Friday, December 7. All but Bill and Sheryl arrived circa 4:30 pm at Stephen Foster. We checked in with the Ranger and asked about the distance to Big Water, because we had been unable to get consistent information by telephone. The Ranger, who impressed none of us as knowing much about canoeing or the canoeing trails, said 12 miles, and the locally hand-drawn, photocopied map offered free in the Park store also said 12 miles. This opinion was reinforced by other park personnel the next morning and was a setback, because we were already anxious about the 8-9 miles that we believed we faced based on the best information that we had gotten earlier. That "best" information was based on the U.S. Wildlife Refuge map which included a scale; the room for ambiguity was that the canoe trails were depicted as relatively straight lines from point to point with no allowance for meandering. When asked on the telephone about the distance, the federal employee who took our reservation said she thought about eight miles and she said her information was based on the map.

We "set up camp" in the cabin and generally enjoyed music, drink, and camaraderie, while awaiting Bill's and Sheryl's arrival; there was a chance they would not make it before the 7:00 p.m. gate closing, but they rolled just about 7:00. Entertainment highlights included Paul Simon's "Graceland" and the dancing frenzy it induced among some of the cabin's inhabitants. Garnett's "my two most embarrassing experiences" stories, especially the misplaced smoke alarm, had us laughing enthusiastically. Entertainment lowlights included Ed's "tasteless jokes" books. The weather forecast that I "tracked" relentlessly with my weather radio was all too reminiscent of 1989's weather which led to cancellation of that trip.... rain, cold, and wind. The wind was forecast as 10-15 mph from the north... the direction we needed to go. Bill and I picked and sang a few with Ed accompanying on harmonica. One by one, the intrepid explorers fell by the wayside to their beds... Garnett and Julia taking the room with the two single beds, Ed and Susie and Bill and Sheryl the room with the two double beds. Xeno got the rollaway bed, and I took the sofa (big mistake, too short).

Saturday, December 8 . Naturally, I was the first up, and according to plan any remaining stragglers were awakened by 6:30. We had a good breakfast... country ham, toast, OJ, coffee, eggs, etc. and were ready to go by 8:00 despite the unrelenting forecast... 50% chance of rain, high in 50's, low Saturday night of 30, and 10-15 mph winds out of the north; it was drizzling rain lightly. Most were determined to give it a try and it was agreed that we would start, see how things were going, and turn back if necessary. A new datum acquired was that we could expect to paddle out against a 3 mph current... our trip was essentially up the source of the Suwannee River. Fortunately, we encountered an Assistant Ranger who seemed to be an experienced canoeist on the Big Water trail, and I understood him to say that, as experienced canoeists, we should expect about 1.5 hours to Minnie's Lake and another 2.5 to Big Water. The best news was that we could expect to find "his and her trees" along the way... the six overnight trippers (Ed and Susie planned only a day trip with return to Athens on Sunday) had all been dreading the possibility of a share-a-potty-experience and having to do it in the canoes.

We launched concurrently with a group of sons and dads out for a day trip to Billy's Island. We looked like floating yard sales with our canoes packed to the gunwales (except Bill and Sheryl who had mastered efficient camping) and headed north (remember the 10-15 mph winds) up Billy's Lake. We observed approximately 75 American vultures circling overhead and passed their roosting trees before the turn towards Minnie's Lake. The sons and dads went right and we went left.

The waters leading to Minnie's Lake alternated between being relatively wide but filled with Lilly pads except for a path which rarely exceeded two-three canoe widths and being relatively narrow defined by cypress trees and often no more than a canoe width. In one of the narrow stretches, we saw our first otter, but it was not visible long. We would soon learn that the narrow stretches are where one felt the current the strongest. The current increased the effort required, and we learned to appreciate the wider passages where the current was less demanding.

About an hour after leaving Billy's Lake we came to a cypress in the middle of the trail which had a printed sign saying "Visitors Not Permitted Beyond This Point." We assumed this did not apply to us and hesitated only briefly. A short time later, a rope strung between two trees nearly blocked the trail, but it sagged in the water and could be crossed over. About two hours after launching, we came upon an unexpected, covered platform marked "For Day Use Only." It offered a respite from the canoes and dry ground with "his and her trees." It may be noted that this and probably all platforms are off the main trail; that is, one sees a sign pointing in their direction and then paddles a short distance in a canal or small stream to reach them.

