Swamp cabbage and Arbuckle Creek

I combined two of my sweet spots on Saturday:  A paddle in a nice place and a visit to an offbeat festival.  And because this was all in rural south-central Florida I was even on some roads I’d never traveled before, a bonus sweet spot.

I carpooled up there with Leslie, the paddling friend who accompanied my on my moose search in New Hampshire last summer.

The paddle was at Arbuckle Creek, a picturesque, 25-mile-long water trail connecting Lake

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Yes, that’s me amongst the cypress trees. (Photo by Kim)

Arbuckle to the much larger Lake Istokpoga  near the town of Avon Park.

Much of it borders the vast Avon Park Air Force Bombing Range (don’t go ashore on the east side of the creek and you’ll be fine).  There’s also a state prison complex at the bombing range, so don’t pick up any human hitchhikers along the creek.

We drifted leisurely downstream about 3.5 miles to a boat ramp/picnic stop at East Arbuckle Road and then paddled north back to our start, where Lake Arbuckle feeds into the creek.  My only do-over would be to start at the downstream end next time so the leisurely drifting part is on the home stretch.

Part of the Kissimmee River watershed, the lake and the creek probably get their names img_2001cfrom Fort Arbuckle, one of several forts built across central Florida by the U.S. Army in the middle 1800s.  The fort was named after General Matthew Arbuckle.  Oddly enough, there is no town called Arbuckle in Florida.  There is one in California though.

We encountered no bombs or hitchhikers on the paddle, but saw lots of wildlife and a guy doing pistol target practice behind the one house we saw along the way.  It was a pleasant, shady and lazy way to spend a few Saturday hours.

After that it was off to the 51st Annual Swamp Cabbage Festival in LaBelle, FL.  It was a bitimg_2143c of a detour from a more direct ride home, but what’s a route without a meander?

If this event were to be held on ultra-ritzy island of Palm Beach it would likely be called the Hearts of Palm Parade and Gala.  But it’s in very rural LaBelle, a town of 4,500 folks in the southwestern part of the state.  The settlement was named for Laura June Hendry and Carrie Belle Hendry, daughters of pioneer cattleman Francis Asbury Hendry, for whom the county it is the seat of is named.

img_2150cSo it’s called Swamp Cabbage, a cracker name for the Florida state tree, the sabal palm. It is also known as the palmetto, sabal palmetto and the cabbage palm.

The edible part being celebrated is the couple of feet in the core of the trunk just below where the leaves sprout out.  It was most visible at the festival in the form of fritters and stews or simply fried up with a bit of bacon.  The photo below on the left shows the piece of the trunk cut off below where the leaves start and the photo on the right shows the core of the trunk, which is the heart.

For me swamp cabbage falls into a category of food ingredients I call filler, some almost tasteless stuff included to provide some tactile substance or bulk to whatever there is in the way of ingredients that actually taste like something, like bacon or fried dough or even seasoning.  Sorry to insult all the foodies out there, but I have to let my inner chef speak up.

But I didn’t go to the Swamp Festival for the culinary delights.  I went because I’d never been there, about the same reason for my attendance at the Fellsmere Frog Leg Festival in 2016.

Situated in a nice park right along the Caloosahatchee River and well shaded by huge live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss, the festival grounds included lots of food vendors, a big bandstand, and a ‘craft’ section.  Disappointingly, my appetite for local crafts wasn’t sated a bit.  I didn’t look at all the labels of course, but most of it probably originated in China.

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The bandstand was right in the heart of the park with all the food and craft tents, so the music was a pleasant background for the whole event.  (Photo by Ron Haines)

The  Festival is more than one day, of course.  We missed the parade, the car show, the fishing tournament and a bunch of other stuff that marked the long weekend.

We also missed the armadillo racing. We got there late in the afternoon and they were done for the day.   That would have been a first for me.  We did see the empty racetrack though.  It was identical to the one in this video of an actual race.  For the youngsters, armadillo racing means something entirely different in the video gaming world apparently.

And while we’re on alternatives, please note that Swamp Cabbage is also the name of a blues band founded in 2003 by  Jacksonville, Florida, native Walter Parks,  who recorded and toured for 10 years as lead guitarist for Richie Havens.  He was also half of the folk-pop duo The Nudes.

