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Archive for the ‘Paddling’ Category

Several months ago, I created a list of fun goals to achieve in my retirement. Fourth on the list is “Hike the Florida Trail.”  To accomplish this and to help prepare me for overnight hiking, I chose to day hike a section of one of the off-shutes/secondary trails of the Florida Trail system, the first (or last, depending on perspective) section of the Ocean to Lake Trail which runs about sixty-one miles from the Hobe Sound Beach to Lake Okeechobee.

Sugar Sand Trails at Jonathan Dickinson State Park

This would be my longest day hike thus far, and I knew that during the week, I would most likely be the only person on the trail. My backpack was a bit heavy for a day hike—16.4 pounds—but this would help get me use to carrying more weight for overnight camping trips. I felt prepared with plenty of food, water, sunscreen, and an extra pair of socks and trail runners.

I parked at Riverbend Park shortly after they opened and took an Uber to the Hobe Sound Beach, pretty simple. At 9:17 a.m., I walked to the water; I wanted to make certain I didn’t miss a step. I began my walk west and loved the beginning of this trail. I walked under beautiful Banyan trees and over the bridge in Hobe Sound. However, the next section on Dixie Highway made me glad I started north and hiked south so to get this section out of the way. At 10:07 a.m., I entered the Jonathan Dickinson State Park just off US 1 and started my trek across the sugar sand trail.

Tall Grasses in the Breeze on the OTL Trail

It was quiet, and hot, and I was grateful for the breeze, overcast sky, and the beautiful scenery as I hiked through the various ecosystems—sugar sand trail decorated with sand pines, prairies of tall golden grasses moving with the breeze and contrasting beautifully with the palmetto scrub, pine forests, and cypress swamps.  After walking through several wet areas, I became even more grateful when I came upon the occasional wood bridge over the deeper waters. Thank you, Boy Scouts.

On this Wednesday morning, I saw no one until I crossed paths with a park biologist, checking her hog traps, a few miles in. I had noticed areas where the hogs had dug up the ground around the trail. We chatted for a bit before I moved on. I had miles yet to go! 

By the time I hiked out of Jonathan Dickinson State Park at 2:45, I had been hiking for 5.5 hours and over 10 miles, and my body had begun to protest. As I crossed Cypress Creek, the waters called to me, “Jump in! Jump in!” If the water was clearer, and I knew what the heck lurked below, I may have done just that to cool off. Instead, I sat on the wooden bridge and enjoyed a rare moment in the shade. I met only one other person at 3.88 miles from Riverbend Park, a young man, Brian, who had parked at Riverbend for an out-and-back.  I had passed two campsites—Scrub Jay and Kitching Creek—with no sign of life. Other than that, I saw a few hawks and scrub jays.

A Pause at Scrub Jay Campsite

I turned into Riverbend Park at East Slough Trail at 5:50 p.m., close to sixteen miles from the start with about a half mile to my car. My weary legs had slowed me down at the end, and if they would have allowed it, I would have jumped for joy when I saw the exit sign! It was already getting dark when I got to my car.

I have begun planning for my next hike—East Slough Trail at Riverbend to BeeLine Highway.

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I have explored Riverbend Park many times over the years—mostly to kayak. I love this park. It’s close by and has several great paddle trails as well as easy walking trails. The purpose of my visit on this day was to find the trail that connected with the Ocean to Lake Trail (OTL), part of the Florida Trail System. I wanted to hike the 9.4-mile section that starts just east of Jonathan Dickinson State Park at Hobe Sound Beach and needed an end point where I could park my car. However, there is not a car park at 9.4 miles, and Riverbend appeared to be my only option.

Trail at Riverbend Park

Riverbend rocks trail signage, and in addition to the cross trails being labeled, each cross trail includes an Exit sign. I love that being lost is never really lost. So, I can’t really blame the Riverbend folks for ending up at the wrong end of the park when searching for the OTL. I just got caught up in enjoying the journey and wasn’t paying attention.

