The Ichetucknee Is Great All The Time..

...except on hot summer weekends when it carries a surface of flesh, rubber, sunscreen, and the various effluvia that only 6,000 humans per day can produce. But then I digress before I even get started. Today was not one of those days and the worst I had to contend with was eight folks, each with kayaks twice as expensive as mine (and mine wasn't cheap), getting out as I was putting in. They had all the kayaking accoutrements too, bilge pumps, special booties, kayaking vests...you know, the stuff you never actually need.

After that, I had that big beautiful river all to myself, and so I took my sweet time meandering and drifting and checking out the scene under water. After it has had a few months to recover from the summer onslaught, there is nothing quite so pristine as the Itchetucknee. I've sampled my share of spring-fed rivers, but none compare to this one.

My first interface with the Ichetucknee was as one of the floating hoard many years ago. As soon as we passed the last pullout before the end, the skies opened, and there was nothing to do but drift in the cold, needling rain. I loved it, but my friends did not. I see that trip now as a life lesson: no matter how hard I paddled with my hands, I could go no faster than the current carried me.

And that current today is formidable, especially at the North End. My paddle may have touched water five times at the most on the way downstream. Upstream was the slog I expected it to be, especially when I hit the gushes of spring water fresh from the aquifer. My paddling chops are better than they were months back when I did this run last, so I made it back even faster than it took me to do the downstream leg. I don't expect to do it again until after the tourists have had their way with it.