Bigbend Area Paddlers' Network

Shepard Creek to Shepard Spring and the Cathedral of Palms, by Kayak and by Foot01/26/02

Expedition Organizer: Liz Sparks Stalwarts: Jerrie, Pat, Bud, Chris, and Bill (Sera) Photographer and Report Writer: Bill Murdick Put in: Wakulla Beach. To get there from Tallahassee, drive south on Woodville Road to Rt. 98. Turn right and cross the Wakulla River. The 5-mile dirt road to Wakulla Beach is shortly on the left. It has a street sign: Wakulla Beach Road. I was the first to arrive at the put in, though someone with a kayak on his roof had been following me for miles. I assumed it was one of our group, but it turned out to be a young man (Chris) who had borrowed a friend’s kayak and was looking for someplace to go. He saw me and decided he would follow to see what I was going to do. I asked him to join us and he became the “accidental tourist” on this trip. He really lucked out, given the trip we had in store for him. The whole group of seven left Wakulla Beach at 11:00 AM. It was a cool morning, misty enough that you couldn’t see the white lighthouse at St. Marks. The tide was coming in as we shoved off. We paddled to the right, turning right around the small point that marks the end of Wakulla Beach and into the broad opening of Shepard Creek. Because the tide was still low and the water shallow, the creek was a confusing maze of channels, and it was difficult to know which was the main channel, the one we had to follow to get deep into the swamp. Some of us tried out dead ends. I think we all got stuck on the sandy bottom several times. At one point, Chris got out of his kayak in the middle of a channel and walked over and pushed my boat (with me in it) across ten feet of sandy bottom and out into deeper water. Finally we found the right channel. The idea is to stay far left, to the west side. Once in one of these narrow channels, staying close to one bank or the other usually kept you in deeper water. Finally it was clear we were on the right course, and as if to prove it, a pelican came down near us. The channel soon narrowed and became very twisty. The natural beauty of the saw grass wilderness was upon us. Birds overhead, gator trails to the side. Eventually the creek narrowed to a point where it made more sense to put in and walk then continue by water. It was now about 1:00. It had taken two hours to find our way in; but with higher waters, the kayak part would take us only 45 minutes on the return. As everyone was landing, I held back a bit and took a picture. Then people started laughing and pointing behind me. I looked over my shoulder. The pelican had followed us through the saw-grass cut backs, paddling quietly behind us. Now, seeing that we had stopped, it did a quick U-turn and started back. Most of us ate lunch on the “shore,” which was swamp woods. We wisely pulled the boats up on the bank or tied them to trees (when we returned from our land trek, the high tide had raised the water level considerably). Then we began a 45-minute trek on foot through the canopy forest, following the creek to the spring. There was no path, but no strong underbrush either. The walking was fairly easy and the scenery was entrancing. You could imagine gators and pigs and snakes and bears living here in snarly peace. The walking became difficult only when we had to cross a branch of the creek, or the winding creek itself, which we did three or four times each way. Most of us got sticks, eventually. Liz had brought her walking stick and Pat had carried his paddle—smart moves. As you crossed a stream on a slippery log or by stepping on protruding cypress roots and knees, it helped to plunge a stick into the water and mud to keep your balance. Those of us who stepped into the mud near the shore of these streams went in 10 inches and pulled out a foot whose fecund odor would turn your dog rapturous, but not your live-in if you were to tramp it into the living room: “Hi, Honey, I’m home!” We were following, with some intellectual effort, the main channel of the creek, the one with the clearest spring water. Eventually we arrived at the spring, which is about 50 yards in diameter. It has the same blue hue as Blue Spring off the Wacissa. The big gator we were hoping to see was nowhere to be found, unfortunately. He wasn’t there the last time Liz came here, either. Perhaps some poacher got him and his skin now hangs on a clapboard living room wall between a neon Budweiser sign and a black velvet Elvis. When we arrived at the spring, two intruders were already there, friends of Liz it turned out. They had bicycled in from a trail off Wakulla Beach Road. Next we wandered over to the nearby Cathedral of Palms, a grassy area with many tall Sable Palms. I took some photos of Liz and Jerrie, once I got them settled down and willing to quit their Playboy poses. The way back was enjoyable and easy. We left the Spring about 3:00, knowing the way back and experienced at crossing the deep-muck streams. High tide was supposedly at 1:30, so we would be riding the tide out in high water, the perfect conditions. It was easy no-stress kayaking, the channel obvious and deep. As we headed out of the narrows toward the widest part of the creek, where we we’d be able see the Gulf in the distance, the sun was shining and the air was comfortably warm. An osprey flew overhead. A few minutes later, as we approached the Gulf, a dolphin joined us, heading home like us. We beached at 4:30, a five and a half hour trip. Bill Murdick wmmurdick@home.com

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