The Ichnetucknee River had a mind of its own, determined, focused, flowing at a fast clip, mysteriously drawn towards the Santa Fe River that then flows into the Gulf of Mexico. I don’t resist. Putting the paddle down on the kayak, the current takes me where it will.
Our kayaks put in at the north end of the Ichnetucknee Springs State Park in Fort White, Florida. We, some 14 of us, are all part of a kayak trip organized by Lars Andersen with Adventure Outpost in High Springs.
Lars has a “Wanna Go list” and sends out e-mails of upcoming trips. A girl named Sharon from Jacksonville said she’d been on Lars’ list for two years and this was the first time she could make a trip. A night dispatcher, she worked the night before,got no sleep, drove two hours, and was ready to get in the water and go.
In a kayak, the view is different, higher up. Putting the paddle down is like going from being the driver – steer this way, steer that way, to being a passenger. There is time to look around at the banks of the river. My hands are in my lap. The current is driving. I’m the passenger, sightseeing.
This is wild, untamed, natural Florida. That means there are snakes and alligators high up there on the food chain. Out of respect for them (or should I say fear), I stay in the kayak. No swimming for me.
I see clusters of white apple snail eggs deposited above the water line, glued to the bark to cypress trees. The snails thwart predators by putting the eggs there, giving the young ones a chance to hatch without immediately being eaten by a fish.
Huge cypress trees grow up, up, up, reaching for the sky with their roots in water. I never noticed before but here, out in this unspoiled river wilderness, the air carries the odor of cypress.
Today is overcast; thank goodness, no merciless summer sun to fry us into crispy critters. Perhaps the overcast holds in the air’s perfume. It smells woodsy, with deep green overtones, call it eau de swamp.
Just one paddler ahead of me and she strokes away, leaving me in the dust. The rest of the crew is way behind. I puzzle about this, briefly, and find out later that Lars is giving natural history pointers along the way, and the other paddlers are all clustered around him. At one point he pulls a snake out of the tree to show them. I’m glad I missed that part.
So for a few miles, it is just the river and me. I feel like I’m the first human to ever see these parts, a visitor to a world coveted by developers and prime riverfront property. Fortunately, the Ich is inside Ichnetucknee Springs State Park and will be forever free. Thank you, thank you, to park planners and the Florida Legislature who had the foresight to do this deed back in 1970.
You may already know the south end of the Ichnetucknee Springs State Park. That’s where the tubers put in for several hours of floating along. When my kids were little, we went down the Itch on tubes. It is a rite of passage for Floridians, part of bonding with the landscape.
The water is a bracing 72 degrees all year long. You can freeze your ass sitting in a tube. The better course of action is to bring goggles and a snorkel, lay on your stomach and watch the incredible wet world below. Sea grasses swaying in clear water. Young bass darting out of your shadow.
We went back a few years ago, all adults now. At the end of the float trip, my middle son said tubing wasn’t as much fun as when he was little, but maybe he’s too hooked into the fast lane.
Time to slow down there, son.
Anytime you can put the cell phones away, float with the current and spend a few hours with Mother Nature, going down a river unspoiled by houses, docks and speedboats, now that is my idea of fun at any age.
The wanna go person, Sharon from Jacksonville, said afterwards that the trip was awesome and she’d go on another one. Then she drove back to Jacksonville and went to work that night.
Lucy Tobias is a freelance writer and former award-winning newspaper columnist. © 2005 Lucy Tobias.
For further reference:
www.Adventureoutpost.net
www.abfla.com/parks/Ichnetucknee/ichnetucknee.html