Okefenokee – The Land of the Trembling Earth

About 60 miles northeast of the Ichetucknee Springs is the Okefenokee Swamp. The swamp is protected within the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, a 402,000 acre tract of land in the southeast corner of Georgia. To give you an idea as to the remoteness of this area, the 80 acre Stephen C. Foster State Park, where we camped, is 17 miles inside the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge western boundary. To get to Fargo, the nearest town, you must go outside the Refuge then drive a mile or so to “town”. Fargo’s “town” consists of a cafe, convenience store/gas station and a post office. The closest full-service grocery store is a 46 mile drive south to Lake City, Florida, which we drove through on our way to the Swamp. Fortunately we had enough food to last us through our one week stay and only needed to pick up enough OJ to last us.

The evening we arrived, Friday, April 23^rd, we decided to participate in the sunset pontoon boat ride. At 7:30 p.m. we hopped aboard with the family acting as our Camp Host, and a young ranger of the fairer sex, and putted out the narrow canal, cramped by trees and water plants concealing young alligators, to the open water. The Okefenokee Swamp contains the headwaters of the Suwannee River. With the song, Way Down Upon the Suwannee River, playing in our heads, we drank in the beauty around us. The banks were thick with young and mature trees their branches encased with freshly grown leaves creating a solid wall of green, broken only by the gray bark of an errant, ancient cypress standing slightly offshore. As the evening darkened, the surprisingly loud croak of tree frogs melded with the crickets’ chirps and whoosh of turkey buzzard’s wings as they vied for select spots on the dead tree branches high overhead. Chris took her camera along and captured abstract images of the pink clouds and black silhouetted tree reflections in the boat’s wake.

Reflections of the pink clouds and black shadows of trees in the bow wake of the boat.

Silhouette of a cypress tree against the setting sun.

Once dark settled in the ranger brought out a powerful spotlight and, in its beam we beheld the full number of winged nighttime pests that could have affected our comfort had we not been moving. Orion and the Big Dipper loomed above as we learned why the area was dubbed by the Indians, The Land of the Trembling Earth. Our guide pulled the boat into a grassy area, walked forward, picked up a paddle and stabbed into the grass – which moved – up and down. She explained that much of the earth in the swamp actually consists of peat. It breaks free from below the water and rises to the surface creating a perfect platform for seeds to germinate. The first to take hold are grasses whose roots spread through the peat creating a denser mat where tree seeds sprout, their roots then descend through the water to the bottom where they anchor the floating grassy bed. This is the Trembling Earth because if you attempt to walk on it, it moves underfoot. Eventually the grasses and other plants accumulate enough debris to become a small island which may or may not attach itself to the bank.

Chris took this photo of the trees along the bank as they were briefly lit by the spotlight.

The distortion is caused by a longer shutter speed due to the low light conditions.

Jay, being the lover of reptiles that he is, was so excited since he was certain the Okefenokee Swamp had to be crawling with the snakes and lizards he so adores. Throughout our stay we hiked three trails; two on solid ground and one along a raised deck through a mucky, standing water area. A group of women we passed told him of two Cottonmouth Snakes they had sighted further along beside the deck. Unfortunately they were gone when we arrived. He had to be consoled with the one, small, Black Racer Snake we did see and a Green Anole lizard that day. We also spent three days on the water and he felt certain he would spot snakes at some point while we were deep in the swamp on the narrow, inky streams: But, it was not to be. His only consolation was a snake presentation the park hosted one evening. He got to handle a Gray Rat Snake, Yellow Rat Snake and an Eastern King Snake; all non-venomous.

A happy Jay holding a Yellow Rat Snake.

Although we love to canoe and experience the silence and splendor of these natural areas the craft is too tipsy for Chris to comfortably take her good camera gear along and she makes do with the pocket-sized, point-and-shoot just to record the experience. The scenes of cypress and water at Okefenokee warranted renting a flat-bottom boat with outboard motor to provide a sturdy platform for the tripod. There were still problems with keeping the boat stationary long enough to capture sharp images during a long exposure, but at least we got to spend several days outdoors enjoying the perfect spring weather - with one exception.

