine area.

In 1597, local Guale Indians revolted and the mission came under attack, but was successfully defended by the local villagers. Even though the attack was repulsed, Spanish authorities now realized the missions vulnerability and ordered the mission abandoned.

In 1603, the friars returned and rebuilt San Pedro. Over the years, increased English presence and pressure weakened the Spanish hold on the Island. Finally, in 1683, England took possession of the island.

In 1736, James Oglethorpe, leader of the Georgia colony, visited the island. Local chief Toonahowi, who had previously been taken to England where he met the Duke of Cumberland, renamed the island "Cumberland." Oglethorpe ordered construction of a fort, which they named St. Andrews. The fort was garrisoned with 220 men. Their living quarters were in the adjacent village of Barrimacke. A few years later, they built another fort and named it Ft. Prince William. This one was built at the islands south end. In 1742, St. Andrews was destroyed by Spanish raiders forcing the garrison to concentrate in Ft. Prince William.

In the 1750's, Cumberland Island was considered neutral grounds between English and Spanish colonies. This made it an ideal location for criminals. By the late 1750's, the outlaw population, numbering nearly 300, formed the basis for the islands first permanent settlement.

In 1803, a cotton farmer named Phineas Millera built a tabby mansion which he named Dungeness.

Tides and weather conditions affect this trip more than most on our "launch menu." Be sure to check current conditions before making this trip.

Sept. 27, 2004 - Post-hurricane report: The only noticeable effect of the storms on this trip are some broken branches and trees on the island. Since these waters are more influenced by tides and sea levels than fresh water runoff, levels are unchanged from the storms. There is a dead wild horse on the beach near the south end of the island. Otherwise, the horses and other wildlife seem to have faired well through the storms.

Cost: $49 per person (includes boat, paddle, vest, shuttling and guide)
Using your Own Boat - $35. (many paddlers with their own boats like to
join us to learn more about the history, archaeology and natural
history of these rivers).

Skill level: Beginner (physical ability, endurance and determination are needed)

Critics agree - this is a great trip! "I'll do it again and again... if it gets me out of work" says river aficionado Sharon H; "I didn't know there was such a well-hidden, hard-to-find piece of wilderness left in north Florida" said Bruce J., whose mug shot, I mean picture, can be seen hanging on the local post office wall.; "Two thumbs up" - said Dr. Walter B. who, after spending much of the day catching (and releasing) snapping turtles for measurements as part of a research project, was thrilled to show us that he still had opposable thumbs, thereby meeting most of the requirements for inclusion in our species; "It was better than CATS... actually I'm more of a bird person" says Marianne T.

Gum Slough is a network of clear, shallow streams which thread their way through a relatively thick, semitropical hardwood swamp. Lots of red maple, hickory and ash make this a nice section in the fall. Above the slough, the canopy opens, giving way to a beautiful, linear marshland. This is the spring 'bay' where we find the Seven Sisters springs.

This run that can only be accessed from it's lower end, where it flows into the Withlacoochee River (south). From the public boat ramp at Turner's Fish Camp, a short, 20 minute paddle on scenic stretch of the Withlacoochee brings us to the unremarkable mouth of Gum Slough. Heading upstream (up-slough?), the many similar looking side-streams that enter and flow out from the main channel, highlight the fact that this is one of those twisted, braided waterways that devours unwary paddlers. Like River Styx, this swamp holds many tales of lost paddlers who've spent an unplanned night in the woods, so you'll want to stay in sight of the group on this leg of the trip. Gum, red maple, hickory, cypress, ash and other wetland species created a closed canopy over the run. This keeps under story vegetation to a minimum, allowing for good visibility through the swamp - especially in winter.

After a couple of hours of winding our way upstream, the canopy slowly becomes more open and the waters edge becomes increasingly decorated with a lush assortment of emergent marsh vegetation. Another half mile and we've entered a wide, linear marsh. During much of the year, this has the feel of a lost paradise - hidden from the outside world and alive with color. Shades of purple are found in the blooms of both the native pickerelweed and it's unwelcome cousin water hyacinth, an an exotic species brought to Florida in the late 1800's. Cardinal flower (Lobelia cardinalis) adds its unbelievable version of crimson to the scene, and whites are provided by towering clusters of duck potato blooms and low, shade loving spider lilies (Hymenocalis). In fall, the show continues as climbing aster bushes take center stage with a burst of small, lavender flowers and bur-marigolds poke their sunny, yellow blooms above the green masses. Taking advantage of every sunny perch offered by their sturdier fellow plants, we find the all-entangling climbing hemp vine (Mikania) with it's small white flowers and tiny cotton-ball seed heads. More color is added by the deceptively pretty orange sinews of dodder, the marshes most insidious resident. This parasitic vine threads its delicate, orange coils around the stems and leaves of it's host, slowly leaching out life-giving water and nutrients. Adding to the attractiveness of the scene are a variety of textures - ragged brown cattail heads shedding their fluffy seeds; Spanish moss waving from the high rigging of cypress, tupelo and ash trees; broad, fan-shaped leaves of cabbage palms. And, below your boat, in the clear spring water you'll find meadows of waving eel grass, burgundy clusters of red ludwigia, dark green pony-tails of coon tail (Ceratophyllum) - all adorned with crowds of tiny river snails.

Wildlife loves this area too. As one might expect, egrets and herons are found here in good numbers. We also see wood storks, yellow crowned night herons and lots of white ibis. Otters are frequently seen too. Literature provided by the SWFWMD (Southwest Florida Water Management District) who owns much of the land we pass through (Carlton Tract and Half Moon Wildlife Management Area), list bobcats, coyotes and fox squirrels as some of the other animals that live here. One of the more unique species we see on this trip is snapping turtles. Whether we've just been lucky, or if there really is a greater population up here, I don't know. But we've seen them on about two thirds of our trips up here.

