Natural Wonders of the Coast 



Way Down Upon the Scuppernong River 



"He won't bite. And if he does, it 

 won't hurt too much." 



With those strange words of assur- 

 ance, David Wojnowski of Elizabeth City 

 maneuvered his canoe — with the 

 reluctant help of his canoeing partner — 

 next to a gum log jutting into the Scupper- 

 nong River. 



On the log, a brown water snake 

 sunned himself. 



In one swift move, Wojnowski 

 grabbed the reptile and threw him into a 

 cloth bag in the bottom of the canoe. The 

 slight wind carried the musty scent of the 

 frightened snake downriver. 



Later, Wojnowski showed the other 

 members of the canoeing party his right 

 hand. Blood trickled from a series of tiny 

 wounds on his knuckles. He smiled. 



"It was worth it to get a snake like 

 that," he said, explaining that he would 

 keep the snake alive and show it to his 

 students. 



Snakes included, the Scuppernong 

 River is one of North Carolina's best kept 

 secrets. 



Quiet and unassuming, the river's 

 dark pocosin waters flow from just north 

 of Lake Phelps to Albemarle Sound. 



There are few signs of man. 



No littered shorelines. No trampled 

 banks. No fire rings or newly-blazed trails. 



Perhaps this pristine beauty is the 

 reason Lundie Spence, Sea Grant's marine 

 education specialist, chose the Scupper- 

 nong River as one leg in her recent 

 Paddle-to-the-Sea project. The program 

 was designed to give science and math 

 teachers from the state's northern coastal 

 counties a chance to experience coastal 

 nature first hand. In turn, that knowledge 

 will be passed along to their students. 



Wojnowski was one of those teachers. 



The five-day adventure traced the 

 course of a single imaginary raindrop that 



fell into a freshwater lake (Lake Phelps), 

 wiggled its way into the Scuppernong, 

 flowed into the Albemarle Sound estuary, 

 and finally came to rest in the warm 

 waters of the Gulf Stream off North 

 Carolina's Cape Hatteras. 



The teachers discovered the unique 

 characteristics of Lake Phelps, retracing the 

 probable course of Indians who paddled 

 dugout cypress canoes on the lake 

 centuries ago. They studied the huge trees 

 in one of North Carolina's last remaining 

 stands of virgin timber. 



On the Scuppernong, they took water 

 samples, noted the river's bankside flora 

 and fauna and paddled to one of the last 

 stands of Atlantic white cedar on the East 

 Coast. 



In Roanoke Sound, the teachers 

 waded in ankle-deep water, took more 

 water samples, collected more plants and 

 animals, and gained an appreciation for 

 the myriad forms of life in the estuary. 



Finally, aboard a headboat in Oregon 

 Inlet, they learned of the raindrop's final 

 earthbound destination. They discovered 

 how the raindrop squeezes through the 

 inlet to mix with the offshore waters, 

 eventually evaporating and returning to 

 the sky. 



Why all the fuss over a tiny raindrop? 



"If you look at our state, you won't 

 find any watershed system that is more 

 compact than the one we chose for 

 Paddle-to-the-Sea," Spence says. "From 

 lake to river to estuary to ocean, it's all 

 there." 



Spence says it's important for teachers 

 to instruct their students in the fundamen- 

 tal truth that a watershed is not just one 

 lake or one river or one stream. 



"They need to teach that a watershed 

 is a whole system and that a commitment 

 to teaching about the watershed is a 

 commitment to teaching about the 

 system," she says. 



C.R. Edgerton 



COASTWATCH 15 