In the end, I walked nearly three miles to find the OTL Trail which turned out to be less than a mile from the parking lot. However, getting a bit lost now and then certainly has its “ups.” This park has great trails for walking, hiking, biking, and paddling. Its website brags 680 acres and 10 miles of interconnected trails as well as 7 miles of equestrian trails and 5 miles of canoeing/kayaking trails. As I searched for the OTL Trail, I enjoyed the gorgeous afternoon and beautiful scenery, and, with the exception of the man who walked behind me with his earbuds in and talking to someone on his phone as if he was in a New York deli, I enjoyed the sweet serenity of the park and did not mind getting sidetracked at all.

Beautiful Views at Riverbend Park

The good news is the OTL trail is very close to the Riverbend parking lot, but the not so good news is that ending my hike at Riverbend adds five or six miles to my trip from Hobe Sound Beach making it closer to 16-miles. However, I accomplished what I set out to do, and I have set plans for my next hike!

(Riverbend Park. 9060 Indiantown Road, Jupiter, FL 33478. (561) 741-1359. Website: https://discover.pbcgov.org/parks/pages/riverbend.aspx)

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The country girl in me believed that state parks in some way mimic the large wild spaces one would find in the country, areas filled with beautiful flora, fauna, and opportunities for discovery. The idea that a state park could be a small piece of land tucked in between the Intracoastal and A1A in urban Ft. Lauderdale challenged my country girl spirit.

With plans to visit as many Florida State Parks as possible in my retirement, I took an afternoon and drove to Hugh Taylor Birch State Park in Ft. Lauderdale. The website described hiking opportunities as a “20-minute leisurely walk through a native maritime tropical hardwood hammock ecosystem,” and I arrived prepared for a short stroll in a city park, most likely a boardwalk. However, I was pleasantly surprised.

Ibis Along the Nature Trail

In a small amount of space, this park had a bit of everything! A long oval shaped one-way drive surrounds the park. Most of the parking is along this drive. Winding, canopied nature trails weave in and out along the way. Along the trails, small signs describe some of the flora in the small forest, but I would have loved to see more and better signage.

The drive includes a designated lane for pedestrians, bikers, and inline skaters as well, and all took advantage of the gorgeous day. The welcoming west side of the trail which borders the Intracoastal and includes benches and picnic tables shaded by trees impressed me—what a great escape from the urban chaos just minutes away. I walked through a meditation garden and stepped along a labyrinth. There was a small playground and clean restrooms nearby (although the restroom in the small restaurant screamed for attention).

The park also includes a small concession to rent canoes, kayaks, paddle boards, jet-skis, beach chairs and beach umbrellas—just about anything a person might need for a little getaway. The beach is easily accessed just past the Park and Ocean Restaurant. This casual restaurant, snuggled beneath what looked like large Seagrape trees (not sure that’s what they were), includes an In-house brewery, Shady Brewing, that offers specialty beers with a taste of Florida. What could be better than a cold beer and some island music to end the afternoon? I chose the bartender’s favorite, a light beer with a hint of Mango, called Mangolandia, enjoying it along with the fish tacos.

A Refreshing Beer with a Florida Twist

At the end of my visit, I had walked about 2.5 miles and spent two hours in the park.

I purchased an annual pass for the Florida State Parks at the beginning of January and have visited only two thus far—and they could not have been more different—but the country girl in me is good with that now. Sometimes, smaller does the trick. Either way, it has been a great investment of $60. I look forward to the next one!  

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I completed the White Loop Trail at Jonathan Dickinson State Park on New Year’s Day and enjoyed it enough to bring me back for more! This time, my bestie, Barb, joined me, and we hiked the 4.9 miles of the Green Loop Trail in just under two hours.

If you come from almost anyplace other than Florida, you will find the Florida trails different. Mainly flat and often sandy, in many cases, there is little or no shade, but dang, you are out in nature in beautiful sunny Florida surrounded by the Florida scrub and who knows what else.