We started out late in the day to catch the low, afternoon slant of the sun’s rays and were surprised to find a cloudy sky above which was contrary to the day's forecast of mostly sunny. Undaunted, we motored up the creek to photograph taking advantage of the soft light. The afternoon progressed and there was a sudden chill to an increasing wind. We motored a little further and encountered a sprinkle. Chris pulled out the two, large, garbage bags she always carries in her camera bag and quickly covered it and the camera. The sprinkle turned into a healthy shower, made all the more intense by the increased speed of our boat as we high-tailed it toward a shelter we knew was about a mile ahead. The shelter afforded a space to dry off ourselves and the gear, which Chris then secured inside the plastic bags. A break in the rain turned out to be a sucker hole as we boarded the boat and headed for home, only to be caught in another downpour. Wishing we had extra garbage bags for ourselves, or had been smart enough to bring our rain jackets, we sped home. With teeth chattering and soaked to the skin, we secured the boat and hustled back to the trailer for a couple of hot showers.

A view as we journeyed through the swamp.

Reflection of a large cypress tree base in still water.

Our fear of becoming pin cushions for the gazillion resident mosquitoes was unfounded. Contrary to our expectations, the days were crystal clear, dry, warm and sunny and perhaps not the kind of clime that warrants their emergence. It wasn’t until our last night there that the humidity settled in and we had to swat a few before falling asleep to the surrounding silence.

A drawback to such remote locations is the lack of compatibility with today’s technologies. We rely on cell phones exclusively for our verbal communication and a wireless router, that uses a cell signal, for our internet. During our stay at Ichetucknee Springs Chris caught up on all of her blog entries but didn’t have time to upload them. Her plan to upload them at Okefenokee was dashed when she realized even Jay’s cell phone, which seems to always have at least two bars of signal, only had one bar. The time it took to open a single web page allowed one to brush their teeth, or make the bed, or get a beverage. To say that posting text and photos with the internet speed of a snail was frustrating is an understatement. Our next stop was a weekend in Tallahassee to visit Jay’s daughter and we were confident that the signal would be adequate for the task at hand.

Tackling the Taxes

Not able to put off our taxes any longer we headed to a location where we deemed there were no tempting activities to distract us. A couple of weeks before, when we’d paddled the Ichetucknee River, we met the Rosses at a campground where we were to pick up our kayaks. Although not very upscale, it was a beautiful location and in a remote area. So, we made arrangements to spend two weeks there and arrived on Friday, April 2^nd. It was probably the best decision we’d made on our trip so far. The campground was fairly large and contained sites with full hookups, which we required, but also small cabins and primitive tent camping sites under a canopy of deciduous and cedar trees. The ground was practically devoid of any undergrowth, so the entire area was park-like and the most peaceful location we had yet encountered. Being off season for Floridians, it was virtually empty during the week and only populated by a handful of campers on the weekends. Thus we had the entire place to ourselves.

Some sites in the primitive camping area.

More campsites.

Every year we prepare our tax returns with Turbo Tax and have a program disk automatically mailed to us. Chris was certain she had received it and filed it with the 2009 receipts but after tearing the trailer apart searching for it we determined it had been left behind. You might say, “Well, why didn’t you just download it from the internet?” Remember we were in a remote location with only two bars of cell signal strength which we connect to with a Verizon router. Although it is faster than dial-up it is nowhere near the speed of cable. The Turbo Tax program was over 500 Megabytes in size. It would have taken a considerable amount of time to download, provided we didn’t lose the signal, and utilized a huge amount of our 5 Gigabyte monthly allotment.

A call to Intuit left us concerned that, despite the two weeks we’d allowed to complete them, we might end up filing for an extension. We appreciate the need for companies to outsource their support staff to countries that pay less than American wages, but we feel the quality of customer support deteriorates significantly when we can’t comprehend what the technician says and they can’t understand us. Jay’s nearly 24 years of Coast Guard communications training and his ability to use phonetic spelling and enunciate clearly, over both radio and telephone, was of no help. A process that should have taken no more than 15 minutes took well over an hour as the young, female, heavily Asian accented technician had to repeatedly take down our different shipping and billing addresses and credit card information. She assured us that we would have the disk within 5 working days and, because it was shipping from South Carolina, we thought it would be less, but we hung up dreading that we would never see a Turbo Tax disk.

The next day Chris received two e-mails from Intuit confirming the shipping of two disks; one e-mail had a disk shipped to our mailing address in Crestview, Florida and the other to our address at Ichetucknee Springs, misspelled as Ichetucqnee. At this point, our discomfort with the situation rose precipitously and we immediately made another phone call. This Asian assistant was more familiar with the English language, completed our transaction in an acceptable amount of time and, much to our relief, arranged for an overnight delivery. The next day we had our tax treasure in hand. Glad that we had possession of the disk, but dreading the task ahead, Jay installed the program.

