Paddle Florida (it's been naughty)

Saint Joseph Sound Spoil Islands

2011-12-17T20:54:00.001-05:00

December in Florida. On the water at 11:30, clear blue skies and 72-degrees.

This was a trip to visit the spoil islands in Saint Joseph Sound to pick one for camping in a few weeks. Spoil islands are the result of dredging channels – the material dredged from the bottom of the channel is loaded on a barge and the barge is periodically dumped to the side of the channel.

This results in evenly spaced islands (or bars if there wasn’t enough material) along the line of the channel. In this case there are six islands about a half mile apart running north of the Dunedin-Honeymoon Island causeway. The channel continues to the north, but the islands stop – the northern dump sites didn’t rise to the level of islands.

(open in Google Earth)
(7 miles – 3:30)

There’s a lot of rock and oyster shell around the causeway and islands, much of it exposed at low tide, which is when I arrived to put in. The oyster shell will tear up a boat faster even than rock, so don’t drag your boat over it. Also watch your step, as it’ll slice your feet up just as easily.

I set course for the first island in the chain and started off. Getting there from where I put in on the causeway meant crossing the boat channel. I always laugh at kayakers who start talking about marine law and right-of-way regarding powered boats. In my book, right-of-way goes to who won’t wind up as flotsam and chum after the collision, so I always make sure the channels are clear for a long ways before trying to cross.

This is not clear enough:

The reason we wait until it’s completely clear, of course, is because no matter how well the day’s going, no matter how swift your stroke is … dead center of the channel will be the spot your cooler decides to slide off the back deck of the boat and become a sea anchor. Did this happen today? Of course it did. This is why I want a new boat.

On some of the islands, local conservation groups are busily at work replacing non-native vegetation. While I can agree with this in principal, I still think the Australian pines just look better than native growth.

The first and second islands north of the causeway have rock fire pits and cleared areas suitable for camping. The second is larger and someone has brought in a picnic table.

Both were nicely free of trash, with only a few cans or bottles around. Most of these had already been placed in the fire pits.

On the first island, though, there’s clearly a “bathroom” area that some people aren’t following “leave no trace” in.

If you can’t handle packing it out, then stay somewhere there’s a toilet.

The third island north of the causeway is an Audubon sanctuary, so landing is not permitted. The fourth was inaccessible during my trip due to the tide – exposed rock and oyster shell made landing a bad idea.

Island five had a little surprise in store for me. The low tide exposed a spit of sand and an odd looking rock that turned out to be this little guy:

Not every day that you see one of these on the beach.

The last island in the chain is small and rocky, with only a few scrub trees for cover.

Even so, if the weather forecast is good, it will probably be my choice for camping, because it’s isolated and well-positioned as a base. From here, it’s only two miles to either Honeymoon (red) or the bars north of Honeymoon (green), and from them it’s only another two miles to Anclote (blue).

Things I Want to Do

2010-05-31T18:25:00.001-04:00

This is the Florida-list of paddles I want to do and doesn’t include U.S. or world trips.

7-Mile Bridge

I’ve always found it a bit strange that for all the time I’ve spent in the Keys I’ve never paddled 7-Mile Bridge.

(view in Google Earth)

I’ve paddled a lot of the areas around it, but for some reason never just did the paddle from one bridgehead to another. There’s nothing particularly special about the route, it’s something you do just to say you’ve done – and I haven’t yet.

Suwannee River

I’ve paddled portions of the Suwannee, including Florida’s rapids, but paddleflorida.org has an annual trip that sounds like an absolute blast.

View Suwannee Music Camp to Manatee Spr in a larger map

Eight days and 123-miles of paddling and camping. Breakfast and dinner catered with sandwiches at the lunch stops. And a shuttle for the beginning or ending of the trip.

In my younger, more foolish and less achy days, I might have scorned this sort of trip, scoffing that rehydrated eggs were the only breakfast a real camper needs, but as I’m now older, and ostensibly wiser, catering and the occasional shower doesn’t sound so bad.

This is a trip I may take this year, as it’s upcoming in October … of course, I’ve said that the last three years and not made it. :(

And the popularity of their trips seems to be growing, with five other paddles on various waterways planned for the next year.

The Florida Circumnavigational Trail

I’ve written about this before. Obviously completing this journey is more than one trip, but if I want to do it, I need to start soon, I think.

Because of the distances involved, though, I need to find a ~~crazy person~~ partner willing to undertake it with me – arranging this number of shuttles over these distances would be problematic. Two cars and a paddling partner would be preferable.

Hopefully a partner able to take a long weekend every couple of months and paddle a segment – four years, maybe, to finish the whole thing at that pace?

Happy Birthday at Haulover

2010-05-22T18:40:00.001-04:00

For my birthday morning, I took my daughter and a friend of hers to Haulover Canal.

View Haulover Canal in a larger map

After a long drive to pick up her Little Boy Friend*, we hit Subway for breakfast and to pick up lunch. At Subway, they gave me a Sharpie to put our initials on the lunch sandwiches, which, of course gave me the opportunity to write LBF on her friend’s – he seemed to have a sense of humor about it, she erupted in a chorus of “I can’t believe you did that!”

Kayaking and annoying the girl-child … life is good.

We were on the water by 10:00 and headed up the canal.

(view in Google Earth)

GPS tracking powered by InstaMapper.com

I put the kids in a tandem Pamlico while I paddled my Tarpon.

Shortly into the paddle, we spotted the first dolphin of the day.

And shortly after that, the manatees.

We left the manatees and the kids did a little exploring of Haulover’s unique shoreline.

Shortly after this picture, they drifted closer to the branches and I heard the girl-child express her concern that a snake might drop on her. (You may express your ridicule in the blog comments and I’ll make sure she gets them.)

Under the bridge and past the manatee observation deck, there was a pair … sporting.

Some conversation in the other boat about what they were doing prompted the girl-child to ask me what I thought:

“Well, sweetheart, when a mommy manatee and a daddy manatee love each other very much …”

“So you think they’re having sex too.”

A short way further along I spotted an alligator near the bank, but he sank out of sight before I could get a picture.

We exited the canal to the North – here are the mangroves where I stopped us to tell the kids the Mangrove Story.

What’s the Mangrove Story? Well, I believe that we should take advantage of opportunities to educate children:

“Mangroves are very important to the coastal eco-system, because their roots provide a protected environment that acts as a nursery for many different species of fish, crabs and shrimp.

“Interestingly, if you take a 10’x10’ piece of nylon netting and some lead weights and use them to submerge a body amongst the roots … in two weeks it’ll be nothing but bones from all those little baby fishes and crabs.

“You should remember that as you spend time hanging out with my little girl.”**

The kid seemed to be a good sport about this story, too, because, of course and on advice of counsel, the Mangrove Story is just friendly kidding.

Just before heading out into the lagoon, we came across a barnacle-covered piece of driftwood.

The wind was out of the NE today, so we headed in that direction, crossing the lagoon before stopping to drift back as we ate lunch.

After lunch, on the way back, the girl-child will claim I fell in the water. I deny this charge. Here’s what happened:

Because I had forgotten to bring towels, I was unable to improvise a ~~ass-pad~~ seat cushion as I have recently. After the paddle across the lagoon, the lack was being felt, so I stood up to stretch my legs.

The Tarpon is a very stable boat, so standing up is not foolish. I’ve stood in it to fish before with no problems on calm water, and it was quite calm today.

From my standing position I was enjoying the view of the clear, shallow water when I spotted what I thought was a small turtle. A second look showed that it was a large crab and since the water was so shallow and clear, I wanted to get a good picture of it, so I quickly sat down.

Standing in the Tarpon is perfectly okay … sitting quickly, not so much.

So, yes, part of me left the boat, but since it was only one leg and became wet only to the knee, while the other leg and the rest of me stayed in the boat, I do not believe this qualifies as falling out.

I subscribe to the philosophy that any exit in which my hair remains dry qualifies as a controlled-exit from the watercraft.

I did not get a picture of the crab.

After that incident, though, I did get a picture of a pelican in flight.

We also saw the second dolphin of the day off in the distance.

On the way back, the kids took a disturbingly close look at the mangroves.