Here’s some of the wildlife we saw on Arbuckle Creek (All photos by Ron Haines).

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Posted in Offbeat, Paddling, Photos mostly, Road trip | 1 Comment

When you’ve got an itch…Part 8

When you’ve got an itch…it’s nice to have someone around to scratch it for you.

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This is a pair of wood storks I photographed last week at Wakodahatchee Wetlands in Florida.  For my Florida friends, it is west of Boynton Beach on Jog Road.  It is a great place to see birds, and babies, but beware, it is popular.  We had to wait in line to park the car, on a Friday morning!

This is a 50-acre, man-made wetland, designed for recycling waste water (the name is derived from a Seminole Indian phrase meaning “created waters”).  It was full of nesting wood storks the day we were there, and we also saw some very young anhinga and blue heron babies in nests.  So it will be a good baby spotting destination for the next few weeks.

The wood stork is the only stork that breeds in North America and is limited to Florida, Georgia, and parts of the Carolinas.  It was removed from the endangered list and upgraded to threatened in 2014.

For my younger readers:  Do storks bring babies?  Yes, but only their own.

The stork as baby deliverer myth has been around a long time.  Even back in Roman timesdelivery-stork-and-baby-outline-clipart-cliparthut-free-clipart-plpiwm-clipart a stork on one’s roof was seen as a blessing.  All that good fortune eventually included claims of fertility and babies.  Hans Christian Anderson pushed the lore into greater popularity with his 1938 fairy tale, “The Storks.”

But from what I have read, the stork of the baby myths was always one of the nice white-headed kind found in Europe, not the ugly-headed wood storks that we have in the US.  That would be a very hard myth to swallow, even for a desperate parent wanting to avoid the birds and bees talk with the children.  They aren’t pretty.

Below are more photos from my Wakodahatchee visit.  If you want to see the other ‘itches,’ start here.

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Roosting birds.  I see anhinga, wood storks and blue herons in here.  The upper part of the tree is white because of the bird poop.

 

A slide show of anhingas and babies:

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And a few blue herons and babies:

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Below are a tri-colored heron, a grebe, a gallinule, an egret and an alligator:

 

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Back to school

I took my Mississippi River canoe trip road show to a school class here in south Florida recently.

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Here I am showing the class one of the maps I used in Minnesota (Photo by John Stone)

The teacher is a high school friend of my daughter and her husband (Somehow all those people grew up and now have jobs and families!  When did that happen?).

As part of a section about adventures, teacher John Stone had given them my website with the trip description and photos and had them do some reading.

It was interesting to see, up there on the blackboard, that my blog had been turned into aimage1inset homework assignment!

He followed up with an invitation for me to come along and do a presentation. Fortunately I still had a power point program that I had put together years ago.  I also took along the life jacket, a dry bag, some maps, a paddle, and the canoe itself so I’d have some show and tell.

I managed to fill up an hour and no one fell asleep.

Kidding aside, it worked out very well. They were attentive and interested. And obviously well prepared.

I particularly enjoyed the questions.

They ran the gamut:
What kind of animals did you see? Any snakes?
What about the waves from the boats?
Did you lock up the canoe at night?
Didn’t you get tired of eating the same thing all the time?

And the best one of all, What about number one and number two?

Number two involved digging a hole and depositing, usually before I shoved off in the morning, I explained.  For number one I just pulled ashore when necessary.  And yes, I had toilet paper with me.

The questioner persevered with a followup though. Couldn’t you just stand up in the boat for number one?

Nope, I replied, it’s a balance problem. Didn’t want to fall in the water.

Posted in Grumman canoe, Mississippi River Canoe Trip | 4 Comments

I scream, you scream, we all scream for…

My life’s come back to ice cream.

At home as a kid in Kankakee, Illinois, it was an evening ritual to have a bowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce and some peanuts while sitting in the living room with mom, dad and the brothers watching TV.

The ritual I think, was started by dad, and he certainly kept it going, usually being the one to initiate the filling of the bowls every evening.

I can still hear the spoons scraping every last bit from those sturdy plastic bowls. The sound certainly brought Rusty, the family dog, to his feet. He waited patiently as in turn each of us would finish and place our bowl on the floor for him to lick clean.

