Waccasassa Canoe Adventure

Above, the short straight logging canal section of the Waccasassa.

Yesterday, I had a decision to make. All of my clan were far and away, no one needed me, and I was free.

Freedom is a funny thing. It opens up a whole world of possibilities and creates the dilemma of what to do ... something responsible like staining the new door to Jr's room, or something fun ... and rare, like a solo adventure.

Hey, that sounds good.

Definitely a solo adventure kind of day.

I could go serious fishing. This is the fishing I do by myself as opposed to the "they're not biting, can we swim, I'm hot, these gnats are biting me, can we ride around some, can we go to the sandbar ..." type of fishing when I go with my little darlings.

I could choose to do some serious critter photography which is always a solo venture.

Or ...

I could go explore the Waccasassa River while it's super low from the long drought we are enduring. There's some decent fossils in that river and the low water could get me into places I can't usually get to.

Plus I recently patched up wedding present canoe and I was curious to see if the old girl would still float.

I jotted down a float plan and left it on the kitchen table:

"Gone canoeing. Don't try and find me."

Fifteen minutes later I was on the Waccasassa.

Two minutes later, I hit my first portage. There would be more of these ... many, many more.

Right after the first portage, an otter popped up next to me and paused for a breath and a picture.

Already the trip was worth it.

From the shoreline shadows the limpkin suggested I keep going.

"There's more for you" he whispered.

So, I paddled on.

Always take limpkin advice. Just ahead, a shallow stretch looked like a B-52 had unloaded on it. The bowl shaped depressions are bream beds. Bluegills and shellcrackers fan out these nests, lay eggs in them and then defend them against all tresspassers ... well, maybe not against the otter, but almost any other trespasser.

The beds went on for 20 yards or so and covered the entire bottom. It was easy to see the bream and largemouth bass cruising by in the clear water. The main source for the Waccasassa River is Blue Springs near the town of Bronson. In a drought like this one, it's supplying most of the water in the river so the clarity is excellent.

I was barely paddling, just drifting with the current and munching a piece of Publix fried chicken. In this first part of the trip, I was passing through a short section of the river that was straightened out back in the cypress logging days early in the last century. In an narrow bend in the river that's usually several feet deeper there were some old square timbers and a few pilings from an old logging rail trestle. The water was only knee deep due to the low river conditions, so I checked for gators, then hopped out to poke around.

Suddenly, I knew why the limpkin had urged me on.

It was this cypress log resting on the bottom.

Only, this may not be just a log.

It might be a dugout canoe.

Maybe.

It's common in Florida for ancient dugouts to appear during severe droughts like the one we are having. A few years ago, hundreds of dugouts were discovered in the exposed lake bottom of Newnan's lake in Gainesville.

Florida's first human inhabitants used cypress logs for their dugouts and buried in a river or lake bottom, cypress dugouts can last for thousands of years. Some drought exposed dugouts turn out to be four or five thousand years old.

Pretty incredible stuff.

The symmetry of this log and it's hollow area really make me think it's a dugout.

The interior was filled with sand and freshwater mussels. I fanned a little of the mud out of one section to get a better sense of it's shape.

It's a sweet U-shape that seems to continue down the length of the log.

The gunwales (pronounced "gunnels"... you lubbers) are rounded and a uniform distance apart.

It's straight, it's the right size ...

Before I left it, I filled in the fanned out section with protective river mud and took many more shots from all angles so I can send them off for an expert opinion on this curiosity.

Then I paddled on.

Ahead, the river narrowed even more as the clear water entered a dark tunnel of foliage. I followed of course.

The river wasn't done with me yet ...