Dear Reader,
I write this knowing I am out of cell phone range (for the first time on this trip) and so you will not read it for at least a day, if not more, as we go deeper into The Big Bend region of Florida and turn south.
Last night was warm enough to go back to sleeping in underwear and a cotton tank top inside my sleeping bag within new bag liner. And so it was easier than it has been in over a week to get up early and get on the water before the seemingly inevitable winds picked up. We drank our coffee in the tent to avoid the bugs that came with the morning’s calm, and packed.
Do you know how to find yourself out of a marsh’s labyrinth? As the tide was going out, we followed the tiny bubbles found on the surface of moving water, riding the current out to sea.
And so we did that for a mile, paddling back out the same way we came in, although of course there are no landmarks when the grasses are higher than our heads, and the landscape, regardless, is flat.
We continued paddling a mile offshore, twisting and turning around raised oyster beds, before we found deep enough water to turn eastward.
For 13.7 nm, not once setting foot on land and seldom being closer to it than a mile.
Our cold breakfast of granola bars was eaten sitting in our boats.
We took our paddling jackets off. We put our paddling jackets back on.
We paddled and paddled.
A handful of fishing boats in the distance. A single bird here. Another there. The water grey. The sky cloudy. My back aching. And my neck. I rolled my neck and stretched my back. And paddled.
Finally we rounded the long finger of land extending out into the sea just before the Econfina River entrance and saw a flurry of sport fishing boats going in and out of the river. It was Saturday afternoon after all. And Florida is nothing if not a fishing-obsessed State, by everyone, from hobos to aristocrats.
We followed the boats into the river towards the Econfina River State Park, and its small store.
John saw another alligator along the bank. And I’m pretty sure I saw the eyes and the snout of one just before it disappeared into the water. But it could’ve been anything, really.
We were exhausted after four and a half hours and 13.7 nm of open water paddling without ever getting out of our boats.
The water squished in my wetsuit booties as we unloaded our boats to pull them off the ramp and out of the way of the boat traffic, and squished as we walked up to the store.
We were starving.
The store’s food inventory was pathetic. I won’t even tell you what we ate. It was that bad. But calories are calories and a semblance of clarity started to reassemble our brains.
One does not paddle well on granola bars alone!
Elena, the friendly store clerk, cheered us on and threw in some advice: where NOT to camp so the meth heads won’t rob us (Keaton Beach). Did you know that shrimpers cook meth on the shrimp boats while their out shrimping at night? We didn’t either but she did.
Two older gentlemen in golf carts, who treat the “redneck fishing hangout” (their words) as their own private country club, also sent us off in style.
As boat after fishing boat started returning to the ramp, we reloaded our kayaks and paddled back towards the sea to a small camp-able opening in the vegetation we’d noticed on the river as we’d entered. The Trail Guide shows a primitive campsite further upriver past the store, but we’d paddled enough. Plus we were launching again early in the morning.
We settled into camp and reviewed the route to come.
As I was washing our dishes near the river (we have a three-part system: wash, rinse, bleach), a guy in a boat heading back to the ramp yelled out “Naked and Afraid!”
Have you seen that silly show? John and I watched five minutes of one episode at my sister’s house. Let’s be clear. We’re not stupid enough to be naked. And with mosquitoes buzzing on the other side of our screen right now, nor am I about to be without a tent.
We’re alive.
We’re healthy.
We’re adventurers.
Goodnight!
Cheers, Susana
Comments are closed.