The Lowdown On The Santa Fe

Someone pulled the plug on the Santa Fe River. Even the sinks are dry now. High bluffs, downed trees, and new "rapids" abound. I spent the afternoon bushwhacking, portaging, and documenting. I was here back in early October, and the difference between now and then could not be more stark. A sense of winter torpor has seized me of late, so I scheduled this outing like a doctor's appointment (but without the ego-deflating weigh-in). If I had waited a week, I bet I could have walked along the river bed without getting my feet wet.

The new obstacles meant that I got a solid upper-body workout and I even "shot" the first "rapid." That sound you hear? That would be runnels of blue plastic being stripped from the bottom of my boat by the exposed limestone. Portage on the way back, for sure. The last time I was here, I had to get out of the way of a house boat. Not this time. The water had become clear (or maybe it was before?). This meant that I could watch where the turtles go when they bail from their perch on the log at my approach, the wigs of algae waving in the current, and fallen leaves underwater glowing like new coins.

Underwater Leaves

Standing up in a kayak is a sketchy proposition. I recall one time in particular when I decided it was a good idea to moon my fellow paddlers during a jaunt down the Upper Withlacoochee and fell very quickly--and justly--into the water. But now I can walk up and down the deck like a Wallenda, and that comes in handy, as I've taken to exploring the land that lines the banks of my runs.


They say that any kind of daily practice contributes to spiritual awakening, and quite frankly I could use a bit of that these days. This part of the Santa Fe (between I-75 and O'Leno) is wild and lovely no matter what the water level and my spirit was enriched by moving through it today.