| Photo Journal: Overnight trips with the cameras and the canoe |
Arbuckle Creek, January 25-26, 2008
Turner and Lopez Rivers, February 2-3, 2008
Hells Bay, February 23-24, 2008
Turner and Lopez Rivers, February 2-3, 2008
Hells Bay, February 23-24, 2008
The boat and equipment
The canoe is an open vessel, unlike the sit-inside kayak that I typically use for camping trips. My canoe is a
Wenonah Vagabond made of Royalex®, a light-weight plastic. The boat weighs about 43 lbs unloaded.
Because these are only 1-night trips, I can carry some extra luxuries that I would not bother taking on multi-day
trips, such as a folding camp chair and a heavy tripod. Cargo weight and volume is not an issue in the canoe by
any means. In fact, I've since taken it out on a 9-day trip loaded with 150 lbs, 20-25 of which was camera
equipment.
On these trips, I brought two SLR cameras. In the 1200 pelican case I kept the Sony A100 with the 18-70mm
lens attached. I can easily get to that camera for the wide angle type of shots that typically do not include
wildlife. The other camera, the Sony A700 with the APO 300mm + 1.4X teleconverter was stored inside two
large dry bags. While paddling, it was in my lap ready at all times. When I need to get out of the boat, I can
usually hold on to the camera and carefully get firm grounding and then place the camera on my seat (which is
totally dry). If the water is too deep or the landing a bit precarious, I just put the camera back in the dry bags.
Only if conditions get rough or if it is raining will I keep the camera in the dry bags while paddling.
When photographing, I prefer the canoe over the kayak. The kayak is confining and kayak paddles get
everything wet. The canoe is much more open, so I can easily stash both cameras or I can keep them readily
available for use without worrying about getting them wet. In my kayak, using two cameras would be
problematic with the smaller space available and the greater potential for water spray. Because I am sitting
higher in the canoe, I stay drier than when in a kayak. The camera, which sits in my lap, is at a safe distance
from the waterline so I can keep it out at all times. In the kayak, I have to keep the camera covered when I
am not using it because there is too much potential for water spray. On the other hand, I feel safer in a kayak
than in a canoe, so for trips that involve multiple nights or when I expect windy conditions, I’ll take my kayak
and compromise the photo opportunities with a smaller lens and bringing only one camera.
On overnights, you must consider what you will do with your equipment at the campsite. While camping, I can
leave the pelican case outside the tent without worrying about the camera getting exposed to moisture. I’m not
as confident about the dry bags, so they and the camera stay inside the tent. Inside the dry bag, I keep a
plastic pill bottle that contains drierite and has a few small holes punched through. Drierite is a dessicant made
up of mostly calcium sulfate. It consists of pebble-size pellets that are blue when dry and turn pink when
moist. I have access to bottles of drierite from our university lab where we do pulmonary and respiratory gas
analyses. I decided to give it a try and I’m glad I did. The drierite provides protection against that moisture that
will inevitably get into the dry bag. This became quite beneficial during our 7-day Cape Sable paddle when I
had the camera and smaller lens in a dry bag the entire time.
Photographing while traveling with companions
Most of my photography experiences on the water have been day paddles that were for the sole intention of
photographing and exploring. On these day trips, I have the freedom to paddle wherever I wanted and to
spend as much time as I wanted in one place. Overnight paddle trips present new challenges. First, there is
the challenge of simply having to get to a destination and for safety reasons, needing to stay within at least
VHF radio distance from the other camera-less paddlers. Second, I do not have the luxury of staying in one
spot for any great length of time, so I have to photograph on the go. I am a member of a group and must be
respectful of that; and we allot ourselves only daylight hours to get to our destination. Third, because we are
traveling a planned route, you do not always have optimal lighting; you sometimes have to take what you can
get or by pass many scenes along the way that would otherwise be excellent photos if in good light. And
fourth, there is the issue of storage while camping. This should not really be an issue as long as you have
space for your equipment inside your tent. If you are in a kayak, I suppose you could leave it inside a hatch,
but I’m a bit nervous about not having my equipment next to me at night. Basically, on canoe or kayak trips,
my photography is designed mostly for photo journaling and rarely do I get close up wildlife shots.
When traveling with others, they are often oblivious to your concentration while you focus on specific details
around you or anticipate a bird’s movement. I don’t expect my companions to alter their paddling for my sake;
their presence is one of the joys of paddling. I enjoy photographing them; they provide a fun perspective of our
paddling trips and after all, they are a significant component of my experiences in this wilderness. Because I
am not expecting my companions to accommodate me all the time, I can do one of two things; let the photo
opportunities come as they may, or I can separate enough from them to increase my chances of getting a
good wildlife photo. No matter what, I am grateful to have companions for these trips, I simply have to adapt
to the situation and consider it as another photography challenge.
The camping portion of these trips provides some great opportunities for photographing from land. I have
brought my tripod on several kayak trips. I have a cheap Slik tripod that is very lightweight and works well with
small lenses that I can easily pack away in my kayak hatch. In fact, I brought it on a recent 7-day kayak trip
and had plenty of room for it. For the first two overnight trips on this list, I decided not to bring it. I managed to
get plenty of decent sunset photos from both campsites without it. Perhaps I have gotten lazy, but as long as I
have image stabilizer and can use a shutter speed faster than 1/60, the shots turn out quite well. I did bring the
heavier Manfrotti tripod for the Hells Bay trip.
