Vacation in Central Florida

We loaded up the jet skis and set off for Central Florida on vacation this past week. It was an incredible week. Highlights include: Passing through the locks in the Harris Chain, hopping downed trees in the Ocklawaha river, jet skiing three Florida Natural Springs, staying at the charming Lakeside Inn in Mt. Dora, finding beaches and bars in the middle of "nowhere", being told by a park ranger "you can't get there from here" but after he thought about it he decided we could if we crossed the street to launch on the opposite side of the lock, the Dora Canal with birds standing everywhere and finally getting to the St. Johns River.

Peace River Part 2

Last weekend we dropped our skis into the Peace River in Arcadia Florida. The Peace River is one of the longest rivers in Florida at over 105 miles long. It is bordered mostly by natural preserve and farm land. This particular public launch sits just about in the middle of the river giving us the option of running either direction.

This trip turned out to be one of our best days ever on the water. We initially headed up river hoping to find out how far up we could go under these optimal conditions. Thanks to weeks of copious rain, most of the river was navigable. After dropping to a courteous idle, four times in a ten minute span to avoid swamping the cute little families out in canoes, we switched directions and headed south toward Charlotte Harbor. On the left, just past our launch, was a small group of fossil hunters plunging soil collecting tubes into the muck and sifting the samples in search of ancient remains. The Peace River is famous for fossiling and in particular for the fine shark teeth found there.

The river here is a series of long winding turns shaded by overhanging palms, oaks and cypress trees. The width from bank to bank ranges from to 20 feet across to 100 feet. We easily ran our skis side by side. The water was smooth as glass and ran on like this for over 30 miles of twists and turns. We became confident that we could read this river pretty easily avoiding paritally submerged logs and branches and opened up the throttles running the sharp S curves at thirty to forty mph. On some of the sandy bends you could still see the ski ahead of you, by glancing across the shallow bank, as it moved around the other side of the meander. We found the smooth scenic highway of river thrilling after spending so much of our time in the gulf. Each new strech of river offered up something interesting. Rope swings, camouflaged fish camps, wild hogs, wandering cattle and exotic African animals pushed close the fence at a wild life sanctuary. We passed under at least six bridges and each was unique. There were arched road bridges, wooden railroad bridges and modern highway spans. There is something childishly fun about passing under each and every bridge. We were not alone on the river. We may spend our weekends at the beach but the folks who live inland head to the river banks with their campers or air boats, families in tow, to take advantage of the white sandy shores. Still there were long stretches of open, empty water allowing us to open the throttle and whip around the bends with a simple shift of body weight on the inward side of the ski.

Very gradually, toward the bay, the river opens up into wide flats surrounded by river grasses. The vistas are so expansive with so much sky and grass, much like an African savanna but on the water. We pushed on to the big city bridges and Charlotte Harbor then turned to hunt up a lunch spot back on the river. Nothing was easily visible in terms of river side dining so, with a little help from the locals, we found the Nav-a-Gator grille up a wide side branch. As soon as we entered we found the atmosphere to be positive and upbeat. The hum of voices was high toned and happy. After running that beautiful river, who wouldn't be happy? There was a good crowd inside and out with live music on the deck. The music here is considered a troprock. The owner was a charming, jovial fellow called Captain Dennis. I began to wonder if Santa might own a second business where frozen water can only be found as the tinkling of ice cubes in cocktails. He has owned the restaurant and marina for 5 years. Along with the main restaurant and bar, there is an outside dining area, a tiki hut for events and even a sea plane dock. We were able to gas up there which was most excellent. The Nav-A-Gator sits on a protected spit of land that has served variety of purposes over its' 150 year history including a pirate hide-a-way, a trading post and a home to rum runners. Dennis regaled us with tales of sitting through the eye of Hurricane Charlie and watching the roof try to lift off and take flight. He made good on the familiar sign "Free Beer Tomorrow" the very next day as they emptied the taps for all comers. (Thanks for the post hurricane gift Summer Santa.) The area was devastated but the Nav-A-Gator Grille remained. They describe their food as fine dining in a basket and it did not disappoint. Stomaches and tanks topped off, we raced back up river to our launch spot looking forward to a return trip with plans to come on a weekday.

We came back six days later on a Friday to find the launch area empty and discovered that we would have the river to ourselves. The hope was to finally make the trek up river into the wilder, more remote sections of the river. The upper river was nothing short of spectacular. The view of cypress knees and moss draped trees felt like the everglade swamps and the Florida springs rolled into one fantastic scene. I felt as far removed from society as I would on an Amazon trek. No other boats and wild life around every turn. Every corner we turned would flush out more exotic creatures. Roseate spoonbills shimmered like pink cotton candy in the air. Ducks, cormarants, egrets and herons took briefly to wing just in front of the skis. We slowed on occasion so as not to end up like Fabio on a roller coaster, some birds were sure they could keep up and flew along just ahead of the ski. Winding ever forward I pulled the spelunker trick of looking backward for markers. When the river forked I would glance back to see what the perspective would be like coming from the opposite direction. It is easy to get lost in some rivers with multiple routes. This was not a problem on the Peace. Most side branches quickly hit a dead end.

