Fed by the River

Renowned photojournalist Richard Bickel paid a visit to Apalachicola more than a decade ago, and he never left. His camera lens captures the heart of this beautiful area—the bay, the river, the land, and its people—just as it captured him.
- story and photography by Richard Bickel

James Cain likes to keep life simple, and I can respect that. Besides a necktie for funerals, this seventy-six-year-old remains unaffected while maintaining his plywood boat and six 1970s Evinrude motors. Any less than six, and he can’t keep the boat alive, day in and out, on Apalachicola Bay. In turn, his wife, Mary, has anchored him for forty years as an oystering partner and provider of soul-warming breakfasts in their humble Eastpoint mobile home.

Like the Cains, the families who gather at Spring Creek, up the Apalachicola River basin near Georgia’s cotton fields, have never looked farther than the water for solace. Why should they, remarks a Spring Creek regular named LaVerne, “since this place hasn’t changed from when I was a little girl.” She watches her grandson, Cory, fly from a rope swing and dive into the spring that’s as clear as the day LaVerne first took a plunge sixty years ago.

LEFT: "God is in the sea. He provides." --Anthony Grimm, fisherman, Apalachicola.
CENTER: "Just opened, and I believe we got a real good future." --Mrs. Brothers, along with Mr. Brothers at their Bait Shop, Ocheese Landing, Chattahoochee River.
RIGHT: "This stinks!" --Little Miss Calhoun County, Blountstown Catfish Tournament, after the mandatory kiss-the-winning-fish-tradition.

For centuries, Apalachicola’s watery Eden of creeks, streams, rivers, bays, and marsh has nurtured, and sustained, the lives of its people. From the shrimpers and fishers to the crabbers and oyster shuckers, life begins and ends with the water.

It’s not an easy life. Most families toil amid sun-beaten boats and docks, mining local waters, just to scrape in a day’s wage. Yet they are devoted, dignified, and resolute about the beauty of their workplace. “I thank the good Lord for blessing me,” said a third-generation fisherman. “This has been a sweet life.”

And so it has been for me since moving to Apalachicola ten years ago. A city boy from Pittsburgh who’d shot photos for magazines in thirty-five countries, I turned my lens on these amazing “water men and women” of Apalachicola Bay. They teach me about life, about how being strong, resourceful, and respectful of the land—while asking for nothing back—has brought more than contentment. They thrive. And they flourish on my film in ways no other humans have. As my viewfinder follows these fascinating faces, I continue to appreciate, more and more, the sweet life and the waters they hold sacred.

Editor's note: These photographs are part of Apalachicola River: An American Treasure, an exhiibit at the Mary Brogan Museum of Ar and Science in Tallahassee. For more information, see page 68 or visit www.richardbickelphotography.com.

 

 

TOP LEFT: "There's all kinds o' snakes and gators in there, but I'm a big girl." --Melina, logger's daughter, Apalachicola River swamp forest.
TOP MIDDLE: "Pap and grandpap fished for a living. But they say we've got to go to school." --The Young brothers, Scipio Creek
TOP RIGHT: "Ah c'mon mom, just ten minutes more." Cory (center), Spring Creek swimming hole, Marianna
BOTTOM LEFT: "Just what the doctor ordered: the kids, a cold beer, and a fishin' rod." --The Holloway family, near Chattahoochee, on the Apalachicola River
BOTTOM MIDDLE: "I'm the fastest shrimp header on the docks-if I ain't been partyin' all night." --Wayne O'Neil, seafood packer, Apalachicola
BOTTOM RIGHT: "Hallelujah, Jesus! We have baptized in the River Jordan!" Sister Geraldine Sherad, pastor, the Prayer Chainers Mission of God baptism, in Camel Lake