The Arbuckle Creek Trip
The trip was organized through the Palm Beach Pack and Paddle, for which I am grateful. A shuttle is involved
with this trip as we paddle from Lake Arbuckle south about 25 miles to Lake Istokpoga. The river winds through
a private cattle range, the Avon Park Air Force land and air boat public access areas. We spent the first night
car camping in the Arbuckle Wildlife Management Area and in the morning drove a few miles to a fish camp
located on Lake Arbuckle. Here we left our vehicles and began our paddle trip. The river is next to the fish
camp and soon we were paddling through large canopied cypress and oak forests. The trees are massive and
the Spanish moss is prevalent. It’s one of the loveliest parts of the trip before it opens up in to an open range
scattered with cypress and oak trees. We paddled about 15 miles to our campsite, which is situated on private
land. The camp area is quite open with live oak trees behind us and the creek in front. It’s large enough that
24 people can easily spread out.
The second day on Arbuckle Creek is shorter and continues through open rangeland. The cypress trees and
the many cows you pass along the way make this a very scenic river. At the beginning of the last couple miles
of the trip, there is an area of the river (right below a railroad bridge) that is quite rough with rocks. It’s Florida’s
version of whitewater rivers. You can portage, but it’s quite difficult with several solution holes surrounding the
creek that make the trek a bit precarious. Or you can run the “rapids” that consists of about a 2 foot drop and a
very sharp turn. With the exception of a couple of houses, there are no buildings along this route until you get
to the last couple miles. Here, there are several homes and ranches where various kinds of animals reside,
including horses and ducks.
I hardly used my telephoto lens on this trip. At the launch on Lake Arbuckle, the lake is quite beautiful in the
morning light with the tall grass islands and large surface areas of lily pads. I was on the water before the
others, so I spent about 30 minutes or so meandering around using my wide angle lens for shots. The beautiful
morning sunlight did not last long. The sky clouded over with an eminent front heading in. For most of the trip,
the sky remained covered in large clouds, providing only intermittent sunlight.
While waiting for the others, I could hear the tell-tale calls of the sandhill cranes in the distance. On a few
occasions during the paddle I heard the loud cackles of the cranes coming from inside the oak forests, but I
never spotted any along the creek or flying overhead. During the entire paddle I spotted an occasional wading
bird but always too far away for a good shot. There was one area of the river where hundreds of black vultures
were congregating. They filled the trees like Christmas ornaments. Unfortunately, we needed to continue
paddling, the sky was cloud-covered and the lighting was not good. Long story short, I have one bird shot and
a couple close ups of plant life in Lake Arbuckle. I did not mind that; there were plenty of photo opportunities
with the wide angle lens which is the best way to capture the river’s beauty.
The Lopez River Trip
Our launch site was Chokoloskee Outdoor Resorts, on the wilderness waterway side of the road that faces the
Turner River (easterly direction). This is one of my favorite overnight routes and I describe it in one of my 2-3
night descriptions in Everglades Adventures. From Chokoloskee Bay, we would head into the backcountry to
Lopez River campsite. We were on the water at 9:30 am. With the sun rising over the mouth of the Turner
River we were heading into the worst lighting. In the morning, paddling west toward the gulf is the best
direction for photographing on paddle trips.
Near the mouth of Turner River I noticed a few cormorants sticking their long skinny necks out of the water.
Apparently, this was a good location for feeding; it’s also an area where dolphins frequently feed in the
shallows, as they ride the tide in and out of the Turner River. Today, I noticed the cormorants but was not
interested in waiting for one to come out of the water with a fish. That is a spectacular sight to photograph but
unless you can anticipate where the bird will pop up out of the water, you will be very lucky to capture a good
shot of these birds from a canoe. On the Anhinga Trail it’s a different story; it’s much more confined than
Chokoloskee Bay.
All of a sudden there was a bit of a commotion off to my right. From the corner of my eye, I spotted a couple
cormorants and one of them had a fish. Naturally the other was harassing the successful bird and trying to
steal it. I got my camera ready and managed a few photos as the bird flew by me within 20 feet or so. I got a
couple good shots before the bird dropped the fish in a frantic effort to get away from the other bird and the
sinister looking canoe. The side light from the sun was not ideal and I didn’t give these photos much thought
until I actually looked at them. The side light turned out quite nice, actually highlighting the bird’s face as well as
the fish in its mouth.
We headed into the Turner River enjoying the incoming tide that would last until about 2 pm that afternoon.
The moon was only 25%, so the tide would not be too strong. Heading up the Turner River at this time of day
provides a sun light on the northwest side of the river and shade on the other side. So I kept my eyes on the
well lit portion of the river, looking for birds flying overhead. There were several turkey vultures swirling around
here and there, one or two flocks of white ibises, and a couple of cormorants perched high in the mangrove
branches. I have seen roseate spoonbills along this river, but not today. I’ll probably never figure it out, but it
seems the weather, and the changing water levels and salinity make predictions of bird locations a bit difficult.
With a cold snap and 40+ knot winds experienced recently in the 10,000 Islands, I can imagine birds have been
relocated or have changed their nesting strategies in some way or another. I don’t know this for sure, but it
seems every winter season presents something new, there are very few things I can predict out here.
There is a small sand bar in Mud Bay where we always stop for breaks on this route. We did the same today
and while my companions continued to take a break, I decided to move on ahead, staying in radio range.
Along the river I spotted a great blue heron in the distance. I figured I would come up closer to this very wary
bird it if I was silent enough. Without my paddling companions, I could be as quiet as I wanted. So I drifted.
