Welcome to the Jungle

It was odd.

Every time I had been on this road previously, it had been nighttime.

Now, in the bright rays of the setting sun, the trees took on a very different setting.

Their scraggy branches stretched in the same foreboding way that I saw during the night, yet there was a new beauty to them. They were bright and green, and the tunnel-like structure they created as they stretched across the top of the roadway was a sight of peace instead of fear. It was calming. It is one of the few times I drove slowly, for I had nowhere to be, and I was in good company.

As we traveled farther into the forest, it felt more and more as if the road did not belong. There was no cut grass that buffered the car from the wild of the Florida jungle, and it gave a feeling that if you ventured in, chances were slim that you would return. This, coupled with the fact that the forest is not only right next to you, but in fact over you, is probably why it serves as a great place to take a midnight trip with friends and tell horror stories. For now, though, I was fine in my car, and continued down the road.

After a while, the forest-tunnel gave way to an estuary, where some locals were fishing off a bridge and the low sun reflected off the calm waters. A crane of some sort flew with us for a minute, and then parted company to show the local fishermen how it was done. I was surrounded by beauty. “This,” I thought to myself, “is what they mean by stopping to smell the roses.” The road wove on, as roads should, forced to curve around the streams and marshes, the water mere feet and in some cases, inches, from the road. I carried on toward the salty fresh smell of the ocean,happy to once again have a sense of harmony and peace that was scarce among this Florida college student’s life.

Going With the Flow

I am jolted awake as I feel the cold water wrap around me. My sleepiness instantly disappears and I drift along, awake and refreshed. I’m peering through my mask at the river bed. I climb over a particularly slippery log, pushing against the current as I try and make my way up stream. Only now that I’m in the water, do I appreciate the sounds. I can’t hear any human noises, only the water rushing past me and the occasional bird. The water feels better now. I’m finally getting used to the temperature. I swim with my arms and push off the bottom with my feet until I can barely reach the bottom. When I can’t reach at all, I swim hard against the flowing water until I reach a log sticking out of the water. I grab on and relax for a minute. Below me I can see the various massive logs lying across the cave entrance, and the cave walls stretching down into the darkness.

I take a minute to get my breath back then take a huge gulp of air and dive down. As I move past the logs the cave opens up and I am able to anchor myself under one of the overhangs. It is surreal down here. All I can hear is my heart beat and the clicking of tiny creatures. I look down at the abyss below me. I know it goes down about another 100 feet, but this is as far as I can go without a scuba tank. My lungs begin to cry out for oxygen, so I push off and float to the surface, careful to avoid the tangle of logs.

I dive down a couple more times then decide it’s time to move on. I move back into the water flow and this time I just let it take me. I am flying along just a couple of feet off the bottom, propelled by nature. It is relaxing and exhilarating at the same. I see a split log coming up and I dive through the hole. I’m having way too much fun.

A large object catches my eye as I fly past it. I put on the brakes as best I can and grab on to a tree branch. I turn back to look at what I’d almost collided with. It’s a Spotted Gar. This long menacing looking fish doesn’t normally allow itself to get so close to swimmers. I wonder if there is something wrong with it. I take a closer look and realize it has a serious injury on its back. To me it looks like a boat propeller injury. A wave of anger flows over me as I watch the fish struggle against the current. It moves slowly away from me and I sigh to myself. I suppose anything could have caused that injury, not just Man.

I lift my head out of the water and I can see that I am coming up on my exit point. I put my head down again to get one last look around and I spot something else. Rising up out of the algae is a turtle. It obviously saw me first as it is paddling as fast as it can towards a convenient hiding place made by some nearby debris. Luckily I get my camera going before he disappears completely into the darkness.

My watch shatters the peace as it’s alarm blares, reminding me of my ever present schedule. Time to head back to reality.

Daytona Memorial

A cemetery is a symbol of respect for the dead. Or is it just the place you go after you die? Being buried in a cemetery does not mean your life was respected. But your death is. Hopefully when it is your time to go your dead body will not be left wherever you died. You could have been a mass murderer, the Pope, an old man or woman, or even a baby. Either way you went through life, which is hard to do even for a day. So you deserve to be placed somewhere where your body will not be disrespected when you cannot defend it. If you come to Daytona Memorial and look around, you will see some with much larger tombstones than others. Some with more flowers on their graves than others. Some with absolutely nothing but a small stone with their name on it and their DOB and DOD (date of birth, date of death). Does a having a bigger tombstone mean one had a more important life? Probably not, just that more money was spent. Or the bigger tombstones are less expensive today then they were say 50 years ago.

Every stone has its own story: Robert George 1920-1998, Silvia Milens 1934-1969, Fabian Wright 1940-2005, and many more all with the same stories. A cemetery is like a book made up of names and lifespans, the most important thing being what you did in between those years, which the “book” does not say. The cemetery is not where you come to judge people, but to reminisce. Seeing graves reminded me of the importance of life, even though the environment is filled with the dead. No matter how big or small my tombstone is; I will die and be satisfied with my life.

