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The new decade gets off to a chilly start Trips this month: 13
1/3/10
Hope and I had planned to go camping on the St. Marys River today, but when the weather forecast called for a record breaking cold front to hit the area we thought better of it and called it off. That didn't let me off the hook for getting my first trip of the year in so when I woke up to temperatures in the mid-20's I put some hot oatmeal in my belly and grabbed some chemical hand warmers to jam in my mittens and headed north.
I wasn't sure where I was going to wind up, but the Okefenokee Swamp was looming large in my mind as I pulled onto I-95. As I crossed the Nassau River and a few minutes later the St. Marys, the sun was just breaking over the horizon and I considered pulling off at Temple Creek or Camp Pinkney but seeing no mist rising from the water, I decided to head on to Folkston and then south to the swamp. As I checked in at the office the lady working there gave me a strange look when I told her that I liked the cold weather and as I stood at the water's edge a few minutes later looking at the ice along the edge of the basin I not only understood her look but was wondering exactly what kind of idiot I was.
I almost tossed my boat back on the rack and drove home, but I shut down my brain long enough to tip-toe into my boat and shove off from shore. I paddled over to the Day Use Canoe Trail and began making my way to the west as a waning, nearly full moon began to set ahead of me. Almost immediately, I was amazed by what I saw as sheets of newly formed ice reached out from the edges of the trail into the path. The plants all had a thick layer of frost covering them that glistened in the sunlight that was starting to peek over the trees to the south. My fingers were stinging in spite of the mittens that I had donned from the outset so I broke out the hand warmer packs that I had brought along and stuffed them into the gloves. That helped keep my fingers nimble enough so that I could operate my camera but I could only take a few shots before I had to cover my hands again. Nothing could help my toes, however, which stung from the outset and I knew would continue to do so until I reached the warmth of Heckscher Drive.
Not far down the canal, I heard a loud grunt coming from an annoyed Gator behind me somewhere who was obviously not happy about having to stir on this bitter morning. I knew that there was almost no chance that I was going to see any Alligators on the day and that lone growl proved to be the only evidence I would have that they were anywhere in the swamp. Not so for the Sand Hill Cranes, however, as their trumpets echoed through the area from the very beginning and soon three flew over the trail but didn't land anywhere close by. Something suddenly splashed in the water ahead of me and soon a sleek black head rose out of the water to look at me and huff loudly as the Otter checked out the idiot kayaking through the ice. He soon disappeared into the titi and I continued on. The ice itself, while not thick, was hard enough to make my paddle bounce off of it when I tried to paddle through it. The ice disappeared whenever I entered areas of the trail where the titi and green briar formed tunnels of vegetation but when the trail opened up the ice returned and on occasion nearly reached all of the way across the trail. As I approached the end of the trail I spotted a Sand Hill Crane standing in the flats to the south but I could hear more of more of their calls as I got closer to Chesser Prairie.
I exited the trail and soon was entering the prairies that lay to the south of the canal. As I made my way toward the place where the trail turns west, I could see that the flats on either side of the path were covered with large patches of sheet ice amongst the vegetation. I paused to shoot a group of Cranes who were grazing in the flats before making the turn to the west. Along the rest of the trail through the flats I spotted dozens of more cranes - some of whom were standing in the sheets of ice. I made the turn to the north flushing more groups of Cranes as I made my way back to the canal. When I reached the place where the trail rejoins the canal I stopped to shoot a video of a pair of Cranes who were yodeling to each other from opposites of the trail as I approached. They finally flew off as I paddled back out into the canal. The trees there were literally full of vultures - both Turkey and Black - at least 100 were strewn about the cypress trees on both sides of the canal and I figured that they had heard that their favorite dish was on the menu today - Kayak-sicles - cold and crunchy on the outside, warm and gooey on the inside - yum!
I made my way around the bend toward the intersection with the main canal but stopped when I saw some activity ahead of me. A pair of Otters soon began popping up on either side of me and under the branches of a fallen tree. I stopped to shoot them but they were so frenetic that I had a hard time keeping track of them and they disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared and I assume they crossed the tree line into the prairies beyond. I made my way up to the intersection and turned to the east. By this time, my feet were killing me and since I didn't expect to see much on the return trip I dug in for home keeping my camera stowed the rest of the way.
As I approached the midpoint of the canal, I spotted a canoe coming from the opposite direction weaving wildly from one side of the canal to the other. When they got closer I realized the reason why. It was a couple who were loaded up to go camping but the woman in the front was bundled up with a scowl on her face and obviously had no intention of helping her mate with the paddling on this stupid camping trip he had drug her on. I nodded to them as they passed but got no response in return and it made me glad that we had chosen to cancel our camping plans and stay home. I decided to enter the canoe trail at the midpoint and make the rest of the return trip back. I was amazed to find that there was still some ice left floating on the surface of the water even though it was nearly noon and the sun was nearly directly overhead. I reached the ramp to find two men and a woman getting ready to launch but it sounded like their plans were getting nixed by the woman who was voting for a hike on dry ground rather than a trip on the icy water.
See the pictures from this trip
1/4/10
After another night of freezing temperatures, I decided to stick a little closer to home for the final trip of my two weeks of holiday vacation. It had been two months since I had last paddled on Pumpkin Hill Creek - easily the longest I have ever gone without dipping a paddle in my favorite local spot - so it was an easy decision to make head there and was pulling up at the put-in as the sun rose over Black Hammock.
It was a few degrees warmer than my trip a few miles to the north in the iced over waters of the Okefenokee Swamp the day before but it felt about 10 degrees colder due to the wind. It wasn't supposed to be very breezy, but as I drove by SJRPP, I could tell by the plumes that it was approaching 10 mph and that drove the wind chill into the low 20's. I only had one hand warmer pack left, so I shoved it into my "shutter hand" mitten and pushed off. As soon as I did, I spotted something sleek laying along the muddy bank just a few yards downstream from the put-in and realized that it was an Otter.