When I got closer to the bird, I noticed it had a fish and was trying to stay a safe distance from my moving
boat, which I am certain was a predator in the bird’s mind. Eventually it flew away from me with the fish in
mouth to an opening along the river, which may have led into a very small creek. It was a great hiding spot for
the bird, but I knew exactly where it landed. I got my camera ready for shooting as my boat continued to drift
toward the location of the bird. The sky was completely overcast early in the morning but by now it was a
combination of cumulus clouds and blue sky. At this moment, the sun was cloud covered and the water was
dark. This presents an exposure challenge when shooting birds that have a combination of dark and white
feathers. I could bump up the ISO, but instead I used +1.0 EV compensation to capture the darkish feathers of
the great blue heron as it flew by. I drifted closer, within about 50 feet of the bird. I knew I was in a good
location; the bird would fly out of its hiding spot into good lighting and in front of my boat. I would be ready for
it. In an instant, the bird took off in front of my canoe. I knew that if it did take off, it would only have one
direction to go, in front of me and in good light.
My companions were some distance behind me so I decided to continue on into the first of the two Cross
Bays. Here, I would wait for them, maybe see some photo opportunities. As I entered the bay, I noticed an
osprey nest in the distant east side mangrove shoreline. I decided I had plenty of time to wander over there.
As I started heading in the direction of the nest, I noticed an osprey perched about 500 feet away from it. It
flew in to the nest and 10 seconds later flew to another perch about 50 feet away. I paddled in a direction just
south of the nest so that the wind and current would allow me to drift past the it with good lighting behind me.
Soon, my companions were paddling into the bay. I had some good shots of this osprey and decided to turn
around and head toward my friends. The sun was directly overhead with several thick cumulus clouds added
character to the sky. With the line of green mangroves separating the water from the sky, these clouds makes
the wide shots more interesting. They cast interesting reflections in the water, providing much depth to a wide
angle shot. I had my other camera attached to the 18-70mm lens in my pelican case, so I got that out and
played around with some wide angle shots, some with the canoe tip in the photo, some without. We were
heading toward the wilderness waterway marker 126 and would detour toward Lopez River soon where we
would paddle against a weak in-coming tide that became slack by early afternoon.
We arrived at the campsite around 2:30 pm to find another party already set up in the prime area of the site.
The Lopez River campsite is relatively small; in the middle of the site is a large cement structure that served as
a cistern for Gregorio Lopez’s home over a hundred years ago. The structure is approximately 20 feet by 10
feet and sits about 2 feet from the shoreline, at high tide. For camping, there is a small clearing on the west
side of the structure and on the east side, there is an even larger opening, perfect for bringing canoes or kayaks
up on shore. By now, there was absolutely no wind to speak of and in a couple hours the bugs would make
their presence known without modesty. We walked over to our neighbor’s open area that would capture a
breeze and decided that it was plenty large enough for at least a couple more tents. Soon we were preparing
dinner, which included a fresh trout and snapper caught by one of my fishing companions.
The next day we were on the water when it was still dark at 6 am. While paddling on the Lopez toward
Chokoloskee Bay, the sun began to rise over the edge of the mangroves. By the time we were on
Chokoloskee Bay, it was full light and the morning was beautiful. As we got closer to the marina, we passed
the Chokoloskee Outdoor Resorts where there are several docks along the edge. The pilings are perfect for
pelicans to roost and sure enough, they were there in the beautiful morning light. I was ahead of my paddling
companions who were fishing the oyster bars so I got myself lined up for some pelican photos as the current
would pull me toward the shoreline. I would paddle back to the start and take more photos until I drifted out of
the best light. I repeated this a few times, getting shots of the preening colorful brown pelicans. It was perfect
lighting and a good way to end this trip.
The Hells Bay trip
The Hells Bay area is a navigational nightmare (see thumbnail photo of a map of the area). For this trip, we
equipped ourselves with a marine chart as well as high zoomed aerial views from Google Earth that includes
various pieces of our route. On the aerial map, you cannot distinguish some of the intricate creeks, like the
Hells Bay Trail. And the marine chart does not show you the Hells Bay Trail either. Thankfully, the trail is
marked by PVC posts. Nevertheless, one can easily get lost back in this maze of mangroves.
The beginning and ending of this loop trip is on the Ingraham Highway, not far from Flamingo. We shuttled a
vehicle so we had one at our starting point, Coot Bay Pond, and another at our end point, Hells Bay Trail. On
the highway, there is approximately 5.8 miles between these two points. We launched from around 9 am, after
getting our backcountry camp permit for Hells Bay chickee. By the time we are on the water, the sky was filled
with interesting cloud formations, evident of an impending front coming our way. The sky began with primarily
large cumulus humilis clouds but later would begin looking more like a mackerel sky filled with various
formations including mares tails. For this trip, the sky was a spectacular show of changing cloud formations and
never did the sun hide for too long. This is a good time to capture wide angle shots of the water with the clouds
reflecting. Most of my photos shot this weekend were wide angle and I also attempted a few panoramics (2-3
horizontally aligned photos).
Coot Bay Pond is connected to the much larger Coot Bay by a narrow 1/4-mile long creek. Coot Bay is a large
body of water greatly underestimated when viewing it on a map. Like most of the backcountry bays, it is
relatively shallow and when the winds kick up, you have surf waves that behave roguishly. Today, the winds
would gust to about 20 knots, so as I crossed the bay I saw no reason to keep the large 300mm lens and
camera out. I secured them in the dry bag but kept the smaller wide angle lens and camera in my lap. To
keep water from spraying the camera and lens, I kept it under my pfd (inflatable version) and pulled it out
whenever I wanted to shoot.