In case you are wondering about when we received the disks that were mailed to us, the one addressed to the campground arrived on April 16^th and the one sent to our mailing address arrived in our forwarded mail on – are you ready for this – April 24^th. Glad we made that second phone call. Next year we’re starting taxes at the beginning of March.

The day of our kayak trip, two weeks before, we met Loye Barnard, a local resident and the woman who organized the excursion. She and her husband, Barney, owned an aloe plantation on Dominica, Jay and Chris’ favorite Caribbean island and she asked us to stop by for a visit when we brought the RV to the campground. Their incredible home is situated in a clearing tucked in the middle of 70 acres of woodlands just a few miles from where we were staying. The house is made from wood, inside and out. Kitchen shelving and even the counter are made from wide slabs of heavily varnished pecan, the bark still on the edges. The floor is yellow pine with a 4 foot wide undulating ribbon of pecan leading from the front door to the opposite hallway. All interior walls and the vaulted ceilings are tongue and groove pecan. When trees are logged and floated down rivers for transport, some sink before reaching their destination. Loye and Barney were fortunate to know someone who retrieves these sodden logs and acquired several unusually shaped ones. The bark was stripped, the underlying wood varnished and they now support the ceilings. Chris was so entranced with the unique features of the home she was moved to photograph it but neither her nor Loye’s schedules permitted the time.

We enjoyed hearing about their days on Dominica and viewing the aerial photos of their plantation, recently sent to them by a National Geographic photographer friend, as we sat in shady, breezy comfort on their screened porch. Our visit was a brief few hours and we left wishing we didn’t have to meet such a pressing deadline.

On April 14^th we sighed with relief after dropping the completed tax returns at the post office and were free to attend the Tea Party at Jacksonville the following day. It was also a good excuse to see Wally Holdstein again and meet his girlfriend, Pam. We arranged to meet for dinner at the Jacksonville Landing where the rally was being held. In an effort to capture any rabble rousers trying to give the Tea Partiers a bad image, we dragged out the video camera, charged up the battery and tested it.

We drove in early to find a good place to park and get a lay of the land. Jacksonville Landing is a two-story U-shaped shopping and dining area with a multi-level, brick, central plaza much like the Baltimore Inner Harbor. A sizeable stage had been set up at the St. Johns River side of the plaza with the front facing in and Tea Party organizers were setting up booths and attending to last minute details while participants staked out territories on the balcony overlooking the scene. After Jay purchased a “Don’t Tread on Me” flag we wandered over to an area where a 2’ wide paper rolled up at each end like a scroll was stretched the length of two, long tables. It was a petition requesting Congress to abide by the Constitution that all attendees were asked to sign. We needed no encouragement and immediately grabbed two, bold markers and added our John Hancocks, in about the same size.

Our dinner table was situated next to a large window that overlooked the plaza and until the throngs assembled, we had a pretty good view. Our visit with Wally and Pam was wonderful but, because of Pam’s early work hours, they had to leave before the rally was over. After our goodbyes we moved to the outside dining area and Chris stood on a chair to see over the heads of the 2,000 plus patriots between her and the stage. The colorful Stars and Stripes, bright, yellow “Don’t Tread on Me” flags and homemade signs of all sizes, shapes and colors popped up and waved when participants cheered in agreement with the speakers. It was an enthusiastic, but orderly crowd of over 3,000 and the positive energy was palpable. It made us feel that there is hope for this country after all with such good people willing to put their patriotism on display.

Stars and Stripes and Don’t Tread on Me flags held aloft as a sign of agreement with the speaker’s comments.

This woman was waving three flags!

One of the homemade signs.

Just outside a window at Chris’ desk was a pine tree the diameter of a 55 gallon drum. Every few days a Pileated woodpecker would land at its base, peck away bark and soft wood, and fill its belly with the insects residing therein. One day Chris just had to get a picture of this gorgeous creature and out came the long lens. Not having enough time or space to set up a tripod, she hand held the camera, fired off over 70 frames and hoped for the best. She was greatly rewarded with some amazing photos like the one below.

Watching him flick off large chunks of bark and dig into the exposed wood of this pine tree helped us understand the strength of his bill.

Note the gouges in the trunk of this tree.