Despite steady paddling we were half an hour behind what the more knowledgeable Ranger had estimated as the time to reach Minnie's lake. Still unsure how far we had to go, we did not rest long and set out again for Big Water. The mile markers did not seem to be consistent which added to our uncertainty. Another hour of alternately narrow and wider water stretches brought us to a sign for the junction to Floyd's Island. The distance to this junction as had Minnie's Lake before it seemed consistent with the map provided on the U.S. Wildlife Refuge brochure, and I became relatively confident for the first time that 8-9 miles was going to be more likely than 12. At this point we had gone about six miles. About another hour of paddling brought us to two signs, both oriented to be most easily seen by southbound boaters. The Stephen Foster to Big Water roundtrip is not a standard trail. It was offered at this time with only one other, a Kingfisher to Bluff Lake roundtrip, owing to the low water in the swamp. One of the signs said "Power Boats Not Allowed Beyond _

This Point" and the other pointed to the Big Water platform. We had arrived!

We were unloaded by 1:30 p.m. The platform was spacious for six, and there was room to pitch both tents (the one Garnett brought was roomy for four and was shared by her, Julia, Xeno, and me) beneath the roof which helped to keep the frost away (the exposed part of the platform was icy the next morning). Soon we had hot chocolate, and for the first time the sun began to show through the clouds. The platform toilet was well maintained, and we had made it so far without having to use the port-a-potty.

The platform was located on a canal to Floyd's Island which was about five miles away. After hot chocolate, snacks, and being able to stretch and rest from the canoes and with plenty of daylight left, some of us wanted to paddle and explore some more. Sheryl opted for a nap. Bill and Garnett and Xeno and Julia tandemed, and I got to use Bill's and Sheryl's Mad River which I had once owned. It was good to be in the old boat again. We set out in the direction of Floyd's Island, not intending to go all the way of course, and paddled awhile before the canal became increasingly narrow. It was so narrow that we had to worry about being able to turn around. That plus the potential for fatigue led us to find a spot suitable for turning around, which we did and headed back. Julia learned the art of stand-up paddling and she and Xeno even displayed a bit of tandem standing paddling.

Sipping whiskey and feeling the good-kind-of-tired soon led to platform games. Xeno was the inspirational leader here. He taught us a game where you had to infer the category-defining-rule for items that could be taken camping and a similar game concerning what could go through the "Green Glass Door." Anticipating a too cloudy night sky, I introduced my entertainment for the day with the aid of a simulated night sky in a sort of a looking-glass device. I offered to teach the names of the seven stars of the Big Dipper. From tip of handle they are Alkaid, Mizar, Alioth, Megrez, Phecda, Merak, and Dubhe (a good mnemonic is "a.m.a.m.p.m. Dubhe"). The question was raised as to how they got their names. Upon returning to Athens, I located Richard Hinckley Allen's (1899) Star-names and their meanings (New York: G. E. Stechert) a fascinating source. The answer to the specific question is not easy; some individual star's names, including some in the Big Dipper, vary and appear to have multiple origins and meanings. The most common denominator among the seven names in the Big Dipper is in relation to body parts of Ursa Major of which the Big Dipper is a part. Dubhe appears to have Hebrew, Arabian, and Greek origin as a name for the "Greater Bear," Merak appears to refer to the loin of the bear, Phecda to the thigh, Megrez is the root of the tail. However, Alioth seems to be related to the "Fat Tail of the Eastern sheep." Mizar seems to be related to girdle or waistcloth and Alkaid to "Daughters of the Bier, i.e., Chief of the Mourners."

Unanticipated entertainment included reading the platform logbook where overnight trippers are obliged to register and where space is provided for "Comments." Our most recent predecessors came about three weeks before. There had not been too many trippers to Big Water in 1990, primarily I suppose, due to low water and trails being closed; e.g., I think the next-to-the-previous set of visitors had been in June. Warm weather trippers reported a too-friendly gator who spent too much time near the platform, and some paddlers were greatly displeased with the flies. We decided that we wanted to think about what our entry would be and left that decision and its implementation for the next day.

Supper was communal. My pot of rice, mixed with a can of field peas, and a can of tomatoes with green chilies to which Garnett added cheese was completely consumed as was Sheryl's dish with asparagus. Datenut bread and cream cheese was my other contribution, and I can't remember what else we shared... except for the ever-present "sipping whiskey." Dusk ensued with some radio music that inspired Xeno to lead a round of the hokey-pokey and Garnett to teach us some karate. During increasingly intense demonstrations, Xeno lifted Garnett up and spun her around to "break up" her karate moves. However, she responded with a well conditioned countermove. Xeno wisely or diplomatically avoided Garnett's further invitation to spar.

