Across the Roaring

 

The week of the grey rains were passing, cool blue sky appearing in patches as we ventured out. Out in anticipation of spending an afternoon along the banks of the Suwannee River. Jordon and I arrived at Bell Springs, past Monroe Morrell's home and began the mile hike. In the parking lot were two cars from Kentucky, one with a canoe atop. We anticipated meeeting the party. We never did.
As we went downhill toward the river, we passed the historical marker commenorating the Bishop family for donating this land for everyone to enjoy this part of hidden Florida. We passed the dammed up Bell Springs pond with the drainpipe stream and old john boat full of water.
Coming to the river, we at once noticed the level of water had returned to near normal at 53 feet. The little Bell Spring, normally a trickle, could not be jumped across. We continued the undulating walk through the cool palmetto path, shaded overhead by oak and pine,following the sound to Roaring Creek.
It was here we found the crossing point above the falls too dangerous. We would have to cross downstream. Remembering from low waters that the downstream bed was relatively smooth, we rolled up our pants, slung our shoes over shoulder, found a good ford point and waded in. The water was numbing. After a climb up the banks of slippery clay, it was a short walk to the sound of Big Shoals, save for one small creek we could hop across.
The Shoals were again roaring in all their decibel splendor, the jagged limerocks nearly engulfed by the tannic flow. In a few days, as water continues to drain from the swamps and creeks, the covering of the rocks should be complete.
We loitered about the Columbia side of the river awhile before taking the hike back. Coming again to the rapidly Roaring Creek, my crossing point was seemingly deeper than the previous crossing. I was up to the knees in frigid amber. Jordon looked on with amusement, awaiting to capture any fall on film.
We hiked on out without incident, making a beeline for the convenience store in White Springs for drinks. From there we traveled over to our friend Steve Williams off River Road. We finally rousted him out from the house, talked awhile of boats,panthers and future camp outs before heading on home. It was a good short journey. But in the end, aren't they all.