This marsh is also where we find the Seven Sisters springs. And, just as the slough itself gets more impressive as we work upstream, so too do the springs. In fact, the first ones are easily missed, with relatively dark basins and low flow rates. In the last half mile, you start to see limestone outcrops and small boulders scattered on the river bottom. (on this light background, you can really get a sense of the density of tiny river snails that live here). Then, a bend in the river brings you to the beautiful fountainhead. Here, the thrill reaching the end is offset by the presence of a couple of houses. Even so, the beauty of the deep, blue spring is not lost. Drifting over this and a couple of other nearby, equally beautiful boils, its easy to imagine why this was such a popular retreat for early Indians.

If it weren't for the lone, stilted house at the beginning of the marshes and the others at the head spring, the magic spell that is cast by this lush, hidden realm would be complete. Even so, Gum Slough still ranks as one of the finest spots in north Florida in my book.

During times of low water, the first three miles of this trip can feel like a little slice of hell - regardless of how much you enjoy the swamp experience. At those times, we list this as one of our x-stream adventures . You'll be out of your boat frequently as we slowly work our way up-slough, dragging our boats over deadfall and slogging crotch-deep in mud and soft sand where water is too shallow for paddling. But, as with all of our x-stream trips, the work has its rewards.

When water levels are good - this is a long trip, and usually takes a total of 6 - 7 hours. Paddling against the current for three hours can be very exhausting for some paddlers. The return trip isn't much faster - about 2.5 hours - because the channel is so winding that you can't take good advantage of the downstream current.

During low water - this becomes a VERY HARD trip! The first 3 hours up the slough you'll be out of your boat as much as in it. In places you'll drag your boat through the woods, in others, you'll be wading as you pull your boat upstream. Wading is often complicated by very loose, muck in which you'll sink up to your crotch. This makes for a full-body workout, with arms, back and legs all sharing the misery equally. And, even though you'll have time to rest and swim in the springs, when we're done, you'll have to make the slog again on our return downstream. Very tiring.

Adventure Outpost's X-Stream Explorations.

Experience the thrill of going where no one in their right mind has gone before.

There are still some places, deep in the wild heart of north Florida, which are so difficult to access that few people ever see them. Most of these places have been bypassed by civilization for good reason - they're hard to access and they're usually in wetlands. But, once in a while, the hard-core nature lover who is willing and able to endure the hardships of penetrating the "impenetrable" and passing the "impassable," will find one of these lost worlds. Occasionally, I lead small groups to such places. And, since these are usually wetlands (in Florida, nothing keeps civilization at bay more effectively than wetlands) most of the 'X-Stream trips are by canoe or kayak.

These are places I really wish everyone could see, but realistically, they can't. The same thing which has kept these places pristine (i.e. the difficulty in getting to them) makes these trips unsuitable to many. The only consolation I can offer to those who are unable to join us on these excursions. is to take heart in knowing that such places are still out there.

For me, the highlight of this trip is the isolation of the marshes and the springs. The lower springs aren't very big (in fact some are hard to even locate in the marsh), but they are their wild setting is wonderful. The head springs are larger and clear blue, but the houses detract from the experience. When conditions are bad (i.e. low water and lots of deadfall) some disturbed folks actually enjoy the total workout that this trip becomes, requiring both physical ability and determination. You can spend a day in the gym or you can spend a day trudging your way, crotch deep in through the mud, and emerging at the end with bugs in your hair and crud in your teeth. Is there even a choice?? ; -)

The river swamp along the Withlacoochee River, through which Gum Slough flows, is home to many bird species, especially in the winter when migrants swell the numbers dramatically. Herons, egrets and ibis are common. We also see bald eagles, limpkins, yellow-crowned night herons and swallow-tailed kites (in summer). River otters are also common here. There is also an unusually large population of snapping turtles in the bay area surrounding the springs.

Snapping turtles
Chelydra serpentina

These large turtles reach nearly 20 inches in length and can weigh over 40 pounds. They are very aquatic and we usually see them floating in the water rather than basking on logs like other turtles. They have long been killed by humans who found them tasty, but they don't go easily. Though they look slow, their "snap" consists of a very quick thrust of their long neck and a powerful bite that is hard to escape. They're known to eat just about anything that comes their way - plant, animal or carrion, including the occasional human finger! Their much larger relative, the alligator snapper, can weigh 200 pounds. Their range extends from the Suwannee river basin westward.

Hernando DeSoto faced some of the greatest hardship of his 1539 expedition in these swamps. Some archaeologists believe their Indian guides deliberately led the Spaniards through the extremely inhospitable Tsala Apopka wetlands, through which you pass as you drive out Turner Camp Road from Inverness to the launch site. In fact, it's believed the path they followed closely paralleled Turner Camp Road. The Spaniards destination was the nearby Timucua village of Ocale, where they hoped large stores of corn would sustain them through the winter. Ocale, however, wasn't nearly as rich a village as other tribes had proclaimed, so DeSoto soon moved on to make winter quarters at a village located near today's downtown Tallahassee. One clue to DeSoto's having passed close to this area, was the discovery of some Spanish artifacts in a nearby Indian mound.

Most of the Indian place names which dot today's map of Florida, have Seminole origins. Very few date back to the earlier, Timucua Indians. The city of Ocala, named for the village of Ocale, is one of these rarities.

Sept. 27, 2006 - At this time, low water levels make Gum Slough the realm of only the most determined, die-hards who are prepared to be out of their boats for a good bit of slogging. If you request a tour of this one any time soon, I'll be thrilled to take you, but please be ready for a long, hard, muddy (and very rewarding!) day.

