Prairie Creek

I've written about Prairie Creek before, but this outing was different. For one thing, I brought a friend along, a bit of a newcomer to kayaking but an advanced skydiver who is entirely at home in the air doing things most of us would consider insane. I wanted to see how he handled a horizontal adventure. He handled it fine but I would imagine his upper body feels like week-old hamburger today.


I also ventured farther down the creek than I have ever been, which is to that narrow point between the creek and Camps Canal where you might as well leave your boats behind and walk. There has been a movement afoot for some years to designate this as part of the Potano Paddling Trail, but I must confess that I hope this becomes no more accessible than it is right now, because where humans have trouble venturing is still wild and almost trash free.

I had hoped to see some snakes and gators, but they hid themselves fairly well. That could be because we were splashing like 3-year-old kids in the bathtub trying to get past the sandbars and logs in our path, of which there were many. The small downstream trickle helped us build up a head of steam getting over these on the way down, but coming back seemed more like digging than paddling. By the time we got to the car, I was wet and covered with debris.

The stretch of water from Newnan's to Orange Lake is a living example of why I live here. It is wild, active with life, dark, secret, and redolent of history. At times, I am more at home here than my own house. We saw examples of nearly every bird that also considers this home: the scolding kingfisher, the ubiquitous Great Blue Heron, bald eagles, anhingas, ibises, egrets. We even saw a horse, that may or may not have been feral. The creek even has moods.  The last time I was here, it was the heart of darkness; this time it was a glowing, bright stream.


Unfortunately, we knew we were almost back when we saw a sharp uptick in the number of beer cans, bottles, and general fishing trash. I don't quite know what to do about this problem, but it seems to be more than simply a problem of aesthetics. It is the difference between using and co-existing. I do know that it makes me sad.