Jul 23 2008
The Water Way—The Swamp
There’s something about a swamp that captures our imaginations. Maybe it’s the close, clinging, humid air. The constant drone of insect life. Or the heady perfume of rot and renewal. Or is it the green, shadowy, inviting labyrinths, the channels that wander everywhere but end up going nowhere? Or maybe—this is the likeliest explanation, I think—it’s all of these things. And of all the swamps I’ve known, one stands out above the rest. It’s nameless, at least on the maps, and it’s nothing much to look at, but the locals know it’s something special. To them, it’s always been The Swamp, and that’s what I call it, too.
I caught my first glimpse of The Swamp through the windshield of an aging Jeep, while I was driving to a new job, many years ago. The road I took that day cut across the Flats, a well-watered lowland that nestled in the perpetual half-light of a hollow between two ridges. My route to work was anything but direct. It ran along the first ridge, then plummeted headlong onto the Flats, only to claw its way back up to the crest of the second ridge. Looking down from the high road, I caught a glimpse of open water to the north. I didn’t know it at the time, but I’d just seen The Swamp. Once on the Flats, however, all I could see was an occasional drowned pine, the weathered ivory of its trunk towering over the low green wall of the dense roadside scrub. There was no concealing the smell, though. The musky perfume was unmistakable.
Few paddlers could resist such a challenge, and I was no exception. I’d just gotten my first canoe, and I longed to get a closer look at the secret waters visible only from the high road. But work came first, and for week after week I got no nearer than the ridge tops. The Flats kept its secrets, and as summer gave way to early autumn, and fog filled the hollow between the hills, I was denied even the occasional glint of sunlight on water. The dead pines, too, were lost in the ever-present mist. Only the lusty stink of decaying vegetation remained to remind me of what I’d seen. Read more…
