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Salvaging the Real Florida: Lost and Found in the State of Dreams

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by David Lambert

North Florida's St. Johns River is a troubled water. It crawls slowly northward through the top half of a troubled state. The river took shape in the Pleistocene-era Florida, nearly 65 million years ago, but it has taken humans only 400 years to change its nature--to harness its energy, redirect its flow, dredge its depth, widen its banks, pollute it with wastes and runoff, fill its floodplains, and draw down its water. New threats to the St. Johns River seem to pop up daily, so keeping tabs is a full-time job for researchers, enviro groups, scientists, and writers like Bill Belleville.

About the only thing humans haven't managed to spoil is the character of the St. Johns. It's that special character that writer/naturalist Bill Belleville admires, and it's what he writes about with such grace and enthusiasm.

Belleville's 2001 book on the St. Johns, River of Lakes, brought readers a new understanding of Florida's longest river. Others have told us how much North Floridians depend on and love the St. Johns; Belleville's book shows us why. River of Lakes helps demystify, and in fact often clarifies, the interconnectedness of man, land, and water. Its evokative prose derives from the author's special understanding of place.

Belleville's words ring honest and true because he `kens' his subject, understands it at a nearly molecular level. One senses that he uncrated much about himself in the process of writing River of Lakes.

Belleville's newest book, Salvaging the Real Florida, is an equally compellingly read. It's more about love of place than any book in recent memory. In the 10 or so years since he penned River of Lakes, Belleville's relationship with the natural world seems to have taken on an almost spiritual side, as though he were seeing natural Florida through the eyes of paleo-Natives, the Timuqua or Tequesta, the Calusa or Creek. Other times he's a scientist, examining Florida with magnifying glass in hand. Still others, he's a poet, a wordsmith who articulates and illuminates the wonders of the natural Florida with a lover's eye, but without the flower and fluffery that usually accompany books of this sort.

Salvaging the Real Florida speaks of Belleville's understanding of the connectedness of man and the natural world. His is a near Shinto perspective of the benefits (and pleasures) derived when man immerses himself in nature, surrounding himself (or herself) with forests, sky, dirt, and water--forest bathing as the Shinto call it.

Belleville's Salvaging the Real Florida is a series of. . .do we call them essays? Narratives is more correct. Written mostly first person present, his prose is elevated imagery, subtle metaphor from a suitor's pen; he writes with an earnest clarity and a near obsession of place. His real Florida is as grand as a first magnitude spring, but it's also close at hand, like the backyard woods you played in as a kid. His narrative pieces are siren song, but note . . Belleville's temptress could as easily be a murky swamp as a crystal blue spring or saltwater cavern.

For those who love the natural Florida, or those who wish they did, there are simply no better books than these two from writer/naturalist Bill Belleville. Mind you though, after reading them, Belleville's obsession with place may become your own.

--David Lambert, Southerner's Journal, 2011

The title, Salvaging the Real Florida, is as layered as the collection of experiences contained within its pages. In one deft phrase, Belleville alludes to a diving excursion among the remains of the Stephen Crane shipwreck that inspired The Open Boat, the quest to save the remaining vestiges of the state's natural landscape, and a commitment to rescue the treasures of a dreamscape gone nightmare before it is too late.

His writing is engaging, literate, and steeped in an intimate knowledge of his subject. Belleville has hiked her woods, kayaked her waters, and dived deep into the heart of her springs to bring us these tales. He is informed by a naturalist's commitment to a scientific understanding of Florida's unique environment. Yet it is his heart and his passion for his subject that captivates our imagination.

Come along with a a modern day adventurer as he opens our eyes to the treasures that are literally in our own back yard. The collection of essays in Salvaging the Real Florida celebrate and explore a mythic world that we have the power to preserve. They also lament a world that is sadly passing before our eyes. We, just as the state, hang in the balance. The loss of Florida's wild spaces is in no small part, the loss of our selves. Belleville makes a powerful argument for their preservation through non-argument. He leaves the debating and parsing of words to the politicians. Instead, he takes us on a journey, and we emerge wiser for following his lead.

