Imagining William Bartram’s Salt Springs

Salt Springs Run cloudscape

Salt Springs Run hints of old Florida, before Disney and development transformed the land. The scrub landscape bordering the run offers a glimpse of the Florida William Bartram encountered centuries ago. Paddling this river lets me escape the twenty-first century for a little while.

I launch at Salt Springs Marina and slide my paddleboard onto the calm water just below the head-spring. The water is cloudier than the last time I visited a year ago, which saddens me.  Heavy rains and over-pumping from the aquifer have degraded many area springs. But even so, Salt Springs rarely disappoints.

The Salt Springs Marina sits at one end of a large pool. To the left lies the headspring itself and just downstream a pack of motor boats have anchored for an afternoon of swimming and sun. I turn my right, downstream, away from boats and people. It only takes one river bend to step back in time and imagine how William Bartram felt when he floated down what he called Six Mile Springs. On my first trip to Salt Springs, I paddled In William Bartram’s Wake on Paddle Florida’s 2015 Bartram History Paddle.  Dean Campbell and Sam Carr, designers of the Bartram Trail in Putnam County, regaled us with Bartram lore as we paddle down Salt Springs Run and up the St. Johns River to Palatka.

In 1766, Quaker naturalist and explorer William Bartram and his father John Bartram encountered Salt Spring Run while exploring the shore of Lake George, a wide spot in the St. Johns River. They rowed upstream against the slow-moving current until they reached the head-spring which they called Johnson Spring. Their journal entry, dated January 24, 1766, describes the oak hammocks, cypress knees, and pines that still characterize this run. Today, adventurers can paddle, hike, and bike sections of the Bartram Trail in Putnam County using maps and QR code that identify sites mentioned in Bartram’s travel journals. Site 28 marks the entrance to Salt Springs Run on the western shore of Lake George. Both University of North Florida’s Florida History Online and Bartram Trail in Putnam County provide ecological, historical, and literary commentary on the specific sites Bartram visited.

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Site 28-Rocky Point
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Paddle Florida’s Bartram History Paddle 2015

Today, Salt Springs Run is part of the Salt Springs Recreation Area in the Ocala National Forest, easily reached by Highway 19. In the time of Bartram’s Travels and even well into the early twentieth century, most people travelled by boat. The dense and swampy Florida landscape made overland journeys difficult and dangerous. To reach Salt Springs, the Bartrams rowed up the north-flowing St. Johns River and up what we call Salt Springs Run.

Ocala National Forest Sign
Sign at Salt Springs Marina
Salt Springs Area Map
Courtesy of Google Maps

William Bartram returned to Salt Springs in 1774 and again floated the spring run. But his observations and “romantic imagery” after this second descent reveal so much more about Bartram and his enchantment by the spring.

“But there are yet remaining scenes inexpressibly admirable and pleasing. Behold, for instance, a vast circular expanse before you, the waters of which are so extremely clear as to be absolutely diaphanous or transparent as the ether; the margin of the bason ornamented with a grat variety of fruitful and floriferous trees, shrubs, and plants, the pendant golden Orange dancing on the surface of the plellucid waters, the balmy air vibrating with the melody of the merry birds, tenants of the encircling aromatic grove.” (Travels)

William Bartram’s ornate language captures the magic of Florida’s springs. I see the magic on my friends’ faces when they plunge into a spring’s clear waters.  Bartram’s flowery descriptions likely influenced writers and poets far beyond Florida. Scholars have traced Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s poem Kubla Khan to Bartram’s description of Salt Springs.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
   Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round;
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

Salt Springs, like all Florida springs, flows from an ancient sea, deep under the Floridan Aquifer, passing through limestone and karst caverns. Coleridge’s sacred Alph could very well be our own Salt Springs Run. Who isn’t captivated by our springs?

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Even though the water was more tannic than my last visit to Salt Springs, in my mind’s eye, I envision the crystal blue flow that William Bartram must have seen–the water that is “absolutely diaphanous or transparent as the ether.” I’ve seen this clarity on the Ichetucknee, Naked Springs at Gilchrist Blue, and Cannon springs during the Ocklawaha drawdown, so I know what is possible.

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Cannon Springs
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Naked Springs
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Gilchrist Blue springs

My father recently passed away at Oak Hammock in Gainesville, FL, after struggling with dementia for several years. After he died, so many residents and staff at Oak Hammock spoke fondly of my father, whose Charlie Brown smile lit up the room. My mother and I worried that nobody knew my father as we knew him, in the past. But they loved him as they knew him, as he was in the last years of his life.