With the blazing morning sun directly behind me, the Otter didn't see me at first but as soon as I began paddling against the incoming current he stopped what he was doing and began swimming over to check me out. After checking my photos, I realized that he had been playing with an object that resembled a plastic motor oil container and he actually carried it with him as he swam toward me. He must have dropped it soon after, because when he swam close to my boat he didn't have anything in his mouth and soon he was on the upstream side of my boat swimming south toward Cedar Point Road. I don't usually go in that direction but the Otter was clearly heading that way so I followed, not sure how far the low water would allow me to pursue him on this game of follow the leader. He was doing the typical Otter behavior that I so often observe - swimming ahead of me then suddenly popping his head several inches straight up out of the water while looking in my direction with a loud huff. This continued for about a quarter of a mile upstream and I was sure that at any minute he would disappear for good only to find that he had doubled back on me. Finally, we reached a spot where I was unable to continue so I stopped and waited to see if I could see him pop up in the opposite direction.
After a few minutes with no sign of him, I thought I saw some activity along the shoreline where there is a path from the road down to the water. Thinking that it might be him, I found a path over the sandbar and pulled into the pool. It turned out to be some Mergansers diving so I floated along shooting some Snowy Egrets feeding under the huge overhanging banks at the end of the path. This area looks like an ideal place for an Otter den so I will have to try and take a more extensive trip up here soon. I made a mental note to check it out during shrimping season next summer since it looked like it might be good for that as well. Low water eventually stopped me again so I turned back and headed downstream against the now strong incoming tide. I paddled past the put-in and made my way toward the trails, shooting the variety of Herons and Egrets gathering along the banks. I paddled down to my shrimping spot but as I made the final turn toward Tiger Point, I was hit full in the face by the frigid wind coming out of the NW. I didn't feel like battling both the wind and tide on this day so I turned around and after exploring the little point I made my way back to the put-in and headed home to try and warm myself up.
See the pictures from this trip
1/10/10
The temperatures dropped below freezing last night for a seventh night in a row and with breezy conditions calling for the wind chills dropping close to 10 degrees I decided to head north to the St. Marys River. High tide was scheduled for around 9 am at Kings Ferry so I decided to put in at Temple Creek Landing and see how far up Cabbage Creek I could get. As I drove down 40 I could see that everywhere there was standing water it was frozen solid. I was tempted to keep going down to the Okefenokee to see how frozen solid the swamp was but I made the turn down to the landing and pulled up to the ramp.
At the edge of the water was a thin film of slush along the little beach next to the ramp but as I paddled east into the blazing sun I couldn't see any ice along the river. I paddled against the gentle incoming current and soon arrived at the mouth of Cabbage Creek where a light mist was dancing across the surface of the water. With the water level up, the primordial scene I had witnessed a couple of weeks ago was considerably altered as the water flowed out into the woods on both sides of the stream. As I let the current carry me upstream, the woods on either side of me would occasionally explode in a flurry of feathers and squeaks as dozens of Wood Ducks would flush from just a few feet away from me. At first, I could see no signs of ice but as I got further up the creek I could see what looked like ice crystals just beginning to form in the pools out in the flooded woods. I reached a place where a branch of the creek headed to the east and decided to investigate. The branch soon dead ended but at the end it was completely frozen over. There was a canoe tied up to a tree and it was obvious that there was a farm nearby. I turned around and continued upstream and was soon beyond the place where I had been forced to turn back on my last trip.
The current began to slacken as the creek narrowed and as it did I could see more and more ice both out in the woods and in the creek itself. I reached a couple of places where trees had fallen over blocking the path but there was just enough water to allow me to scoot over and continue. Finally, I reached a spot where a couple of large trees blocked the path and I could see more tangles ahead so I decided to end my trek up Cabbage Creek. Everywhere I looked I could see ice forming and my boat was sitting in a pool of slush. I turned back just as the current began flowing out and passed through an area where several Pileated Woodpeckers were flying about the swamp calling to each other. There were several Robins, Red Bellied Woodpeckers and Warblers flying about as well as I rode the gentle current toward the St. Marys River. As I was floating along I suddenly spotted a fat, furry body moving beneath a tree limb along the shore. It's fur was a reddish yellow and although I never saw its face I instantly recognized it as a Beaver who disappeared beneath the surface of the water. I pulled over to the side to watch but it never reappeared but I began to wonder if the bank where I saw it was the entrance to it's den. I marked it on my GPS so that I could check it again at low tide and headed on downstream.
I was cursing my bad luck at once again being unable to get a shot of a Beaver when I looked up to see something moving on the shore at the base of a tree. I began shooting even though initially I was sure that it was only a Raccoon out for his morning meal but as I moved toward him I began to see the clear shape of a fat Beaver munching on something while he sat on the shore. The bright sun was directly behind me so I'm not sure if he saw me at first, but when my head snagged on a branch he leaped into the water like he had been shot out of a cannon. I have always assumed that Beavers moved slowly and methodically but this fella was a blur of fur and was gone in an instant.
I made my way out to the river where I found the current flowing strongly toward the ocean helped now by the NW winter wind that was blowing down the valley. I paddled back toward the landing, staying on the southern shoreline. There were a few large streams that flowed out of the woods on that side and I took some time exploring some of them as I headed west. One of the more interesting creeks was directly across from the ramp and was lined by cat tails the entire length. There were a couple of branches of the creek which I followed until the shallow water turned me back. At the end of the second branch I saw the several trees that bore the very fresh markings of Beavers gnawing on them - some of which appeared to be just days old.
