Having spent the majority of a four-hour paddle in the rain the day before, I opted for a shorter paddle on Wednesday. Ricky drove me to the Spring Creek spillway on US 90, shoving me off (Woo-hoo!) about 10:00 a.m., just as the sun pushed through the clouds.
Clear Waters on Spring Creek
I paddled away on the clear, shallow waterway, the spillway and Mill Pond to my back. From this point, I had a two-mile paddle to Chipola River and then another two miles to the outfitter where I had left my car. (See page 2, map).
What a sweet paddle! If I lived close by, Spring Creek would be my “after work before it gets dark” paddle. This is how I would de-stress from a crazy day. (I never think about work while paddling.) Recent rains had pushed the water over the low banks of the creek and into the woods. However, it remained clear and low enough that the sandy, shell-covered bottom was within an arm’s reach. Fish scurried by below me while egrets waded in the shallows along the banks, searching for a tasty snack. The many fallen trees along this twisting, turning waterway created comfy spots for turtles to sun themselves. Birds sang cheerfully in the trees as I paddled by.
Back on the Chipola River
Less than an hour into my paddle, I saw the very distinct line where the clear waters of Spring Creek met the murky Chipola River. I had passed this point when I paddled the Chipola the day before. The sun still shone, and I was disappointed that the end of the creek had come so soon! I completed the entire trip—about four miles—in less than two hours.
We had not quite reached Yancey Bridge when the first raindrops hit the windshield. Ricky, my ride to the river and Bear Paw owner, glanced at me encouragingly, “Even a bad day on the river is
better than …” He didn’t need to finish. “Of course,” I agreed.
Raining Hitting the Chipola
After paddling Florida rivers for more than five years, I have pretty much exhausted my list of rivers with outfitters located on or near them, leading me to revisit some previously-paddled waterways. This summer, I chose to paddle one of my favorites, the Chipola River in Marianna, Florida. The Chipola originates in Alabama and travels south close to 90 miles—with 51 miles being a designated Florida paddling trail. It passes through the Panhandle and eventually merges with the Apalachicola River which empties into the Gulf. It’s a beautiful river and one of my favorites.
I had paddled the Chipola about five years ago—and what a wonderful experience! I looked forward to paddling it again—rain or shine. My intention was to spend three days paddling different sections of the river. I wanted to re-paddle the Yancey Bridge to Magnolia Bridge trail on the first day (first paddled 7/17/12) and then paddle south of Magnolia Bridge to the Peacock Bridge on the second. On day three, I would paddle Spring Creek which flows into Chipola about two miles above the Magnolia Bridge. (Map, pages 2-3.)
It was spitting rain as Ricky shoved me off– just before 10:00. Twenty minutes later, I heard the first crack of thunder. I decided I would hold off the worry until lightning appeared—but briefly wondered if it would be better to be in the water or under the trees—my only choices—if it did. Heavy rains had turned the aqua blue water into a murky moss-colored waterway coddled by lush green trees. Birds chattered away in the woods as I paddled the dark waterway with no one else in sight; life couldn’t be better! About thirty minutes into my paddle, the steady rain gave way to a brief period of sunshine, giving me time to dry off before it began again.
There is something so peaceful and cleansing about paddling in the rain; there’s no time for other thought, just the mindful experience of listening to the sound of the rain hitting the water and trees. The rain didn’t bother me at all, although I did give myself a mental “high-five” for remembering to bring my rain jacket.
Beautiful Greens Reflect in the Water
Whether the skies are blue or gray, the entire paddle on the Chipola is a calendar-worthy experience. I passed limestone banks and cypress swamps with various shades of green reflected in the dark water. I spied great herons, ibis, and even a red-tailed hawk. I made it to the “ovens” (caverns) about an hour and a half into my paddle and stopped for a stretch. I took a peek into the dark caves but did not wander far inside not knowing what creatures might await me there. No doubt this is a common stop-off for many paddlers. I was disappointed to see the litter others had left.
