St Johns River Side Trip: Hontoon Island to Blue Spring to Dead River

---

February 13: I take a bike ride around Hontoon Island, then set off to visit Blue Spring and do the Jungle Tour before anchoring for the night at Dead River.

---

In the morning, I was up at my usual time. I took my pups for a walk and photographed the sunrise through the trees. It was very peaceful. I made a good hot breakfast — veggies and eggs — and washed my dishes. Then I topped off my water tank. (I’ve learned that it’s always a good idea to top off the tank when I have the chance because I never know when my next chance might be. Running out of water is not fun, especially because it wreaks havoc on the water pump.)

Hontoon Island treated us to a nice sunrise that morning.

The Bike Ride

I’d decided to go for a bike ride that morning and since my pups clearly wanted to go out, too, I attached the basket to the bike to bring them along. I also packed my binoculars, Nikon with 300mm lens, and a bottle of water. I thought that maybe we’d find someplace interesting to stop where I could do some bird watching or photography. I wanted to be prepared.

I loaded up the girls and headed back down the road toward the campground. Although it was flat, the road was rough, with mud in some places and tree roots in others. Keep in mind that the only vehicles in the park are the side by side utility vehicle the maintenance folks use, a small pickup truck, and a small van. There is no bridge to the park and visitors don’t bring vehicles. I assume all the camping is tent camping.

I went through the campground — past a handful of vacant rental cabins and campsites — and continued south on one of the park roads. The rough road made for an uncomfortable ride; my Lectric Lite ebike does not have a good suspension. The land around us was mostly flat and swampy, with tall grasses and side trails that seemed to have been cut with a mower. I had Gaia GPS set up on my phone in its cradle and had downloaded area maps so I could see the whole trail system with our position on it. I saw that if I turned west I could get onto a trail that went all the way to the water, so I made the turn and continued pedaling. The new trail eventually narrowed and went through some trees. It ended abruptly at a bench where the trail met the Dead River.

I stopped and let the girls out of the basket to run around. They hadn’t had a good run in a few days so they went at it, chasing each other around the area for a good five minutes. I took some pictures and kept an eye on them. I knew there were gators in the water and we were right by the water. There were also supposed to be bears and some sort of large cat out there.

Of course, I didn’t see any of the wildlife we were supposed to be able to see. The deer had likely bedded down for the day. Bears and cats kept their distance. Even the black vultures made themselves scarce, although once in a while I’d see one soaring above us.

Prepping to Move On

I loaded the girls back into the basket rode back to the marina. I took the basket off the bike, folded the bike, and put it away on board. Then I went over to the ranger station, which was locked, and knocked on the door. A ranger opened it. It wasn’t the one who’d let me stay the night before. I explained who I was and asked how much I owed them. “Nothing,” he told me. I told him how much I appreciated the stay and asked if it was okay to walk my dogs in the park after hours if I anchored nearby that night. He said it was fine.

A while later, we were on board and heading out. Our destination was Blue Springs, about 3 miles farther down on the St Johns River.

But we had a chore to finish first: because I expected to use my dinghy a lot that day and only had about a half gallon of fuel left in the gas can, I had to backtrack to a nearby marina that sold gas. I repositioned the boat to a dock there, retrieved the gas can from the propane locker, and handed it up to be filled. I found Dove ice cream bars in the marina store and added one to my bill. (And if anyone ever asks you, it’s never too early in the day for ice cream.) Then I paid up, went out, and got a push off the dock from the guy that had helped me with the fuel.

The Short Cruise to Blue Spring

It was a Minimum Wake zone for most of the distance to Blue Spring, so I took it slow. I passed a bunch of guys in fishing boats, as well as an old tugboat that seemed to be purposely run into the shallows. It had flags on it and I’m pretty sure someone was living on it. There were more pleasure boats down there, too, including a rental houseboat tied up in one of the oxbows. I passed a boat ramp on my port side and then arrived at Blue Springs.

Blue Springs State Park gets its claim to fame by being one of the “winter homes of the manatees.” From its website:

Conservation measures can produce astounding results. In 1970, two years before Blue Spring State Park was established, researchers tracked 14 manatees in the spring run. By 2005, after years of park improvements and manatee protection efforts, wintering manatee numbers exceeded 200, and by 2023 that number skyrocketed to a record 729.