I decided to continue on upstream on the river until I reached a place called Blood Landing where there was a small dock and a metal shed. I spotted an Otter on the opposite side of the river and paddled over to shoot it before it disappeared. Just beyond Blood Landing the river made a bend to the south and I decided to turn back. I explored one of the creeks on the north side of the river and found more fresh Beaver marks on the trees. I was surprised by how strong the current was here and with the brisk breeze at my back it made for an easy trip back to the ramp.
See the pictures from this trip
1/10/10
I had to stop by the Mayo Clinic briefly this morning, so I decided to make a visit to Durbin Creek while in the general area. The morning traffic through Ponte Vedra was bad and I got turned around in Nocatee, somehow, but I finally pulled up to the put-in under the bridge on Racetrack Road. There was an Anhinga sunning himself near the put-in so after launching I shot him before heading upstream. I decided to make another attempt at going upstream - this time with my new saw and shears handy so that I could cut through the trees blocking my way. I could tell as soon as I launched, however, that the water level - the lowest I have ever seen it - would not allow me to get very far and ultimately I gave up at about the same spot as before.
I headed downstream with the outgoing current which for some reason was exactly the opposite of what I expected. The shallowness of the creek exposed many more trees in the channel and I was continually bumping over them for the first half mile or so. The lack of flooding out in the woods meant that all of the waterfowl were in the main channel and I flushed dozens of Wood Ducks and Mergansers along the way. There were also a few Great Blues and Great Egrets who I never seemed to be able to see until they flew out from branches directly above me. I did manage to get some good shots of one of many Red Shouldered Hawks I saw and heard on the day and I saw a few smaller hawks flying though the woods.
The ice was spotty for most of the first mile or so due to the movement of the water but I reached a place where the current had slackened and I could see a light slushy film reaching all of the way across the channel in front of me. I began floating though it as my boat made a loud crunching sound. I turned my camera to video mode so that I could record the sound as I passed through to clear water. I began to notice that a lot of the water plants appeared to either be dead or else severely stressed and had turned brown. It will be interesting to see how well they recover once warm weather returns. I reached the place where the trail comes down to the water and got out to take a break before getting back in. Since I had to be at work, I decided to end my trip here and head back. Although it had only been a few minutes since I had passed through the section of creek that was frozen across, I saw nothing like it on the way back so my breaking through it probably allowed the current to disperse it. I made good time on the trip back, pausing only to shoot an Anhinga near the put-in.
See the pictures from this trip
1/15/10
The record smashing 12 day freeze of 2010 finally came to an end and today's forecast called for temperatures rising to a balmy 68 degrees so I loaded up and headed north. The only question in my mind was where I was going to wind up but when I saw mist rising from the Nassau River as I crossed it on the interstate I turned onto CR-200 and headed for the Edwards Road Ramp on the Nassau River.
As I stood at the edge of the ramp, I began wishing that I hadn't decided to take my long underwear off when I saw how warm it was going to be. 46 degrees might be 20 degrees warmer than the mid-20's that I have been paddling in all week but it's still pretty damn cold when you are standing by the water at sunup. I launched and began paddling downstream against the incoming tide. My plan was to paddle down to the entrance to Plummer Creek - the last of the Four Creeks that make up the Nassau River. From there, I would decided whether to explore it or head further south to the mouth of Thomas Creek and start exploring that end of the creek.
As I was shooting the sun rising through the fog, I noticed something standing on the mud beneath the cat tails. At first, I was sure it was just some odd shaped stubble but I decided to let the current carry back to check it out. It was a Least Bittern that was standing perfectly still as it hunted in the shallows. I have never seen one of these cute, little birds outside of Guana, so I spent several minutes shooting him as he stood on the muddy bank. He finally flew off and I continued on toward the sound of I-95 which, on this still day, was deafening. I knew that would be the case when I planned this trip and I knew that it would be just as bad if I continued on to Thomas Creek, so I pulled into the entrance to Plummer Creek. Initially, the creek heads east until it is only a couple of hundred yards away from the highway at which point the noise was almost overpowering. The scene that lay in front of me couldn't have been more beautiful, however, as sunbeams began breaking through the fog making the light behind the trees appear that a fire was blazing on the small islands at the entrance of the creek.
The creek starts off with some lazy bends as it heads north, but soon begins to twist and turn wildly as it gradually heads in a NW direction. At the entrance, the foliage was much as it was on the Nassau River with Cedars and Oaks lining the shoreline along with the rushes and spartina grass that is normal in the salt marsh. That began to change about two miles north of the entrance as small cypress trees began to appear and the rushes and spartina turned into cat tails and aster. The creek was constantly twisting and there was never a stretch longer than 50 yards that was straight.
I passed a couple of landings on either side of the creek, but the low water level made it difficult to get out so I continued on. I started thinking to myself that the area I was passing through looked like an ideal place for Otters and was really hoping that I would see some. I had just finished that conversation with myself when I spotted movement ahead of me and looked to see a long sleek neck lifting itself above a fallen tree to look at me. I could see that there was a second Otter behind the one on the tree and as I let the current carry me toward them they began playing the game of Otter "Whack A Mole" as they popped their heads out of the surface of the water with a huff and then disappeared.
I began shooting as I followed them, but soon it was obvious that one of them had disappeared and the second was leading me away from his mate. I followed him around the next bend until he suddenly disappeared. I waited to see if he would double back on me, but after a while I could see that he was way ahead of me so I paddled to catch up with him. On a couple of occasions Hooded Mergansers would suddenly come flying down the creek in my direction and land a few feet away only to immediately flush again when they saw me. I realized that it was probably the Otter surfacing near them that had caused them to flush in my direction and I have no doubt the Otter was enjoying messing with his feathered friends.