Of course ~~I actually use a far more remote patch of mangroves~~ there was nothing out of the ordinary for them to see.

Back through the canal, now much more crowded with fishermen, and saw the third dolphin of the day off-shore as we loaded the car – or, more probably, saw the first one of the day again, but still good to see.

* I call all of the girl-child’s female friends her Little Friend and the males are referred to as her Little Boy Friend. I do this for two reasons: first, it saves me the trouble of trying to remember names; and, B, it annoys her to no-end. Yes, I’m lazy and cruel.

** The Mangrove Story is intended solely as an amusing anecdote and does not constitute an admission of guilt or any knowledge whatsoever about missing teenage boys who’ve hung out with my daughter.

Two Mondays on the Wekiva – Part II

2010-05-17T23:47:00.001-04:00

For today’s trip on the Wekiva, I headed for Wilson’s Landing at State Road 46 to put in.

View Wekiva - Wilson's Landing in a larger map

The forecast all week calls for scattered thundershowers and halfway to drop my daughter off for her class and my couple hours on the water I ran into this.

Traffic on the 70 MPH highway slowed to 40 as the storm cut visibility, but it soon cleared a little.

The SR46 bridge is off-limits for boat launching, but Wilson’s Landing is close by. There’s no official boat launch at the park at this time, but Seminole County recently approved a quarter million dollars to build a pavilion and launch there.

Frankly, I think I could build a pavilion and canoe launch for a lot less than $250,000, but that’s a different issue.

Until it’s built, though, launching is a little … unofficial.

Parking is a good distance from the water, but there’s a paved sidewalk most of the way (if you have wheels) and terrain’s mostly level (unlike Wekiwa Springs State Park). There’s also a dirt road that continues past the parking to a roundabout that gets you about halfway closer to the water.

The sidewalk leads to a boardwalk over the water, but there’s a dirt path branching off it to the only clear area of shoreline in the park.

The path is surrounded by landscaping, but hasn’t been landscaped itself and there are no signs prohibiting boat launching, so I’ve assumed it’s okay to use this spot until the official launch site is built.

The site itself, though, is pretty cramped right now and it’s a bit tricky to maneuver a large boat onto the water and back to shore for boarding.

Once on the water, you can see that you’re only a short distance from the SR 46 bridge.

I had limited time for this trip, starting at 5:00 and needing to be off the water by 7:00 in order to pick up my daughter at 7:30, so I started upstream – planning to paddle until six and then head back to my launch point.

(view in Google Earth)

GPS tracking powered by InstaMapper.com

Shortly into the trip, though, I found that staying by the right-bank had been a mistake and the channel I’d followed became clogged and impassable.

After heading back downriver, I decided to keep going that way, rather than retracing my path nearer the left-bank, so I headed for the bridge, taking a couple photos along the way.

The Wekiva’s an interesting river, because it can change from the very open river I started paddling in to a much closer, tree-lined river in a very short distance – as it does, just after the bridge, splitting into two channels with a tree-covered island between them.

And then opening up again just as rapidly.

Ducks were out in force this trip and I saw quite a few of them.

And farther down river, two deer were getting an early dinner.

You’d think after almost forty years in Florida, I’d know what some of these damn birds are, but I really have no idea. I got a decent picture of this thing, though.

And to think the mess I’d driven through earlier turned into this:

Ducks I can recognize, though, and this one seemed to not care at all about me.

By this time it was six and time to turn around, but looking ahead I could see that I wasn’t nearly out of river yet …

Surely I could paddle a little farther and still make it back in time? Right? I decided to paddle until 6:15 and then head back.

And I’m glad I did, because just a little ways downstream an alligator left the reeds ahead for the far side at my approach.

He was followed by a second, larger one, who reached the far shore and then paralleled my course for a while.

Shortly thereafter, I ran across this plant – not sure what it is, but it looks nice.

At this point, it’s 6:08, so I decide to turn around and head back … mostly because my watch is slow and it’s really 6:12.

Remember all those big open spaces on the river … well, now the current’s against me and the wind seems to have picked up and is funneled between the trees and I have to hurry back to the put in.

Why does this little stretch of river seem so much harder to paddle than the open-ocean side of Honeymoon was Friday?

Finally, ahead of me, the river splits and I paddle into the narrower channel on the right-bank. Once I’m through this tree-covered area, I’ll be going under the bridge and then it’s just a few hundred yards to the park.

Doh!

Not quite at the right split yet, and the homeowners have built a wall across the river – probably too many boats cruising through ignoring the No Wake signs. So I have to backtrack and get out of this dead end, but if I hadn’t taken it, we wouldn’t have this picture of a pony in someone’s back yard.

Yes, the best picture I could get was of the horse’s ass. I’m in a hurry and have to get off the water by 7:00 or I’ll be late picking up my daughter – give me a break.

As an aside, is that really a pony, or is it a demondonkey?

I’m just asking.

Saw another large alligator cruising ahead of me, but he submerged before I got close enough for a photo. And now that I’m hurrying, fighting against the current and the wind to get back and off the water by 7:00 so I won’t be late for that 7:30 pick up, there’re smaller gators on every freakin’ dock I pass, it seems. No time for pictures of them, though.

Finally, I’m in the right channel and reach the bridge.

And back to Wilson’s Landing where I can get off the water.

Yes, that’s the target I have to line my 16’ boat up against, get close enough sideways to step out onto land, then maneuver the boat around to pull it out. I didn’t say it was an easy site.

Off the water, drag all the gear back to the roundabout, load the car and ready to drive only a few minutes late.

My schedule had some buffer time in it, so I’m able to make it with a couple of minutes to spare, arriving to pick my daughter up at 7:28.

At which time, I sit around and wait until 7:45 because her class ran long.

Two Mondays on the Wekiva – Part I

2010-05-17T22:11:00.001-04:00

I was lazy last week and didn’t post about one of my trips, so will have to take care of that today.

In the past when I’ve tried to get back to paddling, one of the problems has been time. With a family there always seems to be something that needs to be done, so the “not enough time” excuse rears its head. This time, though, I’m working on the theory that two hours on the water is still two hours on the water, so I’m taking opportunities as they arise.

So since my daughter has classes several times a week, I’ve started taking the opportunity to do something other than drive home and sit on the couch before it’s time to pick her up – whether paddling or hockey or something else.

Under this premise, a friend and I headed for Wekiwa Springs State Park Monday (5/10) to get on the water.

View Wekiva River in a larger map

With two people, the portage from the parking lot to the water wasn’t too bad and we headed out.

(view in Google Earth)

GPS tracking powered by InstaMapper.com

The GPS went a little hinky and didn’t track as often as it should have, but we first headed up Rock Springs Run until the water got so shallow in spots that we had to get out and pull the kayaks.

This bird was there on our way up Rock Springs Run and didn’t budge as we went by. After we paddled upriver for a while and came back, he was still there – apparently unmoved. We considered the possibility that he was some taxidermists prank until we got close enough to make him stalk off indignantly.

Once off Rock Springs Run and back on the Wekiva, we found the Wekiva Marina much changed since my last visit and pretty busy for a Monday afternoon.

Last time I was on this river, the marina was pretty dilapidated and didn’t get much traffic. It looks like things have had significant changes. I’m going to have to stop by and check it out.

Further down the river, we came across this little place, posted No Trespassing by the Florida Farm Bureau.

Not sure why it’s there or what it’s used for.

Not much wildlife on this trip, but all along the route we saw signs of the most invasive species in Florida.

I really don’t understand how people who go out on the river and clearly enjoy doing so can so casually toss crap everywhere – do they not care if they’re swimming and fishing in a garbage dump?

Boat Fever

2010-05-16T19:51:00.001-04:00

Florida Bay Outfitters has an annual ~~torment Paul~~ rental fleet sale: http://www.kayakfloridakeys.com/Sales/salerentalgear.htm

Why am I drooling this year?

Wilderness Systems Tarpon 160 w/ Rudder for $845

Yes, I already have a Tarpon, but it’s the older model. The new model has their Phase 3 seat, which would solve my ~~ass pad~~ seat cushion problem quite nicely.

