Happy 2009 everyone.  I’m writing to you from Pensacola Beach, 15 miles from Big Lagoon State Park and the western terminus of the FCSPT.  It’s a little hard to believe that there are only 15 miles standing between me and the end.

The past few weeks have been tough.  I’ve been paddling long days, averaging between 25 and 30 miles each day.  I have had the special honor though of enjoying the beauty of the panhandle almost entirely to myself. 

I have decided for safety’s sake to take the ICW through the panhandle, jumping from bay to bay.  The one word that can describe my overall experience with the ICW has been ‘developed’.  Most of the Intercoastal has been taken over by houses and suburban sprawl. 

I was delighted and shocked when I paddled up the Appalachicola River, and experienced the ICW between there and Panama City.   It is a hidden beauty, teeming with Bald Eagles (I counted twelve in 16 hours of paddling!), pileated woodpeckers, alligators, and barred owls.  The shoreline ranges from marsh to pines, and you watch the shoreline change with something a little foreign to me…  elevation!  I spent much of my afternoons hugging the southern shoreline to seek protection from the sun within the shade of the bluffs, rising fifteen to twenty feet above me.   It was a beautiful and memorable paddling experience. 

I’d like to say a big thanks to Roy in Appalachicola for the late lunch and the great conversation.  It was good meeting you and discussing the ’surfing haunts’ of Brevard County. ..  spanish house… monster hole… and of course, o’ club. 

Thanks also to Fred Borg, Neil, Eric, and Len in Panama City.  I appreciated having a place to stay new year’s eve, with some warm conversation and good food.  I was shocked to see you all out there braving the cold water, windy, chopped up seas on the First, but had a great time paddling into the new year with you all and enjoyed the company.   Len, thanks for meeting up with me for lunch, twice, and bringing back my hat and bilge pump!  Those are two invaluable items.   

The past few weeks have been exhausting for me.  I am looking forward to Big Lagoon State Park, and a break from these long days. 

“I meant to do my work today,
But a brown bird sand in the apple tree,
And a butterfly flittered across the field,
And all the leaves were calling me.
And the wind went sighing over the land,
Tossing the grasses to and fro,
And a rainbow held out its shining hand,
So what could I do, but laugh and go?” — Richard Le Gallienne

I hope everyone is enjoying their holidays.  I headed home on Christmas Eve to spend Christmas and the day after with family.  It was great to see family and friends.  My parents drove me back to the trail on Saturday, to where I stopped in the Ocklocknee Bay.  I was on the water a little after noon, and made my way up the ocklocknee river. 

The tide was behind me, and I soon find myself winding through Tate’s Hell along the Crooked River.  This river is outstanding, one of Florida’s great natural treasures.  If you are looking for a small segment of the FCSPT to complete, this is one I would highly recommend.  From your starting point, either Carabelle or Ocklocknee Bay, you will be immediately immersed in wilderness.  Be prepared for gators, otters, pileated woodpeckers, bald eagles, hawks, herons, and mullet, as you cruise the tannic waters. 

The afternoon turned into evening and I began searching for a campsite.  The river is close to flood stage, and the water seemed ready to spill over into the oaks and palmettos.  High ground was evading me.  I continued paddling as the sun went down.  The light, like a candle burning low, was dimming.  I was confident though that a site would be found, and I enjoyed the glassy reflection and silent peace on the water.  I had the entire river to myself- the entire world, it seemed.

Of course, as the last light was leaving the sky, and darkness was settling in, I found a site on what seemed like an old logging road.  It was high, dry, and I was happy.  I set up my tent, grabbed my headlamp, ate dinner, watched the stars, and crawled into bed. 

Sunday morning dawned bright.  I broke camp, and then broke the stillness of the water.  After a little paddling, tide switched and began pulling me out towards Carabelle.  Gary Breedlove had told me about a place called The Fisherman’s Wife to eat at.  As it was a bright red building it was easy to spot when I reached town.  Unfortunately, as I walked up to the building, it was closed.  It is sunday after all.  So, subway it was.  I ate my 5 dollar footlong down by the water, and as I was paddling off, a couple came down and said they owned a kayak shop just up the river.  hmm… how’d I miss that?? 

-So, that’s how I’m writing this.  Thanks to the generosity of Expeditions In Hell, the name being derived from Tate’s Hell State Forest, the 300,000 acre forest that envelopes this beachside community, I have a place to check email, and update you on my progress.  I’m on my way now to the beach for some camping on sand flats, and with any luck, I’ll have a clear sky to view the stars.  Tomorrow I’ll be in Appalachicola.

Happy Paddling!

I will start this post from the last time anyone has really heard from me- Inglis, Florida (Yankeetown) on the edge of the Big Bend and my ascent into the Panhandle.

That town marked a huge contrast in the progress of this journey, both for me and the expedition itself.

