Wakulla Springs with Mema and Papa

On Wednesday morning we left Tallahassee for Wakulla Springs as early as we could so we could have a quick adventure before leaving for Atlanta that afternoon.  This beautiful, rustic little state park is known for two things: (1) the very cold, amazingly clear water of the world's largest and deepest freshwater spring, surrounded by bald cypress trees and (2) being a place to see lots of Florida wildlife.  Ben grew up going to Wakulla Springs (about 30 minutes from Mema and Papa's house) and I have enjoyed going with his family since we've been married.  We were so glad to be able to include it in our visit.

We were lucky to get on the first boat ride of the morning, with a comedic captain who could give the Jungle Cruise Cast Members at Disneyland & World a run for their money.  We saw fish swimming in the water, turtles sunning on tree limbs, and lots of cool birds.  (But no manatees this time.)

We also saw 30-40 alligators.  We tried counting them at first,

but then there were so many that we gave up.

Some are easier to see than others:

Double Trouble:

Here are some cute gator babies/adolescents:

(at least 1)

(at least 2)

(at least 3)

Beautiful scenery:

(You can see how it was the perfect backdrop for Creature from the Black Lagoon.)

When our boat tour down the Wakulla River was over, we walked up to the Spanish style lodge, which was built by Edward Ball (a businessman, and brother-in-law to Alfred du Pont) in the 1930's.  It's still a working hotel, with the original elevators and period furniture, and an old-fashioned soda fountain.  We even sampled Edward Ball's supposed favorite treat: the Ginger Yip, which is basically a ginger ale float.  I think I was the only one who cared for it.  We appreciated the beauty of the lodge, Jack and Eliza played a few minutes of chess, and Jack took yet another picture with a stuffed alligator.  (3rd one, if you're counting.)

Then it was time to take a dip in the swimming area, which has an ingenious infrastructure in place for keeping all those gators out.  Do you see the rope floating behind Cat in the picture below?  That's the system.  The gators know to stay out of the swimming area just like kids know to stay out of the deep end.  Those gators are pretty smart.  (And apparently well-fed on their side of the rope.)

Did I mention that the springwater stays at a chilly 69° year-round?  That might not sound cold, but it really is.  What do you think, Cat?

We told the kids that we'd be jumping off of the 10ish' high diving platform.  When we entered the swimming area, we found a place for our towels, put sunscreen on the kids, and then Eliza walked straight to the diving platform.  She didn't tell anyone or invite anyone to come along, she just walked over.  And jumped in.  Thank goodness someone told me where she was or else I wouldn't have caught it on video.

I hadn't really wanted to jump into the water.  I mean, I wanted to, in the same way you might want to go skydiving, but I didn't really want to make that ill-conceived dream a reality.  When Eliza waltzed over to the platform and jumped in like it was no big deal, I knew I had to jump in too.  So I walked over.  I climbed the stairs.  I stood on the edge.  And I gave up my turn to the cute chubby 9ish-year-old boy with braces who was standing behind me in line.  He jumped in, then, while treading water he yelled up some helpful advice in a thick Southern accent, "Just plug your nose and close your eyes!"  I thanked him, then let the next person behind me have a turn.  And the next. And the next.  This continued, until Ben's turn came up in line.  I asked him to jump with me, but he declined, and proceeded to jump in.  Now, I should say that I had two very good reasons for not jumping.  First of all, I was about a mile up in the air.  Do you know what kind of damage hitting the water after that long of a fall would do?  Secondly, the water was sub-zero.  I would probably freeze to death instantly.  And although I think that might be a good way to go, I wasn't ready to die that day.

So I continued to let people (children) behind me jump.  Somehow, they were surviving this incredibly dangerous stunt, but I still wasn't ready.  Then Eliza came up to the platform again to find out why I hadn't jumped. I really thought I could do it if I had a little moral support, so I asked her to jump with me, and thankfully, she agreed.  I counted to three, and she made no movements to jump, so I didn't jump.  I asked her again, and again she agreed.  Again I counted, and again, she didn't flinch.

So a few more children got turns jumping into the freezing water a mile below us.  Until the cute, chubby boy who was kind enough to give me advice after jumping in when I first arrived on the platform got back in line.  He said to me, in the cutest, thickest Southern accent, "I came here to help you face your fears."  I told him how nice it was of him to do that and asked if he would jump with me.  He said he would, but I told him that my daughter (former?) told me she would but then she didn't jump, so he reassured me with, "I am a man of my word."  Well, that did it.  I had no choice but to jump with him.  So I did.  We counted to three, and we jumped.  And somehow, I survived.  Thank you for being such a good man, Zack.

Well, it seems the boys inherited my flawed sense of adventure.  They wanted to jump off of the flat platform.  But they didn't want to walk or swim through the cold water to get to the platform.  But Ben carried them, and then they jumped, and then they wanted to do it again, still with Ben carrying them to the platform.  And they were so proud of themselves for jumping.  And I totally understood.

Proof that at least two members of the family spent more than the minimum-jump-recovery time in the water:

Ben

Eliza

We loved this little adventure - definitely another highlight of a wonderful trip!