After this political season, the Peace River seemed an obvious escape from the constant debating, bickering, posting and tweeting of the last few months. I needed to leave Facebook and Twitter behind and return to a place of solitude and serenity.
I had paddled the southern portion of the Peace River from Brownville to Arcadia (8 miles) on New Year’s Day 2011. I wanted to paddle another section this time, and I decided on a northern section from Paynes Creek State Park in Bowling Green to Pioneer Park in Zolfo Springs, an 11-mile paddle.
Jace, from Peace River Paddle Sports and Adventures, met me at the park and dropped me at the SR 664 Bridge about 11:30 a.m. I paddled away, looking forward to the next five hours of tranquility on the river. My first thought as my paddle sliced the water–“Aaahhhhhhh….”
What a beautiful sunny fall day! There is something mystic and wonderful about being the only person on the river. Just nature and me. A slight fall breeze kept me cool under the clear blue sky. I paddled the dark water, staying to the edges and the shade of the tall cypress and oaks. The cypress had already begun their preparation for winter, brown foliage cloaked in moss. The low water level had left the sloping banks with roots and limestone exposed. Cypress knees pointed to the sky. Welcoming sand bars tempted me to pause in my paddle and stick my toes in the sand.
I enjoyed an easy paddle on the waterway—with the exception of a few “woo-hoo” moments when I passed over small rapids formed by the low water passing over limestone shale beneath me. Noisy birds (herons, ibis, egrets, vultures, hawks) called from the trees and banks—enjoying the weather as much as I. Ibis strutted along the banks, curved beaks dipping in the sand. Vultures gathered around their decaying treasures. Two wood storks sat on a tree branch, taking it all in, turning towards each other as if making snarky remarks about the others.
Several hours passed before I saw or heard anything other than the birds and the rhythmic sound of water hitting the side of my kayak. I paddled past a man who stood on a sandbar in the middle of the river sifting for fossils. A while later, I came upon a small family fishing on the bank. Then, as I neared Zolfo Springs, a kayaker passed me, and finally some campers appeared on the banks.
I floated back to where I had parked my car just before 4:30 p.m.
(Peace River Paddle Sports and Adventures. 207 Illinois Avenue, Wauchula, FL 33873. (863) 832-2102)
Footprints and Ripples 