As I tried to make my enjoyment of Bill's newest book on Florida last as long as possible I saw that the jacket blurb claimed him as "our own William Bartram". Those of us who follow his unceasing effort towards gaining recognition of the importance of our natural world, and the need to "salvage" what is left of it, would agree. But I had a gleeful mental picture of Bill riding his bike down Sanford High Street toward Maya's Books and the Florida locals calling "Puc-puggee"after him, as they did to that other "Bill" in 1774.

This work, as eminently readable as all his others, offers a wide spread of differing essays about our natural word, and the threats that we ourselves pose to its beauty and sustainability. The work draws on the authors wide experience in the outdoors and reflects his love and sincere efforts to protect it by educating his readership to the dangers of development, sprawl and the downright stupidity of ecological abuses by those `boomers', developers, and our `nature-blind' politicos.

Bill dives the wreck of Stephen Crane's, The Open Boat the S.S. Commodore off Ormond Beach, and recounts the adventures of earlier dives in the Galapagos Islands and the Florida Keys. But it is when he is wading through the St. Johns River wetlands, strolling the RiverWalk around Lake Monroe or kayaking the wilder reaches of our waters that he is most `local' and at home. Bill has adopted the St Johns River into his own sense of place, as did Bartram, and is truly now one of the river's Keepers.

This book attempts to salvage our own, perhaps waning, regard for this gorgeous State of Florida and tempts us to engage in the efforts to protect and appreciate what there is left of that 1774 paradise found by the original "Puc-puggee".

I'm happy to say I saw this book on the bookshelf at my local book store, and had the presence of mind to buy it on the spot. This book is a refreshing change from a simplistic reactionary rant about the environment. What it is though, is an extremely enjoyable book, that by the end, can take you to a different place, even if it is in your own backyard in Florida. Still, after reading even the first two essays in the book, it is hard to imagine someone remaining completely unmoved about the beauty and rarity of the remaining wild places left in Florida. This book deserves to be read well beyond the borders of Florida. It is an allegory to how fascinating and complex all life really is.

SunPost Weekly April 21, 2011 | John Hood
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Shadows and Shade in the Sunshine State

With all the hoopla about Earth Day, it only seems right we localize the holiday and celebrate what we've got right under our lucky noses. Yes, I mean the beaches and the theme parks (after all they're both as intrinsic to our state as sunshine itself). But I also mean the more off-the-beaten-path kinda places, those that don't boast multi-million dollar advertising budgets and triple-figure family admittance fees. Yes, I know, some of the best of those have gone the way of the dodo. But there's still enough real Florida left in Florida to wow even the most attention-addled imagination. All it takes are a few left turns.

Just ask Bill Belleville, who's gotten off on more unnamed exits than anyone I've come upon in quite some time. In his delightfully meandering Salvaging the Real Florida (University Press of Florida $24.95), Belleville will not only tell ya which turns to take, he'll let you know what goes down once you get wherever it is he suggests you go. And trust me, once you've gotten a gander at Belleville's Real Florida you will wanna be hitting the low road - or at least a wild waterway.

Taking a page from ol' Henry David Thoreau, who he cites as saying "the natural world can be a source of `vigor, inspiration and strength,'" Belleville begins his sauntering series of journeys by explaining just what sauntering really meant to the infamous Transcendentalist.

"[Thoreau] used a superb term to characterize how he moved across the landscape. He called it sauntering, and explained it as a derivative of a word used to describe pilgrims in the Middle Ages who were traveling to La Sainte Terre, the Holy Land. Some traveler left behind jobs and asked for charity along the way. In doing so, he morphed into a sort of mystical hobo. The intrepid pilgrim then became known as a Sainte-Terrer, which later was anglicized as "saunterer."

While Belleville isn't advocating we all drop everything in order to find our inner hobo, mystical or otherwise, he, like Thoreau, does seem to be somewhat taken by those who are and were "at home everywhere," which "is the secret to successful sauntering." Mostly though, Belleville is encouraging us to adapt "a behavior that sets you squarely in the moment." And to "retrieve the real Florida from those who would turn the Land of Flowers into one giant, giddy corporate amusement park."

Among the many saunterings Belleville so fondly chronicles take us through Mosquito Lagoon and the Lake Woodruff Wildlife Refuge, across the Wekiva River's "Bridge to Nowhere," and down to both Key West's Bahama Village neighborhood, and Key Largo, "where Bogie meets Lewis Carrol." There's a rather heartbreaking excursion among the remnants of the ancient hardwood forest that once lined the Ocklawaha River, as well as a visit to the `noble sheet of water' known as Lake Jesup, just one of the many marvels the White Man stole away from the Seminoles and named for himself.