In recent years I’ve gravitated back to that ritual, minus the brothers and the parents and the family dog, of course. And I don’t even have the TV watching involved, as I usually have my nightly ice cream snack in bed reading a book.

My ice cream habit started rebounding a few years ago when I began spending summers in the northeast.  I joined a bunch of paddling groups and started going out two or three times a week.

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With some of my friends, stopping off at a nearby ice cream stand after the paddle was part of the outing.

And even if others didn’t come along, I started stopping off on the ride home at the iceimg_6541c cream stands that the rural northeast offers in plentitude, the ones that are only open during the season. A small building, with an ordering and serving window and lots of outdoor seating, perfect for a snack and some sitting on a summer afternoon or evening.

And it was there that I discovered flavors. Gone was the vanilla with a bit of sauce and peanuts, bring on the peanut butter and the chocolate chunks, not to mention the candy bar spinoffs.

In my second summer season in the northeast I also took a look at the ice cream shelves in the supermarket. Plenty of great flavors, and great prices too. Big Y, a big supermarket  chain I go to, stocks three major brands and at least one of them is on sale every week. Ice cream became a nightly snack.

That second year I came back to Florida at the end of the summer with my ice cream habit firmly back in place.

But on my first shopping trip to Publix I was sorely disappointed: a dearth of interesting flavors and prices about double what I’d been used to up north.

And forget about numerous small ice cream stands along the rural roads with their nice umbrellas and picnic tables. There just aren’t any.

Maybe ice cream doesn’t mean the same to Floridians as it does northerners. With warmth all year round having some special place to go to for a cool treat and a bit of socializing just isn’t as important, I guess. And with all the air conditioning everywhere in Florida, the thought of sitting outside in the shade with a bowl of ice cream to cool off does seem sort of silly.

I guess maybe it takes a four-season place to develop a populace eager to sit outside and eat ice cream and say hi to the neighbors on a warm summer evening. Probably because it’s a special thing that can’t be done all year round.

I’m hooked on it.

Posted in Offbeat, Paddling, Road trip | 6 Comments

When you’ve got an itch…Part 7

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I spotted this fellow succumbing to the urge to itch last summer at Barton’s Cove, a nice little wide spot in the Connecticut River near Gill, MA.  It’s a great place for wildlife spotting and thus a favorite paddling spot for me.  Go here for more information about swans and also you can explore the links to more itches.

A couple more photos:

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Some cygnets at Barton’s Cove.  (Photo by Ron Haines)

 

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The bridge at French King Gorge. (Photo by Ron Haines)

 

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Hitting all the sweet spots

I had one of those days yesterday that touched nicely on a lot of the sweet spots of my life these days as a happy retiree.

It began with a nice, longish drive in the early morning on foggy highways in south and central Florida, just me and my coffee and my cd’s, with one canoe on the top of the car and the other on the trailer behind me.

I was on my way to a tranquil, three hour paddle amongst gigantic cypress trees and an abundance of osprey, vultures, alligators and other wildlife at Blue Cypress Lake. Four deer greeted me along the the old road off of State Road 60 to Middleton’s Fish Camp, where I would launch.

My day included meeting up there with about 20 other Sierra Club paddlers.  The group was large, but so was the paddling area.  One could link up with others for a chat, or strike off alone if in need of solitude.  There is hardly any urban noise at this place, just an occasional high flying jet or the sound of a boat a mile or so away.  Plenty of bandwidth for the sounds of nature to reach the ear.

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I got the group together at the beginning so I could get this shot, but after that, everyone could scatter wherever they wanted.  There’s plenty of paddling room at this place.  (Photo by Ron Haines)

After the paddle I enjoyed a leisurely late lunch at the Desert Inn in Yehaw Junction with IMG_2729cfour old friends.  Now there’s a sweet spot!

 

 

And my day ended, fittingly enough, with the discovery of another recycled gas station in Okeechobee on the way home.  It is now a lovely floral shop.

