A Big Bend Paddle Adventure
This piece was originally published in Florida Sportsman magazine, March 2017. It was published again in my book, “Fishing Florida by Paddle“.
Rudely, a harsh wind punched us right in the face. We rounded the point, paddled into the Gulf, and BOOM! The four miles we had to go straight into this stiff breeze seemed a daunting task. Mother Nature chose to test our mettle from the beginning. No laid-back first day here! We were on a Big Bend Paddle Adventure!
The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) maintains a series of campsites along a 105 mile length of the Gulf coast in the Big Bend region, from the Aucilla River to the town of Suwannee. You’ll find these sites, reserved specifically for paddlers who wish to make a trip like the one Mike Conneen and I were on, placed about an easy day’s paddle apart. An easy day’s paddle apart, that is, assuming a 15 plus knot wind isn’t slamming you in the face. That wind increases travel time, and sweat equity, significantly.
This stretch of coast between the Aucilla River and the Suwannee River lacks much dry ground. What’s there is already occupied. The FWC deserves commendation for maintaining these campsites. Some are spectacular. Others are marginal. If you go be prepared for bugs, and mud. Bring something on which to sit. And, you need to be permitted to use them (see “Nuts and Bolts”, below).
The FWC also makes the Big Bend Saltwater Paddling Trail Guidebook available online for $15. It’s highly recommended to anyone seriously considering making this trip. Again, see Nuts and Bolts for ordering information.
We barely passed Mother Nature’s first test, and reached the mouth of the Econfina River late in the afternoon. Luck would have the tide dropping of course, so in our subdued state we had to paddle another three miles against the current to reach the campsite. There was mud, and there were bugs, and we turned in as soon as darkness fell. I listened to the sound of critters, and insects, and the now-soothing sound of the wind through the treetops, and wondered what I’d gotten into.
The draw for a trip like this is not to fight the wind all day, of course. It’s fish. It’s birds. It’s falling stars and planets and constellations, crabs and turtles and seagrass. It’s getting away from traffic and telephones and email and clocks.
Look at Florida’s Big Bend on Google Maps. You’ll see that getting away from modern life might be easy to do here. Countless creeks dissect the coastline, scores of miles of mostly untouched Spartina marshes, oyster mounds, and lush grass flats. You find water so clear it’s crisp. In that water swim the fish that drew Mike and me- redfish and seatrout, flounder and bluefish.
Day two required 11 miles of paddling, three to the Gulf and eight more to our next campsite. The wind had not changed in either direction or intensity. Our technique was simple- paddle to a point, rest. Paddle to the next point, rest. Repeat as necessary. We crawled along the coast this way as the earth hurtled through space. When we finally reached Rock Island (one of the spectacular campsites) it was late in the afternoon. We were beat.
Sunset promised to be glorious. During dinner I said to Mike, “After today I wouldn’t ask you to do it, but you fishing against the sunset would make a great photo.” As soon as we finished eating Mike jumped into his kayak and paddled toward the sunset. I got the photo. Mike got a couple fistfuls of bluefish, our best fish of the trip to this point.
That night I listened to the night sounds. There were no bugs, no critters, only waves, and wind.
FWC campsite permits allow only one night at each site. When we got up the next morning the wind remained unchanged. Whitecaps covered the Gulf. Our next campsite, 10 miles away, required paddling straight into wind and waves.
Mike said, “I feel like I went 12 rounds with Mike Tyson.” I replied, “I’m staying right here. I don’t have it in me for another day like yesterday.” So we lounged around, did some fishing, and licked our wounds while hoping the wind would subside.
That night a cold front came through. The rain came through my worn-out tent. But in the morning the wind had changed direction and was greatly diminished. We loaded up and headed out, making for Spring Warrior Creek.
As the tide bottomed out the wind subsided completely. The surface of the Gulf slicked out. We enjoyed a leisurely paddle the rest of the way, casting jigs around creek mouths and points. The fish responded well. It proved to be the best stretch of fishing we would have.
This trip requires no fancy tackle. I brought a standard spinning outfit and a six-weight fly rod. Between the wind and the amount of paddling required the fly rod was barely touched. If conditions were right I suspect fly fishing could be awesome, though. Our weather killed us.