Sugar Sand Pathway of the Green Loop

This was a Monday holiday, so there were others around the park on bikes and on foot. The campsites were full. We hiked the Green Loop Trail, going counterclockwise. On the east side of the trail, we trudged through sugar sand as we headed north with the sun at our backs. The trail was narrower on this side with some shade and even some ups and downs!

Our View from the Wooden Bridge

We walked along the railroad tracks on the west side of the trail—the same tracks that bordered the White Loop I hiked on New Year’s. This trail was wider and paved in areas. Although this made the hike faster, we enjoyed the narrower sugar sand path and the added work it required more. Heading south, we started to see mountain bikers flying along their trails to our east but very little wild life other than that. The south end of the trail brought us to a lake and some welcomed shade—a short break for us before we ended our hike.

A Bit of Cool Shade Before the End

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A common greeting among yakers on my Silver River trip was, “Have you seen any monkeys?”  Everyone seemed to be looking for the elusive rhesus monkeys.  I heard stories of large groups (bands? herds?) of these monkeys jumping from tree to tree or lining the river, staring (daring?) at the paddlers.  However, I saw nary a one.

Silver River

There have been several explanations for the existence of the rhesus monkeys in this area.  Boning writes that the population of these monkeys may date back to the 1930s when the operators of a sightseeing boat released several monkeys.   Huff repeats three monkey theories: one, that they began as escapees from a medical research lab; two, that they were purposely populated for the tourists; and three, that they were part of the old Tarzan movies filmed on the river in the mid 1900s.  Ohr writes that there is an unconfirmed report of escapees from the Ross Allen attraction that may have added to this monkey business.

(Originally posted July 2010)

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Creek vs. River

As I paddled the Blackwater Creek, I wondered, “Why a creek, why not Blackwater River?” I asked my friend Bill. He suggested that it merely depended upon the person who named it.

Paddling Blackwater Creek
Blackwater Creek

So, I Googled my question, sending it out to the online universe. The answer was pretty much just that. According to the USGS, although some believe that a creek is smaller than, and must run into, a river, the term “creek” is ambiguous and has no clear meaning other than that it fits under the larger category of “a linear body of water” along with about 121 other bodies of water.  So, there really is no clear, official distinction between a river and a creek.  In the end, it simply does depend upon the person who names it.

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Florida rivers are amazingly beautiful, mystical, and fun, and after paddling them for over ten years, I feel a touch of guilt selecting favorites. However, I admit it! There are those to which I would return more quickly than others. So, here goes.

Fisheating Creek. I have paddled Fisheating Creek more than any other river—at least four times. If you want an awesome Florida wilderness paddling experience, Fisheating Creek is your waterway. It originates in a swamp in Highlands County and flows south, then east, into Lake Okeechobee.

Entering the Cypress Swamp

I paddled from Burnt Bridge, a four-hour (eight miles) ever-changing paddling experience, and ended at the Fisheating Creek Outpost. (Longer trips are available.) The paddles begins in the wide river, tall cypress dripping with Spanish moss and air plants on each side, but within thirty minutes, you are lured into the cooler, darker waters of the swamp, twisting and turning through the cypress trees and their knobby knees as you pass gators, herons, egrets, anhinga, and so much more! Then, just as quickly, you emerge from the swamp into the river of grassy banks. If the water is low enough, you may even be able to pull up on a sand bank for a stretch and a snack before heading into the swamp once again.

My go-to outpost for Fisheating Creek was the Fisheating Creek Outpost with friendly faces, great attitudes, but kayaks that could use some attention. However, they are happy to drop you with your own kayak if you choose.

Withlacoochee River South. I love Withlacoochee River South and wish it was closer to me. A Native American term, Withlacoochee means “little big water” or “crooked river.” I have experienced both the little and the big of it—paddling it twice, once during the dry and once during the rainy season. I started from two different locations, but basically the same route—just one further into the swamp.