Thus far, I saw no close opportunities for bird photos, as has been the case in the past when paddling in this
area. You see an occasional gull, tern or pelican, and maybe a heron or egret along the shoreline, but that's it.
We continued across Coot Bay into Tarpon Creek; it's relatively wide and about 1/2 mile long. The sky and
mangrove reflections were quite beautiful from my angle with the sun behind me. I continued to shoot several
wide angle shots as we headed into the much larger Whitewater Bay. They don't call it white water for
nothing. This bay is massive and can get quite dangerous with strong winds. Today, we would have a steady
southwesterly wind that seemed to push my boat across the surf all the way to the mouth of the East River.
We followed the shoreline on our right for approximately 3 miles. Still, I am only spotting a bird in the distance
now and then. I do have the large telephoto lens and camera out and ready to use, but I never did get an
opportunity to use it for wildlife.
Once inside the East River, the mangroves are much shorter and there is an openness to this area of the
backcountry. Now I begin to see more birds. About 1/2 mile into the river I spot a swallow-tail kite and soon
another flying near by. They were flying over an area where another creek meets the East River. I watched
them closely as one (bird A) flew over relatively close. I noticed the other (bird B) flew to a high branch and sat
perched above the mangrove canopy. Then I noticed bird A flying near by with something hanging from its
mouth. It flew to bird B and appeared to offer it whatever it had in its mouth. I took a couple shots of this
behavior from a distance. I surmised that bird A was the male, because shortly after providing his mate with a
gift, he flew back a few seconds later and the two began to have sex (interestingly, bird sex lasts only a few
seconds). By now, I had managed to paddle closer, against a current. The lighting was not good, I had a side
light and it was already midday. I managed a couple shots of the couple and tried to continue to paddle closer
and get into better light. I had to paddle hard against the current and because of this, my movements were a
bit choppy and noisy. Soon, both birds flew off the perch after about 10 seconds of togetherness.
I couldn't have been 100 feet to the shoreline where the birds were perched, but in this wilderness, any intruder
is not taken for granted. One hundred feet may seem like a great distance, but for the animal, it sometimes
falls within their alert zone. I felt bad that I did not approach more quietly. Later, I half joked with one of my
paddling companions that the "coitus interruptus" incident might very well mark the beginning of the extinction of
the swallowtail kite. I'm not making light of this because even though I am only one person, I try very hard to
tread lightly and avoid intruding on animals. Sometimes I come up on them without knowing it, but when I do
deliberately attempt to get closer, I do so very carefully and try to keep a safe distance.
Once out of the East River, we are in Hells Bay and the chickee is a short distance away. It's hidden inside a
cove and faces the east. Sunrises are enjoyed on this chickee. Once we are set up with our tents on the 10 X
12 chickee platform, the winds have picked up and I decide to stay on the platform the remainder of the
afternoon and enjoy the scenery. The area is exquisite, a bay full of mangrove islands. This is serious
backcountry where you cannot let your attention to detail escape you. You must be completely aware of your
surroundings and your direction, or you will soon be lost and the scenery will turn ugly fast. Thankfully from
Hells Bay through the Hells Bay Trail back to Ingraham Highway, the route is marked. Otherwise, I don't know
how anyone could manage to get through without going around in circles. No doubt, GPS has made this area
more accessible to people, but as of right now, I am not using GPS. It's map and compass all the way for me.
The next morning, we had a beautiful sunrise and the sky indicated a coming storm which added some drama
to the sunrise. I set up my tripod and captured several sunrise shots. The sky was dramatic with cloud flares
shooting out from the horizon in diagonal patterns, classic pre-storm sunrise. We left the chickee by 8:15 am
and headed toward Pearl Bay and eventually the Hells Bay Trail. I continued to capture more water scenes
with the dramatic sky. By the time we got to our ending point, dark rain clouds had already begun to form.
Although the wildlife photos were few (thankful to the swallowtail kite couple), this was a great trip for capturing
the wide open environment.
The canoe is an open vessel, unlike the sit-inside kayak that I typically use for camping trips. My canoe is a
Wenonah Vagabond made of Royalex®, a light-weight plastic. The boat weighs about 43 lbs unloaded.
Because these are only 1-night trips, I can carry some extra luxuries that I would not bother taking on multi-day
trips, such as a folding camp chair and a heavy tripod. Cargo weight and volume is not an issue in the canoe by
any means. In fact, I've since taken it out on a 9-day trip loaded with 150 lbs, 20-25 of which was camera
equipment.
On these trips, I brought two SLR cameras. In the 1200 pelican case I kept the Sony A100 with the 18-70mm
lens attached. I can easily get to that camera for the wide angle type of shots that typically do not include
wildlife. The other camera, the Sony A700 with the APO 300mm + 1.4X teleconverter was stored inside two
large dry bags. While paddling, it was in my lap ready at all times. When I need to get out of the boat, I can
usually hold on to the camera and carefully get firm grounding and then place the camera on my seat (which is
totally dry). If the water is too deep or the landing a bit precarious, I just put the camera back in the dry bags.
Only if conditions get rough or if it is raining will I keep the camera in the dry bags while paddling.