It also has a rear well where my model has a hatch. When they first made the change, I didn’t like it – reducing dry storage. But over the years, I’ve come to wish I had that rear well – what with trying to access coolers and dive gear in the rear hatch or trying to keep things strapped to the back from sliding off the boat, I can see the benefit now.

Although the Tarpon’s marketed for fishermen, I like mine for all purposes. It’s a very stable boat, tracks well and it’s easy to get in and out off – from dock, shore or deep water. I’ve used mine for river, lake and ocean trips – touring and camping.

Wilderness Systems Tarpon 140 w/ Rudder for $795

Why a second, shorter Tarpon? Because the first one is so damn good, but the kids have trouble horsing the long boat around turns.

I now have four boats: my Tarpon, a Pamlico, a Swifty and a Spitfire. Frankly, no one in the family likes to paddle anything but the Tarpon. I got the Swifty and Spitfire for the kids, because they’re more appropriately sized, but the poor tracking of the shorter boats wears them out too fast.

I’m very tempted to sell those three and start buying multiple Tarpons.

Hobie Mirage Adventure Island $2399

I want this boat.

16’ with outriggers and sail – the peddle drive system would be nice for a break once in a while, too.

And, of course, now that I’ve started paddling again, it appears that the entire state of Florida is going to be rained on for the next week … figures.

Honeymoon Island

2010-05-14T20:22:00.001-04:00

I had a bit of a later start than I planned this morning, due mostly to a muttered “oh, hell, no” and slap at the alarm clock around 0-dark-thirty.

Once up, though, I loaded the car and hit the road for Dunedin, FL, stopping just twice:

Subway for breakfast and lunch – their new breakfast is pretty good, easily in the top five of semi-fast-food, after Panera, Starbucks and Chick-Fil-A, and the cheapest of the four. Quite a bit above McDonald’s or Burger King. Plus you can pick up a cooler-friendly lunch at the same time.
The Best Buy in Dunedin to pick up an iPhone battery. Yes, I know you can’t replace the battery in them. I was looking for either a solar charger or charger that uses regular batteries, because I’ve been using the iPhone as my GPS tracker on trips (safely ensconced in the deck bag, of course), but the GPS eats battery life. What I found was this thing from Energizer that works as an external rechargeable battery:

So far, so good – it ran the iPhone for GPS tracking over four hours today and the phone still had a full charge.

A good put-in to paddle either Honeymoon Island or nearby Caladesi is from the Dunedin Causeway.

View Dunedin Causeway in a larger map

View Dunedin Causeway Put In in a larger map

You can enter the state park on Honeymoon Island, but the portage from parking lot to beach is a lot longer than on the causeway:

Of course I still haven’t repaired the seat padding that blew off, so I had to improvise an ~~ass-pad~~ cushion.

All in all a folded towel is okay, except for the part where it gets saturated and you sit around in salt-water all day … but the Tarpon’s a wet boat anyway, so I didn’t really notice.

My goal today was to circumnavigate Honeymoon Island then paddle around St. Joseph Sound on the east side of Caladesi. With the late start and the stops, I only managed the first half of that.

(view in Google Earth)

GPS tracking powered by InstaMapper.com

The weather forecast called for the winds to be out of the ESE between 8 and 12 MPH, so I started my trip on the east side of the island (going counterclockwise), putting the wind and waves at my back and quarter for the first part of the trip.

I did have to paddle into the stronger wind for the latter part of the trip down the west side of the island, but it was a much shorter distance to face that than the east would have been. You can see from the GPS track that I was a lot slower on the West side, especially when I got far enough south to be out of the lee of the island.

I passed near Grassy Key on my way north, a small mangrove island.

Most of the southeast portion of Honeymoon is mangrove also, with no beaches or stopping places.

It’s not until you round the northernmost headland of mangroves that the shore begins to offer places to beach.

I stopped three times on the east side of the island.

The first stop was because I had to pee. I know, TMI, but under the Florida sun: If you don’t have to pee, you’re not drinking enough. Something Florida paddlers should keep in mind. I also picked up about a dozen cans and bottles at this stop to dispose of properly.

The second stop was because I thought I remembered there being an easy portage spot there – clearly I was mistaken, since that stop was at about the widest part of that portion of the island. So much for my memory.

And the third stop was because an osprey had perched on very low post.

The wind and waves were driving me right to the beach at the base of this short dune, so I was able to keep still and exit the boat out of his site. This let me get a lot closer for a picture.

The north end of Honeymoon is roped off and signed as restricted to protect nesting birds. The sandbar there is also a gathering spot for the feathered ones.

Rounding the north end of the island presents you with a view of the open Gulf.

The ocean-side of Honeymoon should be considered an open-water paddle. Unlike the sheltered sound to the east, the west-side can get the full force of wind, waves and currents. A basic understanding of currents and tides is helpful and you should be comfortable having nothing on one side of you until Mexico.

The combination today was a light wind out of the south and a moderate swell out of the south. Since I had to go south, this made the second half of today’s paddle more challenging. But I find swells easier to handle than the chop the wind was kicking up on the east side, so I’m glad I went counterclockwise today.

The northern beaches on Honeymoon are the farthest from the parking lots, so they’re not very crowded.

But this changes as you head south.

I saw only one dolphin on this trip, that just as I was turning east around the south end of the island. I wasn’t able to get a picture, because he only surfaced twice, both times quickly and heading north.

I pulled onto the beach at the very southern tip of the island, just before the channel and crossing to Caladesi, where I had a quick lunch. As soon as I had my sandwich in hand, this guy showed up to try mooching a bite.

His presence also irritated a couple other gulls who were busy with the preliminaries to seagull sex.

After lunch, I crossed the channel to the Caladesi side.

But I decided to call it a day and head for the causeway and home.

A Quick Trip at Haulover

2010-05-12T22:20:00.001-04:00

I had some time this afternoon and decided to run over to Haulover Canal for a quick paddle.

(view in Google Earth)

GPS tracking powered by InstaMapper.com

I started from the large landing area at the west end of the canal.

Took the canal east under the bridge and out into open water for a short way.

The water’s eroded small sea-caves in the bank, visible at low tide.

There appeared to be a single manatee at the observation platform, but it was very close to shore, so no good pictures. But once onto open water, you have to ask yourself: Is there a better place to be on a Florida afternoon?

Outside the shelter of the canal, the wind was just a little east of south, so had a full six-mile fetch to work up the waves.

So after about a mile of paddling straight into the wind, I turned around and headed back to the canal. Is it a bad sign when the buzzards start circling your boat?

Back in the canal, still no good manatee pictures, but I did find a dolphin enjoying himself.

And churning up quite a wake from under the surface.

And managed to get a little bit of video of him:

Since I had to be home by eight, it was time to pull the boat out and head back. At an hour one way to get there from my house, I spent more time in the car than on the water … it’s a fair trade.

Getting Back in the Paddle

2010-05-08T17:28:00.001-04:00

So, yes, it’s almost two years since I made a paddling post and, sadly, almost one year since I took the kayak out at all. A short trip last June with the kids was it. And it really shocked me when I realized how long it’s been.

So today’s trip was more of a preliminary jaunt to see just how out of shape I am and how much work it’ll be to get back in paddling form. With that in mind, I headed for Moss Park – it’s a pleasant, easy, lake paddle for me to get back into the swing of things.

Some things have changed at Moss Park since the last time I was there. First, the entry fee has changed – it used to be $1 per person, now it’s $3 per car. Second, they’ve paved some more of the roads and rebuilt the western boat ramps.

I don’t mind paying a couple dollars more to support the park, but I’m sad about the paving. I liked the sound and feel of gravel under my tires and feet and the old wooden dock. Now they have paved parking, two powerboat ramps and a new dock. There’s also a paved loading/unloading ramp near the kayak/canoe launch.

Unfortunately, they also paved a ramp, accessible only by sidewalk, for canoe/kayak launch. I hate concrete ramps for kayak launching. Who wants to drag their boat up a concrete ramp? Luckily there’s still some grass next to the concrete.

Unfortunately, as soon as I walked back from the parking lot, I found that this guy was pulling out and left his boat there while he went to get his car.

