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Citrus Country Offers Natural
Alternative to Florida Theme Parks
By Jim Johnson
December 2000
Barely 90 minutes from Orlando’s crowds, Florida’s Citrus
County has become a natural escape for tourists tired of talking mice and maddening
crowds. Located between spring-fed lakes and virgin Gulf coast, the rural county offers
unspoiled forest, waterways and wetlands and an abundance of wildlife. With nearly half of
its land set aside as park or preserve – and with ample opportunity for tourists to
view and even interact with wildlife – the area has come to call itself "Mother
Nature’s Theme Park."
Although the area is perfect for a long weekend, I recently spent five
days exploring the region by kayak, pontoon boat, horse, bike and foot. It was a peaceful
adventure.
My primary interest was the chance to swim with the manatees. Most of
the 3,500 manatees alive today call Florida home, with the highest concentrations near the
plentiful warm springs of the Homosassa and Crystal Rivers.
Jump in the water, and you’ll learn quickly that this aquatic
mammal is, quite frankly, ugly. Its skin is mottled, rough, wrinkled and often covered
with barnacles and algae. Its eyes squint shut like camera shutters. Its face is bulbous.
Weighing in at as much as 3,500 pounds, its rotund body may stretch as long as 15 feet
– from whiskered snout to paddle-shaped tail.
But spend even a few moments with one, and you’ll be smitten.
I took two trips with American Pro Diving Center, where co-owner Susan
Crowley showed a video and gave a brief orientation before taking us out on one of the
company’s pontoon boats. She explained that the manatees were drawn to the warm
springs that feed the area’s waterways. Especially in winter, she said, the
warm-blooded, tropical creatures are drawn from the cooler Gulf of Mexico to the comfort
of the inland waters.
She also explained the dos and don’ts of interacting
with manatees. The don’ts are backed by $20,000 fines and jail penalties: Don’t
approach or chase. Don’t poke, prod, stab or feed. Don’t separate
a cow from her calf. Do scratch them, especially under their flippers, where
they’re ticklish. Also: "Don’t touch a green, bumpy log. It may be
an alligator."
Wearing wet suits and with masks, fins and snorkels at the ready, we
motored at idle speed down the Crystal River looking for telltale signs of manatee
presence – either swirly "footprints" on the surface or torpedo-like shapes
on the shallow bottom. Within five minutes, we spotted a swirl and entered the water. A
few feet ahead of us, three manatees lay sleeping. Seemingly in trances, they bobbed
gracefully to the surface, breathed, and floated slowly back to their nestled positions.
As I watched this trio, another manatee surprised me with a gentle
nudge from behind. I complied with soft back-scratching, setting off clouds of algae from
her mottled skin. I worked my way under her flippers, and she turned over to offer me her
belly. I complied again, and she responded with a graceful barrel roll. When I stopped to
laugh, she objected and pulled my hand toward her with her flipper.
I looked around and found the other swimmers likewise engaged. The
manatee trio on the bottom joined in, and we were outnumbered. We scarcely noticed the
seven-foot tarpon that came by to watch. Soon, however, the manatees tired of us or had
other plans for their morning. With some tail kicks, they disappeared into a side canal
designated "Manatee Sanctuary." No humans allowed.
We motored further to Three Sisters, named for three of the 30 major
springs that feed 600 million gallons of fresh water into the river each day. As Susan led
us up a narrow stream into a grotto, the water turned from clear to turquoise. We could
feel the water surge from the aquifers below.
Manatees rarely enter the grotto, Susan said, but three awaited us. Two
kept their distance, but a small one approached and nuzzled us. "Ernie," as we
soon dubbed him, was about five feet long and two years old, and he loved loving. He
jiggled in ecstasy as we rubbed his belly, and he swam beside us as we explored the
grotto. One of the remaining manatees, probably his mother, made repeated swim-bys to
check on her playful son, and we could see her eyes focusing on us. When Ernie started to
follow us out of the grotto, mama blocked his way, let out a squeak, and brushed him
gently with her flippers. They were spooning as we left.
When we returned to the boat, we found a dozen manatees basking off the
bow, most sleeping, some feeding, and one nursing a young calf. But this was nothing
compared to the next day, when we found more than 60 manatees gathered at the headwaters
of the Homosassa River. With such a concentration, we were able to see how much the
manatees differed in size and coloration. Perhaps most poignantly, we saw the vast variety
of propeller scars, the markings that biologists use to tell the animals apart. As many as
200 manatees die each year from boat collisions. The species may not survive our lifetime.
Above-water tours offer equal enchantment. One morning, I joined
Captain Mike Tracy of Lazy River Cruises for a two-hour pontoon-board trip through the
cypress swamps, freshwater marshes and hardwood forests of the Rainbow and Homosassa
Rivers. At last count, 207 species of birds make this their home or a migratory stop, and
Captain Mike rattled off 30 or more as we see them, like the white ibis, great blue heron,
black buzzard, red-shouldered hawk and snowy egret.
These aren’t just names to him; he’s studied them – on
the rivers and in books. We learned how the plumage-happy hat industry almost hunted the
snowy egret to extinction. How the pileated woodpecker builds a sap barrier around its
nesting hole as a barrier against predators. He pointed out a male limkin pecking at the
shore. "He’s catching snails to bring to the female," Captain Mike
explained. "He’ll go back to find more food, while the female removes the meat
and gives it to the babies."
In the clear water, we spotted schools of large-mouth bass.