I’ve only known and loved the springs in their current state. My husband Kevin tells me how much cleaner they were when he first came to Florida over twenty years ago. Still others reminisce about their clarity before air conditioning made Florida newly habitable and brought millions of new residents, including myself. I love them as they are.

Salt Springs Run is an out and back paddle, and fortunately paddling back upstream to the marina is not difficult. I paddled past the marina towards the headspring where motor boats congregated just beyond the ropes marking the Salt Springs swimming area. After the solitude of the spring run, the competing stereos emanating from the boats was jarring, but we all have our ways of loving Salt Springs.

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Boats anchored outside Salt Springs Marina

William Bartram’s words illustrate how some visitors responded to a landscape alien to them. I’m interested in landscapes and the people who inhabit them, past and present. Paddling on the waters that Bartram described helps me imagine the springs in a former, more glorious state. Even though I love the springs as they are, I know we can do better. Perhaps if we can expand our ecological imagination, we can find the will to restore and repair our springs.

 

 

 

 

 

Old Florida and New Plastics in Cortez, FL and Anna Maria Island

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A  mermaid’s welcome to Starfish Dockside Restaurant

Visiting Anna Maria Island and Cortez, Florida reminded me just how much Florida’s histories, cultures, and ecologies are bound to the sea. Heavy winds and water torpedoed our original plan of sailing and anchoring near Tarpon springs. So, on Spring Break Eve, Kevin and I changed course to small boat sailing and onshore exploration of southwest Florida. The white sands and clear water of Anna Maria Island had enticed us for years, and the promise of renting sunfish and lasers at Bimini Bay Sailing sealed the deal. We loaded our car with gear to cover almost any imaginable water activity and headed to our last-minute booking at Silver Surf Resort in Bradenton Beach.

Maop of Southwest Florida
Courtesy of Google Maps

The next morning, we drove to Bimini Bay on the north end of Anna Maria Island where we met Brian and his fleet of small boats. Anna Maria Island is small-scale and relaxed, especially compared to neighboring Longboat Key. Bimini Bay Sailing, however, carried relaxed tropical paradise to a new level, and the ducks and cat that adopted Brian seemed to agree. We discovered a slice of heaven on this mangrove-ringed tip of land, and a small water-based business living light on the land and sea.

Bimini Bay Sailing sign
Bimini Bay Sailing
Roosting birds
Roosting birds
Bimini Bay Trimarans
Trimarans in Bimini Bay
Sail and sup
Beach launching

On our first day, the winds were too big for small boats. Our friends Jill and Scott joined us with their sailing kayak rigs, so we kayak-sailed and paddled boarded in the bay. The wind subsided on the following days, and we sailed the trimaran, sunfish, and lasers.

Scott in the bay
In the bay
Kevin in laser
Laser
Setting sail
Launching the sailing kayak

By midweek, the wind drove us onshore, and we headed to the fishing village of Cortez and Mote Aquarium. My research on the St Johns River taught me a great deal about people and their ties to their river economies and ecologies. Now I hoped to learn more about these relationships in a coastal environment.

“The grill opens at 11:30, but the bar’s open now.” The self-appointed welcoming committee cheerfully called out as Kevin and I walked into the Starfish Dockside Restaurant. The Starfish Company and Dockside Restaurant lies in the heart of Cortez, Florida, described as a “real Florida fishing village.” We heard about Cortez several years ago from a sailing friend and were curious to visit this piece of old Florida existing as a counterweight to Tampa’s urban sprawl. Cortez sits just across the bridge from Bradenton Beach on Anna Maria Island, but it felt another world and perhaps another era.

Despite its location in the middle of vacationland, Florida, Cortez remains a working fishing village and reminds visitors that many Floridians have—and still do—live intimately with the sea. A statue of a fisherman and a sign describing the history of Cortez mark the center of the two-block historic area.

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Statue of Florida waterman
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Heritage sign in the center of Cortez

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In the post Civil War 1800s, commercial fisherman of English heritage relocated from the coastal Carolinas, drawn by the “wealth of fish, scallops, and other seafood.”  They named the area the “Kitchen” and developed a a thriving fishing and processing industry, shipping fish to Tampa and Cedar key by rail. A sign outside the Starfish Company showcases the harvest from the sea.

Harvest sign

“The place names on the map are a symbol of the proud tradition of commercial fishing in Cortez. They constitute a form of local knowledge that is derived from years of fishing the inland waters. Some of the names have been passed from generation to generation. Although the origins of such names have faded from memory, their daily use by Cortezians reminds us of the fishing folklore heard time and again on the docks of Cortez.”

As we ate our grouper sandwiches, the fishing boats made clear that this was indeed a working harbor. The Starfish Company is fairly small, but the larger Bell Fish Company and Cortez Bait and Seafood are nearby.