Most remarkably perhaps is that no matter where Belleville goes, he sinks into what he calls "gator time," and he achieves a oneness with the world that would surely please a saunterer such as Thoreau. That Belleville does so with a naturalist's eye and a historian's attention to detail only makes this rich appreciation of a largely forgotten Florida all the more rewarding.

Of course Belleville's saunterings wouldn't be nearly as distinguished if they encompassed a Florida without tourists, and Florida of course wouldn't be what it is without that steady stream of visitors. Yes, for better and worse, tourists have long been responsible for putting the bread and butter on our state's plate, and we'd be remiss if we didn't give `em some kinda shout out.

Whether or not you're on Walt's side of the tourist equation, you'll get a kick outta Tracy J. Revels' whip quick Sunshine Paradise: A History of Florida Tourism (UPF $26.95). Yeah, I know, you've heard this all before. But you've not heard it with such concision or precision. Revels. who previously racked nostalgic with Grander in Her Daughters: Florida's Women During the Civil War, brings a historian's perspective to the phenomena of tourism -- then adds a dash of native pride, despite the fact that she's from the Panhandle, and we all know that's a whole `nother state in itself.

I jest, of course, just slightly. The Panhandle is worlds away from the theme parks and beaches most folks picture when someone mentions Florida. But Revels' birthplace hasn't diminished her desire to give the visitors to our state a fair shake, even they do travel tourist class.

Starting off by saying that "a tourist is an individual who seeks amusement or pleasure," Revels gives each the benefit of our doubt, if only because they were lured to these shores by those of grand vision. Naturally, "the two Henrys, Flagler and Plant," and a certain Walter Elias Disney get their due. But it is when Revels is, well, reveling in the less trafficked highways and byways that she really seems to find her Paradise. And if you can't appreciate the kinda folk who shot alligators from steam boats or who made their way in a Model A, then you're missing out on the whole sordid story of the FLA.

Taken in tandem, both books provide the give and take that has made this state so great, and whether you're with it or against it, you live here, and you may as well make the best of it. If that's a saunter or a thrill ride, you've gotta dig the fact that there's no low ebb to our high tide. So slather on the sun block and get out there!

Salvaging the Real Florida is a masterpiece. Bill Belleville is able to describe the Florida landscape with word pictures that are insightful, poetic and often have deep meaning in some of his subtle wit. If you aren't an outdoor adventurer, you can live vicariously through Bill who has done it all in the swamps and springs of Florida. If you are, you will be amazed how he can observe and then translate our state's still wild areas. There is a picture to begin each chapter which is a short essay that stands alone. As a group, they give us a wonderful picture of the land and the importance of joining in the effort to save what is left. He doesn't preach, he invites us to become more aware. I couldn't put it down. The front and back covers are gorgeous and I feel lucky to have recently discovered this writer. Claudia Scott, Jacksonville.

As a librarian, I read a LOT of books, but this is the first title in quite some time, to mesmerize me. The author, in a series of essays, aptly demonstrates the facets of himself which include: historian, poet, ecologist, naturalist, and spellweaving storyteller. As I read I felt I was next to him on each trek, sharing fully in the experience. And, as a resident of the Ocala National Forest, I applauded his sharing of the beauty of natural Florida. Be sure to allot yourself time for this, as you'll probably find it difficult to put it down once you start reading!

Belleville is the 21st century Thoreau. There are some differences, though. Belleville writes about Florida, Thoreau wrote about New England. Belleville writes about apple snails, Thoreay writes about huckleberries. Thoreau was dry, both in subject matter and in voice. Belleville's writing is marvelously rich and full of humor. Also, he has pictures. Salvaging may be his best book yet because his range and his voice make learning about Florida a literary adventure. In the end, he welds a connection to the big penninsula that is fluid, lasting, and full of love. As a teacher, I recommend this book for the classroom, as a reader, I recommend it for it's fine writing, and as a Floridian, I recomend it as one of the last bastions to a land that may, in future years, exist only in our memories.