Reedy creek is a run which connects Lake Arbuckle to Reedy Lake in Frostproof, FL. I'm not sure if the Northwestern portion of the creek (headed towards Reedy Lake) is even maneuverable, as we only did the Southwest portion. The section we did was 3.6 miles
The good news is that the state forestry allows free camping at their campsite out here by permit. The bad news (which the eagle-eyed among you have already gathered) is that I used the singular word “campsite”. That wasn’t a typo. When you call or email the ranger, you’ll think I’m mistaken when you’re offered a plethora of choices as to which campsite you’d like to call home for a couple days. Well, unless you have an airboat, a magic wand, or the Jesusy ability of being able to tip-toe across the water’s surface, you won’t be accessing any of the lakeside campsites. The plant life around the entirety of Lake Arbuckle is thicker than 70’s bush, and you’re not sliding a boat through that tangled mess. Just make it easier on yourself and tell them you’d like the site on the creek. There's only one. If it’s already been taken, scream obscenities at the ranger until he caves and gives it to you. If you find that yelling doesn’t get you anywhere, do what we did… get to the creek site early in the morning and set up camp. Then, when the rightful campers show up, tell them that you’re them from the future, and you’ve come back to the past to tell yourselves not to camp here. Also tell them to leave their beer. They can’t say no to their futureselves.
The launch point for this run is below a small bridge, about a mile down Rucks Dairy Road. It’s hard to miss. If you feel you’re in the wrong place, just look for such graffiti gems as “Panty Snatcher” and “I Fucked Here”, among other juvenile witticisms found under the bridge that made me happy my four-year-old son can’t read. Truth be told, though, I found it pretty funny trying to imagine a creature living a bridge, only coming out at night to snatch panties. Here’s a crude drawing I created in MS Paint, detailing what I imagine the creature to look like. Half rabbit man, half bird snake, half fish… Snatchin’ panties all over the place.
Lemme git dem panties, indeed
With two of our friends running a little behind schedule, we were able to casually load up the boats in the water and get all our gear ready for the trip. Really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really casually. I mean REALLY casually. For real. Super casually. What I mean is that two of my friends showed up three hours late. You may be wondering why I’m still friends with these people and, to be honest, I don’t have an answer for you. One day, maybe they’ll show me some redeeming qualities and I can answer your question but, as it stands, I’m baffled as to why I choose to keep the company of these inconsiderate pricks. (Kidding, guys. I love ya’ll. But, seriously, if you ever show up 3 hours late again, I’m going to shove my thumbs through your eyes).
With everyone finally there, we were able to hit the water at about 3:30 in the afternoon. A much later start than we had hoped for, but plenty of time to make the run before dusk.
(Oh, I should mention that parking is about 100 yards past the bridge, on your left, and is free for campers. I’m not sure if it’s required, but we left a copy of the camping permit on our dashboards, to be sure we wouldn’t come back to any tickets.)
With 4 of us in kayaks, and me & my son in the canoe, we launched, and were immediately punched in the nuts by nature. Pop quiz: What is this...?
Celery?
WRONG! That is not a creek. that's a moist field of weeds. Fun obstacles for a small, light, agile kayaker. Hellish, anger-inducing, obstructive barriers for my fully-loaded 16’ canoe with (completely useless) trolling motor, battery, gear and bodies. Every hair-pin turn sent my behemoth craft barreling into trees, bushes, logs, or right up into the weeds, where I had to struggle to free myself every single time. I felt like I was driving a semi truck on a go-kart track.
Every time the current smashed me into a bush on the shore, I would emerge with entire colonies of spiders now using my boat and my clothes as their new residence. The trees were so full of spiders that I believe the plants may have actually been an illusion. What seemed to be a just a regular bush from a distance always ended up just being a million spiders holding hands, upon closer inspection. And I inadvertently did a lot of close inspection.
There’s a reason that I only have two pictures of the creek that first day, while we were on it for several hours. Every single time that I thought I was clear to take a picture, I was pushed into a new spider kingdom before I could snap a shot.
Every time the current smashed me into a bush on the shore, I would emerge with entire colonies of spiders now using my boat and my clothes as their new residence. The trees were so full of spiders that I believe the plants may have actually been an illusion. What seemed to be a just a regular bush from a distance always ended up just being a million spiders holding hands, upon closer inspection. And I inadvertently did a lot of close inspection.
There’s a reason that I only have two pictures of the creek that first day, while we were on it for several hours. Every single time that I thought I was clear to take a picture, I was pushed into a new spider kingdom before I could snap a shot.
Luckily, after a couple hours, one of my buddies offered to take the reins and let me pilot his ‘yak for the remainder of the trip. I was so happy to be free of the canoe that I forgot to take my camera with me, and still ended up with no more pictures on the river that day. A small price to pay for a leisurely row down the rest of the creek.