The weather gradually warmed during our stay and soft, new leaves grew daily on the surrounding trees making our view even more lovely. With the taxes done and no future plans made, we decided to extend our stay beyond April 19^th to the 23^rd, and allow more time for Chris to create and post blog chapters and for Jay to finally patch the hole in the roof we acquired during our stay in Savannah back in November.

Flutterbys and the Devil’s Mill

It was already April 1^st and we were scheduled to leave the following day for Fort White, near Ichetucknee Springs for two weeks of tackling taxes and catching up on all of the blog postings. But we couldn’t leave the Paynes Prairie area without exploring the Devil’s Millhopper sink hole. One cannot go anywhere in Florida without seeing or talking to someone about sinkholes. They are quite common and are created by rainwater gradually dissolving layers of limestone that cap underground aquifers. In their weakened state they collapse carrying whatever is on the surface with them, be they roads, pastures or houses. They range in size anywhere from a few feet to more than a hundred in diameter. Devil’s Millhopper falls in the latter category measuring 500 feet across and 120 feet deep. The floor is reached via a 220-step stairway that zigs and zags down the almost vertical sides, continues across one side of the bottom to a raised viewing platform situated above a small stream that disappears into the ground. The stream is fed from several others that cascade down rocks from above, or pop out of the rock within 20 to 30 feet from the base. No information was provided as to the age of the hole, but sizeable trees, mature ferns and mosses clung to the rocky facades as if they had been there for hundreds of years.

The bottom portion of the stairway.

One of the many springs sprouting from the walls of the sinkhole.

The way down was much easier than the ascent but we didn’t have as tough a time of it as we know others did who were many years our junior, but more than twice our size.

We’d also heard so much about the Butterfly Rainforest at the University of Florida that we found the time to squeeze in a visit that afternoon. The huge, screened atrium was beautifully landscaped with tropical plants, waterfalls and koi ponds. Hundreds of butterflies flitted by, sometimes resting on plants, sometimes on people, sometimes on the stone walkways. We found the best way to experience them was to sit on one of the many ornate, iron benches and just watch them dance around us, then move to another bench to see if species we hadn’t yet seen frequented other areas.

Just one of the hundreds of butterflies in the garden.

The garden was beautifully done and visitors of all ages enjoyed themselves.

The weather was perfect and Chris could have sat there the rest of the day but Jay noticed the time and encouraged her to accompany him to the adjacent Natural History Museum before it closed. She was glad he did as the exhibits were exceptionally well done. Much attention was given to the Calusa Indians that lived throughout Florida long before the white men came. The life-size human figures in the displays were so realistic we expected them to speak to us. Chris determined that with the resources of an entire University at their disposal, the designers commandeered art majors to contribute their talents. The underwater exhibit featured a 12-times life size underwater scene lit by blue lamps to simulate the fish, crustaceans and other life forms in Florida’s estuaries. There was much more to see but not enough time. We could easily have spent another week in the area, but taxes were coming due and we had to move to a quiet place devoid of temptations.

Relaxin’ with the Laxons

Jay has continued friendships with a number of charter guests from his time in the Virgin Islands. Michel (pronounced like Michelle) Laxson is one of those friends. She and her husband, John, live in the tiny town of Melrose on Santa Fe Lake and invited us to share a day with them. We met at a community fair and immediately fell into comfortable conversation as we strolled around the grounds then paused at a wildlife shelter booth that had two live owls that had been rehabilitated; a large Barred Owl and a cute little Screech Owl. They were the last things we expected to see that day but genuinely treasured the encounter.

The gorgeous Barred Owl perched on a T-stand.

Isn’t he the cutest little bird? He was less than 8” tall.

We followed the Laxons home where they treated us to a tour around the lake on their pontoon boat. Michel learned of our quest to find an area where we may want to live and immediately started espousing the advantages of a number of homes currently on the market in the area. The lake certainly had its appeal, but we weren’t ready to commit to Florida quite yet: Maybe after we’ve seen the rest of the country for comparison.

Both John and Michel have home based businesses; John is a stock fund manager consultant and Michele runs a river tour company, paddling on rivers throughout Florida and as far away as Hawaii. Kayaks in a rainbow of colors rest atop racks along one whole side of their backyard and, in a secure garage, a variety of sturdy canoes occupy the arms of a trailer used to transport them to and from the water. She suggested a couple of rivers that we could paddle over the next week and showed us the boats she recommended we should use. We decided to commit to the Oklawaha River and depending on how it went, then do the Silver River, her favorite.

John, Michel and their pet cat in front of their home.

