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
Sweet Tea Journal (Spring/Summer 2006) – “Shrimped all my life–still be out there if my body’d
let me.”
– Calvin Chesney, lifelong shrimper, Apalachicola
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.
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, a book by Richard Bickel. For more information, visit
www.richardbickelphotography.com.
“Dad says we’re all Americans.”
James (front, center), 9, at his family’s Fourth of July picnic, Chattahoochee
“This stinks!”
Little Miss Calhoun County, Blountstown Catfish Tournament,
after the mandatory kiss-the-winning-fish tradition
“There’s all kinds o’ snakes and gators in there, but I’m
a big girl.”
Melina, logger’s daughter, Apalachicola River swamp forest
“Ah c’mon mom, just ten minutes more.”
Cory (center), Spring Creek swimming hole, Marianna
“Hallelujah, Jesus! We have baptized in the River Jordan!” Sister Geraldine
Sherad, pastor,
the Prayer Chainers Mission of God baptism, in Camel Lake