Besides “sea cows,” fish abound in the spring run and attract a variety of wading birds, ospreys, eagles and kingfishers. To see the park’s wonders, visitors can hike along the spring run or on the 4.5-mile Pine Island Trail.

Visitors can also launch a canoe or kayak (rentals are available at the park) or take a guided river boat cruise.

Blue Springs does not have a public use dock. Its only dock is for its two tour boats. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get into the park, but figured I’d try. So I went past the park and dropped an anchor along one side of the river. The current was swift and holding was poor, but I would up putting out about 70 feet of rode in 15 feet of water. That held us in place.

I had leftover ribs for lunch — the last of them — and sat up on the command bridge with my binoculars, looking at birds and the tourists paddling by in kayaks rented in the park. Then I called the park and, by some miracle, the phone was answered by a park employee. I asked where I could dinghy in and she directed me to a sandy area south of the dock. I could see where she was talking about. A few kayaks and a small fishing boat were parked there. I could easily dinghy over.

So I did. I actually rowed over because the current was going that way and it was pretty close. I tied my dinghy to a tree out of the way, pocketed the motor “key,” and headed into the park.

A sign said there was a $2 per person day use fee. I took an envelope, stuffed $2 into it, and stuck it in the slot. I then put the receipt into a plastic sleeve I have on my dinghy.

I walked the park trails, which were mostly walkways alongside the Blue Spring run. The run was closed to boating — normally kayaks are allowed — and swimming because it was manatee season. The water was clear and easy to see right to the bottom. I did see some manatee in there — including one that had been tagged with a floating buoy — but I saw a lot more fish. The run, of course, is spring fed and the trails led all the way up to the “boil” where the water comes out. Springs in this part of Florida — and there are apparently quite a few of them — have water that’s 72°F year-round.

This was one of several tagged manatee I saw in the area. The conservation folks tag ones that are recovering from injuries so they can track them. The floating tags tied to their tails eventually come loose.

I spent about an hour walking around and looking at the water, the jungle-like surroundings out near the boil, the manatees, the fish, and the tourists. I went into the gift shop and realized, seeing all the manatee items, that I thought manatees were ugly and didn’t want a mug or t-shirt or cap with a manatee on it. I went next door and bought my second Dove bar for the day. (Don’t let anyone tell you that you can have ice cream only once a day.) Then I went back to my dinghy and back to my boat.

The anchor had dragged about 16 feet while I was gone. Not a big deal, but it was pretty clear that I could not leave it unattended at that anchorage for long. Since I was hoping to take the dinghy around the south end of Hontoon Island and up its west side by dinghy, I’d need to move Do It Now to a more secure anchorage. So I stowed the dinghy, pulled up the anchor, and continued up the St Johns River. There was an oxbow just upriver from Blue Spring and I turned into it at forward idle speed, being careful to give kayakers plenty of space. The water was plenty deep enough. I watched the way the wind was hitting the water and eased over to a spot against one shore that was sheltered from the wind. The depth was about 7 feet; I dropped the anchor and let out 25 feet of chain. With barely any current and no wind, the boat stayed right where it was.

Here’s a shot of my boat anchored in the oxbow just upriver from Blue Spring. There was very little current there.

I launched the dinghy again and topped off the Suzuki motor’s internal tank with fuel. Then I put the fuel can into the dinghy for refueling along the way. I put life jackets on my pups and loaded them into the dinghy. Then I climbed in with my binoculars and Nikon and cast off.

I continued along the oxbow and back into the St Johns River. I was looking for one of the straight “logging canals” that ran between the Dead River and St Johns River. My friends Kenny and Rhonda had told me they were part of the “jungle tour” and my neighbors back at Hontoon Island State Park had recommended circumnavigating the island by dinghy. (They said it was deep enough for my boat but the trees overhung the waterway and I had too much air draft. Spoiler alert: They were right.)

The first canal was grown in on the St Johns River end so I went to the second one, which I knew was clear. I motored down at slow speed. The canal was narrow with dense swamp vegetation on either side. Spanish moss hung down from all the trees, which grew close together to form a sort of tunnel.

