Chasing Vultures On The Suwannee

Anybody who's spent more than 24 hours in this part of Florida has been on the Suwannee, so no trailblazing here. But when you're down in the water, as you are in a kayak, you see things that people doing 40 knots between jumping sturgeon cannot see. For one thing, it's a wide and freaky river with currents going both up and downriver. For another, its levels can fluctuate wildly, as the high fortresses that line each side attest. Also, a good bit of it is exposed limestone swiss cheese. I am not used to paddling under bluffs this high.

I've never seen this many vultures in one place either, both black and turkey. About 50 of them seemed to be circling a spot upriver, but as I moved closer the congregation seemed to move. I could get no closer. Some of them were so high up they became mere dots against the sky. But as I reclined in my kayak, a few of them circled over me, lower and lower. Vulture paranoia? Could be.

But I cannot pretend, even for the purposes of drama, that this is "Wild Florida." I pulled up to the bank about halfway down and climbed the sandy bluff there to see what was on the other side. It was Highway 27, a mere 50 feet from where I stood. I should have known it was so close to the road, because I filled up the back of my boat with trash. Nevertheless, from my vantage point, I could see at least two currents in the river. I was counting on an effortless float back to the put in, but that was not to be. Hard work up and hard work back. Maybe this is a river for motorboats.


Back at the car, a state park worker drove up to talk, his face ravaged by skin cancer from years as a roofer. He was worker under a program funded by the stimulus for folks over 55. He decided to be a park guide. Pretty cool. He told me the park was one of the most lucrative in Florida, some 3.4 million dollars in revenue last year. I found that gratifying. Even with all the technology and other distractions, Big Ass Rivers still draw us to their banks.