And since the last time we were in Florida we never saw an alligator we were becoming suspicious. Sure, we have heard that Florida has gators, but come on. The world is full of picture books that aren't necessarily true.
So just to prove it's true our lovely sister-in-law booked us on an adventure called "Canoe Escapes",
where you can rent a two person canoe and cruise from two to eight hours downstream. Since we're old poops we just went on the first leg of the overall journey, from Sargent Park to Morris Bridge Park.
It's a good thing too. The website states each leg is about two hours, and that the river is from twenty to sixty feet wide. I got news for them. Some canoeable spots we went through were only four feet wide at best. I have a feeling the river was running at low tide. It made for a much longer and no doubt interesting journey.
We embarked from the park headquarters after a brief instructional by one of the guys, who reminded me of Gunga Din. You know, if Gunga looked like a 20 year old single surfer dude living in Florida.
He went over basics; like if you paddle on the left side you go right, paddle right you go left. Up is down and down is up. And then if you do a swift, deft and shallow swat you can splash your partner with water. Which isn't necessarily something you should do if you want to get lucky later.
Just sayin. However, if you're going downstream with an old army buddy then swift swat away. Unless, of course, Brokeback Mountain. Then who knows?
Gunga told us to head out from our launch point a few hundred yards and then head right at about a three o'clock angle when the water opened up. Paddle in another couple hundred yards and it becomes like a nature preserve. When we were satiated with serene, wildlife viewing, we were to paddle back and sort of hit the river at about an eleven o'clock angle so that we would be headed downstream.
If we made a really hard right at about four o'clock we'd be headed up stream, and if we made an acute hard left, say about eight o'clock, at that point we'd return to base. So it was important that we make the correct choice. He said there'd orange flags to light the way and ensure we were heading in the right direction.
"Great," thought I. "Not only do we have to know left from right and right from left and where the hands are on a clock when everything now is digital, but we also need to know geometry. I barely passed high school geometry, and that was almost fifty years ago. Like I'd remember anything from that long ago let alone an isosceles triangle. I can't even pronounce isosceles let alone spell it. All I wanted to do was see a gator. Don't they have a zoo around here?"
"Speaking of gators and the potential of getting lost in a jungle forever," I began to think again, "Maybe we should be bringing along a bazooka and a flugelhorn. Where's my safari hat?"
I know. I have no idea where this stuff come from. I, like you, am just along for the ride most of the time.
Instead of wearing proper safari attire, I embarked in sandals, shorts, shirt, shades and baseball hat and hoped for the best should we actually encounter one of the big guys. Gunga shoved us off and then said he'd be seeing us at the pick up spot at Morris Bridge in a couple hours.
Both us gentlemen took the rear where most of the work was going to be done, and we were off in search of adventure. A few hundred yards out sure enough a right was available at three o'clock and we paddled into a wide open lake-ish affair where wildlife galore was popping. Exotic birds, happy sunning turtles and yes, gators. Plenty of brazen gators!
Them gators, they're crafty buggers. They hang out around logs and trees, blending in really well. Sometimes all you can see is the top of their big round eye lids popping out of the water. Sometimes they're just hanging out in the flora and fauna, waiting for a delicate human hand lightly tickling the water as a canoe passes by...
Where the hell is my bazooka?
After we thoroughly enjoyed our little nature preserve detour we returned to the point of departure, got out our slide rule, geometric calculus and kitchen wall clock and determined the correct juncture to take. At least we hoped we did.
As I mentioned, the river was not quite as wide as portrayed in their literature. Plus, the current was very slight. We began to constantly wonder if we had made the right angle. Or the correct hour.
"Anybody see an orange flag yet?"
As I also mentioned, the river got quite narrow in some spots. Both our canoes hit and got stuck on partially submerged trees. And since left was right and starboard was keel both canoes ended up backwards and in circles a couple times. It turned out to be quite an exercise in tandem synchronization for both canoes. Or lack thereof.
I think we needed one of those guys on the rowing team. The one with the bull horn.
"Left. Right. Left. Right. No, not you. You. Left! You, right! No. What? Left you idiot! Not you! Right. "
And so on.
But wildlife and nature were at every turn, it was a fiesta for our eyes, even if they were looking backwards sometimes. We probably saw about forty-five gators, ranging from one to eight feet in length. Many were out sunning themselves, many were pretending to be logs because they were hungry.
That of course was paramount on my mind when it was our turn to get stuck on a log. I couldn't just pop out of the canoe and sashay it off the timber. No, we had to push, jockey and shove with our paddles til we got free.
"Anybody see an orange flag yet?"
I mean, we were pretty sure we were on the right track. There was a slight, teeny weeny little current, and we were heading down stream, albeit quite slowly. Doubt persisted, yet we pressed on. The thought of turning around and regurgitating submerged logs did not seem too appealing.
So we leisurely pressed on. And then finally, about two hours down river, we espied our first orange flag. Halleluiah brother, we weren't going to have to worry about being gator bait at dusk anymore. Or hiking through the mosquito and snake infested jungle while wailing on the flugelhorn. Or hillbilly redneck rape, neither.
After the first flag, we saw several more until we finally hit our portage spot at Morris Bridge. It's possible we missed a couple flags, I suppose it's possible nature took care of a few. I spose it's also possible some hillbilly moved them to one of the several tributaries that were off the main river...
I hadn't used a few of those upper torso arm muscles for a decade or two and ended up just a bit stiff for a couple weeks thereafter. Might have had something to do with my lack of long bicep tendon in said arms as well. Gettin old is not for sissies.
As all good things do our Florida visit and vacation came to an end. We had a great time (as always)and are buoyed about the fact we'll be rejoining our companions again fairly soon on another European adventure.
Arrivederci. Baby.
