​A spooky excerpt from A Florida Sketch-Book, by naturalist Bradford Torrey, written in 1895:

​There—going one day farther than usual—I found myself in the borderland of a cypress swamp. On one side was the lake, but between me and it were cypress-trees; and on the other side was the swamp itself, a dense wood growing in stagnant black water covered here and there with duckweed or some similar growth: a frightful place it seemed, the very abode of snakes and everything evil. Stories of slaves hiding in cypress swamps came into my mind. It must have been cruel treatment that drove them to it!

Buzzards flew about my head, and looked at me. “He has come here to die,” I imagined them saying among themselves. “No one comes here for anything else. Wait a little, and we will pick his bones.” They perched nearby, and, not to lose time, employed the interval in drying their wings, for the night had been showery. Once in a while one of them shifted his perch with an ominous rustle. They were waiting for me, and were becoming impatient. “He is long about it,” one said to another; and I did not wonder.

Excerpt from the 1926 History of the Okefenokee Swamp by AS McQueen and Hamp Mizell:

On this trip to the Okefenokee Wildlife I pushed myself to look beyond the gators and snakes and pay attention to something I usually neglect: the plant life.  Of course there are the stately Cypress trees adorned with waving Spanish Moss that set the backdrop for the swamp. But I also tried to take the time to learn and photograph the other vegetation: Hatpin, Spatterdock, Neverwet, Hurrah Bush, Resurrection Fern and purple Swamp Irises. 

The canoe trails of the Okefenokee Swamp are full of character and adventure. As one paddles through the black water, eyes peer upward at the heights of the towering cypress. But don’t forget to look ahead!, the waterways are often marked with obstacles.

One of those interesting obstructions which force some agile steering is known as Tussock Growth. A tussock is an abnormal tufted growth of vegetation on a tree or stump, typically caused by a disturbance. In the case of the Okefenokee, this “disturbance” was the logging of the swamp in the early 1900’s.

The scars and stumps of the logging operations still remain throughout the Okefenokee. Protruding from the surface during low-water periods, these remaining buttresses of harvested cypress accumulate organic matter and hold moisture; a perfect platform for the growth of grasses, wildflowers and shrubs. These tufts of vegetation dot the lakes and canals throughout the swamp, like wild hair-dos on the heads of Ents or trolls bathing in the dark waters. The Swamp is full of character… especially if you let your imagination roll! 

An exciting excerpt from Louis Pendleton's 1895 book, ​In the Okefenokee:

Accordingly, as soon as they were opposite another island, Joe struck out toward it through the bonnets and sedge. In this way they came presently into a little round open pool about a hundred feet in diameter, heedless of several dark floating objects a short distance ahead. Suddenly the water about them became curiously agitated, and with a cry of horror Joe looked toward Charley. “Jump up on the log!” he said. “We're in a 'gator hole!" Neither of them could afterward have told how they did it; but almost in a moment, both stood on a log balancing themselves with their long poles, which were thrust down to the bottom, the water being only about seven feet in depth. Under their weight the log sank so low that it was almost entirely submerged, and the position of the two boys was little improved, supposing they were to be attacked.

The pool now seemed alive with alligators, large and small, for fifty feet around; and the boys were greatly terrified, although the huge scaly creatures still lay quiet on the water or swam lazily about, gazing at the intruders with their black, lustreless eyes. “They're going to eat us up!” gasped poor Charley, hardly able to maintain his upright position. "Don't be afraid,” said Joe, in a low voice, although desperately afraid himself. “They don't look as if they want to hurt us. See how quiet they are.” He then suggested that they pole the log out of its dangerous neighborhood, and this they did very slowly and cautiously, lifting their long sticks halfway out of the water and guardedly thrusting them to the bottom again . Although they passed within a few inches of some of the reptiles in the course of their retreat, the latter were not roused from their sleepy indifference, and permitted an easy prey to escape them .​

Sunday, 9:04 AM - ​Another bright, blue calm morning on Billy’s Lake as we slowly paddle westward for a day up the brown trail to The Sill. Passing on close to the edge of the lake, a funny acting Eastern Gray Squirrel has himself pressed tightly flat against a tree. Was he hiding from us? Was he sheltering from the chilled breeze? The question is quickly answered as the loud shriek of a Red-shouldered Hawk blares from high up in a neighboring tree. The Red-shouldered Hawks were quite prominent and vocal throughout this trip. Their calls heard from dawn to dusk, throughout all the varying habitats.  

Sunday, 12:45 PM - ​Compared to the challenging navigation through The Narrows (brown trail), the paddling became much easier. The strong current caused by the low water levels carried us quickly through Mixon’s Hammock and into the area named The Sill.
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The Suwannee River Sill Recreation Area is a man-made canal built in 1960 with dams to control the water levels. The purpose was to maintain water levels during drought and thereby reduce the chance of wildfires. However, the project failed in that goal, for it had no real effect on the water levels throughout the swamp. However, The Sill is a popular recreation area, primarily for fishing. 

Because the man-made canal was wide and straight, it was also somewhat less interesting than some of the deeper areas of the swamp. Part of the suspense of the cypress forests is the wondering expectation of what may be around the next bend. But on the Sill, the view remains unobstructed for quite a distance, revealing that nothing too exciting is awaiting your arrival. However, some very large gators could be seen diving into the waters as our canoe approached.
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Going up The Sill, the trolling motor was set on the highest speed to battle the current and the wind that were both attempting to impede our passage. Fast flowing streams of rushing water were draining off the prairie into the Sill to further empower the current against our progress. Our going was so slow, at one point we were even overtaken by four walkers on the left bank. 

