Florida's Most Dangerous River | 2 Days Canoe Camping the Alapaha River

In short: Two nights and three days on the Alapaha, a river me and Tina had never seen. The books call it the most dangerous river in Florida, not for what's in it, but for where it goes: twenty miles below us the whole thing runs into a hole in the ground and disappears. We put in up near Statenville and found a river that runs different than our home water, limestone shelves under the hull instead of sand, tea-black water, waterfalls dripping off the banks. I found a fossil shark's tooth at camp, then busted it hard in the slick mud in the dark that first night. Day two the fishing flat turned on, thirty on the stringer and my first bass ever, and we scouted and ran the Class II rapids at Jennings Defeat with Tina calling the line from the bow. Gators both nights. Stay rugged.

A river that runs different than home

First look at the Alapaha and you can see it's a different animal. Fast water, trees down across it, and limestone. Where our home rivers give you sand, this one gives you shelves of rock under the hull. The water runs tea-black with tannin, the same stain the swamp bleeds into the Suwannee and the Satilla, dark enough your paddle disappears about ten inches down. Big trees lean out over it, little waterfalls drip off the banks, and out in the middle of nowhere somebody's built a bright green bridge across the whole thing. First time on a river you've never paddled, you read it as you go and let it teach you.

We stopped off on a sandbar and met some folks hunting fossils, told them we run a channel called Blackwater Outdoor Journeys and we were headed three days down to Sasser Landing. Not long after, a little three-foot gator came swimming right up the current, not on the bank, in the water with us, moving like he had somewhere to be. Little bitty one, but a gator's a gator, and a little one means a mama's not far off.

Camp across from a waterfall, and a shark's tooth on the bank

We found our spot across from a little waterfall coming off the bank, just enough room between the trees to hang both hammocks. Got the tarps stretched tight while thunder rumbled off to the west, and we were set up and dry before it ever got to us. Set your camp, get your shelter squared first, and then you can enjoy the evening instead of chasing it. And right there on the bank I found something I still can't get over, a fossil shark's tooth, on the Alapaha River, in South Georgia. That's the limestone for you, old ocean bottom bleeding its bones back out onto the sandbars.

Supper was loaded mashed potatoes with roast and carrots, said grace over it, and it ate good in that weather. After dark I told Tina the old legend of the Alapaha, the tall shadow folks have said walks the banks at night, no sound to its steps, eyes that catch the light and then are gone. She did not care for that one bit. Then I went and walked the river to look for it and busted it hard in the slick mud in the dark, hurt my shoulder and my back. That's how it goes out here sometimes. It isn't the thing you came ready for that gets you, it's the unexpected, the mud on the bank you didn't respect.

The morning slow, then the fishing turned on

Woke around 8:30, made Tina some coffee, scrambled eggs and sausage in the cast iron, and we broke camp by ten and were on the water by eleven. The plan was ten or twelve more miles, cross the state line into Florida, and find camp above the Class II rapids called Jennings Defeat just below the line. The fishing started slow like it always does, and then around one o'clock it just turned on. Redbreast after redbreast, and then I finally landed my first bass ever after all these years on the water. Thirty fish on the stringer by five, and we kept four good ones for supper.

Scouting and running Jennings Defeat

We crossed the Georgia line into Florida about 4:30 and kept paddling, and around five I could hear it before I could see it, that low roar around the corner. This is the part I want you to hear: I pulled over to the left, above the drop, and got out to walk it. You cannot read moving water from a boat that's already committed to it. You get out, and you look at all of it from the bank, drop by drop, and you pick your line before you ever get back in. And your bow paddler gets a vote. Tina looked at it and said run it, so we ran it, straight down, hard right, to the rock, sharp left, and out clean to the sandbar below. We made camp right there at the rapids, and that night we shined the water and sure enough there was a gator, eyes glowing, swimming our way. Can't go nowhere down here without them.

Where the river disappears

There's one more thing about the Alapaha, and it's the whole reason the books call it what they do. Twenty miles below where we camped, the entire river runs into a hole in the ground and is gone. Not a bend, not a delta into the sea, it just goes underground and disappears. That's the danger, not the water itself, but where the water goes. Paddle the upper stretch, respect the limestone and the rapids, and know your take-out is well above the place the river vanishes.

Questions about canoe camping the Alapaha

Do you have to run the Jennings Defeat rapids?

No, and we didn't either without scouting it first. We crossed the Georgia line into Florida around 4:30 and could hear the rapids before we ever saw them, that low roar building around the corner. I pulled over to the left, above the drop, and got out to walk the whole thing from the bank before committing the canoe to it. You cannot read moving water from a boat that is already in it. Look at every drop, pick your line, and only then get back in. Your bow paddler gets a vote too. Tina looked it over and said run it, so we ran it, straight down, hard right to the rock, sharp left, and out clean to the sandbar below. If you would rather not run it at all, you can line or tow a loaded canoe through the drop, or portage around it entirely. Either way, scout from the bank first and never trust moving water you have not already looked at.

Can you really find shark teeth on the Alapaha River?

Yes, and we found one ourselves right on the bank at our camp. The Alapaha cuts down through limestone the whole way, the same rock shelves we felt under the hull the first day on this river, and that limestone is full of ancient marine fossils. Fossilized shark teeth wash right out of it onto the sandbars. Earlier on the trip we had stopped on a sandbar and met some folks out there hunting fossils, so we knew people found things on this river, but I still could not get over finding a shark's tooth myself, on a South Georgia river, a long way from any ocean. That is the limestone for you, old ocean bottom bleeding its bones back out onto the banks after all these years underground. It is one more thing that makes the Alapaha run different from our home water, where the bottom is sand instead of ancient rock.