I lost sight of him once again as the creek started to narrow dramatically and I had to work around some snags. Suddenly, I saw something shoot out from the shoreline from under some cypress roots and although I never saw a head or body it left a distinct trail of bubbles as it headed upstream in front of me. This was repeated a couple of more times before I finally saw the Otter surface, so I'm sure that he was watching me surreptitiously as I approached and then swimming ahead when I got too close. I finally reached a spot where there were several large trees blocking the way and since I could tell that I was only a few hundred feet from CR-200 I decided to turn back. The tide was still coming in strongly so my return trip was strenuous but I soon arrived at the landing I had passed on the eastern bank and got out to take a long break. The wind was picking up, but for the most part didn't effect me much and the constant twisting of the stream allowed me to stay out of the strongest current as I paddled back to the south. I explored a couple of streams along the way including the one that I always cross after I pass over the Nassau River on the interstate. It's called Tidewater Creek and I paddled down it until I could see the vehicles on 95 roar by and turned around. Just before I reached the end of the creek, I saw another Otter that I spent some time shooting before finishing my journey to the river and then back up to the ramp.
See the pictures from this trip
1/18-19/10
The weather finally cooperated to allow us to try camping in the Ralph Simmons State Forest along the St. Marys River. We had planned to go on Sunday afternoon but with winds forecast to be gusting in the 40's we decided to put it off for one more day. As we started loading our stuff down to the ramp at Scotts Landing, a large group of paddlers was pulling up who had been out all weekend. One of the group told us that it looked like we were going to have much better weather than they had so we were glad we had the flexibility to go a day late.
We set out downstream against a gentle incoming tide. I knew that high tide at Kings Ferry was going to be around 2 pm but I had no idea how much of a delay there was this far upstream. My plans were to go about 4 miles downstream - just past Camp Pinkney where I had marked a couple of campsites with beaches. We decided to pull off at the first campsite to eat lunch and since it looked like we weren't making as much progress as I had hoped, I suggested that we go ahead and camp there for the night. It didn't take much convincing to get Hope to agree especially since it had a fire ring, a couple of benches and was beautifully situated on a bluff 15 feet above the river just past a boggy little creek. We got the camp set up and decided to take a hike up the road that came into the site through the forest where we had driven on our FMNP field trip here in October. Once back at the camp we sat in our Crazy Creeks and read and dozed in the warm afternoon sun. We were enjoying the solitude when a couple pulled up in a fishing boat and at first seemed to be headed right for the campsite landing. They tied up at the mouth of the creek and began fishing so we went about our business and began cooking our dinner. They left as the sun began to set behind the pine trees on the Georgia side of the river and we settled in to enjoy our steaks and wine. As soon as the sun dipped beneath the very tops of the pine trees the temperature dropped a good five degrees and continued to drop as it set. The sun was followed by the sliver of the waning moon and soon the sky was dark and filled with stars. We finished our dinner and stoked up a pretty good fire while we enjoyed the cool, crisp night. After a while, we decided to walk down the road with our chairs and sit in an area where the forest opened up so that we could enjoy the stars. It was only 8 pm but, as always on these winter trips - when the sun sets at 5:30 - 8 pm seems like midnight and so we waddled back to our campsite and got ready for bed.
We both slept fitfully as usual. It got colder as the night went on and any part of my body that wasn't covered up felt frosty. The Barred Owls serenaded us through the night but none of them right came into our camp. I finally got up at 5 am and began stoking the fire and making the coffee. There was a light mist rising from the surface of the river as the sun began breaking through the forest behind us. I roused Hope and we sat by the fire drinking coffee and eating oatmeal while the sun burned off the mist. As we sat drinking coffee, I could see something rippling the water near where the small creek entered the river so I walked down the path that ended above the creek. At first I couldn't see what it was but I could see something moving under the roots of a cypress tree at the entrance so I squatted down on the bank. An Otter emerged from under the tree as he munched on whatever he had just caught. When I got up to get my camera and tell Hope he saw me and began looking up the bank. I stood between two trees and I could see him moving his head around to try and find me. I stood very still and he finally gave up and dove under the water.
I told Hope and grabbed my camera but was we were walking toward the creek I spotted him swimming along the shore directly beneath our campsite. He continued up the river, searching the shoreline for food as he disappeared beyond where we could follow him. We spotted him about 30 minutes later coming back along the opposite side of the river. I tried to whistle at him to see if he would come over and check us out but he was too absorbed in his search for food and he was soon gone downriver. We decided to take another hike down the forest roads before we came back and packed up our things. The tide was low and the current had been heading east all morning so we decided to see which way it was going once we finished loading our boats up. By 11 we were done and the current was just beginning to head in so we made up our minds to follow it back to the ramp and load up. I decided to turn left on Hampton Lake Road and drive toward Kings Ferry and then take Lessie Road back to CR-108. As we drove down Lessie we saw a huge bird soar over the road and pulled over to watch the Immature Bald Eagle circle overhead. We took the long way home, turning onto US-17 and crossing the river to Kingsland to get cheap Georgia gas before heading home.
See the pictures from this trip
1/20/10
The weather forecast called for a beautiful day with calm winds, temperatures in the 70's and a mid-day high tide on the coast. In spite of my soreness from the camping trip I knew I was going to spend the day on the water - the only question was where? I finally decided to head to the Ribault Club and possibly do some exploration of the ICW north of the river.
I was in the water a little after 9 and after shooting the Night Herons in the basin I let the incoming current carry me toward the Plantation. I shot a large gathering of Snowy Egrets on the sand bar in front of Kingsley I turned into the Mud River and made my way out to the waterway. The water was like glass, reflecting perfectly the deep blue of the winter sky. The occasional boater that passed sent velvety ribbons of water toward me. I always have trouble figuring out which way the incoming and outgoing tide will be going at various points of the ICW but when I reached it I could see that the flow from the Nassau Sound was taking precedence over the inlet even though it was much closer. The current was gentle, and the water like glass so I decided to head north with my intention to check out a couple of islands I had seen on one of my few trips on this section of the waterway.
