Marsanne Petty

Seeing the Swamp

First was the museum. Parking in a small lot surrounded by native trees belied the fact that an educational facility lies beyond the branches. A boarded walkway leads to a raised frame building - built on stilts, in case of future and inevitable floods. Inside, we are greeted by an elderly and friendly woman with a wealth of information at her fingertips, much of it memorized. She told stories of settlers who had first come to the swamp more than a hundred years ago. She pointed out species of animals we might see when visiting the river and the swamp. After watching a short video extolling the benefits and the imminent dangers of the swamp, we and listened to various animal calls that could be heard in the wild. We walked the banks of the Suwannee River, finding animal tracks along the shore. Turkeys, deer, and raccoons. Tracks covered the muddy edge, the thick, sticky mud clinging to our tennis shoes and boots as we gingerly made our way down the river. After exploring the area around the museum, we moved on. Bare Limbs The river provides much needed water and food for the various animals that find themselves living on the "civilized" edge of the swamp. Of course, there were houses and stores, a library and a school, even the museum. But the standing glory of Fargo is that it is surrounded by prime hunting land - open for deer, hog, and bear (at certain times) hunting to those who will pay the price to have the right to hunt there. It's quite likely that more people frequent the single convenience store because they are members of the surrounding hunting clubs than because of the simple fact that they live there. Those that live in these small towns rarely do their shopping there; they make the commute to a larger town with a greater variety of shops and goods. Boardwalk As we were leaving, there was the first sign: Highway 177. Four counties we drove through. Seventeen miles, the green signs located in Fargo, Georgia, proclaimed. Let's make a game of it, we decided. We would keep track of the mile marker signs and the higher the number, the closer we were to our destination. Of course, it didn't work out that way - it didn't occur to any of us to think that the mile markers would restart their counting at each county line. Of course, it didn't work that way. Trips never do, no matter how well planned they are, and this one had been a spur of the moment decision. Numerous counties. Three photo stops. One "I have to pee" stop. Each time we crossed a new county line, we had to start over at zero. By the third county, none of us could remember what our first numbers were, so we drove aimlessly, timelessly, singing "We Will Rock You" by Queen and waiting for the final sign: "Entering the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge." Fall Grasses The sign finally came - an open yellow gate (closes at sundown), we drive on through and are promptly surprised by the lack of change in scenery. All we saw were the same trees we had seen for the past seventeen miles. We visit the gift shop - not much to see there, other than overpriced novelty items that can be found in most any outdoorsy type store. Alligators on a stick with opening and closing jaws, alligator jaw replicas, coonskin caps, "handmade" fake bow and arrow kits. Raccoon Track The boardwalk was amazing. Of course, its hard to surprise any animals when an eight year old runs ahead of you to see what the next numbered site should be. A handy pamphlet provided at the start of the boardwalk outlined the numbers and their corresponding "scenery," ranging from plants, types of swamps and bogs, and the various animals that could be seen at that location. With no promise of a viewing, it was difficult to keep the children quiet - they wanted a guarantee. They want to see something. A wealth of information could be found in the pamphlet but the only thing that isn't found in it is the length of the boardwalk. There was a small sign posted at the beginning of the walkway, but it fails to mention that the first boardwalk is a dead end - the distance was actually double what was posted on the sign. Other visitors may want to take that into consideration if they plan to follow the hiking trail that leads back around to the boating arena. There are three alligators waiting for us when we arrive at the end of the hiking trail. A relatively small one and two rather large ones. We stand and stare at them, me snapping pictures as quickly as possible, as though they may disappear. The boys made strange and random noises, trying to make the alligators stir, but with the cool weather of November, they simply ignored the children. One of the children put in for a boat ride. "A boat ride," the kids pleaded. "A boat ride, we promise we'll be good." Their faces looked up at me, expectant. "And quiet," the oldest one added. I relented - only a boat ride would do. We consulted the information booklet that we had been given upon our arrival. We were just in time for a boat ride, so we rushed around to the loading ramp, only to find that all of the boat seats had been previously reserved. Questions we asked, tears were shed by the youngest, the oldest argued that we should have come earlier. A volunteer guide offered to take us on the hour and a half tour. Another couple joined us at the last minute. Tangled Cypress Our guide kept up a running commentary of the families who had originally settled the 700 acre swamp, the ghostly stories that some visitors reported, and interesting facts about the animals and plants that called the swamp home. The boat ride was calming, although cold. My jacket wasn't warm enough for the chill of the air and the wind from the ride. The boys wanted to see more alligators, but the weather was just too cool. There were several excellent photography opportunities and we all enjoyed the ride, but there were no alligators to be seen. "Come back when the weather is warmer," our guide advised with a slip of a grin. It was evident that this scene had been played out in his presence before today. Watched by the Alligator Upon our return to the boat arena, the same three alligators remained waiting on us. Noises still didn't bother them. The hour was getting late and the weather colder, so we made our way back to the car. A spur of the moment trip can turn into the trip of a lifetime. Although we don't live very far from the Okefenokee Swamp, this was our first visit there. Throughout the day, we had some very interesting conversations with one another, and both children have asked countless times to return. I got some excellent photographs out of the adventure, and we look forward to another trip in the spring, when the weather is warmer, and the alligators will move around more. If interested in visiting the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, please visit www.okefenokee.com, email swampers@okefenokee.com, or call 912-496-4472.