Birds and wildlife love the marshes of Newnans Lake. On this trip we'll explore the SE corner of the lake, below Palm Point.
The meeting site is at the lake, about 10 miles east of Gainesville. The cost is $50 per person. ($39 for "wanna go" members). With your own boat it's $35 per person. ($25 for members).
Calendar of Tour dates:
www.adventureoutpost.net
History
On a map of Gainesville, run your finger along University Avenue as it runs an arrow-straight line towards the east. A few miles east of town, your finger will suddenly slide into a large, peanut-shaped patch of blue labeled Newnans Lake. If it's a recent map, it may have the name Pithlachocco in parenthesis. This Seminole name, meaning "place where canoes are made" is slowly being resurrected as tribute to a huge cache of ancient dugout canoes recently found there (we'll ignore the fact that these canoes predate the Seminoles, who were actually immigrant Creek Indians, arriving in Florida in the 1700's).
What the map doesn't show is the quiet, scenic beauty of this huge lake. Three miles wide and spanning five miles from north to south, Newnans Lake is rimmed by a mature swamp forest of cypress with assorted other species such as tupelo, pop ash, hollies, maples, sweet gum and more. Pines, laurel oak and live oak are also found near the shore where higher, drier ground nears the shoreline.
In many areas, the open water washes directly into the forest. In others, the lake is edged with beautiful cattail marshes, decorated with bright yellow flowers of water primrose and bur marigolds. These marshes are often teaming with bird life.
Drifting in a canoe or kayak, with an occasional bald eagle soaring overhead, you can see little blue herons, great blue herons, great egrets, snowy egrets, cormorants, anhingas, vultures and chattering gangs of red-wing blackbirds. In the winter, several species of ducks set up housekeeping in these marshes.
Without question, it's the ospreys that rule the skies over Newnans Lake. For millennia, these master fishers have shamed their human counterparts who could only watch, slack-jawed and humbled as they gracefully swooped and plucked lunkers from the waters before them. In the days of falconry, trainers tried to teach ospreys the fine art of catching prey and delivering it back to their "masters." Their efforts only half succeeded. The ospreys eagerly caught the fish, but could never bring themselves to share with the foolish person below. In the end, the falconers were left with the same dumbfounded expression on their face as the fishermen.
History
A few years ago, during a record setting drought, I led a hike across the exposed lake bed of Newnans Lake. As we bushwhacked through lush thickets of fennel, primrose willow and other vegetation that had sprouted luxuriantly in the exposed muck, we stopped frequently to examine assorted treasures; the remains of an old railroad pier (complete with tracks) once used for hauling logs from the lake to the nearest mill; the rotting frame of a decrepit fishing boat, scuttled, perhaps on a doomed outing that some fisherman wishes he could forget; assorted items such as tires, cinder blocks and engine parts, which shared the common fate of spending their final days as poor man's anchors. And, of course, lots of beer bottles, whose proximity to the sunken boat seemed fitting. We also stumbled over many pieces of driftwood, much of it firmly planted in the mud with just a weathered end poking up. We didn't pay it much mind. Nor did we give much thought to the guys we met who seemed determined to redirect our course, eagerly telling us we'd find many interesting things in the other direction.
A few days later, the story behind both the field of driftwood and the men who tried to lead us away from it, became clear when Gainesville Sun ran an article titled "Indian Canoes Discovered on Newnans Lake." The canoes themselves weren't the big story, it was their numbers. At first count, it appeared that there were over 20 of the ancient boats in the muck, and possibly more. By the time the story played out and waters again covered the lake-bed, the count stood at over 100, making this the largest single cache of prehistoric Indian canoes found in Florida.
I don't think the discovery of Newnans Lake's canoes really surprised anyone who's familiar with this amazing lake. Several large villages, burial mounds and a number of smaller sites point to a significant amount of prehistoric activity over the last 12,000 years. Most significant of all is it's proximity to Paynes Prairie, which is essentially one huge archaeological site composed of many individual components.
The written record reveals of this area reveals even more intrigue. In 1812, Col. Daniel Newnan rode into local history books when he and an army of Georgia volunteers encountered the Seminole chief, King Payne, on the ancient Alachua Trail, just east of Newnan's lake. Following an intense day of battle, Newnan's force, finding themselves outnumbered and outflanked, built a breastwork of logs. Here they remained under siege for nearly a week. Finally, in desperation, they slipped out under cover of darkness and fled back to St. Augustine. It was a bitter victory for the Seminoles, however. One of the few Indian fatalities of the engagement was King Payne who died from wounds a short time later.
The following year, another contingent of soldiers swept through the area, killing or capturing every Indian they found and burned their homes. But, Payne's legacy didn't die there on Newnan's battlefield. The nearby Alachua Savanna would soon come to be called Paynes Prairie in honor of the fallen chief, whose village (recently excavated) was located on its southeastern border. Newnan would be similarly honored as the name of the lake lying near the scene of his thrashing, was changed from Pithlachucco to Newnans. I can't help but wonder if the first versions of the name change were something like "the lake where Newnan was throttled by the Seminoles," only to evolve into the trimmed down version we know today.
Highlights
The high waters will allow us to paddle close to the beautiful cypress stands which flank the lakes edge. Birders will enjoy the variety of species seen on this lake. At times, some species are seen in large enough numbers to warrant the use of those wonderful gems of our language, collective nouns. They're too fun to ignore, so... ... In the trees at lake's edge, we often see a gulp of cormorants, whose deep, guttural croakings sound like Geiger counters, intensifying quickly when limb-side neighbors encroach on each others 1 foot perimeter of 'personal space.' A murder of crows (not to be mistaken for an unkindness of ravens) is less likely, but possible. Occasionally, a siege of great blue herons will be seen in the shallows, also mindful of each other's personal space issues. Hidden in the marshes, you might come on a sord of mallards or a spring of teal. While out in the open water, you're more likely to see a cover of coots, or a paddling of ducks (if they take flight, they become a brace). Overhead, it's doubtful you'll see a convocation of bald eagles or a kettle of hawks, but you'll probably see one or two. Sadly, I doubt anyone will spot a bouquet of pheasants (they don't live here) or an ostentation of peacocks (I had to find some way to work these fun names into the paragraph) . And, if you get tired, you need only look to the ever-present wake of vultures circling overhead for inspiration to make it back to the launch site.
Questions or reservations: e-mail -
riverguide2000@yahoo.com , or call (386) 454-0611
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