Which left very little space for me to launch.

A very positive change at Moss Park, is that they’ve started handing out a new flyer to boaters with some basic rules and a map of the two lakes (Hart and Mary Jane).

This map includes depth lines. I think this is a great thing for them to do, because the Lake Mary Jane side is where most of the boaters and jet skiers go, but there’s a sandbar in the middle of the lake – depending on rainfall, it can be between 2’ and 2” deep, so notifying those new to the lakes is a pretty good idea.

So I got onto the water and started down the half-mile channel from the ramp to Lake Hart.

When I got to the end of the channel, I found that the wind was fully out of the West (I checked later and found it was a 13 mile an hour wind today), with a 1.5 mile fetch across the lake, there was a lively set of waves worked up.

My original plan had been to paddle the perimeter of the lake, but wind and waves changed that. I love paddling in weather and surf, so I headed due West across the lake, right into the teeth of the wind. I figured that would give me a really good idea of just how far I needed to go to get back into shape.

What surprised me was that I noticed after a time that I was halfway across the lake and hadn’t stopped paddling. Now I’m usually a rather leisurely paddler – I stop frequently, have a drink, look around, rest. To have gone over a mile (from the put-in to mid-lake) without stopping a couple times is unusual on even a calm day. So I pushed on, determined now to make it all the way across without stopping.

It seems I’m in better shape than I expected – even though I’ve been largely sedentary for the last couple years. Within the last month or two, I started doing a lot of work around the house – moving furniture for tile, putting up a fence, painting, etc – and also started ice skating more as the boy-child and I learn to play hockey. So things aren’t as bad as I feared.

I made it to the far-side of the lake without stopping, except to take this picture, until my bow touched the reeds on the far shore.

It wasn’t entirely easy, my arms and shoulders were burning a little, but that has more to do with my paddling form sucking than anything else – I tend to use my arms more to paddle, instead of my torso.

From there, I decided to head South around the perimeter of the lake and take a moment to investigate a big, blue thing someone had on their lawn. Turned out to be a huge waterslide.

Whatever happened to the simple Slip-n-Slide? This thing wouldn’t even fit in a normal sized yard.

A bit further South, away from the screaming children and the constant roar of blowers and the generator needed to keep this monstrosity inflated, I came across someone who’d set up an alligator feeding-station.

At least that’s the reason I can come up with for the free-running goats.

At the South end of Lake Hart is an irrigation dam and my favorite sign.

I’m still not sure why this sign says “DANGER” and not “Admission - $10”.

Past the dam I leave the lee of the far shore and pick up the wind again, paddling with a following sea, then turn north to get back to the channel, which lets me wallow along in a cross-sea. Whee.

I decide to call it a day, not because I’m tired, but because my butt hurts. The seat cushion on my yak blew off a while back and I haven’t replaced it yet. But once I have that replaced, it seems I’m not as out of shape as I thought I was and I can start going on more interesting routes.

(view this route in Google Earth)

GPS tracking powered by InstaMapper.com

GiSTEQ PhotoTrackr Lite - A New Toy

2008-06-16T21:01:00.001-04:00

Having been on vacation this last week not only gave me the chance to do some paddling, it also gave me the chance to try out a new toy.

When I started this blog, one of the things I wanted to do was to provide photos of the trips to Google Earth via Panoramio. One of the things I quickly found out was that mapping photos of a river trip by hand is a pain in a different body part.

Let's face it, if you've just taken a picture here:

It's pretty easy to tell Google Earth where you were when you snapped the photo.

On the other hand, the question "where was I standing when" becomes more problematic when it was somewhere in here:

I want to paddle, not keep track of river bends, so I went looking for something to do this automatically and found this little toy:

This is a simple GPS receiver that just records your location every 15-seconds when it's turned on. Where this becomes useful for photography is when using the included PhotoTrackr software.

PhotoTrackr allows you to select a group of a pictures and a trip record from the GiSTEQ device. It then uses the time the picture was taken to match it up with a location in the trip record and encodes the location in the pictures' EXIF information. Now, when you upload the picture to a service like Panoramio, Flickr or Picassa, those services can read the geotag information included with the picture and map it automatically.

In addition to mapping pictures, the PhotoTrackr software will also map your entire trip on Google Maps or export a KLM file for use with Google Earth -- features I use to create the maps, route pictures and Google Earth downloads for this site.

Overall I'm pleased with the GiSTEQ device. The battery life could be better (1-AA runs it for about 10- to 12-hours) and there are short gaps in the recording. A single trip might be broken into several segments in the software and I've seen some gaps of up to a few hundred yards in the recording. I'm hoping a firmware update will resolve this once I have time to do the update.

I also had a problem with the install. It calls for getting a Google Map API Key (this would be the key the software uses to identify itself to Google Maps for displaying maps within the software). The install process sends you to the Google website to retrieve this key, but the site asks for a web address -- the PhotoTrackr install doesn't make it clear that it's the GiSTEQ website you have to enter here (http://www.gisteq.com/). Once I found that tidbit on the GiSTEQ support forum, everything was fine.

Wekiva River

2008-06-14T23:00:00.001-04:00

After nearly soiling myself passing a very large gator at close range on the Econlockhatchee, I decided something more leisurely and sedate was in order, so I headed for Wekiwa Springs State Park to paddle the Wekiva River.

The springs and the river actually do have different names, it isn't an alternate spelling. Wekiwa refers to the springs -- water coming out of the ground; while Wekiva means water flowing over the ground.

If you want a peaceful, tranquil Florida river experience, the Wekiva is a good choice ... unless it's a Saturday during Summer. Wekiwa Springs State Park frequently closes due to capacity being reached on Summer weekends and the river teems with boaters ... most of them in rented canoes with no idea what they're doing and less interest in the serenity of nature.

Near the headwaters of the Wekiva you have a choice of putting in at either the State Park or Wekiva Marina (about a mile downstream from the springs).

View Larger Map

I chose the State Park because the fee to put in is a couple dollars less. If you put in at the Marina and then want to paddle to the Park, there's a small fee to enter the Park as well.

One issue with launching your own boat from the State Park is that the water is some distance from the parking. There's also a hill involved and the trail is rather soft sand in some places. It's not that bad getting to the water, since it's downhill from the parking lot ... the bad part comes later.

The put-in is on the Wekiwa Springs pond, just below the swimming area.

Since my little misadventure on the Econ had eaten up some of my time this morning (and thankfully that was all that was eaten), it was after 9:00 AM when I got to the springs and people were already on the water. It was still early enough, though to get a bit of mist and early morning sunshine through the trees.

About 3/4 of a mile from the springs, Rock Springs Run joins the Wekiva. This is a smaller, less-traveled tributary that I enjoy paddling and I started up it a bit before returning to the Wekiva.

A full mile from the State Park is Wekiva Marina, where you can also put in or rent a canoe.

Shortly past the marina, I came across a small alligator -- a much more pleasant encounter than the one earlier in the day. In fact, on most trips down the Wekiva I've encountered a small gator in this area, just downstream of the marina.

It's at this point in writing this blog entry that I come to the realization that the little Argus Bean camera I got for these trips just isn't going to do it for me. Most of the pictures I took on this trip didn't come out well, so I'm going to have to try something better.

After pointing out the little gator to the next group of paddlers coming down the river, I leave him behind and encounter a new form of wildlife -- kayaker without PFD:

If you look closely, you can see her head behind the nice Fish and Game officer's boat ... her head's right next to the officer's ticket book, which she got a very good look at.

Is it really such a hardship to have a PFD in the boat?

Past the legal action, I saw bubbles start to break the surface of the water near the shore, then a stream of bubbles race across the width of the river. A line of bubbles breaking the surface usually means an otter and a bit of patience tracked him down when he surfaced near a fallen tree to munch on a fish.

I love watching otters and had the good fortune to once rent an apartment that had been built around a natural pond that acquired a family of them. For several months I was able to watch them from the comfort of my balcony:

After passing the otters, I saw some turtles on a log:

This is the obligatory, Florida, Turtle on a Log picture. I do not plan to take or post any more pictures of Turtle on a Log, no matter what river I see them on.