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The regulars know the drill at the Starfish
Starfish
Pelicans hoping for a handout
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Fishing boat

That Cortez remains viable is a testament to their tenacity. Over twenty years ago, Florida instituted a gill net ban, which pitted commercial fishers against sportsmen, a move that devastated many small coastal fishing villages. Cortez adapted and survived, but I wonder how fishers and others will adapt to the growing threat of marine plastics.

After lunch, we visited the Mote Marine Laboratory and Aquarium on Longboat Key, one island south of Anna Maria Island. Driving past the sterile gated communities that lined Longboat Key heightened our appreciation for the friendliness and lack of pretention of Cortez and Anna Maria Island. Even so, our presence as tourists reminds me that our hotel and others have pushed fishers and other workers inland off the coast.

At Mote Marine Laboratory and Aquarium, Kevin and I joined the others who opted for an onshore day. We saw seahorses, sharks, otters, and turtles. But, most striking and stunning, we saw sculptures composed of marine plastics as part of the “Sea Debris: Awareness through Art.” When I walked inside the whale rib cage, I didn’t realize at first what I was seeing. Then, I realized what I was seeing: the ribs were constructed of detergent bottles.

Plastic whale
Plastics!
Plastic turtle
Plastic turtle
Plastic jellyfish
Plastic jellyfish

 

I heard people muttering how sad it was, and I hope projects like this help us recognize the linkages between our use of plastics and the about the state of our oceans. Several years ago, I had my ‘year of plastics,’ where I learned about microplastics in the Caribbean seas and I hauled larger plastics off the Alaskan coastline.

Traveling around Florida constantly demonstrates me how our lives are intimately tied to our waters, rivers, and seas. Yet some now that warn that our “Coastal Environments are Collapsing“. Exhibits such as “Sea Debris” reminds me of their fragility, that so many lives and livelihoods, whether Brian’s sailboat rentals or a fishing village, depend on their health. What are we willing to do to insure the well-being of our waters and those that live in them and work on them?

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Sailing Kevin

 

 

SUP Camping on the Peace River

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A very glassy Peace River

“Noone’s ever done that before,” exclaimed Trent from Canoe Outpost-Peace River. We had called the outfitters to shuttle us on our SUP expedition down the Peace River. Despite this winter’s unusual cold, Janice, Jill, and I hoped the window between Christmas and New Years would be warm. Jill and I had paddled through a cold front in Cuba in early December, and we were ready for the tropics. We chose the Peace River because its southern location offered warm temperatures, and its sandy banks promised wilderness sandbar camping. In November 2016, our trio camped from our paddleboards on the Rock Springs Run in central Florida. It was time for a new SUP adventure.

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Peace River Paddling Trail (Courtesy of http://www.florida-outdoors.com/peace_river.htm)
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Peace River Map (Courtesy of https://www.swfwmd.state.fl.us/waterman/peaceriver/map.html)

The 106-mile Peace River flows south through Polk County into Charlotte Harbor. Sixty-seven miles has been designated as the Peace River Canoe Trail, but many paddlers—like us—opt for the 31 mile-long wilderness section from Zolfo Springs to Arcadia. Few roads intersect this part of the river, and this stretch feels isolated and remote.

We launched from the public boat ramp in Zolfo Springs on a pleasantly warm Florida December day. I left my car downstream in Arcadia at the Canoe Outpost, and they shuttled me back to Zolfo Springs in their school bus. They provided detailed maps and descriptions of where we could—and could not—camp for the next two nights. In general, the right side of the river was fair game, while the left side was off-limits beyond gathering firewood. The Canoe Outpost owns several sites along the river that offered campground-style camping, but we wanted to camp more primitively. Just in case, paddlers needed a reminder, a sign in the bus warned people that they were entering the ‘True Florida,’ the kind that will hunt you down and eat you.

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Sign in Canoe Outpost bus

When I returned to the launch, Janice and Jill had loaded the boards with our camping gear, food, and water. After a few adjustments, we set off. We knew we would have some company on the river. A Boy Scout troop from Palm Beach was preparing to launch their aluminum canoes and would paddle the same stretch as us.

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Loaded boards at Zolfo Springs ramp

We aimed for about 12 miles our first day, about 7 miles upstream of Gardiner. The last third of our trip—between Gardiner and Arcadia—was more residential and offered fewer camping opportunities, so we planned our mileage to stay in the wilderness section as long as possible.

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Photo by Janice Hindson

Paddling this section felt blissfully remote. We heard no road noises, and only the occasional mooing reminded us of the ranch land that border the Peace. The drive from Tampa to Zolfo Springs on central Florida’s rural roads suggested a similar isolation, or perhaps desolation, as we sped through miles of Mosaic phosphate mining.