I passed the islands and streams that I had checked out this summer when I launched from Horseshoe Creek and by noon I was approaching the island that lay at the mouth of a creek on the east side of the ICW - one that I have wanted to explore for some time. I paddled up to the north end of the island and got out to check out the clearings in that area. Although they were clear and flat they were surrounded by a thick ring of cactus, so I got back in my boat and traveled around the back side of the island until I came back out on the waterway at the south end. I found there, a large clear area under several huge cedar trees that had been used by other campers. It was only moderately trashed out compared to the campsites we have used along the Sisters Creek section of the waterway but was much quieter with the Talbot Islands between it and Mayport and Heckscher Drive and Atlantic Marine many miles to the south. There was a huge island directly across the ICW that completely blocked the view of the developed section of Black Hammock so I believe that this would be a much more serene place to camp. I have wanted to find an island in this area to camp on if we ever want to make an overnight circumnavigation of Big Talbot.
I ate my lunch and after a little explore of that end of the island I got back in my boat. The glassy waters I had left only a few minutes earlier was now a sparkling blanket of diamonds, indicating that the calm winds were now picking up. Of course, the current I had paddled against had also turned which menat that not only did I have a gentle breeze against me but the current as well. It wasn't too bad, but after a couple of hours of paddling against the current I would have loved it had it been just the opposite. I gave up the idea of checking out the creek behind the island and crossed the ICW to check out the huge island on the other side. There were some large clearings on the south end but being on the windward side there was a fair amount of debris that would need to be cleared if we wanted to camp there. I got back in my boat and began slogging my way south toward the entrance to the FGR. I was tired, but I kept a steady pace and soon was approaching the entrance to Mud River. I passed by that and continued on down to the FGR and turned in. Fortunately, I found the current there was near slack or else gently heading toward the ocean and I was able to cruise in toward the turn at Point Isabella, shooting the same large group of Egrets on the same sand bar as before. My trip back was uneventful, but when I got close to the put-in I spotted a car that looked familiar. When I pulled up, I saw an SJRPP sticker and an old white hard hat in the back and I realized that it belonged to my old work friend Mike, who had retired back in May and had only recently returned from his "summer home" in Denver. I wrote him a quick note and left it on his windshield. When I got home, he called me and it turned out we were in the same general area at the same time but were probably on opposite sides of the sandbars as we paddled. We made plans to get together in the next few days.
See the pictures from this trip
1/22/10
My retired work friend, Mike agreed to meet at my house this morning at 8 am so that we could head north toward either the St. Marys River or the Four Creek area of the Nassau River. After doing some research on the tides and weather, I decided that our best chance for a good trip would be to launch from Camp Pinkney Landing and catch the outgoing tide which was due to turn at 11 am at Kingfisher Landing a few miles to the east. I knew that the torrential downpour that we had the day before might change the conditions on the river considerably and when I checked the gauge at Maclenny I could see that, indeed, it had spiked five or six feet in a matter of hours.
When we arrived at the put-in I could see the the water level was indeed a good four feet higher than I had seen it on my trip here back in December and the current was flowing swiftly to the east. We decided to go ahead with our plans to paddle downstream to the area of the Oxbow Lakes where I had seen the Beaver Den on that previous trip. We set out and pulled into the pond located just downriver from the ramp on the State Forest side of the river. There wasn't much to see there so we paddled back out to the river and floated downriver. As we exited the pool we noticed some fairly fresh Beaver markings on a tree at the entrance and right on cue, just a few yards downstream, I spotted a reddish, yellow blob of fur swimming about 20 yards ahead of us. I began shooting as he swam from the Florida side of the river to the Georgia side. He started swimming upstream but suddenly his tail shot out of the water and he disappeared with a loud slap and geyser of water.
We both laughed and were drifting downstream when Mike pointed over to the shoreline to where the Beaver had reappeared and was now swimming along the tree roots. I paddle upstream and began following him as he swam in and out of the cypress roots. He then swam directly in front of me as he headed back out into the middle of the river and then towards Mike. He circled in front of where Mike was sitting and then back over the shoreline, keeping his eye on both of us while he did. As he swam downriver, I let my boat drift along with him but as I shot I realized that the current was pushing me closer and closer to him. Finally, I had to stop shooting and dip my paddle in to keep from running into him. He was staring at me as I approached so I knew he was about to slap his tail and disappear and a second or two after I had re-directed my boat he did just that as I covered my camera to protect it from the splash a few feet away. We laughed again at the spectacle of the huge, flat tail whacking the water again, sending an echo down the river valley. We looked around to see if he would appear again but he never did so we headed downstream. The current was strong so that we only had to paddle enough to keep our boats straight as we caught up on the goings on in our lives for the past nine months while Mike has been living in Denver. We passed the first of the two campsites that had thought about camping at on Monday and took a break at the second. Both campsites were located on sharp bends in the river with beaches extending out in front of the campsite clearings. They had both been well used by other campers and beer cans were strewn everywhere. We made our way down to Flat Landing where we exited our boats and walked up the steep trail to the little house where our FMNP group had eaten lunch. We returned to our boats and paddled down to the Ox Bow lake where I had seen the Beaver Den. As I had feared the high water completely covered the entrance to the den and no one appeared when I knocked on the door so we headed back out and after exploring the Ox Bow on the opposite side of the river we began paddling back upstream.
It was a strenuous paddle against a current that never slackened even though it was well past low tide. We could see that the water level was dropping but it was obvious that there was just too much water upstream for the tide to affect it much. We reached a landing on the Georgia side called Cooneys Landing that I believe is a part of the hunt club that dominates that side of the river and we decided to get out and eat lunch. As we were sitting there eating we heard the sounds of someone talking and soon a couple of guys in a jon boat floated by. We assumed that they had been talking with each other but as they passed we realized that they were both talking to someone else - on their cell phones! We laughed at the absurdity of it all and after a good break we headed back upstream.