Now, don't get me wrong, I like seeing Turtles on a Log -- no matter how many times I see them, it's a nice reminder that I'm on the water, away from the city. But, let's face it, there're a lot of Turtles on a Log. And anyone who paddles, especially in Florida, has seen more than their share already, so pictures of them aren't really necessary.

So, from time to time, if I feel it's useful for the ambiance of the trip report, I'll just throw in:

You'll know what I mean and it'll save everyone's time and Internet bandwidth. If you truly feel compelled to see another picture of Turtle on a Log, you can click the link and come right back here to one.

Of course, I'll still take and post a picture if I feel it's noteworthy, for instance if I see Unusually Large Turtle on a Log or Very Large Number of Turtles on a Log. Definitely if I see the very rare: Log With No Turtle.

I started paddling again ...

(see how nicely that works?)

About 1/2 a mile downstream of the marina, the river appears to split around an island you can recognize by the lone palm tree next to a bare bank:

The left channel is the main, navigable river, but the island is a frequent stop to rest and relax. Farther along its shore are several rope swings and later in the day this spot will be packed with people picnicking and playing in the water.

The rest of my paddle down river is mostly uneventful ...

... though I do get my best quality pictures of the day out of the Argus Bean when I come to an open area of the river and want to capture the beautiful sky I'm paddling under:

After a couple hours of paddling ...

<Turtle on a Log> ^ 10

I do encounter some very tolerant birds that let me get quite close for a picture. These are without any zoom:

Once back between the marina and the park, I once again encounter the large crowds on the river this summer weekend. The attendant at the springs put-in told me they had eighty boats on the water -- possibly an exaggeration.

One day, I'm going to come here and just paddle the mile between the park and marina, back and forth, all day, watching the people in the rented canoes. Some know what they're doing, but for others it's a crap-shoot whether they'll make it off the river alive.

Best quote of the day (from a wife in the front of a canoe with a paddle across her lap):

"You're heading right for another tree!"

The tree in question was at least fifty feet away and the look on the husband's face was priceless.

My favorite was this lady. She has three kids with her in two canoes. She has tied the canoes together and is the only one paddling -- the kids mostly just sit there with their paddles. Here she is crossing the river in front of me:

Now, here she is crossing the river back the other way:

And back:

Here the Bean failed me again, but she's recrossing the river right in front of another canoe (keep in mind her two are tied together and the oncoming canoe has the current behind it). I'm cringing at this point, waiting for the clothesline flag to be thrown and ready to assist the soon-to-be victims.

Luckily, the oncoming paddler was able to slow down enough to avoid disaster.

Once back at the State Park put-in, the truly horrid part of the trip is facing me: getting the boat back to the car.

After trudging up the hill to retrieve the kayak cart from the car and back down to the put-in, I make sure everything's secure on the boat and start the trek ... uphill ... through the soft, soft sand.

At the top of the initial hill, there's a choice to be made. I can turn right past the concession stand and then up the narrower, steeper trail to where I parked, or I can go left through a picnic area -- that way is longer, but not as steep.

I'm 41-years old, out of shape and need the exercise, I take the hill. Besides, they're grilling in the picnic area, I can smell it. I'm hungry after the morning's paddling and the turkey sandwiches waiting in my cooler just aren't what I want. If I have to drag this damn boat past burgers and barbeque, there's going to be an Incident.

So up the hill. But not all at once. The goal is to get the heart pumping, not exploding.

First, the short pull across level ground to the restrooms, which is an excellent excuse to stop for a moment. Then start up the hill to the gate and pause again, looking longingly back at the hot dog cart outside the park's concession. If they were grilled, I'd be all over it, but they're boiled and even the turkey in the cooler's more appetizing than that.

Now up the hill to the halfway point, where I wheeze for a little while, muttering about how if I'd taken the other path I'd be eating a burger right now while fending off its owner with a BBQ fork.

And one final pull to the parking lot where I load up the car and settle in to the air conditioning to eat my turkey sandwich. Yum.

Econlockhatchee River (lower) -- Failed Trip

2008-06-14T15:52:00.001-04:00

The Econ has not been kind to me this week. After failing earlier in an attempt to paddle the upper stretch, I returned this morning for the lower segment, which is 11-miles and runs from Snow Hill Road to State Road 46, a short ways down the St. Johns River from where the Econ flows into it.

View Larger Map

The put-in at Snow Hill Road is very nice, with gravel entries on either side of the road and under the bridge.

Despite some rain during the week, the water level was still very low when I arrived, so low that the little dam under the bridge was visible.

Water level and debris had been the problem when I tried to paddle the upper segment, but I decided to try anyway. The current water level had been okay for paddling the middle segment that runs through the Little Big Econ State Forest, so I figured it was worth a try.

Because the shore of the put-in below the little dam is mostly rock and concrete for erosion control, I put in above the dam and "shot the rapids" -- this is Florida, we take what we can get.

Shortly after taking off, only a few minutes down river, I come to a tree mostly blocking the way, but it's been down a while and previous paddlers have cleared some of it near the left bank and there's about six or eight feet of clear water on that side.

As I get closer, I see that there's a stump dead center of this cleared space and it looks over a foot across, so I start pondering how to get by it; is my better track going to be on the left near shore or on the right toward open water? With the current pushing me toward the gap, I look down river to see what's next and choose my line ... then I notice something and have a new thing to ponder:

Why does a stump need eyes?

This is, indeed, a riddle ... a quandary, even, that I puzzle over as the stump slowly sinks out of sight.

I stop paddling as the current takes me through the gap and I look down.

Under two, maybe three, feet of tea-colored water, half a paddle-length from the edge of my boat, is an eat-me category alligator. (Actually, from my perspective at the time, he looks more like he's in the Betty White's Cow category.)

He's not as big as my boat, a 16.5' Tarpon, but he's bigger than most of my boat, so my heart's racing a bit.

Now, intellectually, I know that he doesn't want to hurt me and the reason he's down on the bottom is so I won't see him and will leave him alone. I know this ... but fresh in my mind at the time is this message from over on the Green Wave about a gator surfacing and putting four holes in the bow of 14.5' Perception at Alexander Springs.

I'm sure the gator in that incident wasn't looking to hurt anyone, he just got startled and wanted to get away, so he lashed out at what he thought was the threat and then retreated.

So here I am floating by my gator today, trying ever so hard not to appear threatening (or tasty). In fact, I'm thinking to myself: "Hello, Mr. Alligator -- this is just a big, blue log floating innocently down the river; soon it will be gone and you can go on about your business. Pay no attention to that mammal on top of the log, he tastes bad and is high in cholesterol."

Once past, I breathe a sigh of relief and round the next bend, glad to put him behind me. As I round the bend, I startle a deer drinking at the shoreline. She stares at me for a split-second, then bounds off into the brush. And it's at this point that I remember I have a camera, so I head for the beach where the deer was drinking, tie up my kayak and walk back along the shoreline (keeping some distance from the actual water) until I find the alligator again -- he'd drifted a bit downstream from where I first saw him. He's still submerged, but is visible in the pictures:

As I get back in the boat and start paddling again, I begin to think:

Narrow river + shallow water + large alligators + solo paddler = ?

What do these things add up to? Stupid people doing stupid things.

See, I have no doubt at all that I've been on the water with gators that big before ... many times. I've probably paddled right over them. The difference here is that the water's not deep enough and the river's not wide enough for the gator to get far enough from me for him to feel safe ... and that's when he's going to hurt me, when he thinks I'm a threat and he can't get away.

I'm barely into this trip and I'm thinking about another eleven miles of narrow, shallow water ... what's the likelihood in these conditions that I'll be paddling hard and deep to get around some obstruction and whack one of these guys in the head with my paddle? Or that I'll be unable to see below the surface ahead of me due to the sun's glare and wind up running into one? Do I like these odds?

So, since one of my life-goals is to not be the guy on the six o'clock news story that everyone else in town shakes their head and mutters "dumb ass" about, I decide this isn't the right time to take this trip. On another day, when there's more water and maybe another paddler, I'll be back.