​Approximately halfway up the Sill, we attempted to follow the fork of the brown trail as it continues towards Cravens Hammock.  I had desired to overnight at the shelter, but was told before our departure that it was not accessible due to low waters. And they were right. Not even a quarter mile off The Sill we encountered low water and downed trees hampering our passage. Not wanting to be beaten, I tried to pull loose a dam of limbs, branches and debris choking the trail. But prying with my oar, all I managed to do was stir a bunch of fire ants into the water and then splash Amanda, arousing her frustration. I gave up the attempt when I accidentally splashed her a second time. 

​We back-tracked the short distance and continued further up The Sill. Our destination: Pine Island. It seemed there must be something there, for someone had posted the GPS coordinates on the internet. The road from the day-use recreation area having ended, the last several miles of The Sill were more secluded from other visitors, but still a wide, unnatural looking, man-made canal. And upon reaching Pine Island, we found… nothing. No place to get out of the canoe and stretch our legs. The canal just came to an end in a shallow pool of Maidencane. We took a few minutes to eat our lunch of summer sausage, cheese whiz and crackers. 

​The sun climbed higher as we ate our lunch, encouraging the gators to take to their sunning spots along the banks. We had noticed many patches of mud and pressed grasses on our journey up The Sill. Now, those same patches were occupied by “The Monsters of The Sill.” The boring Sill had somewhat redeemed itself by presenting us with the spectacle of some really big gators; a few of which made dramatic, tidal-wave producing dives into the water as we passed by. 

Quite quickly we were shut in on either side by branches and bushes that arched up over our heads. The canoe trail began to grow shady, winding back and forth with the current through the vegetation, around cypress trees, over downed limbs and logs. The quickening current was made obvious by the ripples around the corners and bases of the trees; an advantage to paddling, but a disadvantage to navigation. Travelling downstream, the current can overtake steering and often put the canoe in spots we did not desire. Amanda’s greatest frustration with the Okefenokee, this trip and last, was floating into the jagged bushes often tipped in small spider webs with anticipatory arachnids waiting to jump in for a ride. The Narrows was the peak of this frustration. Other than a bird or two crouching hidden amongst the vegetation, there was little wildlife to photograph within the confines of The Narrows. 

​Alligators are often seen floating on the surface of the water, like logs of wood , and are mistaken for such by various animals, which, by this means, they surprise and draw underneath to devour at leisure. They are said also sometimes to form a hole in the bank of a river, below the surface of the water, and there to wait till the fish that are fatigued by the strong current come into the smooth water to rest themselves, when they immediately seize and devour them . But as they are not able to obtain a regular supply of food , from the fear in which they are held by all animals, and the care by which these in general avoid their haunts, they are able to sustain a privation of it for a great length of time. 

A favorite passage from William Bartram's Travels,​ published in 1791.

Sunday, 6:14 PM - Nine hours on the canoe trails of the Okefenokee Swamp! Nine continuous hours in the canoe without a break to stretch our legs or use the bathroom. Nine hours of pulling on the paddles in the mid-day sun. Tiring, but I wouldn’t give up the experience for anything.

After a there-and-back-again paddle to the Sill, which included the treacherous navigation through the Narrows and our upstream struggle on Mixon’s Hammock, we made it back to Billy’s Lake toward evening. Back to calm waters and the serenity of roosting Cormorants, drumming Pileated Woodpeckers, and alligators attempting to soak in the last rays of the setting sun. The daylight was beginning to fade, the trolling motor battery was beginning to fade, and we were beginning to fade. But we arrived before dark. A full day on the blackwater swamp.​

Sunday, 3:41 PM - As our canoe progressed through the tight foliage of The Narrows (brown trail), we came upon a comical scene. A goofy Cormorant sad mid-stream on a stump, heaving and coughing. As we watched, he puked a large fish out of his mouth and it splashed into the water. Being free of his tracheal obstruction, he flew off over our heads, leaving the floating dead fish in the water for us to pass. 

Sunday, 3:45 PM - The journey along the wide canal known as The Sill was quite easy, especially with an electric trolling motor aiding our progress.  But as we turned east back up the brown trail, our trouble began. That wonderful downstream current we enjoyed this morning through Mixon’s Hammock was now a forceful torrent impeding our way back to camp.

Small but forceful streams of water were pouring off the prairie adding to the current. Amanda kept the trolling motor on the highest setting and it barely held us in one spot. I lunged with all the strength of my shoulders and biceps to press us forward, but progress was slow and laborious. It was also getting late.

The thoughts of not making it back to Billy’s Lake before dark were becoming an ominous presence in my mind. When we were passed by some barefoot fishermen in a gas powered john boat, I desired to ask for a tow. “You’re going to have a tough go against this current”, was all the help they could muster. Such toil, and we still had the passage through the dreaded Narrows ahead.

I got quite a workout as I pulled and pulled the paddle against the current. Needless to say, I have no photos along this stretch of our journey, for anytime I quit paddling even to catch my breath, we immediately were pulled backward. And only an occasional alligator watched as we labored past.
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But we finally made it through the prairie into the Narrows, and things actually improved. The narrowing and twisting of the channel slowed the current and the trolling motor carried us along without paddling. Navigation by trolling motor was easier up-stream! Amanda did an incredible job of steering through the Narrows on our return journey.