The stars did come out, but trees too near the platform obscured Dubhe and mates. The animal sounds were initially intriguing and for awhile we were able to elicit reciprocal calling. However, it soon died down not to recur with any regularity. In the middle of the night in conjunction with a visit to the little building, I heard a howling that I could not identify... perhaps a coyote which are said to inhabit the swamp.

As the cold set in, the sleeping bags became inviting, and soon all were nestled within. Someone suggested a game of cards. Someone else suggested "reverse strip poker." The idea was to get naked inside your sleeping bag and play to win back garments which had to be put on inside one's sleeping bag. However, this proposal was not taken seriously and, instead, the evening's entertainment began with Bill reading us some poetry from the Georgia Review . Soon therafter group storytelling began. The rule was that each was to contribute a sentence before a new round could begin. Garnett started with "Fred was so excited." I continued that "His new L. L. Bean catalog had arrived." Julia made the mailbox so that it would not open to expose the catalog, and Xeno got off on Fred's credit cards being suspended. Someone wanted to give Fred x-ray vision to see through the mailbox, but I insisted that the supernatural be disallowed in the storytelling game. I can't remember what else developed, but at one point the catalog became "Frederick's of Hollywood" and Fred being compelled to change his name to Leopold. After much silliness, hilarity, and laughter, one by one we became quiet, until only Julia's snoring penetrated the silence. I slept soundly until my first visit (OF ONLY TWO) to the little building at about 1:00 a.m. Later, Xeno testified that I too had contributed to the snoring... but not as much as Julia!

Sunday, December 9 . Most awakened around 7:00 a.m. pleasantly surprised that Julia seemed to make the first move to put on the coffee. After she returned to the tent though, we realized that we really had not heard any stove sounds and that she might not have put on the coffee after all. Soon, I got up and put on the coffee and country ham. Not long thereafter, all were gathering around the old Coleman two-burner, drinking coffee, eating ham and toast and fresh fruit. Julia brought some blueberry pancake premix (add water or milk and shake in the container) with additional blueberry syrup and was soon passing out the pancakes. After breakfast, more coffee, we puttered around the platform. Sheryl challenged Xeno to a game of sliding on the platform ice with the objective to see who could stop closest to the edge. Both were very skilled and, to say the least, managed to stay on the platform.

We began to pack up, take down tents, etc. and chose our entry for the logbook. We decided to say we had enjoyed Alkaid et al. (leaving it to subsequent readers to wonder, if they did not know, what that meant). Sheryl suggested and it was written, "Lord, preserve and protect us; we've had too much whiskey for breakfast." With those recorded legacies, we were in route back by 10:00 a.m.

The sun was up, the wind was down, the current was with us, and the trip back was pleasant and enjoyable. We soon saw the first of many gators soaking up the sun.

Photo courtesy of Garnett who retains all rights of ownership.

Soon we returned to Minnie's Lake where we observed two otters fishing, eating, grooming on a downed tree that extended from the bank into the lake, and playing in the water (see them swimming in photo below).

Photo courtesy of Garnett who retains all rights of ownership.

Minnie's Lake also offered some "gator investigating" which some of us wanted to do but others did not (typically our tandem partners, e.g., my partner, Garnett, who told yours truly, who was standing in the canoe for better access, very firmly to SIT DOWN!).  Minnie's Lake platform also provided a welcomed place to stretch and rest.  From there it was a happy return to Billy's Lake.  We decided to go to Billy's Island (half mile north of the Minnie's Run and Billy's Lake junction) where we lunched on the boat dock.

Exploration of Billy's Island again proved both interesting and frustrating as we tried to find the "forked pine" and other landmarks associated with the logging town that used to be there. Time and mosquitoes precluded as much exploration as we might have liked, but there can always be another day. We did find the Buick truck frame this time as well as rediscovering the old Durant car frame and other artifacts of the "boom town" of 600 that no longer existed there.

The entertainment highlight was Julia's reading photocopied selections from Tom Robbin's Skinny legs and all , but she "chickened out" on bringing what he had written about "Dixie white boys." Bill and Sheryl went to bed first, as they planned to depart at 6:00 a.m. so they could Christmas shop in Athens before going on to Royston to get Justin. I followed next (to the spare bed in Bill's and Sheryl's room) not necessarily because the rest of the group had started palm reading.