December 3, 2006 - Water levels are very low, requiring a few small pull-overs to get to the headspring. In the last week, steady, light rain has washed much of the intensity out of the brilliant fall colors that cloaked our area a week ago. What a difference a week has made. Most trees are now bare and the remaining leaves are mottled yellows and browns. A few red maples, swamp dogwoods, tupelo and cypress offer remnant patches of color. The overall appearance of North Florida's rivers has morphed from autumn last week to winter. But, Florida is ever the Land of Flowers and patches of yellow ( burmarigold, lavender (climbing aster), red (cardinal flower) and white (spider lilies) still dapple the riverside. Today, we were treated to the fleeting company of a couple of otters. We also saw a couple of alligators and a granddaddy water moccasin sporting an exceptionally pale color. Water birds were thick, their population boosted with the arrival of some migrants. One of the highlights of paddling Gum Slough is the ethereal visit from a resident barred owl, whose ghostly presence we enjoy in the same spot every time. Today he sat in a spindly, slightly leaning ash tree, about 20 yards away. By now, after so many visits with our little floating flocks, he must be getting used to being oggled by clusters of glassy, binocular-magnified eyes. He must think the main sounds made by these odd, floating, big-eyed animals are ooohh and aahhhh. Their (our) giggles must remind him of his woodpecker friends.

May 3, 2008 - Water levels are still below average, but plenty still for doing this trip. We're getting into the summer doldrums, in terms of blooms. But, that's not to say there's nothing. Cardinal flowers are adding their welcome, brilliant glow of red to the greens and browns of the forest. Ladies tresses, Epidendrum, and others are also blooming. On this trip, we brought the count of recorded springs up to 8!

We paddled all the way to the headsprings of Gum Slough yesterday without having to get out even once! There were several deadfalls, as always, but we all made it around/under them, which was fun. There was a lot more water than I've ever experienced in the slough, so much so that as we paddled we just glided over all the tree trunks, rocks, etc. that we usually have to go around! The water level showed 9.8' on the gage across from the campsite. Vegetation that had been blocking the passage to the open marsh area had all been washed away, so we sailed right through. In the area close to the headsprings where we usually step out of our kayaks for a break, the water was so deep and swift that we didn't even try to get out! The water was very high in the headsprings area as well, and all along the slough everything looked so clean and fresh! We saw lots of cardinal flowers with butterflies all over them, but very little wildlife other than that, except for an occasional bird and turtle. I just want to let you know that we all agreed that the slough is now a magnificent hot weather paddling opportunity, as we were paddling in the shade almost all the way.

I once mentioned to my young niece, Allie, that we were going to a “gum” swamp and her face lit up as
though we were headed for the circus. It took me a moment to realize she was visualizing some kind of candy
cane forest where honey dripped from the trees. I’ve never felt so reluctant to educate a young mind
as I was at that moment. Under my breath I sheepishly muttered that the “gum” in this case was a kind of tree.

In Florida, we have two kinds of trees commonly called gums, sweet gum (Liquidambar styraciflua) and the
tupelos (Nyssa sp.). These are unrelated trees that are called “gums” for entirely different reasons.

Sweet gum got its name in the way we might expect, from its sticky sap. Dissect the Latin name, and you
reveal a wonderfully poetic tribute to this sap—Liquidambar meaning “liquid amber” and styraciflua, “flowing
with storax or aromatic resin.” This sap, called styrax, has been used as a substitute for storax, a perfumy balm
extracted from a related Oriental species. In folk medicine styrax has been used for wounds and skin irritations.
More recently, a commercial industry was established in Alabama, where the sap was processed for
ointments and syrups.

But the gums that adorn our local maps with such enticing names as Gum Root Swamp, Gum Pond and
Gum Slough are the tupelos. In our area there are three – swamp tupelo (Nyssa sylvatica), water tupelo
N. aquatica) and Ogeechee tupelo (N. ogeche).

Having grown up in a household steeped in Danish tradition, I am familiar with Nyssa, the small
gnomes of Scandinavian folklore that inspired Swedish botanist Carl Linnaeus to give the genus this name.
Nyssa are mischievous little people who usually make their appearance around Christmas time. But,
here in Florida you can find them any time of year. Just stand in a grove of Ogeechee tupelos and look
around at the stout, squat trunks and gnarled, sprawling limbs and you’ll know you’re
in the company of gnomes.

Among the most notable animal associates of tupelos are bees. Honey made by bees that have sipped
on Ogeechee tupelo blooms is considered by many to be a delicacy. For diabetics, it’s much more. Because
of high fructose and low dextrose content, it is the only kind of honey they are able to safely eat.

Bees also use tupelos for housing, often building hives in hollow trunks of swamp tupelo trees. Another name
for a beehive is a “gum”, and thus the name"gum" trees. Some bee keepers use a 2 – 3 foot section of fallen,
hollow gum tree, with boards on top and bottom, to house their bee gums. Another use for hollowed sections of
gum trunks is for a kind of rabbit pen called a “rabbit gum”.

I explained all of this to Allie, but I could tell my words were little more than an annoyance – an unwelcome
breeze emanating from my mouth that tickled her ears, without actually entering them. With the selective
mode of hearing that is the gift of childhood, only a few choice words actually penetrated her mind. Looking
up at me with doe-eyed innocence she whispered hopefully, “So it’s a forest full of honey?!”

Cost: $45.00 per person (includes boat, paddle, vest, shuttling and guide)
Using your Own Boat - $29. (many paddlers with their own boats like to
join us to learn more about the history, archaeology and natural history
of these rivers).

Group size: 1 - 24

Skill level: Beginner - pro. The open channel can become a bit challenging
when the wind kicks up. Otherwise, it's a breeze )

The route of this trip depends on the time of year. Winter excursions on the Homosassa are all about manatees, and since they always head for the head-springs, so do we. This makes for a round trip paddle, upstream and back. It's a nice stretch of river, but very developed - especially on the north bank. But, where Momma Nature maintains her ancestral claim, a lush, semi-tropical forest crowds the shoreline. The main head-spring is within Homosassa State Park, and out of bounds for us. But we do get close and usually see plenty of manatees.

