In short: This is day one of a solo canoe camping trip on the Withlacoochee River in north Florida, twenty six miles I had never paddled with three sets of shoals and a three foot drop ahead. Five miles in a submerged limestone rock broke my trolling motor clean off. I patched it with a tree-limb splint, zip ties, and the last of my black tape, and it held all the way to camp, where four fresh catfish fried up on the riverbank as good as it gets.
I met a nice man named Jeb taking out with his grandson who gave me a few pointers, then I pushed off for four days and three nights, aiming to come out at the Suwannee River State Park in Live Oak, Florida. The Withlacoochee threw shoals at me right away. You hear the water before you get to it, and that gets the old heart pounding when you have never been here and do not know what is waiting. One drop was two and a half, maybe three foot, the first time I had ever run anything like it. Pretty freaking neat and pretty freaking heart pounding all at once. A couple times I hung up on a rock and had to get halfway out of the canoe to slide over, then hit it and go.
Then it happened. I do not know if y'all heard the ding, but the motor was up like this and hit a rock sticking up and broke it clean off. I had black tape and zip ties in the tackle box and tried to patch it, but it kept spinning and would not hold. So I pulled over, cut an L shaped limb, and put it on there like a splint on a broken leg with the zip ties and the last of my tape. It might not be aerodynamically correct, but I believed it would work, and sure enough it got us to camp. First thing I learned, put a full roll of duct tape in the carry bag from now on, because I ran completely out.
By four o'clock, with zero cell service, I started looking for a flat spot about twelve by twelve with two trees for the hammock. I found a pretty shelf up out of the water, strung the hammock, and threw the tarp up. Camp was barely set when I picked up the rod, and the first catfish hit almost before the bait settled. Then another, and another, good channel cats one after the next. I kept four, enough for a fresh fry that night and cold fish for breakfast, and let the rest go back. A little Zatarain's fish fry with lemon, that jet burner, and man, that catfish was swimming an hour ago.
While I was setting camp I heard something on the rock, looked up, and there was a doe climbing the bank. She reached the top, stopped, looked down at me, and ran off. I said grace over that supper and thanked the Lord for getting me through those shoals I was not used to, because I know He was riding with me. I hung the food in case a wandering bear came through, and settled in around nine to the sound of a whip-poor-will, my favorite sound in nature. Them rapids made me nervous, but a beautiful spot and fresh fish fried on the river, it does not get much better.
Running shoals blind, field-repairing broken gear, choosing a shelf camp, and cooking your catch. It is all in the Canoe Camping Playbook.
Read the Canoe Camping PlaybookWhen tape and zip ties would not hold, I cut an L shaped limb and used it as a splint on the broken mount, like a splint on a broken leg, then wrapped it with black tape and zip ties. It was not aerodynamically correct, but it held all the way to the takeout.
Yes. This stretch in north Florida has several shoal lines and small rapids, including a couple of two to three foot drops over limestone. You can hear the water before you reach it, so pick your line and hit it clean.
Bring a full roll of duct tape, zip ties, and a knife for field repairs, plus a way to make fire and cook. On this trip I learned to keep a roll of duct tape in the carry bag from now on, because the scrap I had barely got me through.
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