I caught fish on everything I tried (other than fly), but my most productive lure was a three inch DOA CAL shad, either on a 1/8th ounce weedless jig head or on a lightly weighted 3/0 worm hook. On lower tide phases I could cast the lightly weighted shad, and as the water deepened switch to the jig head. While paddling I’d just troll the shad behind me. This simple arrangement accounted for quite a few fish. If you can cover the water column, not hard to do in four feet of water, and stay weedless (the grass is magnificently thick), you will do fine.
If, like we did, you use a sit-on-top kayak, you’ll find a method of keeping dry while paddling more important than tackle. I used chest waders and a Gore-tex rain jacket, which worked well. Mike used rain pants and a rain jacket, and just let his feet be wet and cold. Mike did not walk in the water like I did, though. Morning temperatures were in the 40s a couple days, so it can and will get cold.
We took our trip in early December, at which time prevailing winds usually come from the northwest. We had six windy days out of seven and not one of them had northwest wind. That’s simply bad luck.
Along this coast, at low tide the grass flats are merely wet. You often paddle a half mile or more offshore in mere inches of water. There are rocks, and oysters, and spots that are merely damp. I had to get out and drag my vessel several hundred yards at one point.
If, like me, you use the ancient and honorable navigation system of map and compass, most of time you will have only the vaguest of idea of where you are. Everything looks the same, and much of the time you are too far off the shoreline to see little details that might help pinpoint location. If, like Mike, you use a smartphone with a GPS application and connect that device to a solar charger, you can find out exactly where you are any time you need to.
While preparing for the trip, Mike had also gone to Google Maps, printed out a series of aerial Insert img #s of the route we were taking, collated and marked them with the necessary information (where campsites and water were available, for example), and then had them laminated. He was brilliantly prepared to navigate this stretch of coast. If not for him I would probably still be there.
That solar charger was a slick device. For $50 it’s cheap insurance in making sure you end up where you intend.
We were paddling along in inches of water about a half mile offshore. Of course the wind blew. The water had just begun rising. I spotted a large hole, deeper water surrounded by practically dry land, and staked out next to it, sure fish were there.
The first cast confirmed my suspicion. A seatrout, not quite large enough to hold batter, smacked the shad. A couple more casts produced another.
That hole provided the hottest piece of fishing the trip produced, twenty or thirty trout to 20 inches, a few redfish, and a flounder, for about 40 minutes. Then the water got too deep, the bite dried up, and we still had a long way to go. So off we went.
Our last morning we faced a nine-mile paddle to Mike’s car, parked at Sea Hag Marina on the Steinhatchee River. We were going into the wind, but blessedly it was light. The brilliant morning sun shone. Up ahead a half mile or so I could see birds diving and what I thought were fish breaking. I paddled hard to get there, wondering what kind of fish they were, anticipating some hot action.
Silly me. What I thought were fish was a flock of mergansers chasing minnows, their splashes in the glare of the sun and the diving gulls above them luring me into needless exertion. I didn’t mind.
Steinhatchee came into view. It looked so close! I got off the kayak to take a short break, and said to Mike, “The weather could not be any nicer!” He agreed.
I got back into the boat, took one stroke, and BAM! Rudely, a harsh wind punched us right in the face, again. In an instant it was blowing 20. We had to go straight into it, waves coming over the bow of the boat. Steinhatchee wasn’t so close any more.
That last two miles took us close to two hours of struggle, the wind laughing as it toyed with us. We finally gained the lee shore of the river, and worked our way back to Sea Hag Marina. Mike’s truck sat there silently, waiting to take us home.
Our Big Bend Paddle Adventure had ended.
Nuts and Bolts
We took a sixty mile paddle trip from the Aucilla River to Steinhatchee. We drove to Steinhatchee first, stayed in a cabin at Sea Hag Marina (352.498.3008), and got a shuttle the next morning to the Aucilla from Russ McAllister at Suwannee Guides (352.542.8331). There are other trips available and other ways to go about getting the shuttle done, but our method worked well, and is recommended.
Camping not your idea of a good time? There’s lodging available (bed and shower) along the way, not enough to eliminate camping, but enough to cut back on it.
–Econfina River Resort on the Econfina River, 850.584.2135
–Spring Warrior Fish Camp on Spring Warrior Creek. These folks were very nice to us. 850.838.2035.
–Sea Hag Marina in Steinhatchee. These folks were really nice to us. 352.498.3008.