First Time Memories Lifted from Facebook

The first time I went to the Ichetucknee, I . . .

| THE FIRST TIME I saw the Ichetucknee, I had crawled through the rambling broken-down Loncala fence with a new friend who insisted I see this beautiful place. It was as if we’d entered an aura of technicolor after making our way under a dark blue-green canopy of oak and dense cedar. Brilliant turquoise in an early morning summer sun made us shield our eyes. The spring pulsing, alive, a creature to be soothed by slipping our bodies slowly into its center. Suspended above the boil as it imperceptibly turned and glided the weight on its back to go forth, lying on our backs, floating on a journey in a chill blue world of crystal water.

The first time I saw the Ichetucknee, I fell in love with it. I was in awe of the clear water and beautiful plants, but I was also heartbroken and moved to action when I witnessed the thousands of beer cans and other trash at the bottom of the river. A friend and I spent many Saturdays cleaning those cans and trash from the river to do our small part to return the river to its natural state.

The first time I saw the Ichetucknee, I was there on an autumn afternoon in 1969 with my two roommates. There was no one else at the headspring and after we had been swimming for a while, I walked up the little hill where the restrooms are now, spreadout a towel, and sat in the late-day sun. Everything was quiet and I started to hear small sounds, like the rustling of leaves–only the sounds got louder and sounded like someone whispering and then like someone talking, but it wasn’t in a language I’d ever heard before. “There must be some people in the woods,” I thought, so I stood up and turned around in a circle, looking for the people I was sure I heard. There was no one there.

The first time I saw the Ichetucknee I was 16 years old. Floating with friends, tubes tied together, you might be the only ones you’d see on the river all day. The eelgrass was in perfect shape and I do not remember the trash of float parties covering the bottom. That came later…it was awful. Psychedelic, I suppose, is the best way to describe my experiences there. The colors, the companions – such happiness and freedom in a truly magical setting. Rope swinging, turtle chasing, Panama Red smoking, screwdriver drinking, freezing ass Paradise. Our coolers held our empties, but there are assholes everywhere. We quit going after trying to get on the river on the 4th of July in 1973. There were a reported 1500 people on the river and we couldn’t get into the spring. I cried as we drove away that day. I have been back only once since it became a park and enjoyed the upper run with family but I remember vividly the approach to the bridge at 27 trying to get everyone to strain for the western shore and make the wobbly exit up to the waiting “retrieval” vehicle left earlier along the roadside. Oh, yes, and the local police and FHP standing on the bridge hoping to snag some intoxicated kids. And, they surely did.

I was with my mom, it was spring, my first thought on seeing that bright blue water was that Ponce de Leon had indeed been right…

Early 60s spent a lot of my weekends floating and snorkeling through the eelgrass.

Early 60s. Directions scribbled on an envelope. Turn right just past the house with survey stakes for sale.

This is not the first time I visited, but the first time my daughter visited the Ichetucknee. She was three. We woke up very early and packed our lunch and a raft into the car. We made it to the park to be the first ones on the river on a Sunday morning in May. She and I floated down the river and we had a contest to see who could be the most quiet, so we wouldn’t scare away the animals. The magic of morning on the Ichetucknee is transcendent. Seeing the birds, snakes, turtles, and otters that morning made our souls as clean as the crystal water, filling us with a quiet joy, a buzz, that only nature provides. She still remembers seeing the otters playing along the side of the river, diving in and spiraling around one another. We pretended that the damselflies were fairies when they landed on our heads and fingers. The Ichetucknee River is perhaps my favorite place in the world.

As a kid, (late 60s to mid 70s) I camped and explored the Ich with my bestie and her dad. I remember seeing the Ichetucknee for the first time and thinking “What? No way!” We were from the Tampa area where murky salt water was the norm. It was hard to comprehend the crystal clear waters, surrounding fauna and abundant wildlife. Dr. — was a diver and fossil collector and became quite obsessed with the river and all the treasures we found. Once I became a mom myself, I was excited to introduce my kids to what had been my favorite river. Soon enough, the Ichetucknee charmed my family and became a special place for all of us.

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