Blue Heron

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Today I woke up and had no clue what to do my blog on. I ran out of locations around the area and my car cant make it very far (kind of ironic how I am in an environmental class and my 1990 Mazda Navajo kills the environment everyday). I was spending the night at my girlfriends house and when I took the trash out there it was, a location on which I can write my blog. My girlfriend lives in Pelican Bay and there are a series of lakes around the complex so I found my special place to make my last blog. It is a pleasant afternoon in Daytona Beach. It is one of those days where nothing matters and if you were to lay down or sit down you would want to fall asleep. The warmth of the sun and the breeze hitting my face was an instant feeling of freedom. The semester is sadly coming to an end which is amazing. But I digress. There are trees all around me and there is a fountain shooting water about ten feet in the air. There is a little island of palm trees on a small bank of the lake which create the perfect spot. I actually fell asleep here and once I woke up i was freaked out because I had no clue how long I was there and if anything happened. Plus my girlfriend was looking for me and was wondering where the heck I went. There was a calm breeze so the water was calm and ducks were all over the place. Quack Quack Quack. I don’t like ducks though because they hiss at you. With the exception of ducks, I think nature is amazing. I love the feeling of relaxation and this little spot next to the lake had it. Especially with all the finals coming up and baseball coming to a close. I needed it.

One

I should have looked where I was going. As I brought my right foot down to take a step forward, it found only air. When the sole of my shoe finally met the earth a few inches further down, I stumbled a bit. I couldn’t help it though; my eyes were too busy scanning the vast expanse of violet that clung to the ground ahead.

It appeared that I had wandered onto a lakebed which had been dried up for some time. I kneeled down to inspect what had tripped me up. Sure enough, I discovered a small shelf where the ground dropped slightly. It was hidden by a blanket of this grassy, weedy vegetation whose name escaped me and whose surprisingly purple color was a mystery to me. Whenever there had been water here, this was where it had ended.

A few hundred feet in the distance, out near the middle of the clearing, something caught my eye. As I moved towards it, a hefty breeze sent waves through the foliage all around me. I could see now that what I had noticed was what was left of the trunk of a small tree. It wasn’t in too great of shape; its bark was torn off in sections and it tapered to a messy break 2 feet or so above my head. It was a bit surreal to see such a solitary tree in the middle of this massive forest which seemed to extend forever around me.

I couldn’t help but imagine how this tree had looked when alive and what had brought it to its final demise. Had it flourished for years only to be snapped in half by some rogue storm? Perhaps it would have been safer with the rest of the trees. It was still there though, a testament to its strength. For all I knew, it could stay standing there longer than I could fathom.

My stomach growled at me. I had to get back to my campsite.

Bird’s Eye View

         

      I didn’t have to go far for this nature blog, as I was awoken from my slumber by a rather large hawk. The hawk was perched on the corner of my neighbors screened in porch a perfect perch to hunt his prey from. His shrieking cry was both relentless and ear-piercing. His head bobbed back and forth as he scanned the golf course for food. His keen vision acquiring a target from time to time and he would lower his head and an intense star would ensue then back to random scanning. The Hawk’s technique was almost robotic in nature. He stayed perched motion less for at least 5 min and resembled a statue. Then the motion less body took to flight, accelerating and climbing at the same time like a fighter jet blasting off into the horizon. That was the last I saw of him as he navigated out of sight.

looking back

Sitting here at my computer I think back to my trip a few weeks ago, I went with my friends to visit Ichetucknee springs state park. we left from in front of the library  before the sun came up and drove through thickening fog to our destination, three car loads moving steadily westward.

We stopped at a little place on the side of the road as we neared the park and rented floats for the days plans, for you see we had come to float down the river and take in the sights and enjoy the quite while it lasted.  Pulling into the park we noticed that no one else was there at the early hour we arrived.  Parking and getting together our thing for the trip we started walking the trail to the landing we would launch from.

After 10 min. or so we finally made it to the river, and the sight was truly beautiful, the fog was just burning off and the sun was shinning warmly through the Cypress trees the water lapping upon the knees as they poked up through the clear clear water.  We situate ourselves as we get everyone into the tubes, some people had never done this before, taking a couple of minutes and then we are off down the river.

I spent most of the first 30 minutes or so helping people who didn’t have experience floating down a river before guiding them around logs and through slow currents to help keep them in the group, but after a little while everyone had the hang of it and I was free to roam up and down the column as i pleased and chat  with friends while we all marveled at the sights there in front of us.  Having grown up in the swamps and on the rivers of South Carolina it really made me feel at home to watch the turtles sunning and the dragon flies landing on both the tubes and there occupants.  Never in my live have i seen any one flip out so much at the sight of a little ole dragon-fly, but I guess city folk just aren’t quite as comfortable with that kind of thing.

We floated for hours as the day passed around us, at the bottom landing we got out of the water and began to walk back up the road to the parking lot and the top landing for either lunch or another trip depending on how we all felt.  Walking back up the road tube over my shoulder straw-hat on my head, the shoes I had brought held in my hands as I walk barefooted; I stooped to pluck a strand of sweet grass, putting it between my teeth and just enjoying the walk.  Apparently this was just too much for my companions as the y’all busted into grins and laughter at the sight of such a stereotypical country boy.

We returned to the cars had a snack and then as the parking lot filled we decided to make one quick last trip hopefully before the river was too full.  Alas this was not to be, as the landing was packed and the river full as well, the trip was more noisy but still enjoyable, even though we opted for a shorter route the second time.  All in all it was a very fun trip and the sights on he river myriads of turtles, and dragonflies, a woodpecker and even a snake, safely on the bank, made it a day I would gladly repeat any time.