the good, the bad, and the ugly

Shired Island  (locally pronounced; "Shared" Island)

Suwannee National Wildlife Refuge - Florida's Big Bend Region

the Good; 

Old Florida, a natural wilderness shared only by a few. Daily; countless flocks of migrating White Pelicans flying low overhead, heading south for the winter. Evidence of wild boar and alligators all along the beaches and creeks, now bedded down from the recent cold weather. The good - exploring the great tidal marshlands of Black Needlerush and Smooth Cordgrass reed, all by canoe.  And, all those fine dreams of mine, fly-fishing for "Reds".  And, all the locals - way too friendly.

the Bad;

Consecutive cold fronts over 6 days - low's in the 40's, highs near 65.  Daily shifting winds - from the northwest to northeast, sustained between 10 to 15 knots. Most days - grey and wet with low cloud cover. The bad - Canoeing and motoring into the Gulf's 3 to 4 foot 'whitecaps'. And, with those constant northern winds - unable to even pull the fly-rod out.

and the Ugly;

A strong cold front, a heavy squall line passed through on our 2nd night tenting.  40 to 50 knot winds with 4.5 inches of rain blowing through around midnight. The ugly - In the early morning light, I found the campsite underwater. The canoe half sunk, tackle box with all our fishing needs gone, a paddle and a treasured Stetson hat had all disappeared - all blew or had floated away. Our stacked firewood and campsite were all soaked. No tackle to fish with, a paddle long gone, a hat missing and a heavy rain leaving behind a gallon container of gas now contaminated by water for the canoe's little engine.


Shired Island, the first day out - sunny, chilly, and all alone. At the far point of the island, an archaeological 'shell midden' left behind from an early native American coastal settlement. 

  

Alone, except for this mystery

 Exploring a distant, Big Pine Island by canoe.

 

A shore lunch of canned, Chef Boyardee's Macaroni & Beef.

My fellow camper and old friend, Randolph Armisted Peek, returning to camp with his found 8 inch, or possibly 9 inch, wild boar tusk from the beach across from Big Pine Island. The boars hoof tracks, and their 'rooting', up and down that beach had spooked him. Randy, always a good sport, didn't run, but he sure felt he wanted to.  (note; the changing weather in the background. The last day of early sunshine before that evening's big storm hit).

An ideal tent set-up with a late afternoon, Gulf front view.

My new best buddy, an 83 year old Herbert Cannon, visited the campsite daily to collect his camping fee of $10.00 per day. He and I hit it off immediately. Cannon is a 4th generation islander. The Cannon family name is one of only a few island families still around, still respected. His historic family 'logged' timber for a living, for the old growth cypress and the early long-leaf pine, now long gone out on Shired Island.  Herbert answered many of my many questions, "Yep, not much school, not many playmates growing-up. Hard work daily, just gettin' that mule hitched up."

Herbert's childhood friend and good buddy, Jimmy 'Big Gun' Forehand.  Jimmy, like Herbert, grew up logging and today now runs a chainsaw repair shop in nearby Cross City. I asked what's the biggest, meanest chainsaw you got, "This here is a 570cc Husqvarna, it does what I want, when I want." My response, "How do ya spell that name?" Jimmy answers, "Hell if I know."

After that midnight, big 'no-name' storm, I found the canoe's stern deep under, with items missing or some having floated off.

That same afternoon, Randy and I headed out leaving a sad canoe behind. And instead, explored by back-roads, the tidal estuaries through-out Suwannee's Wildlife Refuge.

Now following the local 12 mile Dixie Mainline Road, we headed south for the town of Suwannee. Hunting season had just opened, when we came across a dozen or so deer hunters parked along the way.  With guns in hand, and one with a shattered windshield (a little camera shy), all the hunting males appeared finely dressed, all camouflaged from head to toe.

Alligator resting area amongst the Black Needlerush, along the banks of upper Sander's Creek.

Reflecting palms common along Sander's Creek.

The closest I ever came to a Redfish in the town of Suwannee.

On our last day pulling out, the sun finally appeared and the winds subsided, all on a fine rising tide flowing up into a tranquil Shired Creek. 

back in the chair again

This morning I went through a 3 1/2 hour sitting, and once more in a prone dental chair. First, grinding 2 teeth to seat a temporary bridge needed after an upper molar was recently pulled.  Teeth # 2, 3, 4 (bridge prep for upper right rear molars).