Our summer excursions on the Homosassa take us in the other direction, heading westward toward the Gulf of Mexico (although we usually don't go that far). We weave a circuitous route through marshes, tidal streams and around several islands. This is very open waters, especially on the main river channel.

With it's close proximity to the Gulf of Mexico, the Homosassa area is rich in bird life. During the winter, the numbers are bolstered by an influx of many ducks, loons, white pelicans and other migrants.

Dolphins are occasionally seen, but not as often as in nearby Crystal River. And of course, there are the manatees. During the winter, Homosassa springs constant 72 degree waters attract the warm-blooded manatees who become stressed and can die if water temperatures remain in the mid-60's for any length of time.

Pelicans
Pelecanus occidentalis

The name is derived from pelekus, the Greek word for "axe," in reference to its large bill. They used to be called alcatraz, derived from the Arabic al-qudus, meaning "bucket." You can tell the age of young pelicans by their color. In their first year, they have white bellies and dark brown backs and wings. In the second year it's more uniform grayish-brown all over. In the third year they develop adult colors of dark belly, white neck and light grey wings. When diving into water after fish, they inflate air sacks in the chest to cushion the impact. Their bills can hold 3 gallons of water.

Of all the GOMER (Gulf of Mexico region) spring rivers, Homosassa has perhaps the most colorful documented history. While Crystal River was ground zero for much of the pre-Columbian activity in the region, Homosassa became a focal point of early white settlement.

Much of the early activity can be attributed to one man, David Levy Yulee, who chose Homosassa River as home base for his sugar plantation and mill. Yulee was an interesting and important figure in early Florida history, who was a legislator during the Territorial days and then became the State's first U.S. Senator when Florida achieved statehood in 1845.

His 5,100 acre plantation and sugar production at Homosassa began in 1851 and was thriving at the onset of the Civil War - perhaps too much so. In May of 1864, a Union naval vessel threaded it's way up the river and attacked Yulee's mansion on Tiger Tail island. The home was destroyed and his plantation crippled. The extent of damage done to the mill is still debated, but much of the structure remained intact. Today, these are the only existing remains of an ante-bellum sugar mill to be found in the U.S. and are part of a Historic Site which you can see along SR 490 as you drive in toward town from Hwy 19.

Sept. 27, 2004 - Post-hurricane report: The only noticeable effect of the storms on this trip are some broken branches and trees on the islands we pass . Since these waters are more influenced by tides and sea levels than the fresh, waters of Homosassa Springs. levels are unchanged from the storms.

April 16, 2005 - Excellent trip this day. Slight breeze, but not bad at all. Watch for E or NE winds which will push water out of river and make tides lower than stated on charts.

June 08, 2008 - TAfter stopping briefly to look at David Yulee's old Margarita Plantation site (yes, this is the original Margaritaville!) we continued our exploration of some of the coastal islands and marshes. While walking over a huge Indian mound we spotted a number of interesting plants, - including several that were used by native Americans for food and medicines. The small fruit of one species is known to have been eaten by Java Man!

Skill level: Intermediate, narrow winding creek can be a challenge for novices

This is the only trip where we visit two State Parks in one day. On this trip we explore the many faces of Hontoon Island, an interesting, 1650 acre island of pine flatwoods and hardwood hammock nestled within a broad ring of wetlands - mostly cypress swamps.

We'll begin by coasting the islands west face, where it fronts a quiet backwater called Hontoon Dead River (the St. Johns basin is loaded with "dead" rivers, a handle alluding to the fact that, unlike some side channels, these do not reconnect to the main channel. Apparently, the namers weren't paddlers. To us, there's nothing more vibrantly alive than these "dead" rivers! :-)

Easing southward, the graceful curves of Hontoon Dead carry us past the islands swamp forests, where shady groves of cypress, ash, oak, hickory and tupelo shroud ancient memories of a long line of native inhabitants. Our attempts to conjure images of those distant lives is helped somewhat by a collection of three totem poles dredged from these waters in the1950's and'70's, Expertly carved figures of an owl, pelican and an odd otter/frog creature holding a fish, strengthen our sense of connection to a people who cared for nature as much as we do.

Soon we pass Snake Creek on our left. This aptly named, slithering stream offers a scenic connection to the St. Johns as it defines Hontoon Islands south face. In higher water levels this is doable, but at present is nothing more than a tease - all show and no flow. We continue southward. After another half hour of alternating open marsh and narrower, forest-lined channel, we find ourselves on the open St. Johns River, compliments of an old logging canal.

Osprey, vultures, eagles and many water birds keep us entertained as we move downstream (northward). Our next stop is Blue Spring State Park. Here, we'll land and walk in to look at the beautiful spring and it's most popular winter residents - the manatees. Swimmers and boaters are all prohibited from these waters as the manatees go about the business of eating, enjoying life and surviving the winter in a natural, snorkel-free environment. What a relief to see conservation over-ruling commerce!

After our brief stop over at Blue Spring, it's back to the boats for the last leg of our trip. Riding the slow, gentle flow of the St. Johns, we coast the east shore of Hontoon Island. After passing a corner of Lake Beresford, one of the many lake-aneurisms bulging dramatically from the main artery of the St. Johns, we return to the launch site - completing this 9 mile, 4.5 hour loop.

This is a great trip for spotting alligators. Not only because there are plenty of them, but because the channels are plenty wide to allow you and them to easily avoid each other. Water birds thrive here as well. Of the heron clan, great blues are often the most prevalent, but little blues, snowy egrets and great egrets also live and feed here. Osprey are regular companions as are vultures. Bald eagles are often spotted in the mix.

If you camp on the island, be prepared for an all-night serenade by the islands many barred owls. Another species which enjoys spending the evening on Hontoon Island, though in a quieter fashion, are vultures. Black and turkey vultures by the hundred often roost in the trees, especially on the observation platform on the north end of the island. Deer are also plentiful.

