For the first time since hitting the Gulf, I paddled the entire day's stretch on the inside route. From Apalachicola to Faye Langley's backyard, it was a total inside run.

Gill from the Apalachicola Maritime Museum came out to see me off, and then he and his wife drove further upstream to wave and snap a few shots. Roxanne Weglinski, whom I met at the FSU marine lab, and who will be graciously hosting me tonight after a "meet and greet" at "the Canoe Shop" in Panama City, told me that this route was real pretty. The first section of it was, and I took a ton of pictures.

From Apalachicola to the Route 71 bridge, the native vegetation is lush and beautiful. Birds chatter non stop in the trees, and the place seems to just overflow with life. I could look at cypress trees and palmettos forever. It is non stop wonderment to paddle along that waterway, through the middle of Wimico Lake, and back into the waterway. Mullet hurl themselves out of the water all along that stretch. I snuck up, without knowing it, on a huge gar which leapt out of the way right next to my boat, startling me, too. I'd been on the look out for 'gators, but saw none until the end of the day.

At ten o'clock I hit my Spot locator, right at the tip of Lake Wimico. About a half an hour later, my cell phone (I don't own a watch) said "9:30." I hit the time zone demarcation. Throughout the paddle my phone switched from Central to Eastern and back again, so I was never quite sure exactly which time was the right one, and where exactly was that demarcation?

Somewhere around the Route 71 bridge the scenery changes. Here it is all pines, as the paper mills have bulldozed all the native vegetation to plant pine for paper. With the change in vegetation comes a change in what you hear when you paddle this stretch. The most striking thing, beside the absent palmettos and cypress and bar banks that are obviously more susceptible to damaging boat wakes, is the silence. As much as the earlier part of the paddle was full of life, this was devoid of it. Shortly after going under the bridge, and before the cut to Port St. Joe's, I spied a dead dolphin in the shallows. Getting as close as I dared to in case an alligator was nearby, I snapped a few pictures. After all my live dolphin sightings, this one was so sad and lonely.

Eventually I paddled by some homes, my heading changed, and I knew that I was closing in on the next bridge. But where to keep the boat? The day is not over until the Fuze is stored safely somewhere for the night. I paddled around a bit and then figured I'd join poor Joe, who had been waiting for me for hours at the boat ramp, and scout out a place to hide the boat.

Faye Langley arrived home from work. She lives across from the boat ramp, and both Joe and I had thought it looked like the perfect place to keep the boat. She very kindly allowed me to stow the boat on her property and graciously offered me water, too. The goodness of people never ceases to amaze me, and it gives me hope for our future. As long as people care we can move in the right direction.

Joe and I are stoked, too, that because of the time difference, we can eat breakfast at 7 and leave at twenty to 8 to get to Faye's home at 7!