As they say in the movies, there was a storm a-brewin’, and we just barely made it to the campsite as the thunder was getting heavy. (The campsite will be at the point marked below. It’ll be on your right. Keep your eyes peeled. It’s easy to miss). We rushed to put up our tents and, because we aren’t sure whether or not our tents are waterproof, we spent way too long hanging tarp covers over them. Maybe the waterproof capabilities of our tents is something that we should know before we get stuck in the rain. In fact, I think I may go ahead and test that tonight. Either way, this ended up being an enormous waste of time, as we didn’t see a drop of rain.
As they say in the movies, there was a storm a-brewin’, and we just barely made it to the campsite as the thunder was getting heavy. (The campsite will be at the point marked below. It’ll be on your right. Keep your eyes peeled. It’s easy to miss). We rushed to put up our tents and, because we aren’t sure whether or not our tents are waterproof, we spent way too long hanging tarp covers over them. Maybe the waterproof capabilities of our tents is something that we should know before we get stuck in the rain. In fact, I think I may go ahead and test that tonight. Either way, this ended up being an enormous waste of time, as we didn’t see a drop of rain.
The campsite
Here is the where we docked the boats:
He has diabetes. That's why he's so weird looking. Don't judge him.
Camping is as it usually is... full of drunken debauchery. I don't really feel the need to go into details on our camping experience unless something unusual happens. Spoiler alert: Nothing unusual happened. Well, my buddy Nick did see a hog while he was taking a shit, but we didn't get any pictures or anything, so there isn't much else to say on that matter.
We believe this was some sort of dinosaur. A baby Triceratops, perhaps?
No, I don’t think those are native to Florida.
The next day we hit the water in the early afternoon and headed towards Lake Arbuckle. I suppose this is where I should tell you what our original plan for this trip was:
Step 1) get on boats and go down the creek to the campsite.
Step 2) chill out the next day on the creek/lake (shenanigans ensue)
Step 3) travel back UP the creek to our launch point
Perhaps you skipped the rest of this blog and missed the part about the crazy spider jungle plant maze. If so, these steps seem perfectly logical. For those of you that read that portion of this post, you know that there was no way I was making that entire trip again, fighting against the current. If there is a hell and I go there, I will spend eternity on that creek going back upstream. So, we came up with a new plan. More on that in a minute, though.
Step 1) get on boats and go down the creek to the campsite.
Step 2) chill out the next day on the creek/lake (shenanigans ensue)
Step 3) travel back UP the creek to our launch point
Perhaps you skipped the rest of this blog and missed the part about the crazy spider jungle plant maze. If so, these steps seem perfectly logical. For those of you that read that portion of this post, you know that there was no way I was making that entire trip again, fighting against the current. If there is a hell and I go there, I will spend eternity on that creek going back upstream. So, we came up with a new plan. More on that in a minute, though.
The last half mile or so of the creek was much more hospitable than the first few miles. The water was clear. The weeds were few. The fish were everywhere. So, we set up shop for a couple hours right here.
While everyone else cooked lunch, my buddy Chet and I walked about a half mile back upstream with a couple fishing gigs I made. We saw plenty of fish but those bastards are just so fast. We had no luck (there's a surprise for ya'), but at least the water was nice. Had we had more time, we may have stuck around a little longer, and fished with lures and nets, but there was rowing to do. And not by me.
We had learned earlier from a group of hikers, who stumbled upon our campsite, where the boat ramp was on Lake Arbuckle.
The plan then became that my buddies would make their way back upstream to the cars, while my girl, my son and I went over to the boat ramp and awaited their arrival.
We parted ways and headed back towards the lake.
We parted ways and headed back towards the lake.
Ahhhh... sweet, sweet engine power
It only took us about 20 minutes or so to get to the ramp. What we found was more than just a mere boat ramp. It was a nice campground with plenty of shade, full facilities and a fishing pier.
It couldn't have been a better place to wait on the other guys. I even unloaded the canoe and took her back out for some solo fishing which, of course, I failed at. I'm really tired of failing at fishing. Someone help me out, here.
Here's where shit gets funny, though. After we had been here about an hour or two, a couple guys in a boat pulled up and asked us about our boats and our gear. When we advised him of our situation, he politely advised us that we're fucking idiots. About 50 yards behind where we stood was a ranger station. In that station is someone called a "ranger". Apparently, this "ranger" character will take boaters coming down Reedy Creek back up to their cars, free of charge. By the time I found out, it was too late to call the guys and tell them to turn around, but it would have been really nice to have had this information to start with. It would have meant several more hours of playtime for everyone. It was pretty disappointing but there's always next time.
For location specifics, click the link at the top of this page.
- PHONE NUMBER: (863) 635-8589
- WEBSITE: None
- PRICE: $0
- DIFFICULTY - 9/10 Canoe, 4/10 Kayak
- PRIVACY - 9/10 (we did have a couple hikers come through the campsite)
- FISHING - 0/10 (we really, really suck)
- STAFF - 10/10
I took a total of one picture. Captured the area quite well, though, I thought
I can still feel the bastards crawling on me
Killing time
Beware panty snatchers
Art? No? Moving on...
The launch bridge
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