And, as if by fate, I badly cracked an old crown the night before, which split the tooth in half. That tooth also grounded down for a new crown replacement.  Tooth # 14 (upper left front molar).

They're a good natured dental shop. The dental assistant and dentist talked through-out most of the procedure, about what each were having for lunch after.  They seemed relaxed, and like to laugh a lot. So, being free-wheeling, I kindly asked if they would allow me occasionally to get up and take a few shots. They liked that idea.

A whole plethora of probes, tools and syringes.

Grinding to fit the temporary (three tooth) bridge.

Finished - the assistant, Marlena surprising me with a parting gift.  My old (20 something year old) 18 carat gold crown. Actually pretty hefty.

Though, the biggest excitement came when I went to check out - $6,569.00. And supposedly, the little dental insurance that I do have will only cover about one third of the cost. The office secretary rang it up on my card and then mentioned casually - that, that old gold crown might be worth something.



 

Horseshoe Beach, Florida

I had picked up Randolph, with my truck tightly packed and the Old Town canoe strapped on top, out in front of the "arrivals" at Tampa International Airport. Randy had flown in from New York when we headed out north for the 'Nature Coast', the Big Bend region, to the small town of Horseshoe Beach (year-around population 138).

We both share an old family friend, Dave Mather, who with his sweet wife Lindy, now winter in this simple coastal fishing community. They opened their small Airstream for me, while Randy stayed in the main cottage, before we set out for our long-planned camping, and out for that highly anticipated big fishing adventure.


Sunrise on our first morning looking out from Dave & Lindy's property towards our future distant campsite - Shired Island.

The Mather's offered me their '64 Airstream 'Safari' - here lit-up early, when the morning sun broke through from the marshland's unobstructed horizon.

With nobody awake, I walked the town. A 'cabin style' cottage typical of past coastal living.

Commercially - and not to many years ago, clamming, oystering and shrimping were the town's main pride and for most, their sole source of income. An old "Shrimper" sitting on tidal mud.

A quiet town with little tourism. Rooms for rent at the small Marina.

Town's kayak rental shed appeared abandoned, unused.

Today, all new home construction must now follow strict guidelines as far as tidal breach, hurricanes and general floods go. Common coastal flooding, from 7 feet to 12 feet, now require living areas to be permitted to at least 18 feet above mean tide. As a necessary convenience, the few new homes now being built so high, have accommodated outside mechanical lifts for large objects, groceries, etc.

A week later, Randy and I returned from our wilderness campsite, back for one more night in Horseshoe. Me to warm back-up in a metal Airstream, and both of us, desperately needing a hot shower.  On our way out of town, David Mather joined us that next morning, sharing a little comfort food at their local General Store.  A lot, way to much, but from looking at that menu, it just all sounded so good.

a Major Leaguer

Once dubbed as "the invincibles", today's New Zealand 'All Blacks' rugby team were considered favorites for this year's, Rugby World Cup. The All Blacks lost to England in a major upset last week during their semi-finals match played in Japan.  Why, "the invincibles"?  Because they were and still are.

Fortunately today, I have had that chance to compete in 'Lawn Bowls' alongside one of those greats, the now retired 'All Blacks' and New Zealand's, 1980 Rugby Player of the Year (and my good buddy), Mr. Geoff Old.  As with rugby, Geoff is also a tremendous lawn bowler, and as a Skip, one of Sarasota's Lawn Bowling Club's top players.

This past Friday, Geoff left for Arizona to compete in the nation's lawn bowling, U. S. Open - competing in the Singles & Pairs divisions. Sharing an informal similarity with rugby, a long-standing tradition with lawn bowlers has always been to shake hands before and after play, with players repeating, wishing for each other, "good bowls".

I wish Geoff well.  He's a true gentleman, and still that believer in the 'All Blacks', New Zealand's team motto;  to always be "Humble in Victory and Gracious in Defeat".  He's definitely got that, along with that competitive and firm handshake.


a dapper Geoff on our local greens

Geoff Old - 'All Blacks' Rugby International Team play (1980-1983)