Rain, Rain, Beautiful Rain

The bottom of my kayak is a document of just how often I have scraped the bottom of every waterway in North Florida. I figured low water, like having to pick up others' trash on the river, was the price I had to pay to do what I love. So unlike pretty much everyone else in Gainesville on Monday, I greeted the rain with praises of thanksgiving, because I knew it meant high, blessedly navigable water. Where there is high water, there are new places heretofore unreachable.

So imagine my disappointment when I rushed out to the Santa Fe just south of Worthington Springs only to find the sign above blocking my progress. If the water was now too high and really too low before, then where was the magic middle ground? Was this simply a budget thing, to take any opportunity to close the "park" to save money? To my eyes, the water wasn't too high at all. In fact, I would go so far as to say it was perfect.

But with no gates blocking the New River right around the bend, I did not go unrewarded yesterday and, yes, I did see a new part of the New River. The river east of the bridge usually chokes out from debris in times of low water, but I was able to get through a few hundred yards of it with my formidable paddling skills and a rusty machete. The prize for all this work was a place of sublime isolation and beauty. The sun was going down and everything fairly glowed between the long shadows. I sat and listened to the water spill over new places in the river and when it started getting dark and I paddling easily back to the car.


Note: I will be leaving the country soon for a short while and plan to use this space to document my experiences. I won't be doing any paddling there that I know of, but I hope that what I write about will be germane to everyone who reads it.