When photographing, I prefer the canoe over the kayak. The kayak is confining and kayak paddles get
everything wet. The canoe is much more open, so I can easily stash both cameras or I can keep them readily
available for use without worrying about getting them wet. In my kayak, using two cameras would be
problematic with the smaller space available and the greater potential for water spray. Because I am sitting
higher in the canoe, I stay drier than when in a kayak. The camera, which sits in my lap, is at a safe distance
from the waterline so I can keep it out at all times. In the kayak, I have to keep the camera covered when I
am not using it because there is too much potential for water spray. On the other hand, I feel safer in a kayak
than in a canoe, so for trips that involve multiple nights or when I expect windy conditions, I’ll take my kayak
and compromise the photo opportunities with a smaller lens and bringing only one camera.
On overnights, you must consider what you will do with your equipment at the campsite. While camping, I can
leave the pelican case outside the tent without worrying about the camera getting exposed to moisture. I’m not
as confident about the dry bags, so they and the camera stay inside the tent. Inside the dry bag, I keep a
plastic pill bottle that contains drierite and has a few small holes punched through. Drierite is a dessicant made
up of mostly calcium sulfate. It consists of pebble-size pellets that are blue when dry and turn pink when
moist. I have access to bottles of drierite from our university lab where we do pulmonary and respiratory gas
analyses. I decided to give it a try and I’m glad I did. The drierite provides protection against that moisture that
will inevitably get into the dry bag. This became quite beneficial during our 7-day Cape Sable paddle when I
had the camera and smaller lens in a dry bag the entire time.
Photographing while traveling with companions
Most of my photography experiences on the water have been day paddles that were for the sole intention of
photographing and exploring. On these day trips, I have the freedom to paddle wherever I wanted and to
spend as much time as I wanted in one place. Overnight paddle trips present new challenges. First, there is
the challenge of simply having to get to a destination and for safety reasons, needing to stay within at least
VHF radio distance from the other camera-less paddlers. Second, I do not have the luxury of staying in one
spot for any great length of time, so I have to photograph on the go. I am a member of a group and must be
respectful of that; and we allot ourselves only daylight hours to get to our destination. Third, because we are
traveling a planned route, you do not always have optimal lighting; you sometimes have to take what you can
get or by pass many scenes along the way that would otherwise be excellent photos if in good light. And
fourth, there is the issue of storage while camping. This should not really be an issue as long as you have
space for your equipment inside your tent. If you are in a kayak, I suppose you could leave it inside a hatch,
but I’m a bit nervous about not having my equipment next to me at night. Basically, on canoe or kayak trips,
my photography is designed mostly for photo journaling and rarely do I get close up wildlife shots.
When traveling with others, they are often oblivious to your concentration while you focus on specific details
around you or anticipate a bird’s movement. I don’t expect my companions to alter their paddling for my sake;
their presence is one of the joys of paddling. I enjoy photographing them; they provide a fun perspective of our
paddling trips and after all, they are a significant component of my experiences in this wilderness. Because I
am not expecting my companions to accommodate me all the time, I can do one of two things; let the photo
opportunities come as they may, or I can separate enough from them to increase my chances of getting a
good wildlife photo. No matter what, I am grateful to have companions for these trips, I simply have to adapt
to the situation and consider it as another photography challenge.
The camping portion of these trips provides some great opportunities for photographing from land. I have
brought my tripod on several kayak trips. I have a cheap Slik tripod that is very lightweight and works well with
small lenses that I can easily pack away in my kayak hatch. In fact, I brought it on a recent 7-day kayak trip
and had plenty of room for it. For the first two overnight trips on this list, I decided not to bring it. I managed to
get plenty of decent sunset photos from both campsites without it. Perhaps I have gotten lazy, but as long as I
have image stabilizer and can use a shutter speed faster than 1/60, the shots turn out quite well. I did bring the
heavier Manfrotti tripod for the Hells Bay trip.
The Arbuckle Creek Trip
The trip was organized through the Palm Beach Pack and Paddle, for which I am grateful. A shuttle is involved
with this trip as we paddle from Lake Arbuckle south about 25 miles to Lake Istokpoga. The river winds through
a private cattle range, the Avon Park Air Force land and air boat public access areas. We spent the first night
car camping in the Arbuckle Wildlife Management Area and in the morning drove a few miles to a fish camp
located on Lake Arbuckle. Here we left our vehicles and began our paddle trip. The river is next to the fish
camp and soon we were paddling through large canopied cypress and oak forests. The trees are massive and
the Spanish moss is prevalent. It’s one of the loveliest parts of the trip before it opens up in to an open range
scattered with cypress and oak trees. We paddled about 15 miles to our campsite, which is situated on private
land. The camp area is quite open with live oak trees behind us and the creek in front. It’s large enough that
24 people can easily spread out.
The second day on Arbuckle Creek is shorter and continues through open rangeland. The cypress trees and
the many cows you pass along the way make this a very scenic river. At the beginning of the last couple miles
of the trip, there is an area of the river (right below a railroad bridge) that is quite rough with rocks. It’s Florida’s
version of whitewater rivers. You can portage, but it’s quite difficult with several solution holes surrounding the
creek that make the trek a bit precarious. Or you can run the “rapids” that consists of about a 2 foot drop and a
very sharp turn. With the exception of a couple of houses, there are no buildings along this route until you get
to the last couple miles. Here, there are several homes and ranches where various kinds of animals reside,
including horses and ducks.
