Chapter 8
The crew awoke to the smell of hot coffee and an active campfire. It was another chilly, misty morning, and Sarah and Everett were up early, preparing for the day ahead. Remy, once again, returned to the camp kitchen, volunteering to fix the day’s breakfast. While Remy prepared the eggs and bacon, Sarah mixed together her biscuit dough and worked her magic. “We still have plenty of jams and jelly, so be sure to help yourselves!”
The crew, now fully awake, decided to tear down most of the encampment while Remy and Sarah cooked breakfast. As predictable as the sunrise, Everett checked his GPS, glanced over Tom’s map, and checked the weather on his Marine radio. “Looks to be another great paddle day, folks. Clear, lower 70s, and smooth sailing,” he announced.
While Everett ensured everything was set for the day’s journey, Maggie and Riley started packing up their tents and sleeping bags, folding and rolling them with practiced ease. The campsite, which had been a bustling hub of activity the night before, gradually transformed back into its natural state, with only the remnants of the campfire and the smell of breakfast in the air.
As the bacon sizzled and the biscuits browned to perfection, the crew fell into a comfortable rhythm. Maggie gathered up the cooking utensils from the previous night and began washing them in Buttonbush Creek, while Riley sorted through their supplies, ensuring everything was stowed away properly.
By the time breakfast was ready, the camp was nearly packed up. They all gathered around the fire, plates in hand, and enjoyed the hearty meal, discussing their plans and sharing a few laughs. The morning mist began to lift, revealing the serene beauty of their surroundings.
The Sentinel Cypress River stretched out before them, wide and inviting, its current noticeably stronger than Buttonbush Creek. Sunlight dappled the water with a mosaic of light and shadow. Tall cypress trees, draped in Spanish moss, lined the banks, their gnarled roots gripping the riverbed like ancient guardians.
With breakfast finished and the last of their gear packed, they extinguished the fire, making sure to leave no trace of their campsite. They loaded the canoes with their supplies, ensuring everything was secure for the journey ahead.
Everett took a final look at the GPS and Tom’s map, giving a nod of approval. “Alright, let’s hit the water. We’ll shoot for another 15 miles today,” he said, leading the way to the edge of the Sentinel Cypress River. The crew followed, their excitement palpable as they pushed off from the shore, ready for the day’s adventure.
As they paddled along, a comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the rhythmic splash of paddles and the occasional call of wildlife. About two miles into their journey, Remy noticed a pensive expression on Sarah’s face.
“Hey, Moonflower,” he said softly, using the nickname she had given herself. “You seem lost in thought. Everything okay?”
Sarah glanced at him, a flicker of sadness in her eyes. “It’s just… I’ve been thinking a lot about my dad lately,” she admitted.
Remy dipped his paddle, slowing his pace to match hers. “Would you be open to talking about him?” he asked gently. “We’ve been friends for a while now, but I never really knew much about your family.”
Sarah hesitated for a moment, surprised by his empathy. The dam holding back her emotions seemed to crack. Perhaps sharing her burden and grief would further strengthen the bond they were forging. Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze. “I’d be happy to,” she replied softly.
As they paddled down the river, Sarah began to share her story. She spoke of her father, Thomas Jr., an adventurous soul with a boundless passion for exploration and a fascination with hidden corners of Florida. She recounted the captivating tales he told, especially about Renegade Bayou—a place shrouded in mystery where her grandfather, Tom Rivers, had vanished years ago. Sarah’s father had devoted his life to uncovering the secrets of that bayou and the disappearance of his father, but his quest remained unfinished when he passed away. The pendant nestled against her chest thrummed with a faint warmth, a silent affirmation of the connection she felt to her father and grandfather, and their unfulfilled quests.
The group listened intently, their faces reflecting a mix of empathy and fascination. When she finished, a thoughtful silence descended upon them.
“Thank you for sharing that, Sarah,” Maggie said finally, her voice filled with warmth. “That was incredibly honest.”
“Yeah,” Riley chimed in, “we never knew any of that. It definitely makes this trip even more meaningful.”
Remy nodded, his eyes reflecting a new understanding. “It’s clear how much your family’s story means to you. It gives this adventure a whole new layer.”
The acknowledgment of her personal history seemed to deepen their bond, intertwining their own journey with the legacy Sarah carried. As they continued down the river, the weight of their shared stories and the significance of their quest settled around them, adding a profound sense of purpose to their adventure.
Sarah smiled, a wave of relief washing over her. Sharing her story had been cathartic, a weight lifted from her shoulders. The journey down the Sentinel Cypress was no longer just about reaching Renegade Bayou; it was about forging deeper connections and sharing their burdens with each other.
Everett, ever the navigator, scanned the river ahead. “Hey everyone,” he announced, a grin spreading across his face. “Looks like we’re nearing the end of our 15-mile journey for today. Up ahead, nestled amongst the trees, I see a rustic camp platform that’s marked here on the map. Perfect spot to rest our weary bones and share some stories around a crackling fire.”
As they paddled towards the platform, a collective sigh of relief escaped their lips. “And a functioning porta-potty!” Riley exclaimed, her voice filled with mock theatrics. “Civilization at last!” They’d all silently harbored similar desperate longings for the past few hours, and Riley’s outburst brought forth a chorus of laughter.
The platform, set 6 feet above the water with wide wooden steps leading down to the river, offered a welcome change from their previous campsite. They secured their canoes to the cleats along the platform’s edge. Remy and Everett were first up the platform, instructing the rest to hand up the gear they would need for the night. With that done, they all stepped up onto the platform for an assessment. It was quite accommodating, measuring 25’ x 40’. On one end was a picnic table with a covered roof, and at the south end of the platform was the port-a-potty, maintained by the forestry department and surprisingly clean.
“Ladies first!” Riley declared as she dashed toward the door, clearly in need.
“Looks like we can use the camp grill over there, and there’s a firewood box,” Remy observed. Lifting the lid to the box, he found ample firewood for the evening’s meal. Meanwhile, everyone took their turn in the port-a-potty, with Remy joking, “I’ll gladly be last… you don’t want to come in after me!”
“Thanks for the warning, Remy. You’re so thoughtful,” Maggie said, laughing and shaking her head.
Dinner was simple but satisfying: spaghetti, garlic bread, and a salad. They needed to use up the greens before they spoiled and planned to resupply at Whitey’s in the next two days.
As night fell, the sky was a canvas of stars, and the quiet beauty of the platform in the middle of nowhere was striking. After dinner and a thorough clean-up, each person retired to their own space to relax. Sarah and Everett, sitting together on the edge of the platform, admired the star-filled sky and each other. Everett reached into his back pocket, retrieving the Emergency 1800, and they shared a few shots, holding hands and savoring the moment…happy to be together.
~ Chapter 7 : Buttonbush Creek ~ Chapter 9 : Healing Currents ~