Back on the waterway, I continued my journey. A gentle flow to the water kept me moving, and I came upon the spring to the left. Five years ago the water was clear, and I was able to take pictures of the spring under water. This time, the water was too murky and dark, and I couldn’t even make out the spring. It had begun to rain harder. I exited the spring just as an owl flew overhead.
It did begin to lightning as I neared the end of my trip nearly four hours later. As much as I loved the paddle, I was happy to arrive at my destination.
I call “do-over” on this one. I was never quite sure where I was!
I had hoped to paddle the upper Ochlocknee, a more narrow and twisted river. Failing to find an outfitter who would drop me, I decided on the Ochlockonee River State Park located on the lower Ochlocknee for a put-in. I intended to paddle the short distance from the Park’s put-in to Bear Creek. (Bear Creek connects two parts of the Ocklockonee on a loop.) I would then emerge back onto the Ocklockonee with a short paddle back to the put-in—about a 7.5 mile total paddle according to the Park’s map.
The Put-in at Ochlockonee River State Park
The Ocklockonee River originates somewhere in the swamps of Georgia. Its scape changes as it travels southeast and sometimes southwest and eventually the waterway twists and turns and empties into the Ochlockonee Bay. At the point of my put in, the river creates a camel’s hump. Bear Creek crosses through the hump.
I put-in mid-morning, and although wide at this point, the river was quiet and peaceful and beautiful. I love being the only one on a river; there is nothing else as serene. I paddled south, southwest, the Park on my right–tall straight pines bidding me farewell from the shore. Birds called from the trees; blue herons waded by the water’s edge; and a swallow-tail kite flew overhead, a tasty breakfast in his talons.
After about 20 minutes on the wide waterway, I entered Bear Creek on my left, immediately surrounded by tall swamp grasses. The creek was perhaps 50 to 70 feet wide with no shade, so I was grateful for the clouds overhead. Tall dead trees silhouetted the sky-many with either osprey or eagle nests on top. One tree had several eagles perched in and around the nest.
The sky darkened, and a slight, cool breeze caused me to think that it might rain. Alone on the dark waterway, I paddled, expecting my surroundings to change. Steven, the man at the Park’s guard gate (and coincidentally the son of an author of one my guide books) had told me that I would come to some shade and small cliffs. However, I continued to paddle through the tall swamp grasses.
Something I did not expect—at two points in the creek, I had to decide—go right or left? The first time, I went left. Ten minutes into my paddle as the tall grasses encroached to the point where I could touch them on both sides, I realized I had made the wrong choice. Whoops! Below me in the water I could see a lone fish, long and pointed with spots, his fin above water. He paddled beside me for a bit, but was no help at all.
Tall Swamp Grasses on Bear Creek
The second time, I turned left first, scouted it out for a bit, then doubled back and went right. This is where I believe I went wrong. However, I can’t tell for certain with the maps I have found. I may have somehow connected with the Cow Creek. I’m not sure, but after about an hour of paddling, I knew I was not on Bear Creek. I checked my location on my phone the best I could (before I dropped my glasses into the water, that is), and it appeared I was in a waterway to the right of where I should have been. I called the park folks, and to their credit, they did not hesitate to tell me that they would send someone out to find me. But I wasn’t going to give up yet. I paddled awhile longer and eventually came out…strangely, just south of where I went in—Cow Creek?
I had put in that morning at 10:45, expecting to return around 3:00. Here, I was back by 1:15. Sadly, I never saw Bear Creek Bluff, and I didn’t have the time to start over again. Thus, my need for a “do-over.”
The red trail on the park map shows my intended trail. The waterway to the south of where I entered Bear Creek (left) I believe is Cow Creek and where I came out.
For some great reading about the Ochlockonee River, try this site.
(Ochlockonee River State Park. 429 State Park Road, Sopchoppy, FL 32358. (850) 962-2771. Stephen Carter)
Olli and Robert pulled my kayak to the edge of the creek at Cotton Landing, just north of Cypress Springs. I looked to the south, at the winding waterway, shaded by cypress and oaks.
“Is the entire paddle like this?” I asked. Beautiful.