Mosaic’s mining activity has contributed to lowered water levels in the Peace River. We checked the link provided by the Canoe Outpost site to confirm that the water level was high enough for our trip. Water levels matter even more for paddleboards than canoes and kayaks. Submerged branches reach out and grab the fin, resulting in unplanned swims.

The river meandered through a scrub landscape, alternating between straight sections and hairpin turns. The low water level exposed the limestone structure of the riverbanks, making us aware of Florida’s permeable geology. The river was so still in places that it was difficult to distinguish the landscape from its mirrored reflection. Only the leaves floating past revealed the river’s current.

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Exposed limestone
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Sitting down on the job

After several hours of paddling, we found a perfect sandbar campsite. Since the Boy Scouts passed us in their canoes, we hadn’t seen anyone else on the river.

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Not a shabby view
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Cooling off on a Florida December day

Firewood was plentiful enough on the sandbar for both an evening and a morning fire. Coaxing a fire from the previous night’s embers makes me glad for the skills I developed and later taught at Camp Green Cove.

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Nothing beats fireside coffee
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A Peaceful sunrise

The day warmed up, and we set off downriver towards Gardiner. The day before, we saw a number of baby gators basking on the riverbank, but downriver, the mama gators were out and about. Not a good place to fall off the board.

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Medium-sized gator

And the birds: ibis, egrets, bob whites, great blue herons, wood storks, and roseate spoonbills.  One trip highlight for me was a flock of wood storks flying overhead, with two roseate spoonbills in the mix to add a touch of color. I’m never quick enough with a camera to catch such moments, but then no picture could do it justice. Bearing witness was enough.

We paddled on, aiming to camp downstream of Gardiner. We passed a run-down cabin, with several men sitting outside. One waved, but wordlessly we quickened our pace, as banjo music invaded our imaginations. Several miles down, a sandy bluff welcomed us for the night. Long after we had set up our tents, we discovered a dilapidated abandoned house nearby. Fortunately, it didn’t look like anyone would be returning soon.

On our last morning we paddled the final stretch through a residential area and past Canoe Outpost’s Oak Hill Campground. A number of people were sifting through the sand in search of shark’s teeth and other fossils, a draw for many Peace River paddlers.

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This bluff highlighted the damage from recent flooding.
2017-12-29 12.10.27 Canoe Outpost — Peace River

Soon we arrived at the Canoe Outpost in Arcadia. Janice and Jill continued onto the the public boat ramp about 1 1/2 miles downstream. The outfitters not only helped me load my board onto my car, they also washed it!

Janice and Jill looked a bit stunned when they arrived at the boat ramp. They had seen Amphibious ATVs plowing through the river just upstream from the ramp. Who knew?

As we loaded the car, our minds had leapt ahead to the tacos at Chuey’s Taqueria and Ice Cream in Zolfo Springs. That meal alone is worth a return visit.

This 31-mile section of the Peace River is a perfect 2-3 day  paddleboard camping trip. Depending on water levels and river conditions, paddling the upper sections would make a longer trip. While paddling down the Peace River, it’s hard to believe that we were close to some of Florida’s most populated regions. But, Florida’s waterways, once our highways, offer us our best chance to experience wilderness.

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Photo by Jill Lingard

What Kayaking in Cuba Taught Me

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Lake Hanabanilla

We landed in Santa Clara, in the center of Cuba, our flight approximately half as long as our wait for a Cuban visa in Ft. Lauderdale. Not only would we paddle and snorkel in Cuba’s warm, clear water, but we would visit an island that has been essentially closed to residents of the US for my entire life. Kevin and I had been thinking about Cuba for several years, and Tommy Thompson’s Cuba Adventure Company trip promised a blend of nature and culture. In the summer of 2017, the Trump administration had blocked individual people-to-people tours to Cuba, but group people-to-people tours were still permitted in December. Cuba…only 90 miles from Florida but a world away.

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Courtesy of  World Atlas (https://www.worldatlas.com/webimage/countrys/namerica/caribb/cu.htm)
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Courtesy of Bob Bonnen

Tommy cheerfully greeted our group and introduced our Cuban guide, Bernie, who would help us understand life in Cuba. Tommy suggested that we practice patience, flexibility, and understanding when things didn’t go as planned, a prescient warning for our paddle on Lake Hanabanilla. As Tommy and Bernie explained the week’s program, our Chinese-manufactured tour bus carried us south towards our first night’s stop. We arrived at our government-run hotel and were told that all guests had been shifted to a nearby hotel. Our first lesson in flexibility.

