TRAVEL
PHOTO BY PHILLIP GERRELL
PHOTO BY WAKULLA RANGER BOB THOMPSON
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The Sunshine State is best
known for its beaches, but its
many springs are what give it
old-Florida charm
On a good day, the water is bright as a Burma sapphire. nd so clear it’s spooky.
ou look into the heart of the spring and see, sharp as laser light, individual sand
crystals, the little craters in the limestone, the mastodon bones–some big as tree
trunks–resting on the rocky shelves. traveler in these parts in !"# wrote that the spring
was “of such perfect transparency, that the smallest ob%ect is seen at the immense depth of
water below, and the spectator upon its surface, sits and shudders as if suspended on
empty air.”
Gazing into the heart of the spring, you can’t tell if you’re looking ") feet or "))) feet
down* you can’t tell if it’s still the + st century or "),))) years ago when the blue world of
Wakulla was born.
This isn’t %ust a beautiful, evocative, almost mystical place. This isn’t %ust a charming, oldtimey
tourist spot. This is an ecosystem that reveals much about the health of Florida’s environment.
When you look into the springs, it’s not %ust the past you see: it’s the present and
the future. Florida’s springs are a window onto Florida’s aquifer. This is your drinking water.
2egend holds that “Wakulla” means “mysterious waters.” That’s not right: the name
might be related to “kala,” Timucuan for “spring,” or else a form of the 3reek word for loon,
“Wahkola.” But you can see why “mysterious waters” is poetically apt.
>>
A glass-bottom boat floats in
Silver Springs, opposite page.
Above, a boat takes visitors on a
tour of Wakulla Springs. Top,
mullet are some of the fish that
can be seen at Wakulla.