his father believed that it was made by people looking for a place to fish or hunt, but it was not a trail made by humans. It was a game trail used by every imaginable creature that lived along the river basin. In the daytime, except for the occasional wild pig or otter, it was mostly deserted. But in the nighttime as Ryan was soon to find out, the path became a highway.
The Oklawaha River is a winding odyssey of wild and scenic beauty. It was used in the 19 th century for transportation by steamboat. These steamboats were narrow, tall, and luxurious. They carried such dignitaries as, Ulysses S. Grant, and Thomas A. Edison as they made their way to the Silver Springs. Today—with its abundant wildlife—it is used for fishing, hunting, and canoeing, as well as for sightseeing tours.
Ryan wants so much to take in the view and to get to know his camp area but he is disciplined enough to know it will have to wait until after the firewood is gathered. He picks a spot near the river side of the embankment, away from the swamp and the well-worn path. He gathers some stones and lays them out in a circle for a fire pit. He cuts palm fronds off of the low growing palmettos that grow along the top of the embankment. He lays these out like a huge blanket and sets his backpack on them. He gathers small sticks and medium sticks. He even gathers some good size logs. He notices there are plenty of fallen trees and floating logs for which he can use to float his backpack across when the time comes. It was too early to start the fire so he sits down on the blanket of palm fronds. It’s time to get out of the wet clothes. He pulls the extra pair of pants, shirt, and the remaining sock out of the backpack. After changing his shirt he pulls off his pants and in so doing Ryan spots the leaches.
“ Gross!” he says with disgust, “you blood sucking devils.”
He does not freak-out this time. He calmly reaches for the machete and with its tip, slides it along the length of their blood gorged bodies until he finds their mouths. They c ame off with an easy flick of the blade. They were full, and within minutes would have dropped off to digest. But that does not stop Ryan from gathering them into a small ball just off his palm frond blanket where with the unison chopping of his machete and a yell that went, “Die, Die, Die,” he turned them into a muddy bloody pile of goo. Using his machete he flung their remains down the embankment and sitting down he tends to his leg wounds.
Digging through the backpack he finds the first-aid kit and after applying antibiotic suave, he wraps the wounds with gauze. It would be several hours before the blood would clot. He spreads the contents of the backpack out on the blanket and takes an inventory, and in so doing finds the digital camera.
“Cool, I’ve got to snap some pictures.” he says.
He powers it up , the batteries are good, but then it flashes a message, “memory-card full.”
“That’s a bummer,” he said , tossing the camera onto the blanket.
He eats some beef-jerky and a granola bar and then drinks some water from the opened bottle. He reclines on the blanket and relaxes for the first time since he and his dad were flying high above this scenic wilderness. Ryan takes in the view from his camp area.
Ryan’s camp is on the inside of a horseshoe curve o f the river. It is tucked-in behind the towering cypress. To look directly across the two hundred foot wide river channel, is to look south towards his destination. The river water is dark. Oklawaha means “dark water.” The water hyacinths drift slowly by. The fish swirl the water as they pluck freshwater shrimp from beneath them. On the far side the towering cypress trees again grow well into the river. Ryan wonders if there is an embankment on the other side.
“Wow ! I’m going to have to swim that tomorrow,” he says, “maybe I’ll be lucky and catch a boat.”
To the east and downstream on Ryan’s left , there are
The Oklawaha River is a winding odyssey of wild and scenic beauty. It was used in the 19 th century for transportation by steamboat. These steamboats were narrow, tall, and luxurious. They carried such dignitaries as, Ulysses S. Grant, and Thomas A. Edison as they made their way to the Silver Springs. Today—with its abundant wildlife—it is used for fishing, hunting, and canoeing, as well as for sightseeing tours.
Ryan wants so much to take in the view and to get to know his camp area but he is disciplined enough to know it will have to wait until after the firewood is gathered. He picks a spot near the river side of the embankment, away from the swamp and the well-worn path. He gathers some stones and lays them out in a circle for a fire pit. He cuts palm fronds off of the low growing palmettos that grow along the top of the embankment. He lays these out like a huge blanket and sets his backpack on them. He gathers small sticks and medium sticks. He even gathers some good size logs. He notices there are plenty of fallen trees and floating logs for which he can use to float his backpack across when the time comes. It was too early to start the fire so he sits down on the blanket of palm fronds. It’s time to get out of the wet clothes. He pulls the extra pair of pants, shirt, and the remaining sock out of the backpack. After changing his shirt he pulls off his pants and in so doing Ryan spots the leaches.
“ Gross!” he says with disgust, “you blood sucking devils.”
He does not freak-out this time. He calmly reaches for the machete and with its tip, slides it along the length of their blood gorged bodies until he finds their mouths. They c ame off with an easy flick of the blade. They were full, and within minutes would have dropped off to digest. But that does not stop Ryan from gathering them into a small ball just off his palm frond blanket where with the unison chopping of his machete and a yell that went, “Die, Die, Die,” he turned them into a muddy bloody pile of goo. Using his machete he flung their remains down the embankment and sitting down he tends to his leg wounds.
Digging through the backpack he finds the first-aid kit and after applying antibiotic suave, he wraps the wounds with gauze. It would be several hours before the blood would clot. He spreads the contents of the backpack out on the blanket and takes an inventory, and in so doing finds the digital camera.
“Cool, I’ve got to snap some pictures.” he says.
He powers it up , the batteries are good, but then it flashes a message, “memory-card full.”
“That’s a bummer,” he said , tossing the camera onto the blanket.
He eats some beef-jerky and a granola bar and then drinks some water from the opened bottle. He reclines on the blanket and relaxes for the first time since he and his dad were flying high above this scenic wilderness. Ryan takes in the view from his camp area.
Ryan’s camp is on the inside of a horseshoe curve o f the river. It is tucked-in behind the towering cypress. To look directly across the two hundred foot wide river channel, is to look south towards his destination. The river water is dark. Oklawaha means “dark water.” The water hyacinths drift slowly by. The fish swirl the water as they pluck freshwater shrimp from beneath them. On the far side the towering cypress trees again grow well into the river. Ryan wonders if there is an embankment on the other side.
“Wow ! I’m going to have to swim that tomorrow,” he says, “maybe I’ll be lucky and catch a boat.”
To the east and downstream on Ryan’s left , there are
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