Here’s a look down the canal from the Dead River end. I’d been told about the birdhouses in the trees and they were a good landmark for the return trip.

About halfway down the canal, I saw a very large alligator on shore. There wasn’t much sun coming through the trees, but he was apparently trying to soak it up. He had to be at least six feet long. I was so stunned to see him that I didn’t get a photo.

Of course, seeing an alligator that large got me wondering how sturdy my RIB dinghy was. It’s basically just two inflatable sections with a hard plastic floor. If an alligator’s teeth were sharp enough, it would be easily punctured with a single bite.

I kept going. I got out on the other side of the canal into the Dead River. It was wider and winding. I headed north with the idea of going as far as the St Johns River near Hontoon Island State Park. I put on a little speed.

I didn’t see any more alligators, although I bet there were lots of them around. I did see a lot of birds. And then I saw one of those floating buoys like the ones they put on manatee. I slowed way down. Where there was one manatee, there could be others. The last thing I needed was to hit one with my dinghy motor’s prop. Bad for the manatee and probably bad for me.

A few minutes past there, it seemed to get more jungle-like. More birds flying around and making noise. More jungle spookiness. I began to lose my nerve. What if there were more, bigger alligators? What if they had experience destroying RIB dinghies? I decided to go back.

But before I went back, I wanted to top off the fuel tank again. The last thing I needed was for the engine to quit in that narrow canal with at least one large alligator hanging around. So I killed the engine, worked the little fuel can, and topped off the motor’s tiny tank. I closed everything up, started the engine — it took three tries! — and headed back.

On the way, I saw something weird swimming on the water surface. It turned out to be a snake. Jeez!

I passed the manatee again and kept going. I turned into the canal and slowed down accordingly. It was very narrow. I kept my eyes peeled for that alligator. I’d get a picture this time. But I never did see him. That meant he was probably in the water.

I admit I ignored the slow speed signs. I stuck to the St John’s River and only slowed down when I reached the oxbow where Do It Now was waiting. I felt very glad when I got out of the dinghy and onto my big, safe boat.

By this point, I’d pretty much decided that I’d go back to Hontoon Island State Park and try the anchorage near there in Dead River. I figured that if I went south on the river far enough, I should be away from the light and noise of the community and marina across from the island. I wasted no time prepping for the move. I stowed the dinghy and fuel can, started the engine, and pulled the anchor. A few minutes later, I was on my way, cruising slowly back down the St Johns River. I had begun my return journey; I would not go the extra distance to Stanford.

The Dead River Anchorage

I passed Hontoon Island’s marina a while later. There was another boat parked in one of the slips. More engine trouble? They should just open the marina and start collecting fees again.

Although I was tempted to pull in with Do It Now and take the girls for a walk — saving me a dinghy ride later — I decided to settle into my anchorage and come back. So I passed the marina and made the left turn where the St Johns River turned right.

Dead River was dead calm. I drove down — or up? — about a quarter mile, just far enough where I wouldn’t get much light from the marinas and homes on the river. I couldn’t tell which way the current was flowing so I just dropped anchor in about 10 feet of water and waited. Almost imperceptibly, the boat drifted backwards. I let out more chain until I had about 40 feet out. I suspected that the weight of the chain would do more holding than the anchor itself.

Once we were settled, I launched the dinghy again — if you’re counting, that’s three times in one day — and set off with my pups for the state park marina. I pulled into one of the slips and let my dogs off onto the dock. I didn’t bother with their leashes. I wasn’t a guest there, the rangers had gone home, and there wasn’t anyone there for them to bother.

After the girls did their business and I did my cleanup chores, we walked back to the dinghy. I chatted briefly with one of my acquaintances from my stay. Then we loaded up and headed back out to our nice, quiet anchorage.

Except it wasn’t quiet! There was a cacophony of sound from all kinds of night birds, including, according to Merlin Bird ID, a barred owl, which I’d never heard before. This went on as I made myself dinner and ate inside the screened aft deck.

Finally, the sun set and most of the birds quieted down. After a while, even the owl was silent — I suspect he’d gone off to hunt.

We had a very calm and peaceful night.