Out Paddling: I Curse The Name Of Bruce

Day Seven

I woke up with another splitting headache and coughing. Maybe it was the peacocks who screeched all through the night. Whatever it was it was a hard day for me, I couldn’t seem to wake up and we had to stop twice so I could take a thirty minute nap before going on. Thinking that maybe i was feeling poorly because I was exhausted and dehydrated I dedicated myself to eating as much and drinking as much water as possible during the day. This made me feel a little better physically and it made me feel incredible emotionally because like everyone in my family I love to eat.

I was pursuaded into my kayak by the fact that Maya, who we met at Holton Creek had told us that a few miles downriver from Peacock Slough was Convict Springs where we could get a hot breakfast. We got there to find the restaurant closed. Not to be discouraged though we bought some m&ms and cheezits

and sat by the spring to eat them and swim.

We asked the store owners where we purchased the m&m’s why it was called Convict Springs and learned that the spring used to be home to convicts, surprise surprise. A hundred yards prior we had passed an old rotating bridge which was apparently bought and shipped from Brazil and the convicts used it somehow in the process of milling grain. I am not clear on the details. Apparently it took four men to crank the bridge to rotate it. Every day there are new things that make me stop and think “I’ll have to look that up when I get home.”

On we paddled disappointed at the lack of breakfast but knowing that the further we went the closer we would be to food. Our goal for the night was Ivey Memorial Park in Branford where we had heard there was both camping and easy access to food and stores.

We were so hungry by our missed breakfast that we took a break when we passed the Adam’s Tract river camp to take a quick nap. We met the folks who took care of the camp and they explained that the folks who act as camp hosts are all volunteers, typically young college students, who offer to spend a season living at the campsite and making sure no one causes too much of a ruckus.

After a quick power nap and a swim we paddled on, encouraged that we only had eleven miles to go before we could sleep.

We were so hungry that we told each other stories about “maybe there will be a restaurant on the river that isn't on any of our maps”. Suddenly we saw a dock in the distance that said “Bruce’s Backyard Bar B Que Restaurant”. We could hardly believe our eyes. All of our dreams were coming true. We paddled as fast as we could to the dock, commenting that it looked a little like it might fall over, and tied our boats up. We ran up the steps to find that the sign was a lie. This was someone’s home. They just thought they were being clever, we thought they were breaking our hearts. Weary and more than a little embarrassed we got back into our kayaks and cursed the name of Bruce.

At about 5:30 we stopped at Troy Springs (mile 70ish, we think) to swim. We’ve seen about a dozen small springs today on the sides of the river. They are cold, clear, and beautiful. I love to drift past them and see all the turtles under the water and watch the blue water mix with the orangey tannin colored water. it is mesmerising.

We finally got to Ivey Park where we were staying tonight. We had a nice talk with some folks from UF who were somehow affiliated with the UF IFIS office I think. They were out looking for sturgeon to admire, we told them about the sturgeon that had almost flopped into my kayak earlier.

While we were pulling our boats out of the water we were stopped by a kind older couple who wanted to know what we were up to. They drove us up the road and bought us our dinner. People claim that Florida isn’t really part of the south but if I know anything about Southern hospitality then central Florida is apparently as southern as it gets.

We spent the night at the boat ramp. I was running a slight fever so I did my best to drink as much water as possible. The boat ramp had about seven or so stray cats that came to check out our campsite. As a cat lover this soothed me. Cats would take care of us. Cats wouldn't let raccoons eat our food. Cats wouldn't let me be kidnapped in the night by bears and made to spend my remaining years as a housekeeper for bears.

We fell asleep listening to sturgeon splashing and cars passing on the nearby road. Not as nice as our nights in the middle of the woods, but no complaints.