Withlacoochee Shugyo - Winter 2024

The Withlacoochee River (south) is a designated Florida Canoe Trail located in north central Florida. It is a 76-mile paddle from the berg of Lacoochee to the town of Dunnellon. It is one of four rivers born in the Green Swamp, two of which flow north, and the only one whose waters flow into the Gulf.

 Shugyo is a word often associated with the study of martial arts. ‘Shu’ means ascetic practices or discipline and ‘gyo’ means journey. In the 1990s, I first learned of it while reading the book ‘Living the Martial Way’ by Forrest E. Morgan. In it, Morgan suggests a person subscribe to an annual solitary test of mind, body, and spirit; known as shugyo.

During that period, I experienced my first ‘Shugyo’ when at age 40, I solo backpacked Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore in the upper peninsula of Michigan. It was October and one of my goals was to go 24 hours without seeing another person, which I almost met. The trek was amazing  – an aha experience. For me, the nourishment of mind, body, and spirit was so rewarding that I try to make it an annual event in the second half of my life.

Since then, there have been many shugyos in a variety of venues involving different events. As I get older, it seems the shugyo gets easier on paper but harder to do. So, if it is so special why do I have to make myself do it? I suppose it is counterintuitive to leave comfort. I recently saw a quote on a sign at the MSP academy that reads, “Life starts where discomfort begins.”

And with that introduction, I will now tell the story of Withlacoochee Shugyo – Winter 2024. 

Four years ago, she picked me up where she just dropped me off; The boat ramp for the Withlacoochee River off SR- 44, east of Inverness, Florida. That time, I had taken two days to solo paddle from Hog Island to my pickup. I remember the full moon night when I beached at Shell Island. There, I was totally alone with a near-deafening noise of nature that dominated the soundscape. A memory that makes me a wealthy man.

This time the destination was Dunnellon, Florida. I planned to paddle my canoe for 3 days, camping along the river for two nights. With my gear staged in the garage, I waited for a good weather picture. When it appeared, no rain with low temperatures of 40 degrees (which equals few mosquitoes), I arranged transport. Being able to select a good forecast is a benefit of retirement.

It was 1:30 pm on a February day, the temperature 66 degrees with cloudy skies, when I began my float. On this trip, I would try something new, paddling from midship; stowing my gear fore and aft. Although I had my canoe paddle in hand, I also planned to experiment with a kayak paddle. Canoeing with a kayak paddle is an equipment combination I first observed while a ranger in the Everglades.

I had not gone far before I realized I was seated backward in the canoe. When you look at the picture below, you may recognize my mistake. Considering myself an experienced canoeist, I laughed. I would correct my seating arrangement where the canal met the river. 

For the first 30 minutes, the favor of the current is offset by a headwind. It would take an hour of paddling before man’s stamp on sight and sound diminishes. I was now getting to what I came for.

It was 2:45 pm, when I rounded a bend to a gauntlet of sorts; roosting in the trees on both sides of the river were more Turkey Vultures than I have ever seen in one place. They seemed to be eyeing me. I paddled on, hoping it wasn’t a bad omen. It would not be long before I was graced by a perched Osprey. Those who know me, know it’s my totem. When I make time to notice, nature always amazes me.

Having passed the Turner Fish Camp boat launch, it was nearly 5 pm when I pulled into camp at Potts Preserve. I had not seen another boater for the entire paddle. In the far distance, I can see another tent. I’ve been paddling for a little over three hours and I’m reminded of my 68 years as I strain to stand, and then trip and fall. I’m glad no one was watching. Again I laugh at myself; grateful for no injury. Who needs a comedian when you can laugh at yourself?

I set camp with a view of the river from my tent door. I enjoy a freeze-dried meal of rice with chicken - tastee. It’s supposed to get down to near 40 degrees tonight, that’s cold for Florida. My sleeping bag is rated to 42 degrees, but wearing all my dry clothes within, I have stayed warm on nights it has frosted.

As I crawl into my tent to write, read, and sleep, I notice the clouds racing across the crescent moon. My writing has just been interrupted by the nearby hooting of an owl, which is answered by another. I pause to wonder what they are discussing.

I’ve often asked why I do such things. A blessing or a curse? As far as I know, I’m an oddity to my family tree. While I can find no similar trait in my lineage, my youngest son can blame/credit me for having a similar appreciation.

Good morning! I’ve just spent 11 hours sleeping on my inflatable sleep pad. All things considered, I slept well. My bed at home isn’t comfortable that long, not that I’m thinking of replacing it with this. Just saying. Whether in OR, MT, WY, or MI, my sleeping bag has again just verily kept me warm. Those who have experienced this know the appreciation for appropriate gear. Speaking of gear, also worth mentioning is the pee bottle. Enough said.

  "Perfection is achieved not when there is nothiong left to add,

but when there is nothing left to take away." Antoine deSaint

I rise and boil water to prepare coffee in my French press. It’s cold for Florida, I’m guessing upper 30s. As I do, a low-flying Osprey passes overhead, a fish grasped in its talons. I bet the fish never dreamed this day he would go airborne and then be eaten alive for breakfast. One never knows what may await them.