At the time, though, I have another problem. Ahead of me is eleven miles of shallow, narrow water with an unknown number of large alligators ... behind me might only be a few hundred yards of paddling, but I know exactly what's in the very shallow, very narrow river.

I start paddling back, keeping a watchful eye out ... no gator. I pull onto the bank a couple times so I can walk ahead and scout the water ... no gator. I get past the area that I first saw him in ... no gator. I get to within view of the dam ... no gator. I get through the gap in the dam, under the Snow Hill Road bridge and up to the beach ... no gator.

So the question in my mind for the rest of the day: I didn't see him, so how close to the bottom of my boat was he when I went right over him?

The Boy-Child's First Solo

2008-06-12T17:06:00.001-04:00

There's an old Styx song I've been humming a lot this week:

Nothing ever goes as planned ...
It's a hell of a notion ...

I'm on vacation this week and had "plans" -- the plans were to paddle every morning, do several hours of paddling on different routes and be off the water by mid-day to spend time with my family. But, as I keep telling my kids when they whine "But you said we were going to ...", plans change.

Errands, a dog needing to go to the vet and a couple late nights have all conspired to make me skip getting on the water several days.

Now, all week long, the boy-child's been saying that he wants to go kayaking with me and I've been putting him off. Because I've paddled so little over the last few years, I've become a bit jealous of my time on the water. Taking one of the kids means changing the trip to accommodate them -- and I had "plans" for this week.

Taking T. has always meant paddling the tandem Pamlico, which I'm not entirely happy with, and keeping the trip short enough so he doesn't get bored. At nine, hours and hours on a river just doesn't keep him entertained.

But kitten's been reminding me of some things lately (it's not nagging when it's the right thing to do), and that'd been percolating through my brain all night, so when the Big Bad Wolf ...

... stepped on my gut at dawn to say "Morning! Morning! Morning! Time to do things!" ... plans changed.

I still don't like paddling the Pamlico, though, so I decided it was time for T. to try paddling himself. We loaded up the the Tarpon and my daughter's Swifty to head for Moss Park where I'd paddled just a couple days before.

View Larger Map

Earlier in the week I'd paddled Lake Hart, on the West side of Moss Park, but that route starts with a 1/2-mile trip down a relatively narrow (20- or 30-foot wide) channel. I figured that would be a bit much to ask of the boy his first time alone in a kayak, so we paddled the Lake Mary Jane side of the park.

(view this location in Google Earth)
(get Google Earth)

This side of the park has a nice sand beach and swimming area, as well as a grass launching area suitable for kayaks. Just off the beach is an island that's designated as a bird sanctuary. We put in from this area and started paddling.

I'd almost expected T. to be a bit hesitant about paddling himself, but he took right off, clearing the reeds around the put-in before I was fully in my boat:

I was really impressed by how well he did right from the start. His stroke needs work (so does mine) and his tracking is ... creative (I think he paddled two or three feet for every one I did today), but he took to it quickly.

I let him set the pace and direction for a bit, then suggested he head across the lake toward the nearest boathouse we could see. I expected him to tire out and want to turn back before making it, but he kept going and we made it to the target.

The distance to the boathouse from the put-in is about half a mile, but as I said, his paddling paths are interesting, so he probably paddled a full mile on the way over.

Once there, we took a brief rest and he was ready to paddle farther, not the least intimidated by the view back to the beach we'd set off from:

He has a tendency to paddle harder than he needs to, though, so I didn't want to chance him tiring out and needing a tow back. We drifted for a bit, talking about paddling and then headed back in.

Once everything but the Swifty was back in or on the car, we took the it over to the swimming area. If he's going to paddle his own boat, he needs to have some knowledge and be prepared, so I stood in waist-deep water with him in the boat and explained some things like primary and secondary stability. Then I tilted the boat so he could get a feel for it and finally I dumped him over a few time so he could practice a wet exit.

Okay, so he's so short that a wet exit for him mostly consists of falling out of the cockpit as the boat goes over and this was more of an excuse to dump him in the water a few times, but it did give him a feel for it so he won't freak out if it ever happens.

He also practiced getting back into the boat after going over and saw how, even full of water, the flotation bags keep it at the surface. And how much water he'd have to bail out if he ever went over in the middle of a lake somewhere.

Next time, we'll work on keeping control of paddle and kayak when going over. This is also an area I neglected with the girl-child, when she started paddling, so I should work on this with her, too.

Isn't it great when a legitimate safety exercise gives you an excuse to half-drown your children?

Moss Park - Lake Hart

2008-06-10T22:56:00.001-04:00

After my failure at paddling the upper Econ this morning, I moved on to Moss Park and Lake Hart.

Moss Park is in South Orange County, situated between Lake Hart (to the west) and Lake Mary Jane (to the east). A canal connects the two lakes, running through the Park:

View Larger Map

As of this writing, the entry fee at Moss Park is $3 for one person in a vehicle or $5 for up to eight people. The boat launch is to the right as you enter the park and there's a grass launch area next to the boat ramp:

Once on the water, you face a 1/2-mile paddle down a channel through the reeds to Lake Hart:

The channel opens up into a pool about a half way through; and once past the channel, you enter the open water of Lake Hart:

And here's where my camera battery died, so the rest of the photos were taken with my cellphone. In my previous post for today, I explained that my plan is to post the bad of my trips along with the good, so here was the first of the bad.

I've never been much of a photo-taker when kayaking, I prefer to just paddle, but one of the things I wanted to include in this blog was a lot of pictures, so people would have a good idea of what to expect on a given trip.

I didn't want to spend a lot of money on equipment starting out, so I went with a cheap camera, with a bit of water resistance and intended for outdoor use, the Argus Bean.

It's a simple, cheap camera. My reasoning being, if I dump it in a lake, I don't want it to have cost a lot. Well, $59.99 at Best Buy isn't a lot, but maybe sometimes you get what you pay for. So far, I'm not impressed with the camera. I suppose it takes a decent picture, but this first outing didn't show a decent battery life. I'm going to make sure it has a full charge before my next trip and see how long it really lasts.

What I'd really like is the Sealife Ecoshot -- waterproof to 75' and shockproof to 6'. But it costs more than I'm willing to spend right now.

For this trip, I circumnavigated Lake Hart. The path in the Google Earth screenshot above is incomplete because because of problems with the new GPS, but it roughly shows the route.

View the Route in Google Earth

Most of the shoreline of Lake Hart is unimpressive -- reeds backed by forest:

But there are some nice houses along the western shore, including this one, belonging to someone who clearly loves to be on the water:

By my count, that's a ski boat, two SeaDoos, a canoe (with motor) and a catamaran at his dock. I have to admit to a certain amount of jealousy.

Then there's this guy:

This guy buys his lot, then clears it completely and plants palm trees.

There are no, or at least very few, naturally occurring palm trees on the shoreline of either Lake Hart or neighboring Lake Mary Jane, but this guy has to have his palm trees. Look at how his house stands out as a breach in the shoreline, compared to the houses next door that kept the existing trees between the house and water.

I can absolutely understand the desire to have a home on the water and buying one if you can afford it, but I simply can't comprehend the arrogance of destroying or so significantly altering the very thing your supposed to enjoy.

The paddle itself was an uneventful, but enjoyable, three hours on the water. The only excitement came near the end, when I realized I was much closer to the southern shore than I should be to find the channel back to Moss Park. I guess I was distracted or lost in thought, so missed the entry to the channel.

Now, I considered just leaving this bit off and letting everyone assume that I'd simply paddled a little extra distance at the end of the trip, but I'd just this very day decided to be up front about things that went wrong on these trips, so here are my thoughts from the last bit of today's trip, starting from when I realized I'd passed the channel back to Moss Park:

This seems too close to the Southern shore -- did I miss the channel? No, I couldn't have missed the channel ... I'd have to be blind not to see it; my eyes are playing tricks on me and those houses just look closer than they should -- the channel's probably right around that point of reeds there. Paddle some more.

Nope, not here. Damn, I must have missed it -- now I have to turn around. Turn around and paddle some more.

You know, I was feeling pretty good until I had to turn around ... now it just feels like work, because it's extra distance I wouldn't have had to paddle if I'd been paying attention. Luckily I didn't miss it by much, I think it's right past those reeds. Paddle some more.

