First Magnitude Florida

The last great men to fully transverse a river going upstream and using only muscle power were most likely Lewis and Clark. It certainly hasn’t been done more than a handful of times in the 21st century – if at all. Blame it on GMOs, manbuns, Netflix, peanut allergies, or craft beer – today’s man just isn’t the paddler that he used to be. Maybe all that is an exaggeration… but the point is, I powered my way the length of the Rainbow River upstream to the spring source.

Now, I’m not sure where the Rainbow River of Dunnellon, Florida ranks amongst the world’s longest rivers, but it is certainly a challenge and a pleasure to kayak. Rainbow Springs boasts a first magnitude discharge classification, with about a dozen springs forming a “spring group” releasing about 447 cubic feet of water per second.

The Rainbow is majestic and full of life, with clear water that you can see down thirty feet. Along the bottom you can watch cormorants chase prey, throw a lure on top of a bass’s head to scare him away, or watch turtles weave in and out of seagrass. The clarity of the water reveals limestone rocks littered along the river bed. The stones displayed are partially dissolved, hinting at the long process that forms springs in Florida. As rainwater percolates through the surface, it mixes with carbon dioxide and forms carbonic acid. The relatively weak acid eats away the soft limestone which is the bedrock of the state, a process which over time forms caves and caverns and springs.

Going back to the earliest known inhabitants of the area, the Tinucua Indian Tribes, humans have long been drawn to the river’s beauty and cool, clean water. A weekend on the river today will offer as much people watching as nature viewing. The Rainbow River is absolutely stunning and pristine, but only a downtown resident of Bejing would consider the river remotely peaceful on a weekend. Which is fine, as long as you can get some enjoyment out of people watching and dodging children’s squirt guns.

Perhaps my favorite group to observe was fighting couples. Any man who has paddled a kayak or canoe with his girlfriend or wife knows that at some point during the trip, you think: “I really should have just brought a few sandbags and draped a paddle over them instead”. Actually… You usually don’t just think it, you say something along those lines. Which doesn’t land well. Yes, a weekend on the river is not complete unless you observe a couple or two threatening divorce in a canoe.

A couple scenarios warned me of the dangers of child rearing. One young boy of about five years showed his dominance of a decent sized vessel. Standing in the front of a canoe, he rotated his body and rested his fishing pole squarely on his mother’s head seated the middle of the boat, while his father in the back added a fresh worm to his hook. He then rotated again, and fished. Quite impressive, this young Jack Sparrow. In another situation, I watched as a father powered his family up the tough current in a canoe, as his wife held onto a small child. The little boy held his mother’s paddle overboard, blocking as much water as possible. I met eyes with the man: “I honestly should have just brought along a few sandbags, thrown a small anchor overboard, and then paddled upstream.”

Kids are cute though of course.

One particularly interesting section of the Rainbow is where it collides with the mighty Withlacoochie River, and effectively ends its run. The crystal clear, 72 degree spring water runs about 6.5 miles until it quietly collides with the much longer, brown-colored, “winding river”. At this meeting point with the Withlacoochie, a blurred line forms. On one side, you can see down ten feet to the bottom, on the other side nothing beneath the surface is revealed. The Withlacoochie is a different kind of beautiful, more mysterious and gives the “old Florida” vibe with alligators surely lurking around every bend. Near this point of merger, I began and ended my journey along a Florida jewel long enjoyed by the many.