Barred Owl
Strix varia

Ever heard an owl quack? The barred owl's genus name, Strix, is Latin for "screech," but it's usual call sounds like "who cooks for you?" Sometimes the call escalates into a weird cacophony of howls and quacks that sounds like a Chihuahua with a duck stuck in it's throat. This is Florida's second largest owl, barely smaller than the Great Horned Owl. These birds of prey are well adapted to their nocturnal lifestyle because of exceptional night vision, made possible by having extra-long, light-gathering rods in their eyes. One drawback to having such lengthy rods is that it gives the owls eyeballs a tubular rather than round shape, and makes it impossible for them to roll their eyeballs. Thus, the characteristic 'swiveling head' of attentive owls.

While digging a canal in the 1950's, workers brought up a carved wooden "totem" of an owl from the river bottom. Later, in the 50s, another totem was pulled up by a dredge being used to work on submerged cables - this one of a pelican. This brought a rush of archaeologists whose thorough search of the river bottom revealed a totem of an otter holding a fish. These are the only such wooden totems found anywhere in North America, aside from the Pacific Northwest.

The descendants of the totem artists enjoyed many more centuries, living and dying in their river side villages, before the first European explorers ever entered their world. That first encounter came in the 1560's, when Pedro Menendez led an exploratory mission up the St. Johns. After crossing Lake George, he met these people, known as the Mayaca and asked permission to pass. He did not get it. After passing a barricade of log spikes Menendez ascended deeper into Mayaca territory. As the river narrowed, he realized he could easily fall into an ambush set by these reportedly fierce warriors, and wisely turned back

As the long arm of the Spanish mission system swept north Florida, the Mayaca region was at the southern fringes of activity and was therefore spared - for a while. Eventually, as the north Florida natives were decimated, the Spanish started looking closer at Mayaca. Several missions were established in south central Florida and the upper St. Johns. In the end, all that remained of the people of Hontoon Island were scores of shell middens and burial mounds and a few totem poles - whose somber wooden eyes look out from the glass encasements of the Florida Museum of Natural History upon a world and people they could never understand.

A century and a half later, after the last of the Mayacas and their successors, the Seminoles were driven out of the upper St. Johns, a veteran of the Second Seminole War named William Hunton settled on the Island. It is from his name, though skewed and tattered from the passage of time and countless lips, that the name Hontoon was derived. From that time to this, the Island changed hands several times and was used alternately as a boat yard and cattle ranch. The State bought the island in 1967.

These are easy waters with little current. The only part of this trip with a curreent is on the St. Johns River, where we will be going with the flow. The open waters of the St. Johns can be challenging in windy conditions. This, in addition to the trips 4.5 hours of paddling, makes this a poor choice if you have strength or endurance limitations.

Trip Notes & Recent Conditions
(Interesting sightings or notes? Let us know and we'll post here)

August 3, 2006 - While we usually do this as a winter trip, it was good to see this area in summer. Lots of quiet, wide open waters mixed with small back channels. Lots of birds and reptiles. In Blue Spring Run, I was disturbed to see how many armored catfish have claimed dominance. These exotics seem to be spreading like wildfire and currently make up a significant percentage of the fish biomass, not only in this river, but also in Silver, Hillsborough and Withlacoochee.

Jan. 05, 2008 - As is often the case, Snake Creek was completely clogged with vegetation (mostly Pistia) so we continued south to one of the old logging canals. These manmade cuts, while being unfortunate scars on the landscape, do offer a scenic, shady little time-out from the open channels of Hontoon Dead and the St. Johns.

In Blue Spring, a couple of dozen manatees lolled about in the shallow spring run, feeding quietly. What a wonderful relief to be able to see them without people swimming all around, interacting and disturbing them. Even the people watching from the observation decks spoke in hushed tones of reverence. This is how manatees should be observed!

A large group of tarpon were enjoying the spring run as well - and we enjoyed them back!

July 19, 2008 - Water levels are a bit low but fine for paddling. Snake Creek is completely covered in vegetation and cannot be paddled. Fortunately, the blockage starts immediately at the mouth, so there's no guess work as to whether you will be able to get through or not. The nearby logging ditch through the swamp is passable. On today's trip we encountered manatees in the St. Johns. I was thrilled to see them swim quickly away from us exhibiting a healthy fear of humans - perfect!! Osprey and wading birds by the dozen kept us company along our route.

Cost: $39.00 per person (plus $4.25/person park fee) (includes boat, paddle, vest, shuttling and guide)
Using your Own Boat - $25. (plus $4.25/person park fee) (many folks with their own boats like to
join us to learn more about the history, archaeology and natural history of these rivers).

Cost: $45.00 per person (Plus $4.25/person park fee) (includes boat, paddle, vest, shuttling and guide)
Using your Own Boat - $35. (plus $4.25/person park fee) (many paddlers with their own boats like to
join us to learn more about the history, archaeology and natural history of these rivers).

Ichetucknee is perhaps one of the most famous rivers in north Florida. When you see it you'll understand why. The entire six mile river is composed of crystal clear water which boils to the surface through nine named springs (in addition to a number of smaller unnamed ones).

On it's southward journey toward the Santa Fe river, the Ichetucknee begins as a narrow stream threading between 15 foot high walls of limestone. Sculpted by quick flowing water for thousands of years, the rock formations along this stretch are a wonderful contrast to much of the scenery we're used to along Florida rivers. Soon, the high banks move further apart and become obscured by a fantastic variety of wetland plants and trees. Another mile and several springs bring us into a nice cypress forest which lines the river for the rest of the way. By the end of the six mile run (2 miles beyond the State Park boundary), the many springs of Ichetucknee have combined to form a substantial river which adds nearly 233 million gallons of water to the Santa Fe river every day.

Every year, tens of thousands of "tubers" enjoy a 3 hour float down the run aboard rubber inner tubes. On summer weekends they're thicker than water hyacinths, so weekdays are preferable to the nature lover. When you're not enjoying watching the fish in the clear water, you'll be gazing in wonder at the beautiful cypress swamps and open marshes that line the banks.