Here are the photos:

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This old gas station in Okeechobee, FL, is now Pat’s Floral Design (Photo by Ron Haines)

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Yes, it’s me and my buddy.  (Photo by Manuel Monteiro)

Above, my lunch partners; on left Randy and Sabrina Carle and on right Lisa Hanley and Mike Fitzpatrick, in my Grumman canoe.  (Photo by Ron Haines)

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When you’ve got an itch…Part 6

This is the loon edition.

Loons are wonderfully interesting birds, fun to watch, really pleasant to listen to, and not nearly as plentiful as other types of waterfowl I see on the waters of the Northeast.

It’s the only waterfowl I have ever seen to practically roll over on its back to deal with an itch on its stomach. (In reality this one is probably just cleaning its feathers, but I prefer the alternative fact: scratching its belly.)

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Yes, that is a foot sticking up in the air.  (Photo by Ron Haines)

I took this photo at East Inlet in New Hampshire up near the Canadian border.  (Here’s why I was up there)

Loons are heavy birds with very large feet and, like an airplane, they need long runways to take off. They run awkwardly across the water surface for approximately a quarter of a mile to pick up enough speed to take fight.  Watching one take off is fun.

And because of their weight and the fact that their legs are so far back on their bodies, they really can’t walk very well and seldom try. In fact, their inability to walk is likely where the name came from: either the Old English word lumme, meaning lummox or awkward person, or the Scandinavian word lum meaning lame or clumsy.

(I so wanted the name to somehow be linked to good old loony, as in loony bin, but found no support for that.  Loony seems to have come simply from the shortening of the word lunatic.)

What these birds can’t do on land they amply make up for in the air and water.  Their large wings can get them up to 75 mph, and they can vanish underwater to find food or escape danger without leaving a ripple and reach depths of 200 feet or more, propelled by their large webbed feet.

New Hampshire loons head eastward in the winter over to the Atlantic Coast where there is open water.  They do so because the interior lakes freeze over and if they stayed they’d become trapped by the ice, unable to take off.  So basically, migration involves getting to the nearest body of water that won’t freeze over, no matter where they live in the warm season.

How do they adapt to salt water?  They have salt glands in their skull between their eyes that remove the salt from the water and fish they eat and excrete it from ducts in their beak.

In late winter, they have a complete molt; losing all their feathers at once, instead of one or two at a time like most birds, because they need a complete set of flight feathers to hold up their heavy bodies. So for the two or three weeks it takes to drop the old feathers and grow new ones they cannot fly.

By April or early May, resplendent in their brand new black and white breeding coats, they are back in the inland ponds and lakes. Biologists suspect that loons return to the same general area where they were born, often returning to their very own birth lake.  Loons will typically arrive on New Hampshire’s lakes and ponds just after the ice melts, sometimes on the very next day!

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Here’s one with regular plumage.  The heavy body rides low in the water.  (Photo by Ron Haines)

There is one anomaly though. In their first migration, loons do not return to their breeding area for three years on average, says Andrew East, who has studied loons as a field biologist in Wisconsin and other states. Scientists are trying to understand where loons go during that time.        Seems a good time to use the looncam!

Contrary to popular belief, pairs seldom mate for life.  Indeed, a typical adult loon is likely to have several mates during its lifetime because of territorial takeover. Each breeding pair must frequently defend its territory against “floaters” (territory-less adults) trying to evict at least one owner and seize the breeding site. A third of all territorial evictions among males result in the death of the owner.  It’s a loon-eat-loon world out there.

I think the best thing about loons is the plantive wailing and yodeling sounds they make.  I don’t even need to see the bird to be entranced.  Just to look out over a small pond bordered by deep woods and hear that call is enough to make me want to just sit down and enjoy where I am.  Here are some sounds for you.

And if you want to see the rest of the itches, start here.

Posted in Nature, Offbeat | 6 Comments

Gone before I could get there

I recently drove over to Fisheating Creek for a paddle with the alligators and planned onimg_0806c stopping in at an interesting rural country store/restaurant for a late lunch in nearby, very small, Palmdale, Florida (population just under 600). The Florida Backroads Travel website calls the place Not Near Anything.

The Palmdale Cracker (“A country mall and social club”) opened about a year ago in an historic, 1920s-era building and had been gathering decent comments from customers. It ranked 4.5 out of 5 with TripAdvisor, which called it #1, in a town that had just one restaurant.