It was a tough trip but after an hour or so of steady paddling we reached the area where I knew we had seen the Beaver earlier and I told Mike. As soon as I mentioned it, I saw some palmetto fronds overhanging the water on the Georgia side move and thought I saw the water ripple. I drifted back to Mike and told him but had just about decided that it was more likely the wind and current causing the disturbance when we spotted the same reddish yellow blob of fur swimming directly in front of us. This time he didn't stick around long and disappeared under the water. We wondered just how big of a territory a Beaver lives in and decided that it can't be too big since their "prey" - tree bark, doesn't move very quickly so once they establish a territory they probably don't go very far. I marked his location on my GPS and will pay attention the next time I come back here to see if he or his mate make another appearance. We poked our heads into the pond one more time but saw nothing and finished our trip back to the ramp.
See the pictures from this trip
1/24/10
When I got home from my trip on Friday I found the new camera bag I had ordered waiting for me. The Ortlieb Aquazoom Plus bag and harness system is something that I have been wanting to order for several years but the Sundog bad I used was more than adequate and couldn't justify it until it started to come apart recently. It was hard to find a supplier in the USA but I finally did and they got it to me in a few days as promised and I was itching to use it. The fact that the weather forecast called for sustained southern winds in the 20's with gusts in the 30's didn't deter me but I gave some serious consideration to driving up to the Okefenokee Swamp where I figured the winds would be less of a factor. With low tide at Tiger Point scheduled to be at 10:30 or so, I decided to not waste a trip to the swamp and headed there instead. My thinking was that I could catch the outgoing current out to the point and the incoming back. Since the high winds weren't supposed to arrive until after noon I was hoping that I would be down below the grass line and wouldn't be affected by them as much. I arrived to find the breezes already well above the 15 mph mark that I normally use as a benchmark to keep me on shore but I set out anyway as the sun rose above Black Hammock island. I saw very little bird life on the way past the trails and the ones I did were nearly impossible to shoot in the dim light with my boat rocking. I was pleased at the performance of the bag as it kept my camera dry but allowed me to easily retrieve it to shoot. I rounded the bend at my shrimping spot and floated down toward the point. I stayed to the southern shoreline to stay out of the wind which put me about a thousand yards south of the point when I arrived at the shore. I was preparing to head toward the point when I heard the distinct sound of oyster shells crunching or popping - reminiscent of the sound they make when they are first exposed to the sun after the water level drops. The crunching sound was much louder than the natural popping of the shells and was more rhythmic and was coming from all around me for a stretch of about 30 yards up in the marsh grass. I suspected that it might be wild hogs but I could see no dark shapes moving the grass or any movement of the grass itself. After sitting still for a few minutes there were several loud squeals and grunts followed by the sound of more intense crunching. After a while, I finally began to see some dark shapes moving in the grass and on occasion two would come together which prompted loud squeals and grunt as the hogs disputed the ownership of some oysters. I took some videos to capture the sound but wasn't very successful. I finally left the Hog Oyster Feast and headed up to the point and got out of my boat. I walked around a bit before returning to the water. It was still two hours before the tide was set to turn but as soon as I rounded the point I was hit by a much fiercer wind than I had left 30 minutes earlier. I made the decision that the wind was only going to get stronger so I didn't want to wait until the tide turned. I began paddling back against a wind that at times nearly pulled the paddle out of my hands. I secured my camera in it's new bag and paddled up along the southern shore to get at least a little protection. Initially, the water wasn't too rough but as soon as I made the first turn that changed dramatically and I was hit by some pretty good chop. The outside of my bag was covered with water droplets but when I pulled over to take a break, I found the camera perfectly dry. When I reached the midpoint of the section that runs by the trails I could see another kayaker ahead of me in a foot powered Hobie. It was good see that I wasn't the only idiot out there and as I rounded the next bend I saw another one. At the final bend I saw a lone woman in a canoe setting out which had to be the most hard core person out there. I finally made it back to the ramp after an intense workout and discovered that my new bag had done its job.
See the pictures from this trip
1/25/10
I had another visit to the Mayo Clinic this morning but was back in my truck after less than five minutes of talking with my urologist's PA and on my way to my latest paddle on the south side of Duval County. Today, I chose to put-in at the Burnett Bridge city park on Julington Creek just off of Old St. Augustine Road. The put-in is at a floating dock which is about a 200 ft carry down from the parking lot. Low tide was due at just before 3 pm down at the St. Johns River and the flow was gentle past the dock which is located on a branch called Big Davis Creek. I floated the few hundred yards down to the confluence with Julington which is located just upstream of the bridge. I decided to see how far upstream I could go and was soon serenaded by several Red Shouldered Hawks who announced my presence. I bumped over several logs and worked my way around a few snags until I finally reached a place where a couple of huge trees blocked my way. I turned back and was soon passing under Old St. Augustine Road. There's an older neighborhood just south of the bridge with houses and docks lining the western bank of the creek but after a while the shoreline became more natural. There were a couple of canals dug through the swamp where I could see some huge, new mansions sitting at the end but those came to an end after a mile or so and the shoreline on both sides was hardwood swamp. I was serenaded by Hawks once again but soon they fell silent and I had an easy and surprisingly quiet ride to the south. I was surprised by the lack of ambient noise given the proximity to I-95 and several other major thoroughfares. At one point, I could here the roar of turboprops coming from NAS JAX across the rive and occasionally a P-3 Orion or fighter jet would roar overhead. The creek gradually began to make it's bend toward the west and opened up as it approached the confluence with Durbin Creek. As it did, the high winds that had been forecast to be in the area began hitting me in the face and ripple the water. I started to get close to the area where I had paddled on my trip on Durbin back in November and the docks and canals on what was now the northern bank became constant. I recognized a dock that I remembered from my last trip and turned around. My trip back was uneventful as I paddled against the slow outgoing current. I explored a couple of small streams that drain from the peninsula that separates the two creek but couldn't get very far. When I crossed under the bridge I saw small water moccasin in front of me but he disappeared before I could get a shot of him. I paddled up Davis Creek and decided to see how far up I could get up it. I managed to get up less than a half mile before I decided to turn back. I loaded up and did a little exploring of the area - driving down Hood Landing Road to Clarks Fish Camp that I have passed from the water on my other trips.