I hardly used my telephoto lens on this trip. At the launch on Lake Arbuckle, the lake is quite beautiful in the
morning light with the tall grass islands and large surface areas of lily pads. I was on the water before the
others, so I spent about 30 minutes or so meandering around using my wide angle lens for shots. The beautiful
morning sunlight did not last long. The sky clouded over with an eminent front heading in. For most of the trip,
the sky remained covered in large clouds, providing only intermittent sunlight.
While waiting for the others, I could hear the tell-tale calls of the sandhill cranes in the distance. On a few
occasions during the paddle I heard the loud cackles of the cranes coming from inside the oak forests, but I
never spotted any along the creek or flying overhead. During the entire paddle I spotted an occasional wading
bird but always too far away for a good shot. There was one area of the river where hundreds of black vultures
were congregating. They filled the trees like Christmas ornaments. Unfortunately, we needed to continue
paddling, the sky was cloud-covered and the lighting was not good. Long story short, I have one bird shot and
a couple close ups of plant life in Lake Arbuckle. I did not mind that; there were plenty of photo opportunities
with the wide angle lens which is the best way to capture the river’s beauty.
The Lopez River Trip
Our launch site was Chokoloskee Outdoor Resorts, on the wilderness waterway side of the road that faces the
Turner River (easterly direction). This is one of my favorite overnight routes and I describe it in one of my 2-3
night descriptions in Everglades Adventures. From Chokoloskee Bay, we would head into the backcountry to
Lopez River campsite. We were on the water at 9:30 am. With the sun rising over the mouth of the Turner
River we were heading into the worst lighting. In the morning, paddling west toward the gulf is the best
direction for photographing on paddle trips.
Near the mouth of Turner River I noticed a few cormorants sticking their long skinny necks out of the water.
Apparently, this was a good location for feeding; it’s also an area where dolphins frequently feed in the
shallows, as they ride the tide in and out of the Turner River. Today, I noticed the cormorants but was not
interested in waiting for one to come out of the water with a fish. That is a spectacular sight to photograph but
unless you can anticipate where the bird will pop up out of the water, you will be very lucky to capture a good
shot of these birds from a canoe. On the Anhinga Trail it’s a different story; it’s much more confined than
Chokoloskee Bay.
All of a sudden there was a bit of a commotion off to my right. From the corner of my eye, I spotted a couple
cormorants and one of them had a fish. Naturally the other was harassing the successful bird and trying to
steal it. I got my camera ready and managed a few photos as the bird flew by me within 20 feet or so. I got a
couple good shots before the bird dropped the fish in a frantic effort to get away from the other bird and the
sinister looking canoe. The side light from the sun was not ideal and I didn’t give these photos much thought
until I actually looked at them. The side light turned out quite nice, actually highlighting the bird’s face as well as
the fish in its mouth.
We headed into the Turner River enjoying the incoming tide that would last until about 2 pm that afternoon.
The moon was only 25%, so the tide would not be too strong. Heading up the Turner River at this time of day
provides a sun light on the northwest side of the river and shade on the other side. So I kept my eyes on the
well lit portion of the river, looking for birds flying overhead. There were several turkey vultures swirling around
here and there, one or two flocks of white ibises, and a couple of cormorants perched high in the mangrove
branches. I have seen roseate spoonbills along this river, but not today. I’ll probably never figure it out, but it
seems the weather, and the changing water levels and salinity make predictions of bird locations a bit difficult.
With a cold snap and 40+ knot winds experienced recently in the 10,000 Islands, I can imagine birds have been
relocated or have changed their nesting strategies in some way or another. I don’t know this for sure, but it
seems every winter season presents something new, there are very few things I can predict out here.
There is a small sand bar in Mud Bay where we always stop for breaks on this route. We did the same today
and while my companions continued to take a break, I decided to move on ahead, staying in radio range.
Along the river I spotted a great blue heron in the distance. I figured I would come up closer to this very wary
bird it if I was silent enough. Without my paddling companions, I could be as quiet as I wanted. So I drifted.
When I got closer to the bird, I noticed it had a fish and was trying to stay a safe distance from my moving
boat, which I am certain was a predator in the bird’s mind. Eventually it flew away from me with the fish in
mouth to an opening along the river, which may have led into a very small creek. It was a great hiding spot for
the bird, but I knew exactly where it landed. I got my camera ready for shooting as my boat continued to drift
toward the location of the bird. The sky was completely overcast early in the morning but by now it was a
combination of cumulus clouds and blue sky. At this moment, the sun was cloud covered and the water was
dark. This presents an exposure challenge when shooting birds that have a combination of dark and white
feathers. I could bump up the ISO, but instead I used +1.0 EV compensation to capture the darkish feathers of
the great blue heron as it flew by. I drifted closer, within about 50 feet of the bird. I knew I was in a good
location; the bird would fly out of its hiding spot into good lighting and in front of my boat. I would be ready for
it. In an instant, the bird took off in front of my canoe. I knew that if it did take off, it would only have one
direction to go, in front of me and in good light.
My companions were some distance behind me so I decided to continue on into the first of the two Cross
Bays. Here, I would wait for them, maybe see some photo opportunities. As I entered the bay, I noticed an
osprey nest in the distant east side mangrove shoreline. I decided I had plenty of time to wander over there.
As I started heading in the direction of the nest, I noticed an osprey perched about 500 feet away from it. It
flew in to the nest and 10 seconds later flew to another perch about 50 feet away. I paddled in a direction just
south of the nest so that the wind and current would allow me to drift past the it with good lighting behind me.
