Running Away to the Swamp

January has come and gone. With the tenth anniversary of Klep's retirement, we decided it was time to run away from Mosquito Gardens and the lengthy to do list.  We didn't want to run far.  After the heavy fog of the last few mornings, we were afraid we would have a difficult traveling morning, but the day dawned as near perfect as any February day could be.  We decided to head toward the Atlantic Ocean with our first stop the real swamp, not that football field down in Gainesville.  We saw more real gators than I had ever seen in my life.

We made our first stop the Okefenokee, the Land of the Trembling Earth.  After a quick lunch

under the picnic shelter of the National Wildlife Refuge, we boarded the boat with some authentic flat land foreigners from up north and headed down the canal built by Henry Jackson in an effort to drain the swamp in the 1890's.  Fortunately he died before the last seven miles were built and his effort became known as Jackson's folly.

Our boat captain Steve

kept up an informative narrative as we slowly traveled over the tannic waters through cypress, pines, and finally old stand hardwoods dripping with Spanish moss all along enjoying the gators,

big gators, little gators, mama gators,

and daddy gators, all sunning along the banks of the canal, gators swimming bank to bank,

turtles (soft shell, snapping and gator) cavorting on driftwood and in the water, and warblers singing in the trees.

We passed kayakers dipping their oars in

the water and gliding along being pretty much ignored by the gators before we turned into Chessers' Prairie where we saw both great blue herons and white ibis. The water on the prairie was only about three feet deep over very deep deposits of peat.

After we turned and proceeded back to the dock, we passed a tree with a large bard owl out viewing the goings on.

We took a leisurely drive through the refuge, stopping briefly at the old homestead before we set the GPS for Darien and an early supper.

We enjoyed crab stew and oyster po'boys at Mud Cat Charlies and called it a day.