Once ensconced in our rooms, we quickly found the hotel bar and its mojitos. We discovered that all Cuban bars serve Havana Club rum, not Bacardi, which is known internationally. (For a detailed explanation on why, check out the book Bacardi and the Long Fight for Cuba by Tom Gjelten, Penguin Group, 2008.) Cuban mojitos tend to be much less sweet than those served in the US.

The next morning we woke up to driving rain and the news that the axle on the kayak trailer had broken. Surely this development was related to the patience and understanding Tommy mentioned.

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Russian massage

After some delay, we loaded ourselves and our gear into our transport: a Russian army truck filled with rows of hard plastic seats. Rolling over the unpaved roads left no mystery about the term “Russian massage.”  In Cuba, I found, almost any transportation is good transportation. Transporting both goods and people is a serious challenge for Cuba because both cars and fuel are in short supply. This leads to food shortages and makes it difficult for people to get to their jobs.

Slightly worse for wear, we arrived at Lake Hanabanilla ready to paddle. The rain had given way to clear skies, and we launched on a glassy lake. However, the dark clouds that glowered over our destination foretold a stormy paddle. Soon, we struggled against wind and waves as a squall passed over us. Wet and weary, we landed at our “glamping” site and settled in for the evening. By far, this day’s paddle and “glamping” was the most challenging part of the trip.

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Let’s glamp!

By noon the next day, we dried out our gear at a hotel overlooking the lake. We enjoyed a fantastic meal of fried fish and tostones at a paladar, a family-run restaurant unlike most of the government-run establishments geared to tourists. Many of Cuba’s tourist establishments were originally built for visiting Soviets back when USSR and Cuba were strong allies. Cuba’s economy drastically changed when the USSR withdrew economic support in the early 1990s. Today, Cuba’s tourism economy is growing, including visits from Russians nostalgic for the Cuba they remember.

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The next morning, we drove to Guama, our launch site for our next paddle. Adjacent to our put-in lay what every paddler wants to see: a crocodile sanctuary, fortunately surrounded by a chain-link fence. For mere pesos, they allowed us to feed the crocodiles by dangling meat on a homemade fishing pole over the fence. (No, this would not happen in the US.) The sound of the snapping jaws resounded over the lake.

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Crocodile petting zoo

We went next door for an obscenely large lunch, including sauteed crocodile. (Tastes like gator.) During our stay, we had numerous large meals in restaurants geared to tourists. Since Cubans receive rations for limited quantities of food, the over-feeding of tourists was unsettling. In general, Cubans live on very little, approximately $30-40 per month, which means that most people must somehow supplement their official salary. It is not unusual for surgeons, for example, to drive a taxi to make ends meet.

After lunch, we paddled through mangrove-lined channels to Hotel Guama. I was especially looking forward to visiting Guama and Laguna del Tesoro (Treasure Lake). Fidel Castro had supervised this recreation of a Taino stilt village, and he appreciated the birds and natural beauty of this location. I wish we had more than one night to explore the creeks and bays of this quiet place.

The next day we headed towards the Bay of Pigs, a place name most of us had encountered in high school history classes. It struck me that, of our entire group, only my mother remembered these events in Cuban and US history. Despite its name, the Bay of Pigs is beautiful, and Playa Largo is known for its snorkeling and diving. We dipped our fins in to see for ourselves.

Bay of Pigs battle map
Bay of Pigs Battle map (Courtesy of Latinamericanstudies.org)
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Billboard near Giron, Bay of Pigs

Signs throughout Cuba remind visitors and residents of the revolution. Prominently placed billboards highlight quotes from Fidel Castro and others, and images of Castro and Che Guevara appear in many locations, urban and rural. The revolution and its heroes dominate the Cuban landscape and historical memory. So, while the Bay of Pigs might seem like ancient history, constant physical reminders bring it into the present.

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Sign in downtown Cienfuegos

We spent the last three days of the nature part of our trip in Guajamico on the southern coast. For those of us who salivate at the idea of snorkeling, this was heaven. Each day’s short paddle brought us to secluded beaches surrounded by colorful limestone cliffs, and from there we could don snorkeling gear and swim out to beautiful reefs.  One day’s schedule even included a ride on horseback from the beach to our lunch spot, with the Escambray Mountains as a backdrop.

And then the kayaks were put away, and it was time for Havana. Our guide Bernie left us, and Meylin joined us. After a week in quiet rural areas, the sights and sounds of Havana were quite a change. We stayed in a historic colonial building, now Hostal Las Maletas, with high ceiling and tall windows.

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In addition to the classic car tour and visiting the historic squares, we visited the Museum of the Revolution. Not surprisingly, the museum had its own interpretation of history and US involvement.