They own a lot nearby where they grow grapefruit and several different varieties of oranges which they primarily juice. They showed us three different varieties and let us taste the juice from each. The color, texture and flavor of each was unique ranging from tiny, reddish orange to large, yellow orange fruit and juice. It was quite an education for us. We shared a wonderful dinner and they would not let us leave without taking a bucketful of oranges freshly picked from their orchard and a lemon the size of a grapefruit.

On Monday the 29^th, Michel, and her padding friend Mark, met us at the Ray Wayside Park for a ride down the Oklawaha River. We were very impressed with the gear she provided and the safety precautions taken with respect to securing gear in heavy, vinyl, waterproof bags. She even brought seat back supports to ease the strain on our backs.

Here we are just before launching the canoes.

We launched the canoes and slipped through a canal entirely enveloped with the fresh, spring greenery of trees and lily pads on our way to the river. In the preceding weeks, strong storms had dumped unusually large amounts of rain on the area raising the level of the river by several feet and washing in tannins from the surrounding woodlands causing the water to become brown. The sighting of turtles, alligators and water birds was affected by the increased depth as many of the fallen trees they would normally rest on were underwater. This forced them deeper into the woods to find perches and thus out of our sight. Regardless, the river was beautiful and the bounty of greenery that had popped out with the ever increasing warm temperatures further lifted our spirits after such a cold, gray, dismal winter. Our drowsy drift down the river created a melancholy peace seemingly unachievable by any other means.

We had to paddle through this gorgeous canal, lined with lily pads on our way to the Oklawaha River.

Upon our return to the park Michel produced a Ruby Red grapefruit the size of Chris’ head and gave it to us. We’d never seen a fruit so monstrous and were concerned that it might be too bitter for our tastes. A few days later we peeled it and following a “You go first” debate apprehensively tasted a small section. Our eyes widened in astonishment at its sweet succulence and we continued to dip into it until our stomachs could hold no more. Much to our dismay, after four days of snacking and using it for dinner side dishes, it was gone.

Chris couldn’t wrap her hands around this monstrous grapefruit.

Michele had not wanted us to tackle the Silver River until she determined our level of boating skills. We must have passed the test because she was eager to take us up the Silver River. We didn’t completely understand how, but we accessed the Silver River by the same park we had the Oklawaha, only we turned to the right, not the left. She suggested we use kayaks, not canoes as we had to paddle upstream to the headwaters then turn around and drift home.

Up to this time we had only floated down rivers and a minimum amount of paddling was needed for steering, or to get closer to observe something of interest, resulting in wonderfully relaxing days. Although the Silver River was just as beautiful as the others, there was little time to relax and absorb the surroundings due to the concentration required to propel us the four hours upstream against at least a 2 knot current. Staying along the sides helped but if we veered just a little into the center, the current immediately grabbed the bow of the kayak in an attempt to take it with it and more effort was required to reposition the craft and continue forward. Michel mentioned that because the river was so engorged and spread out the current was slacker than usual – music to our ears, but not necessarily to our muscles. Rest stops along the way helped and Chris was glad she’d spent the last few months building up her arm muscles with frequent exercise.

Chris took more photos of the beautiful scenes along this river than any other.

Rhesus monkeys inhabit the forest surrounding the river and Michele asked boaters that passed us if they had seen any. Many had and before long we came across a group of them that had gathered in some waterside trees. These little guys were adorable! Almost beige in color, they seemed to be no more than 3 feet in length, including their tails. Young monkeys clumsily chased each other through the branches, mothers were settled on sturdy limbs grooming and feeding their babies and larger males positioned themselves in guarded stances. All their eyes were directed our way as if we were just as entertaining to them as they were to us.

Our little point and shoot camera couldn’t take close enough photos to post here so, check out this video of stills by Paddle4Life.

Michel took this photo of the monkeys.

We knew we were near the headwaters before seeing them because of the elevator music and loud speaker enhanced voices of the glass bottom boat captains. Over the years the area has been developed into an amusement park-like attraction with groomed grounds, docks for several glass-bottom boats and other features to which we were not privy from our perspective on the water – in our opinion the best place to be. We were there on a Wednesday and the place was packed!!

The park launches the glass bottom boats from this area all day long.
This headwater is pool is larger than any we’d seen.

Admittedly the pool at the headwaters was spectacular in its clarity, size and depth (around 80 feet) and well worth the trip, but our stay was brief as we preferred the quiet and natural features of whence we had come to the carnival of humanity before us. Besides we didn’t want to get sideswiped by a glass-bottom boat.

