In Search of Little Florida

Billy Crews & Samuel Babin

Trip Report by Billy Crews

With the Mudbug (MB) date closing in, I figured it was time for me to do a little pre-routing. Although I had posted four trips for my MB PWC tours to the forum, I was not actually familiar with every mile of water. My spillway ride in particualr, the one that circumnavigates Flat Lake, actually includes a few miles of water I’ve never navigated, while the rest I rarely visit at all.

Riding with me today would be fellow PWC enthusiasts Samuel Babin from Denham Springs, LA. Samuel had called me earlier in the week inquiring about making a ride soon. I immediately concluded he’d been lurking around the forum and had come across my post regarding my plans to ride today. I was grateful for the call and was glad to have a wing-man. Samuel and I had crossed wakes before nearly two years ago on a group ride along the Amite system. Quite the experienced rider, Samuel had the pleasure, and guts, of completing the Eastern Leg of the Great Loop. Laying down approximately 1,000 miles in 23 days is no easy task, so I welcome that much experience to join me anytime I’m on the water.

Samuel met me at my house in Duck Roost and then followed me down to the camp in Belle River so I could pick up the bikes. With the trailer hooked up, we finished our route down Hwy 70 ending at the Joe Russo ramp which accesses the Spillway at Flat Lake. With the river topping five feet on the Morgan City gauge, the water was up and we both had to wade out to unload the skis. With the skis dropped, we both commented about how the weatherman got it wrong again: It was not warm, clear and sunny; instead, it was windy, chilly, and the sun couldn't be found.

Idling out the launch facility I described our route to Samuel which was basically a loop around Flat Lake with a little extra mileage on the north end of the route. We throttled the bikes up and cruised north in the ICW for a few miles and finally ducked into the bottom end of Bayou Sorrel. The Spillway really shows itself here: Within 300 yards of entering the bayou, the water color went from a muddy caramel to coffee black; large, second growth cypress, along with willows and tupelo lined the banks. We carved up By. Sorrel a few miles until we reached Big Fork Bayou whereupon we turned north and entered the “extra mileage” portion of today’s ride. Big Fork bayou is easy enough to navigate even to the untrained eye, but upon crossing the Thirty Inch canal I had to consult with my 76. No sooner than I spotted my track on the unit I was able to see it clearly enough as I remembered it. Between the Sixteen Inch canal and the Thirty, Big Fork has hardly any trees to define the curves of the bayou. In an area where the swamp basically opens up, you have to know where the bayou runs or you’ll find yourself in trouble.


We crossed the Sixteen and continued up Big Fork serpenting our way north towards the Twenty-One Inch canal. In between the Sixteen and the Twenty-One, Big Fork becomes a little narrower with countless cuts and sloughs lining each side of the waterway. Having never been in the Spillway before, I was fairly certain that Samuel was pretty much lost five miles back. He would glance over at me every so often with a “which way?” look and I respond back with either a nod of the head or a wave of a hand to indicate the direction. We were just over twenty miles into our track when we reached the Twenty-One Inch. Cutting back to idle, and turning westward into the canal, I explained to Samuel that this was as far north that our track would take us and were going navigate our way back south via yet another route.

We headed down the Twenty-One, single file, with Samuel on my six. Remembering last summer’s grass problem, I was hoping SoLA had had enough of a winter to damage the crop, but that didn’t happen. Standing on the ski, I travelled the glassy, black water just a foot or so above the coon-tail grass that was reaching up from the bottom. This was no good - and it would only get worse the further I’d go. I motioned to Samuel that I was stopping and turning around. I think he was a little confused on why the route was coming to a stop, or at least until he realized how much grass we had navigated. Heading back the way we came felt a little sinful: There is just something wrong about having to run over the same patch of water twice. I was hoping to get to Misty Crew bayou, but that just wasn’t going to happen today. And it obviously won’t be happening anytime this year. The grass will only get worse as the water warms up.

