As we run south, away from the launch ramp at C.S. Lee Park in Geneva, Florida, the narrow ribbon of dark water begins to burst open into a massive floodplain. My eyes adjust to the vast, wide-angle landscape as I slowly turn my head, letting my mind create a panoramic image of the mosaic. Tall grass swaying in the breeze as far as I can see. Hammocks of sabal palms and cypress trees drooping with Spanish moss provide the only dots of shade in an exposed vista.
When you live on a pancake, as I do in central Florida, you must go to the beach or look inland to find an expanse of wild country such as the one unfolding in front of me on the St. Johns, the state’s longest river. Otherwise, the horizon is typically busted up by another new Walgreens that somehow sprouted up overnight like a daylily. Not here. Not on the oasis that is the St. Johns.
I was sitting in the bow of Jon Cave’s aluminum jonboat, powered by a 15-hp Mercury outboard, as we carved our way through a meandering stretch of water. Cave is a former guide who lives near this section of the river. These days he is an in-demand fly-casting instructor, and his mind is