Ahhhh, the drift home was glorious. We had time to enjoy the scenery, take pictures of purple iris, reflections of trees, soak up the warm sunshine and hang our bare feet in the water to cool us on this – are you ready for this – a little overly warm day. Not quite what we would consider hot, but warmer than we had recently experienced. Finally!!!

Michele took this photo of us during a short rest on our way back down the river.

In between our river runs, we squeezed in a dinner with another Coast Guard friend of Jay’s, Wally Holdstein. He lives in Jacksonville so we arranged to meet halfway in a little town called Starke. Since Chris is on a vegan diet we located a Chinese buffet restaurant where each of us was sure to find something they liked – if it had been fresh, that is. Chris could honestly say that she had never had worse food anywhere in her life. It was most likely due to the fact that we arrived in the early evening and they had not yet pulled the trays of food left over from lunch which had, shall we say, hardened since then, and restocked with freshly prepared entrees. Despite the rubbery fare, we had a wonderful visit with Wally catching up on our present lives and sharing stories from past.

Although we didn’t get a photo of it, we did find Waldo on the way there. Check it out here.

Bats and the Itch

We’re all familiar with bats and occasionally may see them darting through the air at dusk as they feed on mosquitoes and other pesky insects that reduce the pleasure of our outdoor experiences. As mentioned above the University of Florida campus has two bat houses located in an open field in the heart of the campus across from Lake Alice, a large recreational area. The bats hang out in what appear to be gabled rooflines of houses perched 20-some feet atop five stout pilings. One with four triangular shaped gables at right angles to each other, the second looking like the roof of a small barn. Both have black, bat silhouettes affixed to their faces.

The bat silhouette on the front of the barn shaped bat house.

With cameras in hand we arrived before dusk and, to capture an unobstructed view, positioned ourselves along a wooden, board fence that surrounded the field. Before long at least a score of other curious onlookers filtered into watch the show. Jay and I chatted with another couple and watched a hawk get into position for his evening meal.

Finally a smudge of black flashed out from under a roof; then another, then two, then ten and in moments the sky was black with these flying mammals contorting through the air in a quest to fill their bellies. With these tiny aerial acrobats came a heavy, musky odor not unlike what one would experience from a caged animal at a zoo; a scent totally unexpected on our part. It seemed just as quickly as the exodus began, it ended and one hundred thousand bats were dispersed through the night. Jay was overjoyed as he never got one mosquito bite the whole evening. We left knowing that, outside of trekking to some exotic jungle location, we may never experience anything quite like it again.

Go to this link for a video of the bats and the hawk.

There they go – by the thousands.

On the 26^th we met Art and Edda Ross for a ranger guided kayak trip down the Ichetucknee Spring. Like the Rainbow River, the water was crystalline and the sandy bottom darkened by a forest of lush grasses. With the weather warming, luminescent, green blades of wild rice stretched out of the water, their roots providing marshy habitat for young fish and amphibians. Massive Cypress trunks lined the banks, their roots splaying into water that reflected their fragmented images to those passing by. Patches of fresh chartreuse leaves peppered the solid gray of Spanish moss wafting overhead like confetti at a Mardi Gras parade.

Notice the circular area in the middle of the pool where the spring water breaks the surface.

Freshly emerged blades of rice grasses backlit by the sun.

The massive, contorted root structure of a gorgeous cypress tree.

Our guide, Park biologist Ginger Morgan, pointed out wildlife and features of the river we would not have known otherwise, including where a, now long gone, settlement had sprung up around a mill located in an idyllic wooded setting on a branch of the river, and where beaver had gnawed the bark off of tree trunks exposing fresh, pale wood. We saw our first wild Wood Stork and Pileated Woodpecker, and Jay got a close-up look at another young water snake. Turtles the size of platters sunned themselves on logs and the day ended with a most spectacular treat - three manatees.

Just before we reached the landing at the end of our voyage, a baby and two adult manatees appeared just below the surface of the water. Periodically one would break the surface with just its nose for a breath of air then slowly descend a few feet and continue its languid swim. Ginger was looking them over for scars or other identifying features to determine if they had been on the river before while Jay maneuvered the kayak into the best positions for Chris to take pictures being careful to not be above them or accidently jab them with a paddle.

A huge manatee just under the surface of the water.

A mother catching a breath of air as she swims next to her baby.