See the pictures from this trip
1/26/10
I have had the Satilla River on my radar for some years, but I have never been quite able to pull the trigger on making a trip up there. The discovery of a Google Earth database that listed all of the launch sites in the state of Georgia helped me find some put-ins and with two days left on my 13 days off I headed toward Burnt Fort Landing a few miles NE of Folkston.
After wandering around Folkston trying to find the turn onto Burnt Fort road, I was on my way and down at the ramp under the bridge a few minutes later. There was a tide station upstream of the bridge as well as a river gage and according the tide chart it was due to peak at high at the exact time that I arrived at the ramp. The river gage indicated that the recent rains had dumped an extra six or seven feet of water in the river so I was not surprised to see what appeared to be higher than normal level and a gentle current flowing to the south under the bridge. As I did my research prior to the trip, I could see that the Satilla River was very unique. All along it's path, there are what appear to be ox bow lakes that have formed where the river has either changed it's course or is trying to. Just north of the ramp is one of these that is called Billys Lake which cuts deep into the forest. I decided to follow the shoreline as far as I could and found that at the extreme northern end the lake ended in a swamp or bayou that seemed to extend forever. I suspected that I probably could have found a path through to another lake called Camping Lake which was on the other side of the first bend of the river. I continued my circumnavigation of the lake and then headed north on the river. The land on the opposite side of the river was a very steep slope where there were five or six homes along the shore. I found an entrance to another swampy area about half way up to the bend and entered it. There were several Pileated and Red Bellied Woodpeckers flying about but I wasn't able to get any clear shots and headed back out to the river.
I found the entrance to Camping Lake and paddled down the narrow entrance to where it opened up. The lake is aptly named as I found potential campsites everywhere I looked and only one place that was posted. I followed a boggy area that looked as though it might connect with the one I had explored earlier but I decided to head back out into the lake and continue exploring. I paddled deep into the woods to the south and was sure that I could get through to Billys Lake but was prevented by the low water and some fallen trees. The current was flowing strongly in that direction so I am sure there is a channel through the swamp to the lake. I found a deer stand and a makeshift dock on this end of the lake so I'm sure that it is privately owned.
I began heading back to the north as I explored the western side of the lake and found a branch that headed well west and passed by a landing where there appeared to be several unoccupied RV's and a dock. That branch ended in another bayou so I made my way back out to the river. I was now on an east-west section of the river and the wind, which had been calm when I set out, was now howling as had been forecast. Added to this was the increased tidal outflow which made the scene in front of me one that made me seriously consider heading back.
I decided to at least attempt to paddle against it and found that I could make some progress so I continued upstream. I rounded the next bend and found the entrance to another bayou where there was a landing with a few buildings. A large sign was nailed to the building closest to the water that proclaimed "Trespassers Will Be Shot, Survivors Will Be Shot Again!" I explored the swamp behind the encampment and then continued upstream switching back and forth from one side of the river to the other to find protection from the wind and stay on the inner bend where the current would be less. Often I had to choose the lesser of the two and fight my way up until I could find some relief. I found the entrance to another long ox bow that looped far up into the forest before coming all of the way back to the river where there was a small break in the trees and I was able to make it back to the river. There was a place called Shirleys Bluff that I had seen on the maps that I had planned to make my destination but my GPS gave no detail and it didn't look like I was near anything that resembled a bluff so I turned around.
The swift current and howling wind zipped me downstream and in a matter of minutes I was back at the entrance to Camping Lake so I pulled off to take eat my lunch. After my break it was only a few more minutes before I was back at the bridge. At the entrance to Billys Lake was an orange triangular sign that I assumed was a warning for boaters. I was surprised to find that it said "Motorcycles Caution Ripples". I couldn't argue with the ripples part but the motorcycles part baffled me. If that wasn't enough - someone had used the bridge support to post a classified ad with black spray paint.
I loaded up and decided to continue on up Burnt Fort Road to do some exploration of the area. The highway took me north and then west where it intersected with US-17 which I took south. I crossed over the Satilla River again at Woodbine and I could see that the river had a very tidal, salt marsh look to it. Woodbine, Ga looked like a very sleepy, quaint little SE Georgia coastal town that might warrant further exploration someday. I continued south and was soon pulling into Kingsland and after filling up with cheap gas I headed home. I did some research when I got home and found out that Burnt Fort refers to a pre-revolutionary war fort built by the South Carolinians, probably as protection against the Creek Indians. It burned and was then rebuilt post war - again as protection against Indians. The Satilla River was named after a Spanish General by the name of Saint Illa. In the Woodbine area, there were several famous Rice Plantations much like the White Oak Plantation on the St. Marys and you can see the remains of a couple of these along the banks of the river although not as well preserved as the one at White Oak. I'm going to have a lot of fun exploring the nooks and crannies of the 200 mile long Satilla River. Every nook had a million crannies and even the crannies had crannies. Since I am the kind of obsessive paddler who always has to see what's around the next bend - this is my kind of river!
