Day 61 (Manatees & Calling Out Florida Paddlers)

Start: 7:30 AM - Entrance to Crystal River FL
Finish: 3:30 PM - Chassahowitzka Springs FL
Time: 8:00
Daily dist: 28 miles
Total dist: 1783 miles
Companions: None
Weather: SE wind 10-15 mph
Notes: Saw manatees and the first kayakers in Florida

me at the springs

Hey Joe from Kansas, you can relax man… I saw some manatees!

Poor Joe, who I met up in Pensacola, has been e-mailing repeatedly urging me to stop and check out Crystal River to see the manatees. I can only imagine his disappointment when my spot marks touched at the end of Crystal River but never went up to where the manatees would be. He had no need to worry though, once I realized that the weather was going to throw a system my way that would stop me in my tracks for a couple days, I made plans to be some place that would be comfortable and fun. The Florida Circumnavigation guide showed only a couple camp sites along this section of coast and one happened to be right at the end of the Chassahowitzka river at the like named springs. The guide not only said the campground there not only has showers but that the area is popular with manatees. The perfect place to wait out the wind.

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Today was the eleventh consecutive day of paddling for me and my body and psyche were nearing their limit of effective use. I was grateful to have a sheltered water route, mostly out of the wind, to run the twenty odd miles south from Crystal River to Chasahowitzka. I was doubly glad when I started on the route and discovered that the trail is well marked and I wouldn’t have to think too hard to make sure I stayed on track through the labyrinth of channels and bays that links the two rivers. Quite frankly my tired body and mind were not up to the task.

The route from Crystal River down to Homosassa River is very well marked and absolutely gorgeous. The route winds around Indian shell middens and coral rock islands covered with palms and cedars. With the first mangroves I’ve seen on the trip, the area offers an amazing mix of several coastal plant environments. It was a great morning of paddling through an area I can’t recommend enough. Things changed drastically however, when I passed south of the Homosassa river. The trail markers I’d been able to mindlessly follow suddenly disappeared along with the water. After taking two turns south of the Homosassa (convinced I was on the right route) I suddenly found myself temporally misplaced (I won’t say lost) in a broad maze of low featureless salt marsh islands. To make matters more interesting the already shallow water was rapidly receding with the outgoing tide turning the always shallow channels into mud flats.

The upper half of the trail had been so well marked I was convinced that I must have wondered off the course. So I backtracked a bit and fired up my GPS to verify my location. Sure enough I was still on track but, right when I could have used them most, the red and green trail markers were gone. I’m not sure why the top half of the route would be so well marked and not the bottom. Judging by the night and day difference between the two halves of the route I’m guessing the trail keepers might not want to admit to the lower half. In place of the beautiful palm covered islands were just featureless grass islands, oyster banks, and mud. With the tide out I found myself on foot dragging my loaded boat over oysters and mud.

I think it’s the Indian word for “where did the trail markers go?”

There is no feeling like walking through an area like that with a rope over your shoulder, only -thinking- that you’re on the right path. I dragged through impossibly narrow channels that the route on my map indicated as the correct path but with no other indicator than faith that it indeed was.

running out of water

For a mile I continued on like this, sometimes dragging sometimes paddling, until the route finally widened and got deep enough to commit completely to paddling again. All along the way I watched my map and GPS closely until I finally came upon a rotten shell covered wooden stake stuck in the mud, then another, and another. Were these the channel markers or just long forgotten sign posts for lord knows what? I didn’t know. At any rate it was something, and I was convinced I was on the right path, so I was again able to relax and focus on the task of avoiding exposed oyster beds and crab traps in the still receding water. At last I came into the entrance of the Chassahowitzka river and turned inland for the last four mile run upstream to the river’s source.

Along the way the river got increasingly clearer and warmer and the plant life changed from salt marsh to freshwater palm and oak forest. As I came to within a mile of the rivers source I saw a sight more rare than any other on the water, not a dolphin doing back flips, not a shark leaping out of the water, not an osprey grabbing a fish off the surface of the water, not a cormorant swallowing a fish bigger than it’s head (which I did see today), not a flock of several hundred waterfowl (which I have also seen), even more rare than a manatee. After 15 days and over 300 miles of paddling the Florida coast, the very rare sight I saw when I rounded that bend was… OTHER KAYAKERS!

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John and Maryann, the first kayakers I saw in 300 miles of FL coast

With an un-concealable feeling of excitement I paddled right up to the startled couple and asked them if I could take their picture. I didn’t want to miss the chance to preserve an image of such a rare occurrence. After taking their picture and getting their names, John and Maryann. I learned that they are…get this…from Kansas.

HEY FLORIDA PADDLERS ARE YOU OUT THERE!?

I know I’ve been paddling some of the most remote coast line in the state in during a streak of outright unpleasant paddling weather, which has to explain why I had yet to see one other kayak on the water since I left Alabama. I know that when the weather conditions improve and I get to more populated areas, Florida’s paddlers will come out of the woodwork to show me just what this state‘s paddling and paddlers are all about…right?

They actually pushed our boats with their shouts

John and Maryann were about to turn and head back upstream to the campground where they are also staying so they joined me on the paddle back to the boat landing. Along the way they took me into the small side bay where they know manatees like to hang out. Sure enough in a cove not much more than 50 yards across, and as much deep, a half dozen of the gentle beasts were hanging out. John and I approached gently and hovered next to one of the largest of the animals it‘s back (as is so often the case) scarred from numerous encounters with boats. It paid us not attention but before long the younger and smaller manatees came right up to us and started to gently nudge our boats.

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I tickled the water with my fingers and one curious youngster came to the sound and stuck it’s snout out of the water and let me caress its head. It was incredible. We stayed in the cove for a half hour with one and sometimes two manatees at a time coming up to our boats to check us out and seemingly looking for a pet. After a while even the big scared back giant we first saw rose to the surface and came over to check us out. I can’t say if the weather had been better, if I would have made the time to take the inside route today or paddle all the way up this river. The big winds that put me here today are a true blessing. Sometimes it does pay to slow down and smell the roses.

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