The Withlacoochee Dressed in Browns and Grays

This waterway is a “must paddle” if you haven’t yet. Picture yourself paddling down these dark, cool waters—beautiful cypress, red maple, and live oak along the riverbanks providing shade from the hot Florida sun. The water quietly twists and turns as it moves slowly from the Green Swamp to the Gulf. You hear nothing except the occasional splash of a turtle or gator or the calling of a bird. During low water levels, you spy ibis, vultures, herons, anhinga, cormorants, and egrets along the banks, as they enjoy the tranquil waters and their only slightly interrupted day with you floating by. During the rainy season, the water floods into the forest and through the trees creating magical, picturesque reflections, a beautiful backdrop to your serene paddle.

My go-to outpost for Withlacoochee River South was Withlacoochee RV Park and Canoe Rental.

Hillsborough River. When I describe my most amazing river paddles to people, I always include the Hillsborough River—which is why I find it unbelievable that I have paddled it only once. Why???

Clear Waters of the Hillsborough

Like the Withlacoochee, the Hillsborough originates in the Green Swamp. Its clear waters, fed largely by Crystal Springs, twist and turn for fifty-four miles west to empty into Tampa Bay.

This river is awesome! If awards were given for the most gator and bird sightings, Hillsborough would win. Picture this: in a four-hour paddle between Sargeant Park and Trout Creek Park (other trips available), you spy somewhere between fifty and one hundred gators—all looking very comfortable in their environment regardless of the intrusion. You feel as if you have entered a bird paradise, spotting more species of birds on this river than any other—egrets, herons, limpkins, roseate spoonbills, woodpeckers, wood storks, and ibis. Osprey dive; otters frolic; turtles sun, and you float through it all like a smooth ride at Disney World. Nature is in harmony, your paddle serene, peaceful, and delightful.

My go-to outpost for the Hillsborough River was Canoe Escape in Thonotosassa.

It seems pretty clear with my three favs that I am a bit of a swamp girl. I do love the seclusion and wildness of these cool, twisting waterways, but heck, after paddling more than fifty Florida rivers, there isn’t one that I would not return to. They are all pretty “awe”-some.

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COVID disrupted all our lives this past year, mine included, but I could not let the year end without a paddle. I wanted to challenge myself and paddle someplace new. I focused on the Everglades area, as I have not paddled any of these waterways yet. I looked at several: the Blackwater River and Royal Palm Hammock Paddling Trail, Nine-Mile Pond Canoe Trail, Noble Hammock Canoe Trail, Mud Lake Loop Trail, Halfway Creek Canoe Trail, and Turner River Canoe Trail. I also looked at the Everglades National Park and Wilderness Waterway, but I wasn’t sure I could work out the ninety-nine miles unless there were overnight stopping points along the way that did not involve a tent. 🙂

Paddling to Mud Bay from Channel Marker 47

After calling some outfitters, I decided on the first on my list, the Blackwater River, not knowing what to expect. When I arrived at the concession in the Collier Seminole State Park, Collier Seminole Nature Tours, I told Matt that I needed a kayak for the day, as I wanted to paddle the entire 13.5 mile loop. He suggested that I might want to paddle a shorter trail to Mud Bay and back. In the past few months, only one group paddled the entire loop; they had faster kayaks, and it took them six hours. Matt, challenge accepted!

I put in at the park launch at 9:30 a.m. on a rented Jackson Riviera sit-on-top. The first hour of paddling was peaceful and canopied—and sometimes jungle-like. What a beautiful day to paddle—sunny but not too hot! I arrived at channel marker 47 in fifty minutes having passed only one couple on a short out and back paddle. The loop begins at marker 47, and here I made the right turn and headed towards Mud Bay. I spent the next four hours paddling through the three bays: Mud Bay, Palm Bay, and finally, Blackwater Bay.

From marker 47, it took me about fifteen minutes to reach Mud Bay. Mud Bay was larger than I expected. I could feel and see the tidal current. Low tide would be at 3:45 p.m. The wind had picked up, and paddling became harder. At one time, something massive emerged on my left creating a large brown wave, scaring the hell out of me and rocking my kayak; I assume it was a manatee.