We back tracked up to the point of the Sixteen Inch where upon I told Samuel perhaps we could bushwhack another trail over to Misty Crew. I had spent more than my share of days skipping school to know that there was more than one way around that section of the Spillway, but that had been nearly thirty years ago, too. I reasoned that we could keep on down the Sixteen and then take the Thirty over to Misty Crew. But that wasn’t going to happen either - we found the Thirty about a mile further, but it was blocked by a lily jam that had no end in sight. Realizing there would be no alternative routes travelled by PWC today, I finally gave in to mother nature and retreated all the way back to Bayou Sorrel. Upon reaching Sorrel we made a right turn and began the actual route which circumnavigates Flat Lake. Heading due west, we passed the “months of the year” bayous: June, May, April, and March. The next bayou was Misty Crew and I slowed up to explain to Samuel that this is the Bayou we should have been coming out of as opposed to passing by it. Oh well.... Looking down, I noticed that the bayou was begging to lose it’s black color, reverting back to shades of caramel. You can always tell when your nearing a major body of water in the Spillway - the water color lets you know all the time.

We finally made American Pass and I felt like I was finally entering uncharted waters. My regular riding buddy, GL, had attempted this route via his party barge earlier in the year, but the water proved to be too low and he had to turn around. We put about a mile of the pass behind us whereupon the banks began closing in. Also, showing up in the waters were reeds and various other plants that grow out of the water; all signs of shallow water. We finally made the island that has taken over the once wide American Pass and you could just discern a line in the water: Undoubtedly there was a shelf of shallow water straight ahead. We eased into the shallows and after a few hundred yards, I pulled out my rope and anchor to do a depth test. Six feet - not bad, but I didn’t want any less. Having second thoughts, I raised GL on the cell and we discussed the situation. He reminded me that the gauge in Morgan City was two feet higher than when he attempted it, plus, American Pass was full of silt from the main river which means it has a hard bottom. I consulted the anchor again and it sunk fast to six feet and hit hard. I tried to drag it but it wouldn’t grab in the hard sandy bottom - yeah, GL was right: We could walk out of here if we had to.

Pressing on, I made three more drops: Five feet, then four feet. Damn, the rope was getting short in the water. But we could see the river just a few hundreds yards further and gave the bikes a low throttle forward. My third and final drop registered over six feet: We were over the hump! Passing out of American Pass, we made a northward turn into the very wide and quick moving Atchafalaya River. As the day was windy, the river was white capping, but the waves were low and not at all uncomfortable. We navigated just over a mile and finally reaching the north point of Little Island we beached the bikes in the shallow waters of Little Florida. During the spring rise, most of Little Florida, as the huge sandbar is known, is under water, but the bottom was hard and smooth and was quite easy to walk around. Samuel and I both took a well needed bladder break then mounted the bikes to finish up the route.

Running down the south side of Little Island I was reminded of the Mississippi River on the B2B run: The current was fast and full of debris. There were also many currents with some converging and causing rip lines with white caps. We stayed in the main river as we skirted the south west side of Flat Lake and in no time had made the confluence of the Atchafalaya and the ICW. Turning south in the main channel, Samuel followed me to the few way-points that I had plotted as Points of Interests for this year’s MB. Our first POI was the “Mr. Charlie” rig, home of the International Petroleum Museum & Exposition. We did a slow fly by getting a good look at the antique oil extracting facility. Next was the city wharf at the sea wall in Morgan City. There were a few folks fishing off the dock, nestled in between the shrimp boats that were moored there. 

Heading back towards the ramp, we slowed up at the nearby Coast Guard mooring facility. While I can’t exactly say what types of ships they keep here -small cutters? - the guns mounted on the forward decks, although under wraps, were impressive enough. We finally reached the south end of Flat Lake and took the right branch, which becomes the ICW on the eastern side of the Spillway. I slowed up just long enough to capture a few pix of Flat Lake and moving on, we had our bikes back on their trailers at the Russo boat ramp within a few minutes. Although the route I wanted to take turned out to be a wash, I got to make a good run over some old grounds, lay down a new track, and spend the day in good company. Thanks, again, Sam - I had a great time.