Know Your Limits

Day Eight

Today's story ends with a lesson about knowing your personal limits. 

We wake up everyday when the sun comes up.  You don’t need an alarm clock if you’re outside and moving constantly.  It’s kind of nice, when it gets dark we accept that it’s time to sleep.  And when the sun comes up we accept that it’s time to be moving.  This morning though when I woke up I could not make myself move.  We spent a while at the park so I could lay on the ground, charge our phones, and type up the previous days notes.  I did not want to move today. 

Ten miles downriver the Suwannee meets the Santa Fe river.  About one mile up the Santa Fe is an RV Park with a restaurant.  We set our sights on BLTs.  Unfortunately I was moving especially slowly and Abby offered, again, to tow me for a while.  I was so exhausted that I couldn’t justify saying no.  I am lucky to have a paddling buddy who is so patient, who doesn't mind my singing, my snoring, or my knock knock jokes, and pulls me downriver when the day is too much for me.  This would have been a completely different trip if not for the always wonderful Abby. 

I napped for twenty or so minutes and then woke up with just enough energy to make it to lunch.  When we saw the big fork in the river we made a choice, keep paddling downriver to camp, or take a detour one mile upriver to food. We choose food.  

Here’s the thing.  We had spent about 8 days and 140 miles going “downhill” as I like to think about it.  We thought were fairly well equipped physically after this kind of padlding.  We underestimated how much it would hurt to go upstream.  The Santa Fe is a fast moving river and it was raining and the banks were cypress swamp.  I may be being slightly dramatic but Abby confirms this memory of the river.  It took us forever to get to the RV park but once there we were rewarded with an air conditioned place to wait out the rain and eat sweet potato fries.  A nice man bought us our lunch.  Again, I repeat, we are forever grateful for the kindness of strangers and the encouragement they offer when they see us sunburned and mildewed getting off the river. 

After lunch we pushed out and, exhausted and coughing, set up the hammock where the Santa Fe meets the Suwannee to take a nap.  I woke up feeling worse.  

Our ideal campsite was ten miles downriver at Gornto State Park.  After about 3 miles though it became clear that I was not up to the task.  Feeling guilty that I was demanding an early stop we got off the water at Sims Landing, a boat ramp at mile 62. 

It is Thursday night and we are going to take a break to rest and recover.  When we start again, though, our friend Margaret will be with us!

I don't feel well but I will always appreciate a good rope swing.