They're cute, these two baby alligators sunning themselves on a log in the Hillsborough River. While my guide, Phil Compton, paddles our canoe closer so I can snap a few photos, he casually mentions that although full-grown gators aren't usually aggressive, the main exception to that rule is a mother who feels her babies are being threatened.
Uh, wouldn't we qualify as a threat? I feel a quick wave of anxiety, envisioning a big angry reptile leaping at me from the bush, jaws bee-lining for my head.
Then suddenly …
The photo op's over, and we paddle on. That's about as harrowing as our mini-trip down the upper Hillsborough River gets, although Compton, regional representative for the local Sierra Club, does add that swimming in these waters could turn a body part into a gator snack.
We launched at John B. Sargent Memorial Park on U.S. 301, three and a half miles north of Fletcher Avenue and many miles from the dam that separates the upper from the lower Hillsborough. The upper is an unspoiled stretch of water and wildlife, while the lower is an urban-damaged ribbon that dumps into the bay at downtown Tampa. In many ways, the two sections are diametrically different.
Immediately after hitting the water, we are encased in green, broken only by dashes of brown logs and branches. The water is the color of root beer because of tannic acid from leaves, Compton explains. "Like tea," he adds. The current is gentle, the paddling easy, the pace slow. I can feel my body loosen; my breaths grow deeper.
If ever there was a tonic for Tampa Bay hubbub, it's a paddling trip on the upper Hillsborough River.
"It is without a doubt, the best wildlife-viewing river in Florida," says Joe Faulk, president of Canoe Escape, a Tampa company that provides paddling excursions on the river. "We're so fortunate to have this kind of nature experience about 12 miles from downtown Tampa."
After Compton and I push off, it takes only about a hundred yards for the traffic noise to vanish. We soon encounter animals: large turtles, an array of birds and an abundance of alligators who pay us no mind. We're walled on each side by a cypress swamp — trees, bushes and flowers — with no signs of civilization. We glide along, navigating the occasional fallen tree, following the river's lazy serpentine route that narrows and widens from about 15 to 50 feet. Now and again, we turn into an invigorating breeze. The sun peeks in and out of the clouds.
When denizens of Tampa Bay consider water recreation, most minds turn to the beach. We have nice beaches, to be sure, but nearly all of them come with people and buildings and boats and stuff to buy and rent. You won't find a lot of buff bods to ogle on the upper river, swimming is a dicey proposition, and you can't pop into a bar for a cold one. But if solitude is what you seek — a true jungle-like refuge from urban life — the Hillsborough is it.
The 54-mile river begins in southwest Pasco County in the Green Swamp and runs southwest to Tampa Bay. It has a 34-mile canoe trail that's designated as part of Florida's Statewide System of Greenways and Trails. Nine parks dot the trail where paddlers can launch their boats.
Compton, 53, a native of South Carolina, says he has limited knowledge of the plant and animal life on the river, and then proceeds to point out an array of plants and animals by name. A roseate spoonbill, with its pink and red plumage, pokes its flattened beak into the water. Limpkins, egrets, great blue herons. A 6-foot gator slides off a log and disappears into the ink. Buttonwood and pickerel plants.
Compton's cellphone rings repeatedly — there are some urgent legislative issues in Tallahassee on this Monday afternoon — but he's glad to be out on the river. A black, brimmed cap covers his weathered face and gray-flecked beard.
Yes, the river provides a lovely escape, but it's far more than that to Compton. "It's the heart of Tampa," he says. "It's a place where life begins for all of Tampa Bay. It gives us water, gives us life."
The Hillsborough River is split into two essential sections: above and below the dam, which is situated just south of Busch Gardens. "They're whole different systems," Compton says.
Above the dam is far healthier. The river below the dam has died a thousand deaths over the last 35 years, but it is on the mend today thanks to a long-negotiated environmental agreement to send more water over the dam.
The entire Hillsborough is victimized by stormwater runoff that sends pollutants (a chief culprit is fertilizer) into its flow. The upper river gets far less pollution because a) the decreased population density produces less, and b), says Compton, "The water comes from suburban areas, but is filtered through the cypress swamp before it gets to the river. Wetlands are natural filters, the best you can get. You destroy the wetlands, and you cannot create [filters] that are nearly as effective."
So we paddle through the naturally filtered, ice-tea-colored water, knowing that the office awaits.
We paddle a little bit longer.
This article appears in May 7-13, 2008.