Alas, I got there too late.   It burned to the ground about two months ago.

The building had been over the years a post office and a general store.  As the only place for miles around, it was a welcome break for truckers and motorists traveling on U.S. 27. And, as a genuine Old-Florida-flavored attraction for tourists, it fit in nicely with the still-open Gatorama (“Fast Hands or No Hands”), just south of town.  The nearby Cypress Knee Museum, another of those hundreds of places that dotted the roadside along U.S. 27, is long gone unfortunately.

Larry Taylor, who says he spent years getting the government approvals needed to get the store and restaurant off the ground in the old building, has launched a Go Fund Me page with an eye on raising $150,000 to rebuild.  To date he has $225.

Before and after photos below:

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The word cracker, by the way, originally referred to the Florida cowboys of the 1800s and today mostly just means a Florida native whose family has lived in the state for many generations.

And thinking of crackers leads me easily back to Fisheating Creek, a piece of natural Florida that’s been around for a long time and one I hope stays just the way it is for a long time to come.  It was long owned by Lykes Brothers Inc., which attempted to close it to the public in the 1980s, but a 1998 court ruling that it is a navigable waterway and therefore owned by the state kept access open for the public.

Enjoy the photos.

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Posted in Nature, Offbeat, Paddling, Photos mostly | 11 Comments

Hay is for horses

And also cattle, sheep, goats and small critters like rabbits and guinea pigs.

And even, as I discovered on a recent ride through rural Alabama, for yard art.

This turkey and John Deere tractor were fashioned from round and rectangular bales of the stuff and proudly displayed in the owner’s front yard along US 84 near the small town of Opp (slogan is “City of OPPortunity”).  Population is close to 7,000. Nearly a fifth of the families there are below the poverty line.  OPPortunity seems to have passed by this place.

And in case you were wondering, hay is not the same thing as straw.

Hay is usually the combination of several grasses and grains like alfalfa, brome, and timothy; clover and rye are often components also. Hay is cut when its source is still green, capturing nutrients in the cut-off plants.  Hay, in other words, is the primary product, and is used for feeding animals.

Straw on the other hand is basically the byproduct when other plants are harvested.  It is made from the leftover shafts of grains like rye, oats, and wheat, after the seed heads have been cut off. It is used as livestock bedding, as fuel, and sometimes as part of a food mixture.  It has little nutritional value.

Websites about using straw as a building material abound, and most warn not to confuse it with hay, which is lousy as a building material.

Growing hay looks simple.  Let the grasses grow long, cut it and bale it and you’re done.

Not so.  Here’s a brief description of what can go wrong: Hay is very sensitive to weather conditions, particularly when it is harvested. In drought conditions, both seed and leaf production are stunted, making hay that has a high ratio of dry coarse stems that have very low nutritional values. If the weather is too wet, the cut hay may spoil in the field before it can be baled. The hay may also develop rot and mold after being baled, creating the potential for toxins to form in the feed, which could make the animals sick. It also has to be stored in a manner to prevent it from getting wet. Mold and spoilage reduce nutritional value and may cause illness in animals.

If you wish, you can use hay bales to enter a whole other universe.  Just click here.

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Three beauties

Took a quick road trip last month to Arkansas to see some relatives (Sue’s side) and found three very nice recycled gas stations.

Two of them were in Ozark, Alabama (population is about 15,000, including nine registered sex offenders).  One is now a clothing boutique and the other is a floral and gift shop.

I spotted the stations as we passed through the town on the way to Arkansas, but it was already too dark for photos.   So we stopped on the way home and combined photo taking with an ice cream lunch at a nice place on the town square.

The third building in the photos below is a very nice brick corner classic that is now home to a mower and tractor business.  It’s in tiny Evergreen, Alabama (population 4,000).  Founded in 1819 and incorporated in 1873, its early years were filled with lousy luck. In 1882, a tornado destroyed  every building except for the Episcopal church. In 1895, fire destroyed every business and house located on the east side of the railroad and five days later, fire destroyed every business and house on the west side. The Conecuh County Courthouse there burned in 1868, 1875, 1885, and 1895.

Go here to see my entire collection of recycled gas stations.

(All photographs by Ron Haines)

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