A Beautiful Paddle on Holmes Creek
I’m not sure why it surprised me, but it did. And now, knowing that this would be a great paddle helped make up for the port-a-potty, my only restroom option. A quick stop, and I finished packing my gear into the kayak, secured my cooler, and climbed in. Olli gave me a shove into the water, and I paddled away, smile on my face.
I had almost missed this one, Holmes Creek. For some reason, it seemed insignificant on the map. It originates a few miles north of the Florida- Alabama border. Its length includes about 20 miles of State Designated Paddling Trail between Cotton Landing and Live Oak Landing before it flows into the Choctawhatchee River. I’m not even certain that the portion I paddled from Cotton Landing is part of the official paddling trail. I often see paddles beginning a few miles south, around Vernon.
I paddled, taking in the beautiful forest of cypress, oak, tupelo, and sweet gum which seemed to snuggle and curve around the river. I had seen the water described as “emerald green,” but today it was cloudy and murky; I could not see the bottom of the creek. Robert had explained that recent rains had churned it up. The trees around me were…noisy! The sounds of the birds grew louder as I paddled. “She’s coming! She’s coming!” they seemed to scream.
Ten minutes into my paddle, I spotted the orange dot painted on a tree and paddled to the right towards Cypress Springs (as instructed). Beautiful clear blue-green water and a white sandy beach greeted me. People swam about in the springs, and kids swung from a rope tied to a tree. Others sat atop of a kayak or small boat enjoying the sun. I chatted with some of the locals. Bud and Missy sat in low chairs in the sand, bratwurst cooking in a smoker at the end of their small boat. They let me use a raft, flippers, and homemade viewer to paddle over the vent and get a better look at the springs.
Cooling Off at Cypress Springs
Missy and Larry talked about the history of the springs. Larry said that it is a man-made springs, dynamited and then connected to the creek. (I need to check this out.) I paddled around the springs for a bit, a perfect spot on a hot day.
From the springs, I had about a 3-mile paddle back to the outfitter—1.5 hours. I passed an occasional kayaker or small boat, but the creek remained peaceful. Although the current was light, it required little effort to paddle. My paddle was scenic and lovely. I attempted to find Becton Springs and paddled up another small waterway. Somehow, I managed to miss the orange dot and lost my way for a bit, never seeing the springs. Oh well, a good reason to return someday!
I began “Day 2”of my summer vacation with a paddle on the Blackwater River in Milton, Florida. I rented a sit-on-top kayak from the Blackwater Canoe Rental and selected the 11-mile paddle from the Bryant Bridge (north of Milton) to Deaton Bridge. The outfitter dropped me at 9:30 a.m. along with three folks from Alabama.
Dark Waters of the Blackwater River
Boning claims that the Blackwater is among the most pristine of Florida’s rivers. Blackwater comes from the Choctaw word “Oka Lusa” which means “water black.” At lower levels, the river is tannin-colored (rusty looking in the lowest spots) but turns black at deeper levels. The Blackwater River begins its journey in the Conecuh National Forest in Southern Alabama. It flows about 56 miles south, then west, on its way to the Blackwater Bay. When it reaches Florida, it passes through the Blackwater River State Forest. The Blackwater River is an Outstanding Florida Water; thirty-one miles are Designated Florida Paddling Trail as well.
So, I paddled away on the tannin-colored water under clear, sunny sky, waving goodbye to the folks from Alabama who had been nice enough to invite me to join them. I took in the scenery and sighed—to my right, a high sandy bank, etched throughout the years by the twists and turns of the river, topped by tall, straight pines.
For over two hours, I paddled in silence, little sign of life. A couple lazy hawks flew overhead, and then I saw low-flying aircraft from the nearby Eglin Airforce Base—a strange reality check. Briefly, my mind flitted to a scene from the African Queen, but then they were gone, and I melted back into my seat and took in my surroundings: white cedar, cypress, water oak, pine, wax myrtle, and magnolia.
The river offered an occasional shady spot and a light breeze, only minimal relief from the sun. The sides of the river alternated with white sandbars on one side and sandy banks on the other—similar to the Perdido. High waters and storms had scooped out the banks, leaving tree roots exposed. A sandbar beckoned me; I stopped for a quick stretch and a dip to cool off.
