The sun burned down as I found my way to a bejungled blackwater off the shoulder of highway 17 downeast near Wilmington NC. It was a solitary sidetrip to a relaxing beachy weekend with Heather. As I continue to craft a wonder for locales both native and natural; ordinary yet offbeat, I pause to consider why I’m drawn to these places. It has something to do with not wanting to take things for granted. I don’t want to overlook the often-overlooked. I’m curious. Oh, and I’m cheap…so, for now, instead of flying to Belize, I wander to the edge of town for a sustainable sojourn. Occasionally I’m rewarded for these myopic tendencies.
Town Creek, like many of our southern blackwater streams, slides quietly through a dark bottomland of cypress and gum. This one feels the slight push and pull of the tides as it shares water with the Cape Fear River. I have only taken my canoe on one other such stream and I was then accompanied by 6 adventurous men. Now it was just me and my red canoe…and two competing emotions: awe and apprehension. The awe was focused on the lush greenery swaying below the waterline, and on the palmettos, water lilies, silvery fish schools, and a vibrantly golden Prothonotary Warbler. The apprehension intermittently reminded me that I was alone in a swamp, that hordes of yellow flies could descend on me at any time, and that those lily pads could easily conceal a hungry gator intent on bagging the rare solo canoeist. I scanned the mudflats casually for tracks and swatted only a few times at the annoying yellow fly. I sat often in the shade listening to exotic songbirds and recalling the tale of a lone orchid thief risking much worse conditions in a similar yet far distant swamp.
No comments:
Post a Comment