"They’re storing up energy by feeding so they don’t have to eat during
spawning season," Mike explained. Recognizing an equally popular pastime for the
area, Mike noted a particularly large one: "Looks pan-size to me."
Captain Mike knows the plentiful flora equally well, like how the
Spanish moss hanging from the trees was once used for mattress stuffing. "That’s
where the expression, ‘Don’t let the bedbugs bite,’ comes from," he
explained. "The moss is filled with chigger mites."
Although Captain Mike went on to tell stories of crazy gators and
aggressive water moccasins, I put that out of my mind the next day as I joined Henry
Hicks, owner of Riversport Kayak, for a kayak tour along the Hall’s River. Henry
leads tours from his backyard dock, barely 50 yards from a state highway, but a few
minutes of paddling put us in wilderness. In three hours, we saw just one solitary paddler
in the distance, making the placid Crystal River seem like Times Square. The scenery had
likely changed little since Seminole days.
We watched as mullet jumped from the water. Cormorants circled overhead
looking for lunch. Osprey repaired their nests. At one point, as we wound our way through
a forest of reeds, Henry’s boat disappeared. The only sound was the splash of my
paddle and the hull rustling through the tawny jungle. When we returned to the dock and
pulled our kayaks from the water, the commotion scattered three juvenile sea otters
playing along the shore.
Hikers, cyclists and horseback-riders can enjoy the area, too.
Bicyclists can take advantage of the flat, fully paved Withlacoochee State Trail, which
cuts a 47-mile path across the county and through the park. Purchased under the Florida
Rails-to-Trails Program and now a linear state park, the path provides a view of both
natural and human history. Riders can still spot old railway mile posts and whistle
markers (placed a quarter mile before crossings), and the trail passes across ancient
trestles and through Victorian villages like Floral City and Inverness. The towns thrived
in the 1890s during the phosphate boom, but the mines closed during World War I. For
better or for worse, the towns have seen little development since then, and visitors can
take a peak into Florida as it once was. Bike rentals are available on the trail.
Tourists who just want a less strenuous adventure can get a taste of
the area’s plant- and wildlife at Homosassa Springs Wildlife Park. The visit starts
with a guided, 20-minute pontoon boat shuttle from the main park building through the
narrow, canopied headwaters of the Homosassa River to the park entrance. Inside the park,
paved walkways lead through various animal habitats, including an underwater observatory
that looks out onto a huge spring-fed pool. Here, thousands of fresh- and saltwater fish
form a dense, waving wall, frequently parted by a manatee brought to the park for
treatment of illness or injury.
Visitors can also let horses do all the work. An afternoon atop Cash, a
five-year-old quarterhorse, offered superb views of the Withlacoochee State
Forest—recently named by the World Wildlife Fund as "one of the ten coolest
spots in North America." I’d joined Debbie Ryan, co-owner of Rymar Ranch, for a
trail ride into the 42,000-acre preserve. Debbie, who came to Citrus County from Los
Angeles via Fort Lauderdale, fell in love with the area years ago and is fulfilling her
dream with a 20-acre ranch bordering the State Forest, complete with riding school,
stables and trail rides.
At this junction of temperate and sub-tropical climates, a variety of
ecosystems thrives. One moment, we were in scrubby yellow pines and hardwood hammocks, the
next surrounded by palmettos and palm trees. If we’d ridden deeper into the forest,
we could have found prairie and desert. Bobcats, feral hogs, wild turkeys, deer and
rattlesnakes thrive in the forest, but we saw just a few startled squirrels and a
desiccated shell of a gopher tortoise.
But not even one talking mouse.
Transportation
Citrus Country is an 90-minute drive from the nearest airports at
Orlando or Tampa or approximately seven hours from Miami.
Activities
Start with a call to the Citrus County Tourist Development Council at
800-567-6667 or visit its Web site at www.visitcitrus.com
, which offers links to many of the area’s guides, activities and outfitters. For
manatee encounters, contact American Pro Diving Center (800-291-3483, www.americanprodiving.com). For river tours,
contact Riversport Kayak (877-660-0929, www.flakayak.com)
or Captain Mike’s Lazy River Cruises (352-637-2726). Further information on Homosassa
Springs State Wildlife Park can be found through 352-628-5343 or at www.citruscounty-fl.com/statepark.html
. Bicycle rentals can be reserved through Suncoast Bicycles (800-296-1010, www.suncoastbikes.com). Trail rides are available
by appointment with Rymar Ranch (888-877-1652, www.thebarnbook.com/rymarranch.html).
Accommodations
Citrus County offers an increasing variety of accommodations, from
campgrounds and RV parks to bed and breakfasts and golf resorts. Call the Citrus County
Tourist Development Council at 800-567-6667 or visit its Web site at www.visitcitrus.com. American’s River
Rendezvous (800-291-3483), operated by American Pro Diving Center, offers comfortable
private housekeeping units on the Homosassa River, with kayak and pontoon boat rentals and
quick access to its river tours. For a more rustic experience, try Moonrise Resort
(800-665-6701), a former fishing camp with lakeside cabins and boat rentals. It’s a
half hour to the coast but a remote getaway for those who need one.
Dining
The world of fast food has made its way to Citrus County. Look for more
authentic Citrus County fare (with the emphasis on fresh seafood, especially crabs) at
Charlie’s Fish House Restaurant (crack crabs by the dozens), the upscale K.C. Crump
(come by car or boat) or Dan’s Clam Stand (the best clams south of my native New
England).
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