See the pictures from this trip
1/27/10
I don't think that I have gone out four days in a row very often but the last day of my serendipitous two weeks off the weather forecast called for a calming of the high winds that have been around for several days so I headed to Simpsons Creek. The temperatures had dropped overnight into the 30's but after the 12 day freeze we had earlier in the month it felt almost balmy. I "geared up" just in case and was setting out from the put-in as the sun peeked over the trees on Little Talbot.
Low tide was set for noon so the current was carrying me toward the sound as the bright morning sun made the marsh grass glow. Within 30 minutes I was rounding the bend in front of Half Moon Bluff. A large, dark bird flew across my path that I recognized as a Bald Eagle and I watched as he perched on a pine tree upstream. I floated under the bluff shooting an immature Great Blue Heron who was perching on a tree. When I arrived at the sound I found it relatively calm and headed toward Big Talbot Island. After shooting some Oyster Catchers and Turnstones on the oyster beds I beached my boat at the end of Big Talbot. The wind seemed to suddenly pick up and was blowing a chilly wind through the opening between Amelia and Little Talbot. I walked around a bit trying to see if I could find a decent shelter from the wind but finally gave up and decided to head south to see if I could either find a calm spot along Little Talbot or at the end of Long Island.
I could see the loose sand blowing off the top of the Talbot beach into the water so I gave up on that idea and headed back into the entrance to Simpsons Creek. The calm, flat water that I had left just 30 minutes earlier was now rough as the wind was piling up the outgoing water. As I approached the entrance to Myrtle Creek, I saw an Eagle swoop up to the dead trees that stick out from the top of the enormous dune at the end of the island - just above the campsite where I camped back in June of 2000. I paused to shoot him and then paddled upstream against the current of the outgoing tide on Myrtle. I rounded the bend and began approaching the the hammock on the south side of the island. I knew that there was little chance that the Eagle would allow me to exit my boat before flushing as I could tell that he was aware of me and watching me as I got closer.
Sure enough, as soon as I disappeared under the protection of the trees, he flew off and headed directly across the creek to a gathering of dead pine trees on the Little Talbot side where I have often seen Eagles perch. I paddled down to the next bend that put me as close as I could possibly get to him and after shooting a few pictures I decided to try and exit my boat and climb up the steep clay bank to a little oak tree clearing about 50 yards from the tree where he was keeping an eye on me. I got up but as soon as I got clear of the trees he as no longer there and I couldn't see him flying around the area so I got back in my boat and head back to the hammock on Long Island.
With the tide almost all of the way out, the climb up to the campsite was steep and slick but I made it up without much trouble and soon had my hammock strung up. The campsite, as always, was very clean and a recent fire pit indicated that it was still being used in spite of the protestations of the Talbot park rangers. As I set up my hammock, I could see that the Eagle had moved down to the very end of Little Talbot and was perching on one of the dead trees near where I was seeing Ospreys hang out this summer. He stayed there for most of the hour or so that I was eating and reading but as I got ready to leave he was gone.
As I was packing up I saw a pair of dark birds swooping over the tree line of Little Talbot, rocking back and forth as the floated along and I knew that it was a pair of Vultures searching for carrion. They were joined a few seconds later by a third bird that I knew by the shape of his wings and the way he held them straight out as he soared that it was the Eagle. I watched as he flew across in front of Long Island and headed toward Big Talbot where he disappeared. As I pushed off from shore, however, I looked and saw that either another Eagle was perching on the dead pine on Little Talbot or else the same one had circled back unseen to the place where I had seen him earlier. I took a few shots and headed back out to Simpsons Creek where I was pleased to find the tide was coming in. What wind there was now blew at my back but with the water level low it didn't affect me much and I cruised in without much trouble shooting a variety of birds along the way. The put-in was tricky but I managed to pull myself up without dumping my camera in the mud or water and was soon on my way home.
See the pictures from this trip
1/29/10
Normally, I wouldn't have bothered going out in the evening after working my dayshift, expecially in the winter when the sun sets before 6 pm, but with Hope spending the night at Camp Weed, I decided to take advantage of a full moon rise that was due to rise just prior to the sunset. I headed to Wendy's for the first time in over a year since the DOT started re-doing the Dames Point overpass and made getting in and out nearly impossible. All of that is done and I was leaving Wendys and heading down Cedar Point road munching on the french fries that were so hot they burned my mouth as I popped them in my mouth. I decided to put-in at Horseshoe Creek but when I pulled up to the water I saw that the evening sky was almost completely overcast which meant the moonrise, at least would probably be a non-event. I considered eating my sandwich in my truck and then heading home to the loving company of the "babies" but decided to pack up m boat and at least give at try. As I pulled away from Cedar Point I could see the the western sky was starting to turn orange giving me hope that at least the sunset would make the trip worthwhile. I reached the waterway and decided to let the incoming current carry me down to the southern end of the island that lays in front of the two entrances to Horseshoe Creek where I could sit out on the shell bank to see the sunset and possibly the moonrise. As I approached that end of the island I was disappointed to see a gawdy, multi-colored, trashy looking raft anchored in the mouth of that branch of the creek and I knew that I didn't want that to be my view as the sun set so I paddled over to the eastern bank of the ICW and ate my dinner and opened a beer. After eating, I surveyed the situation and decided that my best bet would be to head north and sit out on the island just above the northern entrance to Horseshoe Creek where I could watch the sun go down. Within a few minutes I was there and walked around to the mudflat to take some shots as the sun made its way to the horizon. Overall, it was a disappointment as the fireworks I had hoped the clouds would bring never really got going. I got back in my boat and made the short trip back to the ramp as the full moon finally made it's brief and unspectacular appearance through a veil of clouds as I pulled up to the shoreline. The raft, as it turns out is an Earthball and you can read more about it at Earthball.org. I won't say anything more about it - I'm just glad the idiot will be moving the trash down towards Miami soon where, hopefully, it will become a reef. |
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