I return to the chair in my tent, wrap myself in my sleeping bag, and sip the nectar of the Gods - Java. Peering over the cypress knees, I have a great view of the river. With light, the sky reveals itself blue. With the rising of the sun, its warming rays cause a stir in the air. A phenomenon I first noted as a ranger at Isle Royale. I hear the Pterodactylus like call (who really knows) of a Pileated Woodpecker which reminds me it’s time to fix breakfast. What adventures await me this day?

It’s 10:45 when I start day 2 of paddling. The sun is beginning to warm me so I shed my jacket. I remember the adage, “To stay warm, stay cool.”

Watching the left bank for a future campsite, I missed seeing the entrance to Gum Slough. I remember that it was not until my third attempt to paddle Gum Slough to its origin that I succeeded. We almost didn’t get back before rain and darkness befall. That was a couple of years back, an accomplishment completed with my brother. It had been a long time since we had shared in an adventure.  

The Cypress trees line the river banks, their knees pushing up to form nature's seawall. While cooler temperatures have the alligators staying submerged in water warmer than air, I spy a young one, maybe two feet end to end, trying to sun in some roots at the edge of the river. As I enter its reactionary gap, it decides to skedaddle by slithering forward through the web of roots but discovers it doesn’t fit, feeling trapped. Plan B has it trying to back out but the scutes, that armor its back, are being rubbed against the grain, stopping progress.

In law enforcement training, we were cautioned not to revert to our reptilian brain when faced with a crisis. With Plan B failing the young alligator, I witnessed the reptilian brain in action. A few moments of thrashing and twisting proved effective, the alligator disappearing into the tannic waters of the Withlacoochee.  

I suppose some government entity is probably responsible for the placing of telephone-like poles every mile and signing them with a mile marker. In that they are all on the left side of the river (going with the current), I guess it was done by Citrus County. I have to admit, I kind of like them. Just down from Mile Marker 29, I rediscover the ‘Big Citrus Blue Spring.’ It’s been years since I’ve visited it and I hope someday to cool off there when it's hot. If I do, I will post a lookout to warn of approaching alligators.

As I paddle on, houses begin to appear on the left side of the river and occasionally on the right. And with them, the soundscape gradually becomes dominated by a crescendo of man-made sounds, mostly in the way of traffic on SR-200. My sound sabbatical has ended.

As I paddle under SR-200, Stumpknockers, a bar/restaurant comes into view. I had planned to dock and enjoy a beer there if I made it there by three o’clock. It’s 3:15 pm so I paddle on. Shortly thereafter a middle-aged man donned in a new looking wetsuit aboard a new looking jetski  (PWC) idles up and asks if the water gets shallow upstream. I answered “No, but watch for rocks.” He later raced by me twice, I’m guessing at 50 mph. I viewed it reckless and readied my camera to video him the next time he passed, thinking I would report it to the authorities. To his good fortune he didn't go for pass three.

I arrived Oxbow at 4:30 pm. In that I couldn’t reserve the one campsite, I dispersed camp downstream. Oxbow is part of the Withlacoochee State Forest where we previously volunteered for about a year. It’s a sweet spot.

To my delight, no mosquitoes. A splendid evening with a beverage and a freeze-dried fajita bowl. In my tent, all comfy in my chair I read until slumber.  When nature called at 11:30, I heard voices coming from the reserved campsite. If I’m not hearing things, they arrived after dark. This night I did not sleep as well as the night before. My bed lists to one side. I wouldn’t thought it enough to notice. Also, the road noise from CR-39 pollutes the soundscape. My six years at Isle Royale made me sensitive to such intrusions.

Up at 6 am, make coffee. With a different view of the same river, I watch dark turn to light. I am gifted the start of another day. I hike as I spork breakfast from a delicious freeze-dried bag labeled  Breakfast Skillet. I find a young couple in the reserved campsite, in the company of two dogs. They appeared to have slept under the stars on a tarp. They were cheerful and friendly. I return to camp and stow away my gear for day three. 

I get underway at ten o’clock, paddling more vigorously as I’ve asked my friend to plan on a noon pickup at the Dunnellon boat ramp and I don’t like to be late. It is overcast, cool, and calm. My phone is dying so I have it turned off to preserve power. My solo paddle speed seems to be about 3 miles an hour, which is the same as my backpacking pace. Along the way, I encounter two boats and am passed by a pack of six jet skis. They do not race by me like the one from the day before but I think I recognize him to be amongst the gaggle.

The birds along the rivers of Florida are many, varied, and beautiful. I always look for the dozen I know by name: Egret, Ibis, Kingfisher, Red Shoulder hawk, Limpkin, Great Blue Heron, Little Blue Heron, Wood Stork, Piliated Woodpecker, Turkey Vulture, Anhinga, and Osprey. Before my paddle ends, I have again checked the box for all twelve. There were others whose names I hope to learn. 

I arrive Dunnellon boat ramp at 1:30pm, my friend is patiently waiting. I help a more senior couple remove their ‘classic’ Folbot kayak from the water. We visit and I learn that sometime back, they paddled and camped the Yukon River from Whitehorse to Dawson City over a two week period. A seasoned paddler in many waterways, he rated the Withlacoochee State Canoe trail among the best.

Having paddled all of the Withlacoochee. My favorite section is between the Turner Fish Camp boat ramp and the Spruce Drive boat ramp. Absent occasional inconsiderate airboat and jet ski encounters, it is a magnificent canoe trail. I return home to restage my gear in preparation for my next adventure. I hope there will be another Shugyo.