Soon, my companions were paddling into the bay. I had some good shots of this osprey and decided to turn
around and head toward my friends. The sun was directly overhead with several thick cumulus clouds added
character to the sky. With the line of green mangroves separating the water from the sky, these clouds makes
the wide shots more interesting. They cast interesting reflections in the water, providing much depth to a wide
angle shot. I had my other camera attached to the 18-70mm lens in my pelican case, so I got that out and
played around with some wide angle shots, some with the canoe tip in the photo, some without. We were
heading toward the wilderness waterway marker 126 and would detour toward Lopez River soon where we
would paddle against a weak in-coming tide that became slack by early afternoon.
We arrived at the campsite around 2:30 pm to find another party already set up in the prime area of the site.
The Lopez River campsite is relatively small; in the middle of the site is a large cement structure that served as
a cistern for Gregorio Lopez’s home over a hundred years ago. The structure is approximately 20 feet by 10
feet and sits about 2 feet from the shoreline, at high tide. For camping, there is a small clearing on the west
side of the structure and on the east side, there is an even larger opening, perfect for bringing canoes or kayaks
up on shore. By now, there was absolutely no wind to speak of and in a couple hours the bugs would make
their presence known without modesty. We walked over to our neighbor’s open area that would capture a
breeze and decided that it was plenty large enough for at least a couple more tents. Soon we were preparing
dinner, which included a fresh trout and snapper caught by one of my fishing companions.
The next day we were on the water when it was still dark at 6 am. While paddling on the Lopez toward
Chokoloskee Bay, the sun began to rise over the edge of the mangroves. By the time we were on
Chokoloskee Bay, it was full light and the morning was beautiful. As we got closer to the marina, we passed
the Chokoloskee Outdoor Resorts where there are several docks along the edge. The pilings are perfect for
pelicans to roost and sure enough, they were there in the beautiful morning light. I was ahead of my paddling
companions who were fishing the oyster bars so I got myself lined up for some pelican photos as the current
would pull me toward the shoreline. I would paddle back to the start and take more photos until I drifted out of
the best light. I repeated this a few times, getting shots of the preening colorful brown pelicans. It was perfect
lighting and a good way to end this trip.
The Hells Bay trip
The Hells Bay area is a navigational nightmare (see thumbnail photo of a map of the area). For this trip, we
equipped ourselves with a marine chart as well as high zoomed aerial views from Google Earth that includes
various pieces of our route. On the aerial map, you cannot distinguish some of the intricate creeks, like the
Hells Bay Trail. And the marine chart does not show you the Hells Bay Trail either. Thankfully, the trail is
marked by PVC posts. Nevertheless, one can easily get lost back in this maze of mangroves.
The beginning and ending of this loop trip is on the Ingraham Highway, not far from Flamingo. We shuttled a
vehicle so we had one at our starting point, Coot Bay Pond, and another at our end point, Hells Bay Trail. On
the highway, there is approximately 5.8 miles between these two points. We launched from around 9 am, after
getting our backcountry camp permit for Hells Bay chickee. By the time we are on the water, the sky was filled
with interesting cloud formations, evident of an impending front coming our way. The sky began with primarily
large cumulus humilis clouds but later would begin looking more like a mackerel sky filled with various
formations including mares tails. For this trip, the sky was a spectacular show of changing cloud formations and
never did the sun hide for too long. This is a good time to capture wide angle shots of the water with the clouds
reflecting. Most of my photos shot this weekend were wide angle and I also attempted a few panoramics (2-3
horizontally aligned photos).
Coot Bay Pond is connected to the much larger Coot Bay by a narrow 1/4-mile long creek. Coot Bay is a large
body of water greatly underestimated when viewing it on a map. Like most of the backcountry bays, it is
relatively shallow and when the winds kick up, you have surf waves that behave roguishly. Today, the winds
would gust to about 20 knots, so as I crossed the bay I saw no reason to keep the large 300mm lens and
camera out. I secured them in the dry bag but kept the smaller wide angle lens and camera in my lap. To
keep water from spraying the camera and lens, I kept it under my pfd (inflatable version) and pulled it out
whenever I wanted to shoot.
Thus far, I saw no close opportunities for bird photos, as has been the case in the past when paddling in this
area. You see an occasional gull, tern or pelican, and maybe a heron or egret along the shoreline, but that's it.
We continued across Coot Bay into Tarpon Creek; it's relatively wide and about 1/2 mile long. The sky and
mangrove reflections were quite beautiful from my angle with the sun behind me. I continued to shoot several
wide angle shots as we headed into the much larger Whitewater Bay. They don't call it white water for
nothing. This bay is massive and can get quite dangerous with strong winds. Today, we would have a steady
southwesterly wind that seemed to push my boat across the surf all the way to the mouth of the East River.
We followed the shoreline on our right for approximately 3 miles. Still, I am only spotting a bird in the distance
now and then. I do have the large telephoto lens and camera out and ready to use, but I never did get an
opportunity to use it for wildlife.