 Jodi, my steadfast partner through this whole adventure, decided it was time to head home. We had been discussing this for a while, and I was comfortable with her decision, and understand her reasoning behind it. Immediate, intimate family was coming to visit for the holiday season, she was offered a short-term dog sitting job for some good friends, and it would give her time to decompress from the stress of our long-distance paddle and prepare for the hiking portion.

It was tough leaving her standing on the shore as I paddled into the gulf. Jodi has been my butterfly on this trip. La Mariposa. She has reminded me to enjoy the beauty of this trail. I have this drive deep inside my bones to need to push myself. I felt it hiking the Appalachian Trail, and I have felt it to some degree paddling on this trip (I’m a guy, what can I say? I like to go fast… push myself. test my limits and see what I can do.). She has been tough, and has proven herself time and again in some extremely challenging conditions. I am incredibly proud of her, beyond words.

And so, with some hesitation, I paddled out… out… out… (the tides here extend for miles) into the gulf, embarking on what has become a journey in itself.

The Big Bend is remote. Cell Service is limited, and when you have it, spotty at best. Most of the boats you see are way off shore in the deeper water, and the ones close to shore are noisy, fast, air boats. What better place for my SPOT unit to stop working?! I still have yet to figure it out, but hopefully it will be fixed and running again asap.

I have never spent this much time by myself. It has been an exciting, somewhat daunting challenge. The first night was the hardest. I have camped by myself once or twice before, but not to this extent. I left Inglis in the early afternoon, and paddled hard. I had to test myself- get out on the road, put the pedal down, and see what I was made of. And what a week of discovery it’s been.

It seems that as I have come into my own pace, the trip has actually slowed down. I am firmly convinced with hiking and paddling that you need to move at a pace you are comfortable with, any slower or faster seems to hurt you in the long run. It is hard when you have a partner, be it a climbing partner, a paddling partner, or a shuffleboard partner. But that is why I stress being comfortable with your pace. If you head out for a day of photography with other people, your pace will not be fast. You may be on a trail that you have traveled in half the time before, but knowing what you are out there for, you are prepared, and comfortable with, a slower pace.

It seems that as I have begun paddling at a constant pace, and in solitude, I have had more time for introspection. And, that seems to have added an element to the Big Bend that I feel I have been honored to see. This remote stretch of coastline seems to be full of people seeking introspection. From the fisherman plying along the coast, finding more in the Big Bend then the fish that they haul into the boat, to the solitary homes standing like beacons of assurance and perseverance.

This is an area that has seemed, at times, like a magnet for hurricanes and storms, for instance, “The Storm of the Century” in 1993. It is an area where you need a certain confidence. A strong backbone. You are in the wilderness, and you had better know it. I love pine trees, because much of their strength is actually buried beneath the ground. The reason a slender pine tree will withstand incredible winds and hurricanes while a massive oak can be uprooted, is because of the pine tree’s ‘tap’ root. This is its central root that digs deep into the earth and anchors it, creating a solid, invisible foundation .

And as I’ve paddled north, I’ve seen these pine trees as the backdrop to this Big Bend area, shadowing the marsh grasses, and reminding me of the strength and vitality that exists here. And I feel that all though I have been paddling by myself, I have not been alone. I have felt the strength in my silence, and I feel that I have captured a small piece of the strength and perseverance found here, that I might have missed otherwise. I picture it as a child who has captured a firefly in a jar. The light from the firefly seems to light up in the child’s face, and stays somewhere in his soul long after he has let the firefly fly away.

By the way, did you know that Florida has over sixty species of fireflies, more than any other state?

–

I would like to thank ‘Swamp Sally’ in Yankeetown/Inglis for taking us in, and showing us the city. Teaching us local history, and present politics, the local cuisine, and of course, the parade. Personally, thank you for the beautiful 1831 reproduction of the map of Florida. It’s a great map in it’s own right, but I’m sure many of you who have seen my fondness for certain maps, can guess what it’ll be used for. If not, you’ll see it one day…

I am presently in a little oasis just outside of Tallahassee, and have been taken in by Doug Alderson and his family. Doug has produced, and in many ways been, the backbone of information on this trail, and we have been relying heavily on his information in order to complete this paddling trail, all of which is available through the FPTA website, or the Office of Greenways and Trails Paddlingwebsite.

And now, after playing such an influential role in the progress of our journey, he has made an even stronger impression by inviting me in, and paddling with me. His home environment resounds with peace, rest, and rejuvination, and it has provided me with a million small blessings I was unaware I needed.

We are taking the day off today to avoid the nasty weather, but will be paddling through slightly less harrowing conditions tomorrow through wednesday, on our way through Appalachee Bay to the Ocklocknee river, the Crooked River, and Tate’s Hell… Quite a place to spend christmas vacation, huh?

“Something lost behind the ranges,
Something hidden, go and find it.
Go and look behind the ranges,
Something lost behind the ranges,
Lost and waiting for you. Go.” — Kipling