Okefenokee Swamp
Entry to the park is via US177, eight miles south of Waycross off the Jacksonville Highway. While these may sound like mighty Interstate trunk routes, the part I drove was light on traffic and absolutely charming, with miniature wetlands along the verges and just a few small towns scattered in between. Throw in lots of churches, as one finds in ‘bible belt’ America, a few barn sized antique shops and, of course, many miles of long straight road. The landscape is wheat harvest brown with inky blue-black pools reflecting rows of skinny upright shrubs, fallen trees and fresh green shoots.
No worries about driving in unfamiliar terrain. There’s virtually nothing to hit and no wrong turns to take.
The tragic history of the area is one of the last massacres of white settlers by local Indian tribes. There’s a Scottish connection here as everywhere on this trip.
I’m sure there are a few more tragic tales involving gators and the product of the ubiquitous still that no one lived to tell.
Trips through the park can be done on foot, by boat and on the railroad.
The guides on the latter two are attractions in themselves. A well-tuned ear is needed to keep up with their stories.
There is wildlife show with a storyteller who dances through a routine with snakes, young gators and a ‘scary surprise’, which, after everyone has surreptitiously checked for the shortest route to the nearest exit, turns out to be a soft toy.
Arriving early proved to be a good strategy. As well as affecting an early escape from a very ordinary, musty smelling chain motel, I caught the local wildlife at ease before the crowds descended – gators lazing on the grass and taking a shower, and this gorgeous otter standing tall.
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