In short: Me and Tina put the canoe on a St. Marys River running about as low as I have ever seen it. We broke a motor mount on a stump the first hour, pushed and pulled the boat more times than I could count, and then watched an 8-foot alligator slide off the Florida bank into the water right where we wanted to camp. We pitched the tent anyway, watched for his eyes all night, and woke up to a boat full of blue cats.
I have paddled the St. Marys a lot of times, and I have never seen it this low. The water was so clear you could count the sandbars laid out ahead of you. Pretty in its own way, but low water makes you work. We hit a stump early and broke the throttle motor mount, so we pulled over, reinforced it stronger than it was before, and lost about an hour and a half. After that it was scrape, push, pull, and pick your line. I got out and pushed and pulled that canoe more times than I could count. The river was not done testing us, but we kept going.
We were fishing a white beetle spin and catching redbreast when I looked up and watched about an 8-foot alligator come off the Florida bank and slide into the water. He settled into a deep hole right there. Now here is the decision that matters: we did not run from it. We pulled the boat in, walked the bank, and figured that deep hole would hold catfish and that we could keep an eye on the gator. So we made that spot home. We pitched the tent up on the high ground, back from the water, and planned to shine for his eyes after dark. That is the whole game around gators. You do not panic and you do not give up a good camp. You give them space, keep your food and your dogs close, and stay aware.
We cooked chicken tacos with Spanish rice, said grace, and asked the Lord to keep that gator away from us for the night. I figured once the sun went down I would shine the bank and find his eye. He never showed. Not that night, not the next day. I am sure he was still close by, but he wanted nothing to do with us. Morning came in at 55 degrees with heavy dew, so heavy I could not get a fire going the natural way and finally leaned on the lighter. Tina woke up to scrambled frozen eggs, homegrown sausage in the cast iron, and a fresh coffee on the riverbank. Then the blue cats turned on. We found their hole and pulled them until we had seven big blue catfish and four nice redbreast. That is a fish fry, and a fine way to pay back a river that made us earn it.
Reading low water, keeping calm around gators, and picking a safe camp near wildlife. All of it is in the Canoe Camping Playbook.
Read the Canoe Camping PlaybookYes, if you use your head. Gators are ambush hunters that want nothing to do with you. Camp back from the water, keep food sealed and away from the tent, never feed them, and keep dogs and kids close near the bank. We watched for that gator all night and he never came back.
South Georgia was in a hard drought that season. The river ran shallow enough to count the sandbars ahead. Low water means scraping bottom, pushing the boat by hand, and picking your line carefully around stumps.
We hit a stump and broke the throttle motor mount early. We pulled over, reinforced it stronger than it was before, and lost about an hour and a half. Out here you fix what breaks with what you carry and keep moving.
Seven big blue catfish and four nice redbreast, plenty for a good fish fry. A white beetle spin took the redbreast and the blue cats were stacked in a deep hole right by camp.
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