Ichetucknee means 'pond of the beavers.' For decades, after being trapped out of north Florida in the late 1800s, the name was a misnomer. Today, they have returned in force. So far, their range does not extend south of the basins of the Suwannee and Santa Fe rivers (including the Ichetucknee). Sign of their night-time activity can be seen in the gnawed cypress knees, tree trunks and twigs.

- Forager's Notebook -

Ground nut (Apios americana) - The genus name is Greek for 'pear' and refers to the firm, starchy tubers of this delicate little vine. Highly nutritious and fairly tasty, (especially when cooked and still warm) this was an important item on the Indian diet. Some of the first Europeans to learn about these "ground nuts" were the pilgrims who survived their first brutal winter by eating them. You'll find this vine, with alternate, pinnately compound leaves (5 - 7 leaflets) twining among the cypress knees and Bidens thickets in the shady lower half of the river.

For thousands of years, humans have been drawn to this incredible spring and its long, crystal clear run to the Santa Fe river. Archaeological evidence, such as mounds, village sites and the site of a 17th century Spanish mission give ample testimony to this fact.

Hernando De Soto made an unwelcome visit to the local Timucuan Indian village of Aguacaleyquen during his 1539 exploration of Florida (which eventually led him to the previously unknown Mississippi river). With all of the social graces of pirates, De Soto's soldiers kidnapped the chief and his daughter in an effort to keep the Indians from attacking. The tactic worked on this occasion, but, a few villages later, the conquistadores would instigate one of the bloodiest massacres in Florida's history.

Seventy years later, another group of Spaniards arrived at Ichetucknee. This time they carried Bibles. Alongside the Indian village, and near the river, Franciscan missionaries established the Mission San Martin de Ayacuto. The wealth of artifacts found at the nearby spring, suggests this village was used as a port for canoes which were used for trade along the entire Santa Fe/Suwannee river system and even along the Gulf coast as far away as Cuba! The mission was destroyed in the early 1700's by English colonists from South Carolina along with their Creek Indian allies.

In 1826, the ancient trail which the Spanish had used as their mission road, was improved and would from that time on be known as the Bellamy Road - the oldest in the Florida interior. One of the few segments of this ancient road which is still in use after thousands of years, is the paved road which delivers you to Ichetucknee State Parks north entrance,.

December 1, 2006 - The fall colors this week are as good as they get in Florida.You never see Florida included on the "Peak Fall Colors" maps shown by the TV weather persons. They obviously have never experienced a North Florida river in late November and early December. Some years, conditions like too much rain or early frost will abbreviate the change and the foliage quickly transforms from yellow to brown. But during dry autumns, such as we're having now, reds, yellows, purples and every shade in between are adorning the trees of our area.

In Florida, the best fall foliage is on wetland species. Red maples steal the show, with brilliant hues ranging from pale, sherbet orange to brilliant crimson red that gives the nearby cardinal flowers a run for the money. Swamp tupelo gets an attractive, mottled orange, red color. The foliage of this tree is equally beautiful up close, where a rich orange-yellow background highlights splotches of burnt orange, blood red and a spattered marbling of black spots. Hickories are uniformly yellow; some of the paler, pastel variety of yellow while others are the deepest, richest yellow ever to stand in the multi-hued ranks of a crayon box.

A few flower species are nearing the end of their season. Brilliant red blooms of cardinal flowers can still be spotted along the rivers edge while, in some of the shadowy recesses of side streams and damp coves, the delicate webbed petals of spider lilies are making their last stand.

Other blooms are just coming into their own. In October, we started seeing the first yellow dappling of burmarigold, scattered among the cypress knees and peeking from behind buttressed trunks, but now they are in their full glory. Large patches line the bank, no longer random individuals but bold crowds basking in the full sun. Climbing aster is another fall bloomer now in full regalia. Thick clusters of small lavender stars crowd every bush. Some plants break away from their usual bushy habit and climb neighboring shrubs for a better vantage from which to rejoice in the sunshine.

On today's trip, we were treated to the company of many water birds. Migrating egrets and herons have added their numbers to the year round populations. We are seeing about twice as many as we do in the warmer months. Wood ducks are heard more than seen, with today's count standing at about two dozen.

Manatees are often seen on this river in warmer months, but have now moved to warm water refuges further south. We watched a single river otter working his way along the river, feeding among the submerged plants near the rivers edge. The prowess of this skilled hunter was apparent from the mouthfuls of food - crayfish, small fish, mussels - that he surfaced with after every dive.

Cost: $45.00 per person (plus $4 park fee). (includes boat, paddle, vest, shuttling and guide)
Using your Own Boat - $25. (many paddlers with their own boats like to join us to learn
more about the history, archaeology and natural history of these rivers).

Skill level: Intermediate, narrow winding creek can be a challenge for novices

The first mile of this gentle spring run is one of the most magical places in Florida. A thin sheet of crystal clear spring water skims your boat over the white sand bottom (from an ancient sand dune), as you pass through a fantastic sub-tropical forest of palms, hardwoods and lush under story of shrubs, vines, ferns and herbaceous plants. This is Fern Hammock. After a while, the surrounding forest changes, almost imperceptibly, to a higher and drier forest of oaks, hickory and pine. Then, by the time you've become used to your new surroundings, the flood plain widens again and the river carries you through an alternating series of narrow, myrtle shrouded passageways and open marshes of cattail and wild rice.

After doing this river, you'll know why Marjorie Rawlings considered naming one of her books "Juniper Creek". Her editor, having never seen the river, and therefore being immune to it's spell, suggested she think of another name. She renamed it "the Yearling".