Occasional Shade on the Blackwater
About 2.5 hours into my paddle, tubers appeared in their blue, green, pink, and yellow tubes, decorating the white sandbars like sprinkles on a cake. My spiritual retreat ended, as I paddled past wading sunbathers and sandbars adorned with umbrellas and coolers. Teenagers stood on high banks while from the water below, others dared them to jump. I couldn’t watch.
Four hours after my put in, I passed under the Deaton Bridge, and pulled my kayak out of the water. My outfitter connection awaited me there.
Vacation time had arrived at last, and this summer, I planned to return to the Panhandle for three paddles. It was long overdue—I had originally scheduled it for July, but I fractured my wrist (handstands) and had to delay my trip. My cast came off Friday, two days before I left for the Panhandle. I figured a few days of paddling would be good therapy.
I chose the most westerly river I could for my first paddle: the Perdido River. In Spanish, Perdido means, “lost” or “lost river.” If you look at the map, the Perdido River draws the north-south boundary between Florida and Alabama, and there is so much history here as the Spanish, British, French, and of course, United States, struggled to gain possession of these lands. (Boning) The Perdido originates in Alabama and travels about 58 miles from Alabama to Perdido Bay—which is part of the Gulf. It includes nine miles of Florida Designated Paddling Trail from Barrineau Park to Adventures on Perdido. The Perdido is also an Outstanding Florida Water.
Adventures on Perdido (formerly part of Adventures Unlimited) is the only outfitter on the river. Linda and Dave are the owners; theirs is a small mom and pop outfitter in the middle of nowhere. They have enough canoes to meet the needs for busloads of vacationers, but I found the choice of kayaks limited. A sit-on-top would have been nice under the hot sun (and Linda’s recommendation), but theirs were too small to hold my cooler and supplies, so I opted for a sit inside. As it turned out, it had wacky tracking, and whenever I stopped paddling, the kayak turned right–a bit like that crazy cart I sometimes get at Publix.
At 9:30 a.m., Dave dropped me at the Perdido River Wildlife Management Area access, just south of Barrineau Park. From here, I paddled south with Alabama on my right and Florida on my left—how cool is that? I spent the next three hours alone on the tea-colored waterway under the hot August sun. The wide river (often about 50 feet wide) and tall palms, cedar and cypress offered little shade! I made do with the sit inside kayak and flung my legs over the sides—not very ladylike, but it was very relaxing and much cooler with my feet dipped in the water.
A Peaceful Perdido River
The river was quiet—no people, no animals, no gators or snakes. Three hawks flew overhead and disappeared. I took in the beautiful white sandbars and the high sandy banks while I snacked on trail mix and fruit. However, as beautiful as these all were, the condition of the river was disappointing. Dead wood in the water collected trash all along the river—reminders of inconsiderate humans. Although the Perdido Wildlife Management Area includes 15 miles of frontage on the river, portions are also owned by individuals (evidenced by many plastic chairs on sandbars) and gun clubs. I wondered who was responsible for keeping it clean. This river had so much potential, but it seemed neglected.
Truthfully, I can’t say that Perdido makes my “top ten” list. However, is there anything better than to paddle down any Florida river in the midst of nature?
I drove down a long leaf pine-lined country road to reach Adventures Unlimited, the outfitter for Coldwater Creek. I felt “at camp” when I arrived. Young boys directed me through a crowded parking lot. Teens and families had lined up for the bus to the drop off. Bold signs directed me up the stairs to the office, and more signs sent me out the back door and down to the storage area to pick out my life jacket and paddle. It promised to be a busy day on the river!
Tea-Colored Coldwater Creek
Coldwater Creek originates in the Conecuh National Forest in Georgia. Eighteen of its 28 miles are a state-designated paddling trail. Its cool waters travel south through the Blackwater River State Forest and eventually join the Blackwater River as one of its major tributaries. (Carmichael)
I boarded the bus with about 10 others—all carrying coolers and other supplies for a fun day on the creek. The Adventures Unlimited folks dropped us at their privately-owned property off Christmas Tree Road—giving us about a 7-mile paddle back to the outpost.