Once inside the East River, the mangroves are much shorter and there is an openness to this area of the
backcountry. Now I begin to see more birds. About 1/2 mile into the river I spot a swallow-tail kite and soon
another flying near by. They were flying over an area where another creek meets the East River. I watched
them closely as one (bird A) flew over relatively close. I noticed the other (bird B) flew to a high branch and sat
perched above the mangrove canopy. Then I noticed bird A flying near by with something hanging from its
mouth. It flew to bird B and appeared to offer it whatever it had in its mouth. I took a couple shots of this
behavior from a distance. I surmised that bird A was the male, because shortly after providing his mate with a
gift, he flew back a few seconds later and the two began to have sex (interestingly, bird sex lasts only a few
seconds). By now, I had managed to paddle closer, against a current. The lighting was not good, I had a side
light and it was already midday. I managed a couple shots of the couple and tried to continue to paddle closer
and get into better light. I had to paddle hard against the current and because of this, my movements were a
bit choppy and noisy. Soon, both birds flew off the perch after about 10 seconds of togetherness.
I couldn't have been 100 feet to the shoreline where the birds were perched, but in this wilderness, any intruder
is not taken for granted. One hundred feet may seem like a great distance, but for the animal, it sometimes
falls within their alert zone. I felt bad that I did not approach more quietly. Later, I half joked with one of my
paddling companions that the "coitus interruptus" incident might very well mark the beginning of the extinction of
the swallowtail kite. I'm not making light of this because even though I am only one person, I try very hard to
tread lightly and avoid intruding on animals. Sometimes I come up on them without knowing it, but when I do
deliberately attempt to get closer, I do so very carefully and try to keep a safe distance.
Once out of the East River, we are in Hells Bay and the chickee is a short distance away. It's hidden inside a
cove and faces the east. Sunrises are enjoyed on this chickee. Once we are set up with our tents on the 10 X
12 chickee platform, the winds have picked up and I decide to stay on the platform the remainder of the
afternoon and enjoy the scenery. The area is exquisite, a bay full of mangrove islands. This is serious
backcountry where you cannot let your attention to detail escape you. You must be completely aware of your
surroundings and your direction, or you will soon be lost and the scenery will turn ugly fast. Thankfully from
Hells Bay through the Hells Bay Trail back to Ingraham Highway, the route is marked. Otherwise, I don't know
how anyone could manage to get through without going around in circles. No doubt, GPS has made this area
more accessible to people, but as of right now, I am not using GPS. It's map and compass all the way for me.
The next morning, we had a beautiful sunrise and the sky indicated a coming storm which added some drama
to the sunrise. I set up my tripod and captured several sunrise shots. The sky was dramatic with cloud flares
shooting out from the horizon in diagonal patterns, classic pre-storm sunrise. We left the chickee by 8:15 am
and headed toward Pearl Bay and eventually the Hells Bay Trail. I continued to capture more water scenes
with the dramatic sky. By the time we got to our ending point, dark rain clouds had already begun to form.
Although the wildlife photos were few (thankful to the swallowtail kite couple), this was a great trip for capturing
the wide open environment.
| All Rights Reserved. Copyright Constance Mier, 2007-10 |
Click on thumbnails below to see larger
photos
photos
Cormorant with a catfish, on
Chokoloskee Bay near the mouth of
the Turner River.
Chokoloskee Bay near the mouth of
the Turner River.
The cypress-lined Arbuckle Creek,
somewhere near the beginning of our
trip which began on Lake Arbuckle.
somewhere near the beginning of our
trip which began on Lake Arbuckle.
Arbuckle Creek, winding through open
range lands spotted with tall cypress
trees like these two.
range lands spotted with tall cypress
trees like these two.
Another view of the openness of
Arbuckle Creek as we head toward
our campsite.
Arbuckle Creek as we head toward
our campsite.
A sunset view from our campsite
along Arbuckle Creek.
along Arbuckle Creek.
The cypress trees stand tall along
Arbuckle Creek.
Arbuckle Creek.
Great blue heron with fish, on Hurdles
Creek heading toward Lopez River.
Creek heading toward Lopez River.
Heading toward Lopez River.
From our campsite on Lopez River we
enjoyed a beautiful sunset.
enjoyed a beautiful sunset.
Brown pelican on one of the docks
near the Chokoloskee Island Resort.
near the Chokoloskee Island Resort.
Click on this thumbnail to see a larger
view of the Hells Bay area.
view of the Hells Bay area.
Launch site from Coot Bay Pond, on
Ingraham Highway.
Ingraham Highway.
White Water Bay.
Swallow Tail Kites in love, along the
East River.
East River.
Sunrise on Hells Bay.
On the Hells Bay Trail. Notice the
PVC pipe marker in the mangroves in
front of the canoe tip.
PVC pipe marker in the mangroves in
front of the canoe tip.
Panoramic view of Oyster Bay.
Back to HOME
A side note: These stories describe the beginnings of my camping and photographing
experiences with the canoe. Prior to these trips, almost all my camping trips were done
in the kayak. Since writing these stories, a few things have changed. First, I no longer
own a kayak and all my multi-day trips are in a canoe. I'm getting better at paddling it
and feel secure enough to paddle through rough waters. Second, I replaced my
Royalex Wenonah with the lighter Kevlar version. Third, I no longer store my cameras
in dry bags and instead use a 1500 pelican case. Now, there is no limit to the amount
of camera equipment I can bring on multi-day trips through the Everglades.
experiences with the canoe. Prior to these trips, almost all my camping trips were done
in the kayak. Since writing these stories, a few things have changed. First, I no longer
own a kayak and all my multi-day trips are in a canoe. I'm getting better at paddling it
and feel secure enough to paddle through rough waters. Second, I replaced my
Royalex Wenonah with the lighter Kevlar version. Third, I no longer store my cameras
in dry bags and instead use a 1500 pelican case. Now, there is no limit to the amount
of camera equipment I can bring on multi-day trips through the Everglades.