This beautiful stream cuts through the heart of the Juniper Prairie Wilderness area, which is home to a healthy population of Florida black bears. On our last trip here (I can't believe it's been nearly a year) we saw a mother and her cub. But we were lucky. Chances of seeing any of these elusive, mostly nocturnal animals are slim. Birders will enjoy the chance to see a variety of birds in the different types of terrain offered on this trip. There are a number of gators, although our old buddy, a giant 12 - 13 footer which we enjoyed seeing on nearly every trip, basking in the open flats, was killed a few years ago. There's also a colony of otter's that live in the flats and have become pretty adept at looking cute and getting fed in return. While this is a harmful practice which we all know is wrong, (right?), it has resulted in some very sociable otters.

This is a winding stream with a moderate (by Florida standards) current. Be prepared to play bumper kayaks. Canoes should be used only by experienced paddlers and/or those who have a strong (preferably blissful) relationship. I've seen some seemingly happy couples go completely "Jerry Springer" in canoes on this river. One lady (not in our group) even hiked out. Anyway, it winds.

The most notable wild residents of the run are river otters. In the last mile of the trip, a colony of otters have been entertaining paddlers with their antics and curiosity for years. This is also bear country, though we've only seen two on our explorations here. Upstream, you'll see songbirds and other forest species. While downstream, you're more likely to spot wading birds such as egrets, herons (Great Blue, little blue and green-backed). An osprey, whose nest you'll see in a huge, dead snag, is pretty usually pretty persistent in his request for you to paddle-on.

- Forager's Notebook -

Jack-in-the-Pulpit (Arisaema triphyllum) - The roots of this interesting small plant have been used by natives of both North and South America for food and medicine. Like many other edible wetland plants, these roots will set your mouth on fire if eaten raw. They must be dried or roasted before using. The strange hooded spathe, overhanging and partially concealing the erect spadix inspired this plants name, as well as some of the old lore associated with it. According to the ancient doctrine of signatures, the phallic look of the spadix meant the plant would enhance fertility. As testament to this property, William Cole, a 17th century proponent of this doctrine, claimed that these plants, when eaten, "are notable for stirring up the inclination to copulation." Sadly, most people I know who've eaten these roots, including myself, seem to be immune to this charming attribute.

NOTE: This river is a good place to look for these plants, as they grow right along the river bank in several places. However, it is illegal to disturb these plants here in the National Forest. Look, but don't pick!

When William Bartram explored this area in 1774, he referred to this beautiful stream as Six-mile run. He was so enthralled with the fauna, that he set up camp and spent the day collecting many local plants. Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings loved it here also, and wanted to name one of her novels "Juniper Creek." Her editor encouraged her to use another name for the book. I shutter to think of how many tourists might crowd this delicate stream daily, eager to experience Rawlings' Florida, if the books title hadn't been changed to "The Yearling."

Recent Trip Notes and Conditions
(Interesting sightings or notes? Let us know and we'll post here)

July 20, 2003 - Lots of recent rains have put a little get-up-and-go into this otherwise easy current. A little speed added to the twisting course of this stream makes for a fine workout (and an occasional dunking). Come on in, the water's great!

Cost: $45 per person. (includes boat, paddle, vest, guide, shuttling and guide)
Using your Own Boat - $25. (many paddlers with their own boats like to join
us to learn more about the history, archaeology and natural history
of these rivers).

Group size: 1 - 24 people

Difficulty: The shallow water may require an occasional scooch or pry, but you shouldn't have to get out of your boat.
Once we've passed the initial shallow area, the rest of the trip has plenty of water. Winds
can be brisk on the open lake, but the tall marsh vegetation should give good protection.

This lake is at the eastern edge of Gainesville, only about 10 minute drive from downtown.
To see this river's general location, go to the River Locator Map

Located only a few miles northeast of Paynes Prairie, this lake shares much of the amazing cultural and natural history of the famous prairie. The archaeological record shows that this area was a favorite hunting ground for the first nomadic paleo-Indians and later, was the site of several important settlements as then Indian cultures became more complex and stationary. Running along the lake's eastern shore, one of Florida's most important trade routes, known as the "Alachua Trail" connected the Paynes Prairie region to central Georgia. For thousands of years, much of the commerce, migrations and movements of armies, both Indian and white, into north Florida, came along this route. The road through Windsor is one of the few segments of this ancient highway that is still in use.

In the 20th century, the shallow lake became nationally famous for the abundance and size of it's large-mouth bass. The unofficial record for a large-mouth bass (recorded by a fish market before records were kept), was caught on Prairie Creek, the lake's natural outlet which carries it's waters to Paynes Prairie and River Styx. Today, the combination of excessive nutrients and drought conditions have put Newnan's reputation on hold, but there is little doubt the lake, with all it's abundance will return - but when?

Newnans Lake has long been known as a bird watchers paradise. With the current (winter of 2001 - '02) presence of a huge marshland at the lakes perimeter, the birds are more numerous than ever. In fact, some birds are seen in such numbers as to warrant a rare opportunity to use collective nouns (they're too fun to ignore). So...

In the trees at lake's edge, we often see a gulp of cormorants, whose deep, guttural croakings sound like Geiger counters, intensifying quickly when limb-side neighbors encroach on each others 1 foot perimeter of 'personal space.' A murder of crows (not to be confused with an unkindness of ravens) is less likely, but possible. Occasionally, a siege of great blue herons will be seen in the shallows, also mindful of each other's personal space issues.

Hidden in the marshes, you might come on a sord of mallards or a spring of teal. While out in the open water, you're more likely to see a cover of coots, or a paddling of ducks (if they take flight, the paddling becomes a brace). Overhead, it's doubtful you'll see a convocation of bald eagles or a kettle of hawks, but you'll probably see one or two.

Sadly, I doubt anyone will spot a bouquet of pheasants (they don't live here) or an ostentation of peacocks (they don't live here either, though we often see an introduced population on an isolated island during our Crystal River trips). And, if you get tired, you need only look to the ever-present wake of vultures circling overhead for inspiration to make it back to the launch site.