And, of course, we had drinks at Hemingway’s daiquiri bar, La Floridita.

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I loved this trip to Cuba, and I feel like I have just scratched the surface. I grew up during the Cold War, and Cuba seemed like such an alien place to me, like the communist USSR and Russia. Yet, I recently discovered that my grandparents honeymooned there, when Americans sought to escape the restrictions of Prohibition. So Cuba is part of my family history as well. This trip fulfilled the spirit of the people-to-people ideal. I’m already planning my return.

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Water Water Everywhere: Hurricane Irma

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Birds loved our post-Irma yard

I love water. Paddling, swimming, sailing, and surfing——bring it on! But after Irma, was it too much of a good thing? We’ve had droughts in Florida in recent years, and now, for the first time, we flooded. We were fine, but what about next time?

Over a week before Irma hit Florida, weather stations trumpeted dire warnings about a storm that would be wider than almost all of Florida. Kevin and I rarely watch TV, but the approaching storm kept us glued to the TV weather reports. And we prepped and prepped. We bought gas, grilling supplies, and brought critical gear into the house.

Fixings for Dark and Stormies
Every hurricane needs dark and stormy fixings
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Catching a ride

We went to One Love Cafe to hear the Shambles on Friday night. Then we waited.

The storm was supposed to hit sometime late Sunday night into Monday morning. Tropical storm winds were predicted for Gainesville. We tracked the storm as hit devastated the islands and moved towards south Florida, messaging with friends throughout the state.

By late Sunday night, we knew the storm’s track had shifted, but neither of us got much sleep anyway.

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Bathroom command post
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Early rain bands
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The deluge

By midday Monday, most of the rain had stopped, and we went outside to inspect the damage. We were lucky — other than a small flicker, we never lost power.

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Our new infinity pool!
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Backyard lake
Flooded street
Who needs streets when you’ve got canals

Flooded in! But we were still really lucky. No major damage. As the winds calmed, we took a water tour of our neighborhood. We paddled across our neighbors yard, out to 16th Avenue, and around the lake behind our house.  After being stuck inside for so long, we were all a bit stir-crazy.

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Paddling up our front walk
Katie paddles over our deck.
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Visiting our neighbors Marihelen and Paul across the lake

And then it was time for Dark and Stormies. After all the hurricane hysteria, we hadn’t touched our supply. We could start our clean-up the next day.

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Flooded garage
Vacuuming a flooded garage
Kevin cleaning the garage with a shop-vac
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Fish swim across our sidewalk

The next day Kevin and I emptied the garage of water, with a Shop-Vac and endless buckets of water.The streets stayed flooded for almost another week, thanks to a disagreement between city and county over drainage. Finally, a truck pumped the water into a sewer several blocks away. And we had our street back.

We got off easy, compared to others. But what about next time? Will rising sea temperatures lead to monster storms? As the map below demonstrates, Florida is a low state and especially vulnerable to sea level rise, whether or not our elected officials “believe” in climate change.

Florida sea level rise
(Map courtesy of Nasa)

We’re mostly back to normal, and a front of cold, dry air will wrap up the 2017 hurricane season. Now, as we look ahead, do we go back to “business as usual” or think seriously about climate change and how it affects our watery state.

Paddleboards in the Panhandle

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The Choctawhatchee River

Springs, a midnight swim, rope swings, and a water slide — Florida’s Panhandle catapulted me back to my childhood. Who knew that I could laugh so much in three days?

Four paddleboards, one Pilgrim Expedition, snorkeling gear, and loads of food. We pointed the Paddle Florida van west towards Lake Lucas in Chipley, Florida, our base while we explored this area between Panama Beach and the Alabama border. This inland region is dotted with rivers, lakes, and springs, ideal for paddleboarding and swimming, and the Gulf of Mexico is nearby for those wanting a saltwater fix.

Lake Lucas
View from our porch

We settled into our A-frame cabin, perched on the shore of Lake Lucas. Later that night, we paddled across the placid lake and lay on our boards, gazing up at the almost full moon. And that set the tone for the rest of the trip.

I woke up early the next morning–we had crossed into Central time. The moon lingered in the western sky while the dawn’s light was barely visible in the east. Coffee in hand, I sat on the dock and watched the celestial performance until the sun was high.

We planned a full day on Holmes Creek, a tributary of the Choctawhatchee River, and Cypress Springs and drove to the Holmes Canoe Livery and Water Park for a shuttle. While we waited for our shuttle, we enjoyed their water slide and rope swing. I’m not sure any of us have laughed so much in years, as we climbed up the tower and slid down into the water again and again. I could have happily spent the day there.