Well, that's not it either. It must be around that next outcropping of reeds. Great, more paddling I wouldn't have had to do. It's getting hot and my back aches now. I didn't notice it before, but have since I turned around. This isn't as much fun as it was. Paddle some more.

Crap! Where is the damn channel? I've paddled around this lake a dozen times and never had trouble finding it before. What was the landmark I picked out to look for on my way back?

I don't remember what I picked to look for ... did I forget to look for something to help find my way back? I must have ... that was silly. What'd I use last time? I can't remember ... why can't I remember what I used the other times I was here? My memory must be going bad, maybe I should start taking Gingko-Biloba. Paddle more.

Now I'm cranky. I'm hot, I'm tired and I should be at the boat ramp by now, but I still haven't found the channel ...

Maybe I didn't pass it ... oh ... that would be bad ...

What if I didn't pass it, I just thought I did and now I'm paddling away from it? And I decided I was going to blog about things that go wrong, so I'm going to have to write about this ... people are going to think I'm an idiot. The fun's definitely over for this trip. Paddle more.

Maybe if I pull into this little hole in the reeds and stand up I'll be able to get my bearings better. Sure am glad the Tarpon's a stable boat, so I can stand up in it ...

Can't see a damn thing over these reeds ... that was a waste of time.

Where's that bass fisherman I saw earlier? He could tell me where I'm going -- or maybe give me a tow. He has a motor ... that's smart; freakin' paddles ... if I had a motor, I'd be done by now. Why do I have a paddle? If God had meant for us to keep paddling, he wouldn't have invented internal combustion. I'm not having any fun! Paddle more.

I really think I might have turned around too soon -- but if I turn back now, and I really did miss it the first time, then I'll be paddling away. I could spend the rest of the day paddling back and forth, missing it by fifty yards at either end. I'm going to have to paddle all the way north and all the way south to find this damn thing -- that's like another three miles just to get out of here. No fun. Paddle more.

That's what I was supposed to be looking for:

A bunch of trees out in the middle of the reeds. Finally ... now there's just that half-mile down the channel. That's a relief.

Yeah, a half-mile at noon, in Florida, with the reeds cutting off the breeze ... great <expletive deleted> relief. I need a motor. I'm going to sell the damn 'yaks and get a nice 26' Sportfisher with twin diesels and a flying bridge ... that's how people my age should enjoy the water.

Okay ... past the idle speed marker; I'm out of the reeds and under the trees ... the shade feels good ... maybe a hundred yards to the boat ramp.

Out of the boat onto the shore ... the knees are a little stiff ... stretch the sore spot in the back where the top of the seat presses wrong ... should've fixed that years ago ... boy, it feels good to be walking around a little.

You know, that little mishap probably added two miles to my trip. With the channel and the distance around the lake, I might have done ten miles this morning ... just me paddling. I can be proud of that. Bet the guy in the bass boat couldn't do that -- that's why he's got that beer belly. Freakin' wimp with a motor; motor's are cheating.

Now I have to get the boat on the car and get home so I can unload and run errands this afternoon ...

I wish I could stay and paddle around the other lake ... that was fun.

Econlockhatchee River (upper) -- Failed Trip

2008-06-10T14:20:00.001-04:00

If the trip was a failure, why am I posting it? In fact, if it can't be called a trip at all, with barely twenty minutes on the water, why am I posting it? Well, here's what happened and why.

I'm on vacation this week and wanted to paddle several different routes to post about, including the full (navigable) length of the Econlockhatchee River. Last week I paddled the middle segment and really wanted to paddle the upper today, but the upper part of the Econ can be tricky, with low water and a lot of debris.

Over the weekend, I stopped by to look at both of the put-ins on Highway 50 -- Blanchard Park and Hidden River RV. Blanchard Park is on the Little Econ and Hidden River is on the Big Econ -- the two rivers meet at highway 419, entering the Little Big Econ State Forest (hence the silly name for the forest):

View Larger Map

Blanchard Park was right out -- the water level was very low and every bend was clogged with growth. There'd be no putting in here.

Hidden River was worse -- I didn't even see the water, just spoke to the manager who told me they weren't putting in because of the low water.

Not to be deterred, I figured I'd just put in at 419 and paddle upstream as far as I could. I'd just paddled 419 to Snow Hill Road the week before, so I should be able to get some distance upstream from there before it got too bad, right?

Well, about twenty yards up the Little Econ I find the first obstruction -- completely blocking the river, so I have to pull over. Around the next bend, there's another one and I can see two more beyond it. Little Econ's clearly not an option, let's try the Big Econ.

Here it's worse -- I get to the first blockage and can see three more beyond it. One of which I might be able to paddle around, but the others are completely blocking the river.

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At this point, I realize I'm not going to paddle the upper stretch today, so I head back and start thinking about what to do instead. I could pass 419 and paddle the middle-segment again, but I just did that last week and I want something new to blog about. Besides, since my plan was to paddle upstream and then back, I hadn't made any plans with kitten for her to pick me up.

So I packed things up and headed to Moss Park to paddle Lake Hart.

Now, why did I bother posting this for a trip that went nowhere when I wound up paddling someplace else?

When I started paddling twenty-some years ago, all the "trip reports" were in magazines. As I read about those trips and then took my own, I saw a disconnect -- there was something missing.

The stories in the magazines were of only two flavors: the trip either went perfectly or catastrophically. Meaning, it was all cotton-candy clouds and pink bunnies showing up at the campsite come sundown; or, it was lost at sea for seven days, praying for rain to drink and trying to take down seagulls with a paddle.

When I started taking my own trips, it was mostly solitary. I didn't have a family background of camping or paddling, so I was learning it all from scratch on my own -- and my trips didn't go like those in the magazine. There were no pink bunnies. I forgot things, I lost things, I tipped the boat over -- I set fire to my tent once (a little bit) ... and I started to wonder if I was completely incompetent at this outdoors-stuff.

Over time, as I met other paddlers and we shared stories, I realized that virtually every trip has something go wrong, that every paddler screws up once in a while, and that the magazines didn't include that sort of thing because of limited space and the belief that most people don't want to read about the mishaps.

I see the same thing on the Internet today. The mishaps and mistakes tend to get edited out and the Trips That Never Were aren't reported.

But those mishaps and mistakes are good, valuable information. As a software developer I take a look back at every project and try to find the Lessons Learned -- places were we screwed up, so we can remember them next time and try not to do it again. But those lessons only benefit others if they're shared.

So that's what I decided to do with this blog -- as part of every trip report, I'm going to include what went wrong. And why I think it went wrong and what I plan to do to keep it from happening again.

Maybe, someday, someone'll be setting up camp and say to themselves: "Wait a minute ... this is how that dumb-ass burnt down his tent ..." -- and won't make the same mistakes I have. (It didn't burn down; it just burnt a little bit.)

What did I learn from this morning? Well, two things:

First, I should have listened to the guy at Hidden River. He's there by the water every day and he told me the river was too low.

Second, even if the water conditions were better, I should have used a different boat. Under perfect conditions, I might have been able to paddle that route in the 16.5' Tarpon, but it probably wasn't the best choice. I should have taken my daughter's 9' Swifty, which would have made it a lot easier to pull over things, and might've changed a dismal failure to something challenging and fun.

There's no such thing as a boat that's good in all environments, and even though I prefer the Tarpon (shoving my 6'-2" self into the Swifty's cockpit is a chore), it wasn't the right boat for this segment of the river on this day.

kitten

2008-06-10T13:39:00.001-04:00

Yes, I call my wife "kitten".

I used to call her "honey", but then she asked me a question that had a Bad Answer ... she asked, "What did you call your first wife?"

I said, " .... honey?"

Thereafter, "honey" was forever tainted and verboten, so after some discussion, we decided "kitten" was acceptable.

Now kitten doesn't share my love of paddling kayaks. She'll ride in the tandem and let me paddle her around to spend the time with me (and I appreciate that), but she doesn't glance longingly at every body of water we pass.