At one time, something massive emerged on my left creating a large brown wave, scaring the hell out of me and rocking my kayak.

I continued my paddle, now along the Royal Palm Hammock Creek, for about thirty minutes, to the Grocery Place Campsite (my one and only “stretch my legs and pee” stop), relieved to see the sign and know I was on track. I later read that the two concrete structures I saw on this site are cisterns remaining from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Lots of history here.

Looking out from the campsite, I saw mangroves to the left but mostly water to the right. A great heron flew overhead, and a small raccoon scurried into the woods. I hopped back on my kayak, heading, I hoped, to Palm Bay, and wondering (briefly) whether I should turn around and head back before the tide started to head out.

The Trail to Palm Bay

I paddled into Palm Bay staying close to the mangroves to my left and eventually exited to Blackwater Bay about forty-five minutes later. The wind, stronger now, forced me to keep my head down to keep my hat on. I paddled even harder, passing lots of mangrove islands decorated with shell beds. Blackwater appeared to be the largest of the three bays and the most confusing. I pictured just me on this large waterway, a tiny dot on a map. I now understood what Matt meant when he cautioned me about getting lost here. I had no clue where I was going, and the many mangrove islands and lack of signage made navigating even more difficult. I just kept paddling, trying to keep the mangrove forest to my left. Did I mention that my phone battery was dying and my charger wasn’t working? I had just begun to wonder what I would do if I couldn’t find my way out of this massive waterway, (Could I sleep in the Bay on my kayak?), when I spied two fisherman on a boat (Thank you, God). I gave a wave and a hoot and paddled over. The lovely man who had just pulled in a fish, pointed just ahead of me; I was less than fifteen minutes from the beginning of the markers. Relief for sure!

Shell Beds on the Mangrove Islands

With the uncertainty behind me, I relaxed for the last two hours of paddling, enjoying the cool, dark waterway and the beautiful mangroves. Six hours in, I came upon marker 47 once more and a family hanging out on a low-tide sand bar in the middle of the waterway. I called over to see if I could join them for a few and had an opportunity for a chat and a final stretch before heading into the canopied path and the last hour of my paddle. I arrived back out the outfitter, tired and with very sore arms, seven hours after leaving. Matt had not left at 4:00 as he said he would earlier. He had waited for my return. I think he was nearly as happy as I that I had completed the entire paddle!

(Outfitter: Collier Seminole Nature Tours. Collier Seminole State Park, Naples, Florida. (800) 719-8160)

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I arrived at the Ocklawaha Canoe Outpost and Resort in time to check into my cabin and unpack before jumping on the shuttle to the

drop at Gores Landing. This would be my second paddle on the Ocklawaha and my first stay in the cabins. My adventurous spirit moved me to stay two nights along the river, rather than making a reservation at the closest Holiday Inn.  I took in my temporary “home”—a bit tight, but with enough room for 4 or 5 with the bunk beds—plus the loft.

A Soothing Paddle on the Ocklawaha…Aaahhhh

Since my first visit nine years ago, the Outpost had been sold; the new owners were Lance and Theresa. At noon, Lance drove me—along with a party of eight—to the drop off. On the drive over, he gave us a bit of the river’s history, describing how in the late 19th and early 20th century, steamboats, filled with sightseers, traveled up and down the river to Silver Springs.  Sadly, the steamboats disappeared sometime after the arrival of the railroad.

We arrived at Gores Landing shortly before one o’clock, and Lance was kind enough to put me in first, ensuring a peaceful paddle ahead of the large party. The Gores Landing trip is 8 miles. I expected it to be about a four-hour paddle.  I paddled alone on the river until near the end when I passed two small motor boats—guys out fishing.

Theresa, at the Outpost, had warned me when I made reservations the week before that the river was in the midst of a draw down.  Apparently part of the river’s restoration plan proposed by the Department of Environmental Protection includes a phased draw down of the river to historic levels to flush the river and its banks of aquatic weeds and to help the floodplain re-vegetate. I expected the level to be lower than normal, but instead, it was higher due to recent rains, flowing into the trees and keeping the wading birds and wildlife deeper into the woods.

