The Withlacoochee River Hobo

    On this cool spring morning of early April ‘96’, this photo adventure began very peacefully and quiet, as I glided my canoe along the fog-shrouded riverbanks of the Withlacoochee River in central Florida. 

    This was the start of a four to five-day solo canoe, photography, and camping trip that covered some 30 miles of this beautiful pristine river.     

    I had previously canoed some portions of this river with my wife a few years prior to this trip. I had arranged with Joe at the outfitters/campground to have him drive my car up to the drop off point and he would leave my car at the campground for when I returned a few days later...hopefully if nothing went wrong. I had previously wrenched my back a few days before this trip but I did not want to reschedule...I would somehow survive and take my time. I figured I could canoe at least 6 miles a day.

    

    The Withlacoochee River begins just outside the western boundaries of the Disney World complex near Orlando, Florida. This area is known as the Green Swamp, wide and vast covering many square miles. The Green Swamp finally gives way to a narrow channel forming the headwaters of this river, which begins it’s trek westward away from civilization and then turns north, paralleling the edges of the swamp. The average width of the upper section of this nearly 85-mile long river is only 20 to 50 feet. Some areas of this section of this river merges into the edges of the Green Swamp during periods of high water, making navigating somewhat difficult if you are not careful. It is very easy to become disoriented and get lost, as everything looks the same. There are generally no visual markers or trails to navigate by. I always carry a USGS topographic map of any area that I have never been to before and a compass to at least somewhat orient myself. The main visual clue is to watch the direction of water flow when navigating this river as it flows northward...or at least in the section, I was canoeing in.      

    

    This trip was mainly for me to photograph, in large format 4x5 B&W, the beautiful landscape of the riverbanks, and the river itself with the twisting turns and high banks with its large overhanging Maple and Oak trees. Some areas of this upper section of the river have banks as high as 20 feet above the water level at this time of year. The roots systems of these trees are washed free of soil exposing the twisting, tangling roots...which really adds some additional interest to my B&W images. 

    One of the main visual aspects of my B&W images is that I sepia-tone them. I use a modified process of the old original Kodak method commonly used in the '30s and '40s. My modified process does not completely bleach out all of the tonal values of the image. This process is done in full light as the B&W print is in a finished form. So that visually seeing the amount of the bleaching process in real-time in bright lighting, I accomplished my intended results by pure intuition and knowing when to pull the print out of the bleaching agent. Each and every B&W print is different and therefore requires this method as opposed to using a timed period method. The old original Kodak sepia process gave the print all brown tones...no pure black tones left. My process retains the deep rich Max Black tonal values while the sepia toning is generally limited to the middle tonal values. I believe that this sepia process lends itself very well to our Florida landscapes.

   

    The first day had me stopping often and making images nearly every quarter to half a mile or so as I headed downstream towards my first night’s destinations. I like to stop and set up my campsite early, generally around 3 pm. I preplan the overnight locations with the USGS maps. I plot the miles divided by the days and look for the features when on the water. This kinda keeps me on somewhat of a schedule. This method gives me plenty of time to set up my small tent, gather firewood, and scout the area for late afternoon images around my campsite. This does not always go as planned, as it generally takes me about 20 to 30 minutes to film one image, taking into account for stopping and getting out of the canoe, setting up the tripod, and then getting the camera mounted on the tripod. Then I compose the image that I saw while in the river canoeing. This often means that I'm needing to set up the tripod in the middle of the river or where I can stand. Once everything is ready to trip the shutter, I then wait for the light to be perfect for the image I composed. Reverse all of this to get the equipment broken down and back into the waterproof containers in the canoe, and on the way again. You can quickly see why it takes so long to capture just one image. Multiply this timeframe by say 4 or 5 images in the morning and the same in the afternoon and you can run out of daylight very quickly. 

    The first night was thankfully very uneventful. After dinner, a cup of coffee in hand, and sitting by the fire, listening to the night giving way to the sounds of the creatures that inhabit it... I went to sleep.

   

   The next morning had me up early, fire stoked up, and coffee brewing. No time for breakfast, just a couple of donuts and several cups of coffee while photographing the morning light around my campsite. Soon I was off again heading downstream, stopping often, again, and making more images of the riverscapes. By the time I got back in the canoe and on the way, it was near noon.

     

    The second day also had me pulling over to set up camp in the early afternoon. The evening pot of coffee was on the fire brewing while I scouted the area for additional late afternoon images. As I rounded the corner of a large stand of palmettos, there stood in front of me, not thirty yards away, a rather very large, black long-haired wild hog. This 300-pound plus beast definitely had European ancestry in him denoting the “Razorback Breed.” These critters of the Florida swamps are long, lean, mean, and ugly and they smell terrible. Fortunately for me, they have rather poor eyesight, but they make up for that fact with a very good sense of smell. How they can smell anything other than themselves beats me, but they manage very well in that category. Fortunately for me, the wind was coming in my direction and this big ugly critter had no knowledge that I was even there. I watched him root the ground looking for his favorite sweet roots to feed upon for nearly twenty minutes while trying to keep a good safe distance away with something between him and me. Not that that would have done much good, as there was nothing close by large enough for me to climb into. Had this beast winded and seen me, things could have gone south in a hurry. Most of the time they would just run off in the other direction, but occasionally one of these critters will claim his turf as sacred ground and run you out of his territory, or run over you if you're dumb enough just to stand there. I have hunted these beasts for years and have killed them with nearly every gun I own. I have even hunted them with a longbow.