I realized this very early in the relationship when we were driving somewhere and passed over a bridge -- my head followed the water like it was on a swivel. I don't remember the words exactly, but the ensuing conversation went something like:

"What?" kitten asked, looking around to see what had attracted my attention.

"Just looking at the water," I replied.

"It's a canal," she said, perplexed. It was the Cross-Florida Barge Canal, to be exact. A mere twenty feet wide with fifteen foot banks and not a damn thing to see from the water.

"I wonder what if I could put in under that bridge," I muttered.

"It's a canal."

"But it goes somewhere," I replied.

Seven years later, I'm still not sure she gets it, but she tolerates my jaunts -- just as I really don't understand the seven cats and three dogs in our house, but I tolerate them.

Florida Circumnavigational Paddling Trail

2008-05-30T13:02:00.001-04:00

Twenty-six segments of multi-day paddling to completely circumnavigate Florida from the Panhandle to the Georgia border ... what more can I say?

Official State Site

Florida Paddling Trails Association (the volunteer stewards of the trail)

Econlockhatchee River (middle)

2008-05-25T22:00:00.000-04:00

Today's activities started as a trip to the dog park with the furry family members. If you're in Central Florida with a dog, Fleet Peeple's Park in Winter Park is where to go. This is a huge off-leash park with lake access -- absolute heaven for the puppies.

So we loaded up the car with a Border Collie, a German Shepherd and a Huskie/wolf-mix.

Yes, we have the dog to herd the sheep, the dog to guard the sheep and the dog to eat the sheep -- we're only missing the sheep ... but we do have seven cats in the house, so I suppose that makes up for it.

Unfortunately, the posted off-leash hours don't include from 10AM to 4PM on weekends and holidays -- it's technically an on-leash park at those times. This normally isn't enforced, but today someone was having a cook-out / party there and complained, so the ranger had to enforce the rule. The dogs were disappointed.

After a short stop at another dog park (no lake), we headed home and I decided to take the boat out for a few hours.

Econlockhatchee River (middle segment)

Florida Greenways and Trails Guide

The Econlockhatchee (Econ) can be divided into three segments for paddling, this middle segment runs from S.R. 419 in Oviedo to Snow Hill Road in Chuluota:

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The Econ's a tributary of the St. John's River, so it runs mostly north. This segment runs north from 419, then turns east to Snow Hill Road, flowing through the Little Big Econ State Forest (not a typo). Most of the route being state forest, there's only one point, other than the put-ins where human construction impinges on the natural beauty.

Access at 419 is just east of the bridge:

It's a few hundred feet from the parking to the water, but down a gentle, grass slope. From here, you can paddle upstream (South) towards Highway 50 or downstream (North and then East) to the Snow Hill Road access (about 8 miles), which is the direction I took. The upstream route is more overgrown and less-travelled, though.

Once out of site of the bridge, the human world disappears and you enter the real Florida, not the plastic of the theme parks:

This is a blackwater river, which means that the tannins make the water a deep brown or black when it's deep; and it's fed mostly by run-off, not springs, so the water level is very dependent on the rains. This being May, the end of the dry season, the water level was quite low, making the bottom visible for most of the trip -- since the water's so murky seeing bottom means a depth of only a foot or two.

With the water so low, there were plenty of white sand beaches and sandbars that would make excellent camping spots. In Florida, it's legal to camp below the high-water mark. Speaking of the high-water mark:

Most of the route has the high, steep banks cut by river running deep when the rains come and a lot of the trees you go under in May you'll be pulling over come August or September:

Midway through the trip, the river turns from a northerly to easterly course and fully enters the State Forest. This is the area where there's the most wildlife and where I've seen most of the alligators on this route. On today's trip we only saw one gator, but he was big enough to satisfy me.

I place alligators into three categories. First, there's "cute" -- these are the ones that are interesting to look at and small enough that they don't even give me pause. Next there's "hurt-me" -- these guys are big enough where I keep some distance, because I know if I scare them they might attack out of fear or cause some damage trying to get away. Finally, there's the "eat-me"-category -- these are the ones that could be considering how I'd taste after I marinated under a sunken log for a couple weeks.

Now, in general, alligators are shy and want nothing to do with people -- and attacks on people are usually the result of the people doing something incredibly stupid. Take the guy in South Florida who was attacked after going swimming naked in a pond in the middle of the night -- then the other guy was attacked after going swimming naked in a pond in the middle of the night ... wait, that was the same guy. He did it twice. Like I said: stupid people doing stupid things.

Just the same, when they reach a certain size, it's best to leave them be.

The gator we saw today definitely fell into the "eat-me" category. We came around a bend and he was near shore with his head and a couple feet of back out of the water sunning. As we glided past, he slowly sank lower and lower into the water until he disappeared.

Midway through the easterly stretch, you'll come across the only sign of human construction between the two access points. Several trails through the State Forest converge at a pedestrian bridge across the river:

This is a good spot to get out and stretch your legs for a bit or hike along the trails.

About a dozen or so bends in the river past the pedestrian bridge you'll sight the Snow Hill Road bridge and the access point there:

The banks here are steeper than at the 419 bridge, so the county's added erosion-control measures under the bridge:

The concrete and wire on the slope will tear up the bottom of a boat, so I was happy to see that they'd covered part of it with soil and grass to make a path to the water. The last time I was here, the slope on the right was all rock and wire, so I had to pull up through the trees far to the side -- the six-inch banana spider whose web I stumbled through wasn't happy about that. This time it was much easier.

Today's trip took a bit over two hours -- if you paddle easy or stop frequently it could last three or four.

The river bends a lot and there are frequent obstructions so intermediate paddling skills are called for, especially at high-water when you won't be able to get out and stand in the water to get past obstacles.

If you're looking for a taste of wild Florida, this is a good choice.

North Tampa Bay

2008-05-23T21:31:00.000-04:00

This is actually a trip I took last summer (2007) and it wasn't even a real paddling trip.

I was going to be in Tampa for a week to attend technical training, so I threw the boat on top of the car in hopes I could get some time on the water -- I managed to get about an hour a day at lunch and a couple hours each evening by just putting in off the causeway at the extreme northern end of Tampa Bay. The class location was nearby and my hotel was right on the water, so it was convenient:

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There's a boat ramp about a mile onto the westbound causeway where I put in. If you zoom the map in close enough in satellite-view, you can see that the part of the bay north of the causeway looks like dry land with canals:

It's actually water, but it's so shallow outside the boat channel that it looks like land on the imagery.

This is a pleasant area to paddle in -- well-sheltered from the wind and there are some nice houses on the canals if you paddle to the Northeast, but what made this trip special was the dolphins.

When I was done with my first paddle, just as I was strapping the kayak to the top of the car, a pod of dolphins came up the channel past the boat ramp. I said some bad words about how if I'd just stayed out ten minutes longer, I'd have been coming back right through them when they arrived.

The next day, I tried to time my trip so I'd be on the water while the tide was in about the same state it had been when the dolphins arrived and, sure enough, they showed. I was able to spend about an hour on the water, with dolphins occasionally surfacing all around me, sometimes close enough that I could have touched them with the paddle.

Unfortunately, I only had my cellphone for a camera and its shutter speed was too slow to get good pictures:

For the week I was there I went out every day and dolphins were there at the same tide-state. I assume there was some food source coming out of the mangroves on the tide that brought them there.

I felt very privileged to be on the water with these beautiful creatures all around me. There were a few of them breaching, which I wish I'd been able to get a picture of, because it's a far more impressive show from the water-level than at a marine park.

Introduction

2008-05-23T21:21:00.000-04:00

This site was born out of my frustration with being unable to find paddling sites that provided all the information I'd like to have about a new destination.

For instance, I've never seen a description of taking out at Wekiva Springs State Park that lays out just how painful the two-hundred yard uphill trudge through soft sand from the river back to the parking lot will be. Or that the Snow Hill Road take-out on the Econlockhatchee River has been rebuilt by the County with anti-erosion measures that will tear up the bottom of a boat.

Good maps, both road maps to the put-in or take-out and maps of the water itself seem unusually hard to find, as well.

So in these trip reports I'm going to try to provide the kind of information I'd be looking for when investigating a new destination ... hopefully you'll find it useful as well.