Rope swing and slide on Holmes Creek
Rope swing and slide on Holmes Creek

We launched at Culpepper Landing and paddled about a mile upstream to Cypress Springs, a local swimming hole. Many other swimmers and paddlers clearly had the same idea. We were not alone, but it never seemed overcrowded–amazing for a sunny summer day. We tied up our boards, donned mask, fins, and snorkel, and swam around the blue hole, diving deep against the rising current and watching the sky through the water’s distortion.

 

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Cypress Springs
The tannin line
The tannin line
Fins
Fins up in Cypress Springs

After swimming and eating lunch, we headed downstream to our takeout at Fanning Branch Boat Ramp. The spring was cold and I was ready to warm up.

As we paddled downstream, the river changed moods several times. Shallow and twisty-turny, like a creek, then wide and straight. Clear, like a spring run, and, in other places, opaque. Never predictable.

Katie on Holmes Creek
Holmes Creek
Holmes Creek
Reflections

 

Placid waters on Holmes Creek
A hidden spring?
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Cooling off in Holmes Creek

After several miles, we passed the Holmes Creek Canoe Livery and Waterpark, where many people completed their trip. After a short break, we continued downstream for the last four miles of our trip. Once again the river changed moods, and our paddling became more challenging. The Livery warned us that we would be ducking under trees, and they were right. Once we lay flat on our boards, using our arms to weave through a tangle of branches. Several times, we crawled to the front of our board to free the fins  caught on submerged branches, a hazard unique to paddleboards. Several times, I heard the splash of someone going in. Through it all, we laughed and laughed, mostly because it felt good to be in the water. We endured a long paddle that day, about 9 miles, and I was both sad and relieved when we reached Fanning Branch.

On our third and final day, we planned  a five-mile paddle on the Choctawhatchee River, from the New Cedar Log Landing boat ramp to Morrison Springs.  The river was high, possibly at flood stage, and moving fast. Rain had recently soaked the Panhandle, and the high river flow had drowned out Morrison Springs. Nonetheless, Morrison Springs was our take-out, and we hoped that we would find the entrance to the spring, not obvious even under ideal circumstances.

 

We pushed our boards into the swiftly moving current and sped downstream. The Choctawhatchee is wide with few obstacles, unlike Holmes Creek. A fisherman told us the spring entrance was marked by a giant leaning cypress, and hence the quest for the cypress began.

Flooded Choctawhatchee River

Sand bluffs on the Choctawhatchee
Sand bluffs on the Choctawhatchee
Floating camp on the Choctawhatchee
One of many river camps
Choctwhatchee bench
Park bench on the river bank

We scoured the river banks for the elusive leaning cypress. Instead we saw floating river camps, a park bench with a view, and sandy bluffs eroded by years of floods. “Is that it?” we asked again and again, each time we floated by anything remotely resembling a leaning cypress. We paddled on, recalculating how far we had paddled.

Finally we came to a boat launch and discovered that Morrison Springs was three miles upstream. No way were we paddling against that current, and a storm was rolling in. A  fisherman, kind enough not to laugh at our predicament, us to our cars. It would have been a long walk to the road.

Coming in for a landing
Coming in for a landing

Boat ramp

Hitching a ride
Hitching a ride

On our way home, we stopped at Ponce de Leon State Park for a final swim. As we dove and snorkeled in this fountain of youth, it seemed fitting to end our adventure here as we had spent the last three days laughing and playing like kids. Being on a paddleboard, so close to the water, jumping off and climbing back on, brought out the kid in all of us.

This short trip offered a taste of paddling in the Panhandle, and it was also a preview of Paddle Florida’s new Choctawhatchee Challenge scheduled for March 2018. I can’t wait to paddle more of this wonderful part of Florida.

Ponce de leon Springs
Revived by Ponce de Leon State Park

 

 

 

Paddleboarding to Paradise: Caladesi Style

Is Caladesi Island State Park paradise? It just might be. Beaches, mangroves, birds, and dolphins — what’s not to love? And it’s even better with a paddleboard.

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Boat and board

Is Caladesi Island State Park paradise? It just might be. Beaches, mangroves, birds, and dolphins — what’s not to love? And it’s even better with a paddleboard.