Paddling away from the put-in, I could see the sandy gravel bed of the creek through the shallow tea-colored water. The sun shone hot, and I dangled my toes in the coolness beneath me, silently thanking the AU staff member who talked me into a sit-on-top kayak. Lush foliage surrounded me—tall long needle pines, oaks, and cypress. A magnolia tree peaked out here and there. I paddled around a bend in the creek and faced tall sandy bluffs. An “ahhh” moment.
However, soon enough, I realized the thing about paddling on the weekend—it’s not a serene, peaceful paddle and the only wildlife to be seen comes equipped with coolers. Wide sandbars poked out into the creek, creating perfect nooks for family get-togethers. Children splashed in the water while their parents chatted and sipped cool drinks. Tubers began to show up in large groups just past the Springfield Road put in—about four miles from my AU destination. I quickly learned to maneuver around them, 20 or more at a time.
Shallow Waters of Coldwater Creek
So many of these folks traveled by canoes, and with the loads they carried, I understood why. However, the low water level meant frequent portages for canoers, no doubt. Even in a kayak, dodging the deadfalls and scooting around the wide sandbars challenged me, and more than once I got out and dragged myself to deeper water.
But what a beautiful creek! Paddling this gravel-lined waterway, I could feel the downhill flow (a 2.8 gradient), and I sometimes felt as if I was sliding down someone’s flooded country driveway. As I neared the end, I took a sharp left at a fork in the creek, where, for just a few moments, the swift waters hastened my journey and then delivered me safely back to the main waterway—a fun ending to my day on the creek.
I stopped my car and read the sign at the entrance to the outfitter: Econfina Creek Canoe Livery “Go With The Flow.” I briefly reflected on the river-life metaphor as I drove down the driveway and parked.
Embracing Foliage on the Econfina Creek
I chose Econfina Creek as my second river to paddle in the Panhandle. Huff describes the scenery as “superb,” with giant cypress that arch overhead. Carter et al. claims that many consider the Econfina the “most beautiful and challenging stream in Florida.” It sounded like a waterway I needed to paddle.
So, I selected my kayak from a generous inventory at the outfitter, and I put in right there at 10:30 a.m.—to be picked up at the end of my seven-mile trip at CR 388. Although the water level seemed low, I paddled away on a strong steady current, through the twists and turns of the Econfina.
Econfina comes from a Muskogean Indian word meaning “natural bridge.” (Carter et al.) The Econfina Creek originates in the southwest corner of Jackson County, Florida, where a number of creeks add to the flow. Along the way, springs and runoff contribute even more until it finally discharges in Deer Pointe Lake in Bay County. (Boning). The upper portions of the creek run swiftly through limestone and high bluffs with a 7.9 gradient. A gradient 4 and lower banks on the lower portion where I paddled make for easier navigation.
Huff’s description of the creek held true; tall, arching cypress, along with magnolia, several varieties of oaks (including Shumard oak and laurel oak) and pines, dogwood, and red maple embraced the waterway. Similar to the Chipola River, the landscape varied with swampy wetlands on one side and high limestone banks/cliffs—these, dripping with lush ferns—on the other. Lots of sandbars along the way made for an easy dip to cool off or pause for a snack.
Spring Along the Econfina Creek
Some of the land around the creek is privately owned; however, the few houses that appeared seemed to blend in with the surroundings. The Northwest Florida Water Management District has acquired about 14 miles along the creek and has built viewing structures so people can access the springs. I paddled past several of these springs along the way. At Pitt Spring, I met two local women, Gail and Rose, who came to cool off on a hot day. During our chat, they described the beauty of the creek when the dogwoods and azaleas bloom. At Emerald Spring (the main source for Econfina Spring water), a young family snorkeled at the base of the 25-foot limestone bank to view the spring’s powerful flow.
What a great place to be on a slow, lazy day! I hung my legs over the side of my vessel, dipped my feet in the clear, cool water and let the flow take me beneath the canopy, around the twists and turns of the river, returning to reality only momentarily to maneuver around a deadfall or a sharp corner. I love vacation!