At one point on the trip I glanced down at the Honda's instrument panel. It read 100 hours. What a nice treat is must have been to be running in freshwater after spending her first 94 hours in the Gulf of Mexico. I reflected on what a nimble little gas sipper she has been and what a good investment I had made one year ago. One oil change coming up!

After an hour of jet skiing we reached a spot where the fallen palmettos had been chain sawed back to create a narrow pass for fishing boats. It presented a clever little challenge, to kick the tail of the ski around making the tiny s turn that was required. Big grins all around after that one. Running as lead ski in new terrain is a double edged sword. You get that incredibly smooth water and you are the first to see what is around each bend. Unfortunately you are also the first to test the depth of the water. Only once did one of us run aground. Fritz made his turn a bit too close to shore, trying to avoid another downed tree. I waited just short of his position, in the strong current, watching him struggle in waist deep water wrestling his boat off the sand bank. Just ten minutes ealier we had stopped to watch a five foot gator slither off the bank into the water to get a closer look at us. Usually on a river in Florida we would have seen at least a dozen gators by now but when the water is high they don't have places to lounge on the banks. No doubt there were many gators close by. When it was my turn I heeded his advice and cut as close to the tree as possible and with a slight bump I was over. I assumed we would dead end soon but it never happened. We just ran on and on for another hour of winding turns and crazy beautiful scenery. Every time it narrowed down the river would open up wider around the next bend. We still didn't know how far we could go up river but we did know that there was no fuel dock in the upper reaches, so we spun around and headed back. I glanced ahead and noticed Fritz had his legs stretched forward, resting his now bare feet, up on the gunwales. It seemed an appropriate way to end the day. Bare foot sunburned and as care free as Tom Sawyer.

July 11,2009 Peace River

Up A Lazy River

Almost any day is a good day to jet ski in the Tampa Bay area. Taking advantage of the Friday holiday, we jumped into the turbulent Gulf of Mexico and Anna Maria Sound. Our friend John fired up the two stroke and joined us in braving the 15 minute crossing into the chop from Bradenton to Anna Maria. After ducking into the lee shore and finding very little "lee way", we decided to stick to the intercoastal and shoot down to the pass at the north end of Long Boat Key. The Gulf was breaking big and confused on the sand bar. Two weeks of rain and wind were evident in the random pattern of the waves. My husband Fritz took the big Kawasaki out to jump and play in the mogul like swells and breaks. I followed on the Honda, not because I was thrilled to be jumping in the mess, but to keep an eye on him out there. It was fun to crash my way around in the 4-5 foot swells. While heading back in I dropped into a trough and was swamped by a wave crashing backwards over the entire ski. Hanging on tight was the only option. Nothing like 50lbs of pressure trying to push you off the jet ski backwards. I beached up and sent John out to frolic in the waves. After an hour in the rough we took a quick lunch break at Annie's bate shop. Onion rings and cold libations fortified Fritz and I to carry on.
Considering the rolling chop we opted to run up the Manatee River. We were not willing to start flushing skis that early in the day and the four stroke's engines, on almost full tanks, were ready to go. We usually avoid the river. Slow manatee zones and bridge passages are not simpatico when you are sitting on that much horse power. We craved some liberting speed on the flat water.

The two weeks of rain had a surprisingly positive effect on the river. The level was high all day elliminating the likelyhood of striking submerged branches and running aground. Stately homes line the banks at the start of the river. As the river narrows you quickly drop back in time. The river's palmettos and mangroves harbor every type of exotic Florida fauna.

We followed the river across a rippling wash board effect, through 3 bridges to the grass lands and overhanging branches of the upriver sections. Here the river become smooth and glassy luring us on. The mirror like effect made the depth impossible to gage in the tea colored water. After on hour were stopped at a dead end by a low bridge that was impossible to squeeze the jet skies under. We agreed that we would head back up on the following day, the 4th, when we had more time to explore.

Friends D.C. and Rebeca called early to say they were up for a river trip Saturday. We met up at the mouth of the river and retraced our trip of the day before. The wind was blowing right down the mouth of the river so we knew it would be a bit rough until rounding the bend in the narrower sections. As we popped out under the 301 bridge, there in a very wide section of the river, were two ducks and their fifteen tiny yellow striped off spring. We stopped to admire them for a moment. Glancing to the far shore, 600 feet away, I noted that they were heading to a shore covered in sea walls. I have no idea how they fared but I suspect it was good that they started the crossing with such a large number of offspring.

Just above that section of the river dolphins were cresting in groups in the brackish waters. They are tough to photograph with a digital camera because of the delay between snap and photo but I will try to document them in the future here.

We had a fantastic ride up the glassy sections of the river stopping often to ask ourselves why we don't venture up that way more often. On the return trip the flashing blue lights under the Green Bridge refreshed our memory. We are not good at idle speed wanting to keep the bow of the ski up, but as we promised the kind police officer in the City of Bradenton boat, we will remember what minimum wake means during future outings.

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