Kayaking The OTHER Wekiva River

Come on.
Grab your paddle and I'll show you some of the "other" Wekiva River.
Around here, we pronounce it "WE-KIVA" (LONG I, ACCENT THE WE)

The other Wekiva is down around that little town that the mouse ruined ... starts with an O, but it escapes me now.
THAT Wekiva is actually a state park.

This one is not, but it should be.

Push off from that bank and I'll show you what I mean.

Since we are going upstream from the mouth, we'll need to launch on the Waccasassa River first, then paddle up to the confluence.
When the Waccasassa curves to our left, we will go straight into the mouth of the Wekiva.
Here we go ...

The Waccasassa is a beauty in her own right, but like the Wekiva, she has some blemishes.
Curiously, each and every blemish is courtesy of us.
Imagine that.

Take this old shrimp boat for example ...

(PLEASE TAKE THIS OLD SHRIMP BOAT ... AWAY!)

This vessel is pictured in the second post here on Pure Florida, April 11, 2005. She was floating back then. Today she has floundered and is a derelict vessel crumbling and rusting away ... adding who knows what pollutants to the beautiful Waccasassa River system.

I could so RANT right now, but it is such a beautiful October day.

Paddle.

We are still on the Waccasassa and you can see how tidal she is, even here, miles from the Gulf of Florida.

This is a place where fiddler crabs scuttle over cypress knees as salty ocean slowly yields to spring fed freshness.

A juvenile Yellow-Crowned Night Heron totes a crab, that even de-legged, seems too big to swallow.

Could you look just a little more dino?
Sheesh.
That eye ... I think I saw it in the kitchen in Jurassic Park.
Clever girl.

We left the Waccasassa behind after that Night Heron.
Now, we are on the Wekiva. She's fed by Wekiva Springs, miles upstream from where you and I are paddling. The water is now clearer, the bottom cleaner due to a brisk current that issues from the spring.

It's still influenced by the tides ebb and flow, but right now, with the tide out, freshwater rules.
Let's push on upstream, when we poop out we can always turn around and cruise back with the current.

No telling what is up around the next bend ... and there are lots of bends.

Somebody ought to paint that scene.
It's classic Florida Cracker Cattlesqueish.

This Cracker bull was guarding his herd as they fed in the river swamp.
I was so focused on the cows up ahead wading into the river for a drink, that I didn't notice this guy ... just a few feet to my right ...until he made that low rumbling growl ... do cattle growl?
It sure sounded like a growl to me.

I was too busy gauging the depth of the river between my kayak and his horns to focus on his voice, but I think I know menace when I hear it.

How do you explain getting gored by a bull while kayaking?

2011?
1911?
1811?
1711?
1611?

It was a scene, so timeless and Pure Floridian that I just stared at the young bull as he glared at me, framed by cypress, palmetto, and palm.

Sometimes you just have to pause and drink it in.




There were more bends of course.
I'll tell you about them in another post.