Floating on the Dark Waters

The Ocklawaha River was one of my very first river paddles—way back on July 14, 2010. I have always remembered it as one of my favorite rivers. At that time, the river was dressed in the bright greens of summer. This time, the river had dressed down in various shades of brown and gray for the winter holidays.

The overcast sky and high 60s temps made for the perfect paddling experience. I paddled north with the steady flow of the dark river, following its many twists and turns. I spied lots of gators—many of them juniors, only a month or so old. I sighted a few birds—ibis, herons. An owl called from deep in the woods. I searched for monkeys but spied none.

I paddled onto the Outpost boat ramp 3 hours and 45 minutes after my put in, feeling refreshed and relaxed. I had a lovely stay in my cabin the next two days, sitting next to a beautiful campfire each night and waking to the quiet. What a lovely way to end the year!

(Ocklawaha Canoe Outpost and Resort. 15260 NE 152nd Place, Fort McCoy, FL 32134. https://outpostresort.com/. (352) 236-4606)

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Another hot, sunny summer day in South Florida, and I had not been kayaking for over six months. Determined to paddle, I checked my list of rivers not yet paddled

and found one within an hour’s drive—Whiskey Creek. Honestly, I hadn’t even known it existed.

Heading South on Whiskey

I love when I find these unexpected treasures in Florida. A Florida Designated Paddling Trail, Whiskey Creek flows through the Dr. Von D. Mizell-Eula Johnson State Park in Dania Beach, dividing a stretch of land situated between the Intracoastal Waterway and the Atlantic Ocean. A tidal waterway, its water levels fluctuate with the tides. At low tide, the water level is too low to paddle the entire creek without getting out at some point to pull the kayak. This creek has so much history behind it. That which I find most interesting—during Prohibition times, it was these very same shallow waters that made the perfect escape for the rum-runners when the Coast Guard was in pursuit.

The morning I paddled, low tide was 8:18 a.m., and high tide was at 2:34 p.m. I arrived shortly after 10:00 but waited until 11:15 to put in to ensure the water level was high enough. I put in at the BG Whiskey Creek Hideout, the outfitter inside the park and at the north end of the creek. I paddled south, possibly the same route the rum-runners once took. Mangroves lined the right side of the waterway and sand dunes and sea grapes lined the left. Just over the dunes on the east side, 2.5 miles of Dania Beach welcomed tourists to its warm sands. Planes from the nearby Ft. Lauderdale airport flew overhead, a constant reminder of the city nearby.

Into the Mangroves

The thing about paddling mangrove waterways, there is little or no shade unless you paddle into the mangroves. So, I took my time and paddled the tea-stained waterway, moving in and out of the mangroves, enjoying both the shade and the quiet of nature. Herons (blue, tri-colored, black crowned night), ibis, and brown pelican found comfort in the same shade as I. Tiny crabs scuttled up huge mangrove root systems as I paddled by them.

The creek runs just under two miles to the south and connects with the Intracoastal Waterway. A paddler can paddle south to the Dania Marina and return on the same route or paddle the loop. I chose the loop and exited the creek just after the Dania Beach Pier, paddling to the Intracoastal and north to loop back to my put in—a total trip of about 3.8 mil

The loop took me about 3.5 hours to paddle, a long time for a 3.8 mile trip. However, I spent a lot of time discovering the mangroves and was slowed down by the waves of the Intracoastal on my return. I know I’ve said it before, but although the open waters are not my favorite paddle—I love the shaded, canopied waterways—there is never a bad day on a Florida waterway. I felt exhilarated.

I left the creek, exhausted from the sun and paddle and very thankful. We are so fortunate that the State of Florida has preserved these natural environments for us to enjoy.

(BG Whiskey Creek Hideout. 6503 N. Ocean Drive, Dania Beach, FL 33004 https://www.whiskeycreekhideout.com. (954) 929-4970)

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