Summer vacation, here at last! I headed to the Panhandle to paddle a few rivers. These would be my first in this area, and first up—the Chipola River.
I rented a kayak from Bear Paw Canoe Rental in Marianna—a local outfitter with a good selection of kayaks. The owner, Ricky, drove me just north of Marianna, to the put in at Yancy Bridge on FL 166. I began my peaceful paddle (9.8 miles) at 9:30 a.m., the only person on the river—what could be better?
The Caves on the Chipola River
The Chipola River, located in the Central Panhandle, starts north of the Alabama border. It runs 80 plus miles to eventually merge with the Apalachicola River, close to the Gulf. As it passes through the Florida Caverns State Park, the Chipola goes underground for awhile and then re-emerges. Along its journey, various springs (over 60!) and creeks flow into it. (Boning) The Chipola is an Outstanding Florida Water, and 51 miles of it is a Florida Designated Paddling Trail.
Indeed outstanding, the Chipola did not disappoint me! Almost immediately, a great horned owl flew over the river in front of me, landed on an overhanging branch, and watched as I floated beneath him. Belted kingfishers and warblers darted here and there as ibis and herons chilled on the riverside.
Even with the recent rains, I could see the sandy bottom through the beautiful milky blue-green water, thick reeds and eel grass moving with the current. I paddled the cool waterway shaded by thick foliage of oak (several varieties), cypress (draped in long tresses of moss), maple, magnolia, and dogwood, plus many others that I could not begin to identify. How strange not to spot a single cabbage palm! The landscape varied with low swampy woodlands on the east side and limestone banks, bluffs, and caves on the west.
I did encounter one strange phenomenon—a constant humming coming from the woods for much of my paddle, perhaps some kind of insect. Ricky later suggested locusts. (I believe the Florida version is called cicadas.) Regardless, I imagined that a magical wood nymph, attempting to keep the river serene and peaceful, placed them there to help cover the sound of distant traffic sometimes present.
Just Along for the Ride
I stopped to climb and play when I reached the limestone caverns on the west bank—what a great spot for a picnic! However, I stayed close to the entrance of the caves, not wandering into the dark depths. Further downriver, I followed a short spring run to my left and paddled around Dykes Springs, trying to capture the swirling blues and greens with my camera. Back on the river, I paddled further and passed Spring Creek.
The thunder had already started, but I made it back to the outfitter at 1:30 p.m., just before the skies opened up and the thunder, lightning, hail, and rain began.
I brought my vacation to a close with a paddle down the Rainbow River in Dunnellon. What a lovely way to go!
The Crystal Clear Rainbow River
This crystal clear river is a favorite of both tubers and paddlers. The river begins at the springs in Rainbow Springs State Park and runs for about seven miles before it joins the Withlacoochee River. Although paddlers can start in the state park, many access the river at KP Hole in Dunnellon. From there, they can paddle upstream the mile or so to the springs and back before completing the 3.6 mile stretch between KP Hole and CR 484.
I paddled on a Tuesday, and I was one of the few kayakers on the river; tubers were abundant! I paddled the stretch between KP Hole and CR 384, expecting it to take me over two hours. However, I was finished in 1.5. I feel as if I cheated!
Regardless of the length, it was a fun paddle. I saw my first otter; he was swimming in the water to the left of me, little bothered by all the people on the river. For that matter, none of the wildlife seemed bothered by all the people in the water. The ibis and egrets watched from the sidelines while the cormorants stood on the rocks in the water, flapping their wings in time with the water fun. Anhingas crossed in front of me, their long necks like snakes in the water, slithering about. I floated and paddled with the current; to the left of me, the bank was lined with trees while to the right, the bank was lined with homes. Homeowners seemed accustomed to having tubers and paddlers floating by in their backyards.
So, after two weeks, my vacation was over, and I packed up my car and headed home. Rather than sadness, I was feeling excitement and exhilaration about the journey I have begun and the many Florida river adventures still waiting for me.
Footprints and Ripples 