Down Where the Young Folks Stay
In a murky world, the crystalline caverns of Spring Country beckon
The Fountain of Youth remains one of humanity’s most enduring legends. An enchanted fountain whose waters rejuvenate those who bathe in it. It dates back to at least the 5th century before Christ when it was mentioned by the granddaddy of all historians, Herodotus. Book III of his Histories asserts that the exceptional longevity of the mysterious Macrobian people who were said to occupy the extreme Southern reaches of the world came from the fountain’s high-quality H2O.
When the Ichthyophagi showed wonder at the number of the years, he led them to a fountain, wherein when they had washed, they found their flesh all glossy and sleek, as if they had bathed in oil- and a scent came from the spring like that of violets. The water was so weak, they said, that nothing would float in it, neither wood, nor any lighter substance, but all went to the bottom. If the account of this fountain be true, it would be their constant use of the water from it which makes them so long-lived.
The legend endured and spawned its own apocryphal legend that finding the fountain drove Juan Ponce de León’s voyages. Sadly, no primary evidence has yet been discovered to corroborate this. Like most conquistadors, gold and glory were de Leon’s goals. But it makes for a great story all the same.
The legend was real
However, there was more to the legend than rumor. Ponce just missed the mark by a few days’ march inland from St. Augustine to the hinge point and heartland of the Floridian peninsula. Florida may be flat but it hardly lacks geologic character. Its aquifer, consisting of labyrinthine limestone caverns, prove the hidden source of its earthly Eden. The waters slowly trickle up through the layers of porous limestone that filter out impurities. The liquid treasure, clearer than crystal, emerges amid primeval forests of cypress, cedar, tupelo, pine, palm, and live oak. Spring water so cool to the touch and so clear to the eye that it confounds all who first gaze upon it. But unlike mirages that manifest to parched people in the drier places in the world, these springs are very real and provide very real relief from the subtropical heat.
For locals, names like Blue, White, Rainbow, Silver, Alexander, Wilson, Wekiwa, Salt, Juniper, and Ginnie don’t need the “Springs” appended to convey their meaning. But there is one spring among the 700 known founts that outshines the others. Florida’s crown jewel: Ichetucknee.
Naturalist Archie Carr sums up Ichetucknee Spings and River perfectly:
The Ichetucknee and its run, the most beautiful landscape in the world.
This quote has been emblazoned on a plaque* at the head springs. And the sentiment lives in the heart of any who has ever waded into the six-mile river of “melted diamonds” be it for the holy baptism or earthy pleasure.
Echos of Eden
Lying inland of flashier coastal communities that coil around the peninsula, the Ichetucknee River offers a different dimension of paradise, rougher and wilder than the plastic beach towns. While less tame, it possesses a feral charisma all its own. Forget flamingos. Here, herons, egrets, and ibises stalk the waters’ edge which is lined by legions of cypress knees resembling cowled monks who all took vows of silence.
Hawks soar the sky by day, owls by night. The distinct RAT-A-TATA-TAT of woodpeckers echoes through the trees. Hummingbirds flit through verdant boughs.
Beavers work while otters play. Manatees lazily troll the limpid waters. Schools of torpedo-shaped mullet patrol the river, gliding through the eelgrass by the dozen. Randomly, one will leap high into the air. The reasons mullet jump still confound experts, but it’s hard to not jump with joyous abandon in such a naturally blessed place.
The Cold Comfort of Childhood
My childhood summers and holiday weekends were spent at our family cabin, swimming on the Iche from dawn to dusk, often with my nieces and cousins and friends. Darting downstream as fast as the current and our strokes would take us, we’d tried to fit in as many floats in a day as possible. We learned to leave the eelgrass, springtape, and muskgrass alone. But a stalk of the coontail, when wrapped from ear to ear made for the perfect faux Abe Lincoln beard. And we’d rub a sprig on our masks to defog them. Not sure how well it worked, but it’s what we did.
After so many summers, we learned every turn, bend, dock, dip, ledge, limb, depression, downed tree, and path of grass along Ichetucknee’s lower third. We knew where and how best to catch snapping turtles (technically loggerhead musk turtles) to be precise) and the far slipperier Suwannee cooters (cue Michael Scott).
We fished. We caught small bream, but the occasional bass or mudfish was to be had. Alligators and moccasins were far rarer sites, and steer clear of us as much we sought to steer clear of them. We kayaked and canoed as far upstream as possible. When the river is higher, you can more easily navigate the bridge separating the lower, privately held third of the river from the upper, publicly held state park. If you’re willing to make the effort, the serenity is unsurpassed.
The tradition lives on
Recently, my family and I, including my great nieces and great nephews, got to spend a week’s vacation down on the Ichetucknee. We floated. Chased turtles. Caught fish. Kayaked. Paddleboarded. Laughed. Played. Made memories.
Seeing the next generation enjoy the natural beauty of our homeland was heartening. It also reminded me of a feeling only spending a day on the Ichtucknee can give. It’s a very distinctive feeling. It comes from spending a hot summer day submerged in the Ichteucknee’s spring-fed, 72-degree waters. After you call it a day, change into dry clothes, and relax in the cabin, it hits you. Call it “cold comfort”. Despite being suntanned and exhausted from swimming, you radiate a marrow-deep coolness. It’s not the chill of an illness, but the crisp energy of the springs. The same rejuvenation enjoyed by so many for millennia. It truly is the Fountain of Youth. And it has the power, albeit for a brief time, to make young folks out of all of us.
*Archie Carr’s quote shares the plaque with a quote from Al Burt’s Tropic of Cracker, “The Ichetucknee's waters bubble up out of the ground and flow like melted diamonds across a sandy bottom through a natural forest.”