If
plunging over a waterfall in a barrel is on your bucket list, I have two suggestions. First, put it at the end of your list (if you don't understand why, then go ahead and move it up to the front). And second, do your practice runs over Steinhatchee
Falls. The "Falls" as the locals call them, have everything an aspiring
daredevil could want; a nice county park with ample parking for media crews, a rocky,
limestone bottom for an added element of danger, and a name
the news crew will love. "Steinhatchee" is Seminole for "dead man's river."
Best of all, the falls are only a few feet high. This translates to a short hang time, which means
you'll be out of the water and into the media frenzy before the reporter can say
"did anybody put film in the cam….."
Below
the Falls, Steinhatchee River offers a scenic study Gulf coast geology. Look closely at the limestone that stands as low ledges and random outcroppings along much of the lower river and you'll see fossils of sea creatures
that lived here nearly 45 million years ago when this area was
under water. Occasional shoals and areas pocked with
solution holes create shallow, Swiss-cheese moonscapes on the river bottom that are not only attractive, but fun to paddle. Detailed maps will show a few springs along the river. But, like the falls, the promise of them is more exciting than the reality. Like all Florida's springs, these used to be more substantial. Today, they would more accurately be labeled "seeps," whose greatest contributions to the river might be as stinky conversation-starters for passing paddlers.
Steinhatchee
is a blackwater river. It’s dark brown, tannin-stained flow originates in
Mallory Swamp. After a 20 mile meander through the swamp, most of its flow disappears
into a network of underground channels. A few miles later, after passing under
Hwy 19, it re-emerges a bolder, more clearly defined stream. After winding
through ten miles of well-shaded forest, picking up the meager flows of Steinhatchee,
Iron and several other small springs, the river widens dramatically. In its
final miles before flowing into the Gulf of Mexico, Steinhatchee River bears no
resemblance to its upper reaches. Four hundred feet wide and lined with salt
marshes and sparse coastal hardwood forests, the river here is more about the
sea than the land—as are the people who live in the quiet little fishing town
of Steinhatchee at the rivers mouth.
Wildlife
Beavers,
whose range currently does not extend south of the Suwannee river basin, have an obvious presence here, including a well built dam that is easily seen
from the river. Manatees and otters are frequently seen in the area below Cooey
Island.
History
The
name Steinhatchee, originally spelled Asten Hatchee, is a Seminole word meaning
"Dead Man's River." There's no record of why the river took this
name, but I'm happy to report that corpses are scarce along
this quite stream these days. During the First Seminole War, Andrew Jackson led
his army across the river at the famous old ford at Steinhatchee Falls (the
launch site for or paddle trip) on his way to attack the Seminole towns along
Suwannee River. Two decades later, Zachary Taylor followed the same route and
camped alongside the ford during the Second Seminole Wars. It was during that conflict that the seeds of the first
settlement along the river were planted in the form of Frank Brook on the river's north
bank near the present town. These days, the town's reputation
for being a favorite refuge for presidents is bolstered every time Jimmy Carter
comes down to spend time in this, his favorite fishing retreat in Florida.