Newnan's Lake is also a well known haunt for alligators. Try not to wind up with a boatload.

Some of this amazing lake's history is only recently coming to light. During the last 2 years of extreme drought, nearly 100 ancient Indian canoes have been found on the exposed lake bed. This is more than all previous finds in Florida combined. Fifty four of the canoes were studied in detail, and then reburied on site. Of these 54, almost all were made of pine logs. Only two were of cypress. Their ages range from about 3,000 B.C to about A.D. 500. Along with the canoes, archaeologists discovered stone tools, projectile points, pottery shards and a 260 year old paddle (one of only 15 ever found in the state).

The Paynes Prairie region, which includes this lake as well as Orange and Lochloosa Lakes and Levy, Ledwith and Paynes Prairies, are rich in archaeological sites. Near the southern shores of Newnan's, several large village sites have been excavated, including the type locality for a kind of spear point known as the "Newnans point."

Timucua Indians referred to this lake as Amaca. But special interest has been drawn by the later-arriving Seminoles name for the lake Pithlachocco. The name's meaning, "place where boats are made," has taken on new significance with the canoe discoveries. The current name can also be credited to the Seminoles who, in 1812, thrashed a troop of Georgia militia under the leadership of Colonel Daniel Newnan. For over a week, the Seminoles under King Payne (for whom the famous prairie nearby was named) kept the Georgians under siege in a little, makeshift breastwork, (sometime generously referred to as a "fort" Newnan). Finally, in desperation, the soldiers were able to escape under cover of darkness. I can't help but wonder if the lake's current name started as something like "the lake where Newnan got his butt whipped," only to evolve into the trimmed down version we know today.

For those who are interested in Florida's history, here's an editorial I wrote for the Gainesville Sun early in 2000. It was written as a "tongue-in0cheek" response to the suggestion by some Gainesville residents that Newnan's Lake's name be changed back to it's Indian name, Pithlachocco.

It was the early 1800's and a small army of American volunteers, some from Tennessee and Georgia, launched a raid to capture lands that didn't belong to them. The plan went awry when they encountered a force much larger than their own, forcing them to "dig-in" where they were and make a stand. For many days they remained under siege and, when it was over, the original landowners emerged victorious and were still in possession of their land. Some might say the white "intruders" got what they deserved. But, I don't believe I've ever heard one bad thing said about the men who fought and died in the Alamo.

Now, I'm not suggesting that Daniel Newnan be compared to Davey Crockett (though the facts might warrant it), I just think that before we continue the thrashing of Daniel Newnan which was begun by King Payne's Seminoles two centuries ago, we had better take a moment to reflect on the precedent it would set. If we decide to change the name of Newnan's lake on the basis that it's namesake abused the Indians, we're opening a fairly large and ugly can of worms.

Immediately, we'd have to contend with names like Columbus, De Leon and De Soto. And these are just the characters from the opening pages of our nation's family album. The fact is, this country was founded on deeds such as Newnan's raid. But, rather than go through our whole dirty laundry list, I'll limit myself to a single tale. And, as long as we've breached the subject of the Alamo, let's start there.

It's February, 1836. With the situation looking desperate in Texas, the President of the United States ordered the Major General in command of the Army's Western Division to go to Texas. His orders - to assist in the efforts to take a part of Mexico (Texas) away from it's lawful owners. When the General received his orders he was at Tampa Bay, gearing up for an attack on the Seminoles (led by King Payne's nephew, Micanopy). Rather than follow his orders to head for Texas, the General decided to disobey them and proceeded with his initial plans to march into Florida.

On February 28, our hero's force came under fire from the Seminoles, and, like Newnan, was forced to quickly build a makeshift breastwork of logs. Here, also like Newnan, he was kept under siege for over a week. By an odd coincidence, during the same 8 days that our hero's troop was under siege on the banks of the Withlacoochee River, the men he was supposed to be aiding in Texas were also being kept under siege in a small church in San Antonio called the Alamo. Who knows how the story would have ended if the General had followed orders. As it was, the 189 men in the Alamo were all killed, while those in Florida were finally rescued by reinforcements.

So, who was this "hero" who launched an assault to evict the Seminoles from their homeland? General Edmund P. Gaines (see - massacre of "Negro Fort"), the namesake of our fair community And, who was the U.S. president at the helm of both operations, Texas and Florida? Andrew Jackson, a self-proclaimed Indian hater of the worst kind (see - Battle of Horseshoe Bend), for whom our neighbors named their city.

My purpose here is not to disparage the actions of Gaines, Jackson or even Newnan. I just think they need to be kept in context of the times. Nor am I saying that changing Newnan's Lake's name is a bad idea. I personally like the idea and prefer the Indian names - especially when they are as fitting as Pithlachocco ("place where they make boats"). I'm just concerned that if we start changing the names of places just because their namesake's deeds don't stand up to today's P.C. standards, we might soon be turning to the sports section of the Hogtown Sun to get scores for the Cowford Jaguars football team.

Recent Trips Notes & Conditions
(Interesting sightings or notes? Let us know and we'll post here)

October 3, 2006 - Like a huge, living being, Newnan's Lake continues it's slow metamorphosis from the low-water, vegetation-ringed basin of a couple of years ago to the open lake it was before that. Continued high water is steadily thinning and killing back the marsh plants that took root when the shallow lake edge was exposed. The present mix of open lake and remnant marsh make for a nice diversity of plants and animals on this trip.

Sept. 20, 2008 - Excellent weather and scattered clouds made for a nice sunset. A bit of wind made our crossing of the open water a bit challenging, but the wind was behind us (almost) so it probably helped more than it hurt. The marsh vegetation around the edge is still healthy and water birds are loving it. We saw several gators but nothing like the numbers we used to see up until a few years ago. The population has definitely declined, possibly due to the limited hunt that is held each year.