     

    After eventually feeding his way away from me, I returned to my much-needed cup of coffee, several as it were. As I sat there during the twilight of evening, a flock of about 12 to 15 wild Osceola turkeys flew right overhead and landed in a cypress tree swamp not 50 yards from my camp. This is truly a rare sight indeed and one I shall remember forever. It’s amazing the subtle sounds these birds make during roosting for the night. I’m sure they saw my campfire and me, but for some reason paid me no mind as they seemed quite content in roosting in that location for the night. Later that night I awoke with the sounds of many bull gators bellowing their calls of the wild. I must admit I had thoughts of one of these large 12-foot reptiles making landfall and investigation my meagerly small tent with me inside. After what seemed like an hour of listening to their sounds of love, I fell back to sleep. When you are that tired you will pretty much sleep thru anything...well almost anything as you will soon read. 

     

    The next morning’s routine was much the same as the day before, coffee, donuts, and photographing around my campsite. After packing everything up for the third day’s trip, I again shoved off and paddled, or mostly drifted as it was downstream seeking more B&W images of this beautiful river. After about an hour into this next leg of my journey, I found myself having obviously taken a wrong turn. I had traveled quite a distance thru some very thick-weeded vegetation and getting nowhere fast. I knew that I was heading in the right direction by looking at the water flowing in the direction where I needed to be heading, but I knew that going back was not exactly a decision I wanted to make. Fortunately, there was a tree that I could easily climb to get above this dense stuff in front of me. I could see that I only needed to go about thirty yards or so and I would be back into the main part of the river again. Well, that turned out to be quite a chore, pushing the canoe from the outside thru the thick reeds. Now as I was doing this, up to my waist in mud and reeds, I was thinking that this is a very good place to find a water moccasin. The water moccasin is Florida’s second most deadly venomous snake. I was in his territory, literally... waist-deep in it Why is it that these thoughts run thru your mind at the most inopportune time? Well, I wasted not much time dwelling over that fact and pushed on towards real water, but keeping each eye scanning the immediate area around me for “Ole MO”, not to mention GATORS!!!!. This was spring and the big gators are everywhere defending their territories. With that little side adventure behind me, I was again back in the canoe, a bit wet but manageable, drifting downstream and making more B&W images. Life is grand... or so I thought!

   

    Now, this is where things get really interesting on this trip. Having stopped in what appeared to be another remote location to camp for the night, I unloaded the canoe and began to set up my tent. As I was doing such, I heard a clanking sound behind me. I turned around and too much amazement; here comes this old gentleman, (I'm being very kind here) pushing a bicycle down a path towards me. I used the term gentleman here, but after talking to him a bit I believe the term “Woods Hobo” would be more fitting his stature, which BTW smelled much like that Ole Boar Hog a few days back.

    It appeared to me that all of his worldly goods were in the old broken basket on that bicycle and whatever he was wearing had a very distinct odor. I'm sure those clothes had not seen soap and water in a very long time. Now I can't complain much about a man having a beard, but how he kept that thing out of the bicycle's wheels is beyond me and pretty much goes for his hair. This gentleman is the epidemy of what a true Hobo should look like. We talked for a bit and he commented on all of the equipment that I had on the ground before his eyes. I reluctantly said that I was a photographer but I'm sure he could tell that by the tripods and all of those waterproof boxes. I could sense that somehow this seemed to register $$$$ signs to him and then I sensed that maybe I should have not mentioned that statement. He asked me if I had any kind of protection with me traveling with all of that expensive equipment. I said yes I do, I carry a 9 mm automatic pistol with me for just such protection. 

His next statement was the icing that this cake surely didn’t need. He said that he too had a rifle that he kept hidden where he lived and motioned to an old wooden run-down shack thru the trees behind me that I had failed to see. We talked a bit more, all the while I was getting very nervous about this location and this “Woods Rat Hobo” with a rifle. The thought of him shooting me thru the tent that night was enough for me to pack everything up and get back on the water as soon as he left.      

    

    After about twenty minutes I began to look for another location to camp and one that was on the other side of the river. After much deliberation and several locations later, I thought about the fact that this Hobo obviously knows this area far better than I do. He would have all night to find me and do me in. Isn’t it strange how these thoughts run thru your mind after such an event? Well, needless to say, I kept paddling. It was now getting quite dark and hard to see.  looking at my watch, it was nearly 8:00 PM. I soon found that I was now in a residential area and would now be camping in someone’s backyard uninvited would obviously not be an option for the night. So I continued another couple of miles or so to my final destination where my car was parked. I guess in all of the afternoon events I had failed to see just how far I had paddled. I pulled over at the dock, unloaded my equipment alongside my Ford Explorer, and threw my sleeping bag into the back with the seats folded down. I put my camera equipment in the front seats of the car, rolled the windows up and locked the doors, and went to sleep, knowing that “Ole Hobo” what’s his name was well behind me, or at least I had hoped so.

     

     

This was a photo adventure trip that I still chuckle about when I think about it and I decided that it merited a spot in “My Blog”. I hope you enjoyed it and the photos. Oh! and BTW, these kinds of things happen to me all the time...I'm getting used to it.