PULSE The Magazine
of Mount Dora, Eustis and Tavares

Dora Canal

continued from page 1

Back in the main channel, we turn our kayaks gently around the first slight bend...and leave all man-made sounds behind us. As I acclimate to the quiet and solitude, I realize that my assessment is erroneous-my surroundings are teaming with life, and I am privileged to bear witness via my small, unobtrusive craft. The air is filled with the sound of birds, large and small, many of which go about their business just beyond the bounds of human observation. I hear the call of a Barred Owl, but cannot find its source. What is observable to my, and my camera's eye, is a delight-and I am so thankful for the ability to linger, in an up close and personal kind of way.

The four foot tall Blue Heron that frequently positions himself on a particular elbow of protruding log is just up ahead on my right. I gently position myself to drift relatively close by, and stop paddling. I am so keen on observing him that I almost forget to take a photograph. I have picked an appropriate distance, as he barely flinches when I pass...yet I feel an imperceptible tension, and know his watchful eyes could trigger flight at any moment. I am reminded of another unique aspect of the Dora Canal-the relative tolerance of wildlife for the passing parade of humanity. Having paddled similarly close-quartered waters, the avian population does not normally provide extended photo opportunities. I take advantage of this once again as I paddle by a male and female Anhinga, their long slender necks stretched towards the sky, wings extending out and away from their bodies. They, along with the often seen Cormorants, are expert fisherman, known for their diving skills and chasing of prey underwater. Nature has exacted a price for this skill-the absence of oil glands for waterproofing their feathers. At some point, they must perch and air-dry-and this pair seem perfectly willing to let me linger and observe their mandatory time-out.

Our next side trip comes up on the right, beckoning exploration, and we tuck into a narrow and low-canopied section, some branches crossing overhead barely a few feet above us. Immediately we are in the minority-nine black Vultures briefly turn their heads as we approach. Some forage along the shore as we move ever-so-closely by-but most are perched directly above us, hunched and staring down through gray-circled eyes as we try to quietly pass underneath...as slowly, and as quickly, as possible! There is a stand of trees, close to the banks on the right that always produces striking reflections in the still water. My kayak ripples the surface, and my camera captures the oily-appearing waves of gray, black and white. The stretch ahead opens up and we are warmed by the ever-increasing amount of sun. Taking our time, we enjoy the warmth and paddle along through more open vegetation, periodically straining our ears to pick up any grunting sounds...alligators have been heard, and seen, in this area on previous trips. Signs of civilization appear in the distance, so we decide to turn and head back to the main channel. Still guarding the entrance/exit, we pass back under our Vulture friends and move into the Canal again.

We encounter our first motorized boat, two gentlemen and their fishing rods, heading in our mutually south and easterly direction. They wave, their gentle wake diminishing in the distance. Out of necessity, motorized boat traffic must slow considerably to negotiate the two-way passage between lakes. Not everyone realizes the impact that even a slow-speed-produced wake can have on a nearby canoe or kayak, especially in narrow waters where its pilot could easily tip if it did not negotiate its parallel-to-wave position successfully. Fortunately, all our passers-by were considerate. We continued on, taking in the sights and sounds. A brief image of Humphrey Bogart, struggling to pull the African Queen through these waters, popped into my head. I would have loved to have been an aerial observer during the filming of those particular scenes...and aerial observers are, and were I'm sure, plentiful!

While the Canal hides the nature of its underwater life inside its murky waters, one has only to look up to see the variety of species enjoying the treetops, and the airways above and below. The winter months bring a multitude of nesting birds, the most striking images of which are seen high overhead and lining both sides of the Canal in this section. Cypress trees are deciduous, leaving their leaves to litter the ground starting in about November. Their bare limbs, along with those of their non-living, sun-bleached neighbors, stand out starkly against blue skies and provide the perfect perch for spotting prey. I love to lean back in my boat and float through this section...peering through far off clumps of mistletoe or nesting material to see an Osprey, taking note of the way the sun strikes a particularly statuesque Blue Heron, or hoping for a glimpse of a passing Eagle.

Today, the vultures are out in abundance and dot the limbs like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. A whoosh of white goes by me-the large wing span of a Great Egret. Yellow-beaked, its jet black legs descend gracefully onto a half-submerged log a short distance ahead. Paddling past, I take note of the striking lime green area around its eyes-a temporary condition produced by the breeding season. Several other wading birds are present in the canal this morning-the Snowy Egret, Little Blue Heron, and a Tri-colored Heron. They pick their way gingerly between Cypress knees and shoreline vegetation, or perch on low-lying limbs, looking for their next meal. We also pass the bobbing heads and long, curved, red-orange bills of a handful of white Ibis, pecking along a semi-solid stretch of land.

Hearing another boat approaching from behind, we pull over to the side and let them pass. We bob up and down briefly, the waves lapping softly through rows of Cypress knees and back towards the fluted bases of their parent trees. As we head into the more heavily canopied mid-section, a higher pitch of bird song prevails. Smaller birds enjoy the leafier surroundings, which provide even more welcoming shade for flora and fauna in the hot summer months. A Belted Kingfisher keeps its distance, flying ahead of us from one stretch of trees to another. The earlier cloud cover has passed, allowing the morning sun to wedge its way angularly through the tree trunks, carving white wedges onto the water's surface. Sunlight filters softly through the dense, leafy canopy and interlocking branches, the contrast of darks and lights lending an air of enchantment to our passage.

Photographing in the Dora Canal can present its own unique challenges. On the one hand, our kayaks offer the best in unobstructed views. We are more maneuverable and can take advantage of the increase in flexibility over our motorized counterparts. There is barely a hint of current-a condition that proves highly advantageous when taking photographs. However-being the only captain and crew member on board your vessel can be problematic when your hands and eyes are occupied with non-boating activities! Lighting conditions play a very important part in photography...but as the Canal giveth, it also taketh away. I have produced some of the dullest, most flatly lighted photographs imaginable-and some of my most striking. I keep coming back though, and always with my camera.

Signs of life-the human variety-continue to increase. Boating traffic has picked up and we venture into the last two side passages, quickly passing mobile homes and tiny plots of mowed and manicured lawn. We head towards a dead end, a location notorious for spotting an alligator or two-but it was not to be. We speculate on the reason, and decide that the continually colder weather has kept more than ourselves from 'being out and about'. Back in the Canal once again, we pass under another roadway that borders Summerall Park, its banks lined with noontime fisherman. An older gentleman sits above a bulkhead across the Canal on our left, his cup of coffee enticing us back to reality. We pass the waterworks in Gnome Village, and a few feet farther down, check out the little lighthouse with several Hummel figurines displayed in its top...quite a contrast to the scenery of earlier morning!

Passing under the old railroad trestle and into Lake Dora, we stop paddling and gaze lake-ward for a moment. But only for a moment...intrigued by a high, and lazily swirling mass of Vvultures towering over the tree tops, we turn and happily head back towards the heart of the Dora Canal. I am filled with a deep sense of satisfaction, and amazed that its source was literally right at my fingertips.

By Nike Bolte