Cypress knees jut out of the dark water. Sweetbay magnolia towers overhead. It's an obstacle course. Winter blowdowns force us into deeper water. We clamber up and over and through tangles of brittle branches and thorny vines.
Bloody gashes appear on bare skin.
And then there's the muck. The sucking muck. The muck that oozes into tennis shoes. Linda is in front of me, making funny noises. The muck that coats the swamp floor so deeply that only a foot of my fully extended Lekis peeps out above the waterline as I probe ahead for footing.