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Reflections of mangroves

The conditions were perfect to sail from Clearwater Beach Marina to Caladesi Island State Park. My inflatable paddleboard was rolled up in the cabin–our last sailing trip to the Keys revealed some downsides to towing the paddleboard (From Sail2SUP in the Keys).  We motored out to the Gulf through Clearwater Pass, then raised our sails, catching a light southerly breeze to carry us north. The carnivalesque feel of Clearwater Beach faded as we sailed along Caladesi Island toward Dunedin Pass, our entry point to the Caladesi Island Marina. We navigated through the narrow pass, then followed the channel markers to the marina. Caladesi Island is only accessible by boat, so the marina is the primary port of entry.

empty boat slips in Caladesi Marina
Slips in Caladesi Marina

As soon as we entered the marina, I knew we were home. We planned to return to Clearwater Beach that night, but I did not want to leave. Plus, we had all of our food, clothing, and water with us — the benefits of a floating tent, as I call our 18′ Sanibel. Although Caladesi Island State Park does not allow camping, you can stay on your boat. So we had our own tropical paradise.

Gopher tortoise
Gopher tortoise
Palm trees
Palm trees

We checked in and paid our docking fee, at $1 per foot, inexpensive relative to most marinas. Then, I inflated my paddleboard and set out to explore. I knew the calm waters around Caladesi Island would be perfect for paddleboarding. The shallow water was clear enough to see fish and the occasional stingray, and the mangroves blocked the wind. I only had time for a brief paddle before sunset, but I paddled in nearby channels and saw a variety of birds.

bird perched on red mangrove
Cormorant in mangrove
pelican in channel to Caladesi
Pelican perched on marker
Egret
Egret looking for food

Since it was low tide, I stayed close to the main boat channel so my paddleboard fin didn’t drag in the mud. Water depth is only a few feet most of the water so most of the area is inaccessible to motorized vessels. Returning to the marina, I crossed paths with the Caladesi Ferry which was bringing the last visitors of the day back to the mainland.

Caladesi Ferry
Ferry leaving Caladesi Island
Caladesi Ferry on Still water
Navigating the channel markers

I returned in time for a brilliant sunset. My husband and I crossed the boardwalk over the dunes and watched the sun dip below the horizon. Caladesi Island is narrow so walking the width of the island takes little time.

The sunset was romantic, but our dinner was not: a Channa Masala boil-in-bag by Backpackers Pantry. Oh well. Still nothing could mar this beautiful place. I slept better than I had in days and almost missed the sunrise.

Marina sunrise
Caladesi sunrise

What a perfect morning — watching the sunrise with a hot cup of coffee. I was so relaxed I felt like I could melt. The calm morning boded well for another paddleboard trip. This time, I wanted to paddle north along the bay side of Caladesi and come back down on the Gulf side.

glassy entrance to Caladesi Island State Park
Navigational markers to St. Joseph’s Bay

I set out following the channel markers, reversing our course of the day before, and soon entered the bay. I watched a dolphin chasing prey through the shallow waters. Since the water was so shallow, the dolphin’s back and fin were exposed as it chased down fish. I’ve seen dolphin circling to round up prey at low tide, but I have never seen so much of the dolphin’s body exposed.

dolphin chasing fish
Dolphin feeding frenzy
fish lea;ing to escape dolphin
Fish escaping dolphin

I watched the show with a group of kayakers who were heading towards the Caladesi. They were looking for the Canoe/Kayak Trail that starts in the marina. FPTA has an interactive map that gives the coordinates of this trail and the Central Florida Kayak Trips website another page that gives logistics for paddling the five miles from the Dunedin Causeway.

Paddle trail sign
Marina paddle trail

The calm waters of the bay are perfect for kayaking and paddleboarding. Sail Honeymoon, located on the Dunedin causeway rents both kayaks and paddleboards, and a number of paddlers were enjoying the waters. Florida Rambler’s blog  Caladesi Island: Kayak to a Wild Beach offers a detailed discussion of the trip as well as logistics about rentals.

fishing gear on kayak
Kayak fishing off Caladesi
Kayakers near north end of Caladesi
Kayakers approach Caladesi Island
ducks swimming around north end of Caladesi
Swimming ducks

The day before, Kevin and I had seen the hull of a boat on a sandbar in the bay. I paddled to this poor de-masted sailboat, lying on its side.

Shortly after I passed the sailboat, I rounded the north end of the island and entered the channel. The water became choppy as the winds and currents met. Most of the small kayaks beached on the bay side, and only longer sea kayaks paddled down the Gulf side.

Sea kayaks on the Gulf
Sea kayaks on the gulf

The Gulf had small 1′ rollers which kept my attention on a 10 1/2′ paddleboard. I missed the stability of my expedition board, but was glad for my previous experience paddling in the surf. I paddled along the shore until I reached the blue umbrellas on the beach. Then I carried my paddleboard across the island, back to KneeDeep, and deflated it for our sail back to Clearwater Beach. My only regret: not staying longer. Caladesi and the neighboring islands are a paddleboarder’s paradise.

Umbrellas on beach
Caladesi Beach
Paddleboard on Caladesi Beach
The SUP has Landed