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AT LONG LAST I have seen the Dragon, and it was worth the wait.
On a map you'll find Dragon Run on Virginia's Middle Peninsula, but the name's a misnomer.
Dragon Run rises in Essex County, then flows eastward through Middlesex, King and Queen, and Gloucester counties, emptying into the Piankatank River, a Chesapeake Bay tributary. It is large enough to be called a river, and over its 35-mile course flows through one of the wildest, most beautiful hardwood swamps on the East Coast.
Ten years ago Hal Wiggins and I attempted to paddle a section of the upper Dragon only to be turned back by low water and impenetrable vegetation. Even so, the peek we got into this lair of the wild was enough to keep the fires burning.
Luck was with us when we tried again a week ago, because we went with Teta Kain, Doyenne of the Dragon.
It is doubtful anyone who ever met Kain has forgotten her. It isn't just her energy, her enthusiasm for the swamp, her astounding knowledge of all things Dragon and outdoors. It isn't even her talents with camera, canoe or as a storyteller. Kain, 67, a retired Air Force surgical nurse who lives in Gloucester, redefines the term "Renaissance man," lending it a definite feminine twist.
We met Kain--Teta to one and all--on a sultry afternoon at a landing belonging to Friends of Dragon Run, of which she is president. She paddled with us to Big Island, a 26-acre untouched sanctuary surrounded by virgin cypress swamp.
Kain apologized for not camping with us, but had to rush home to see Smarty Jones go for his historic win at The Preakness. (Her excitement the next morning telling us about it was contagious.)
With our tents set up beside the meandering river, we set off to hike two of the three trails running more than a mile around the wild island. I had figured the bird-finding would be great in mid-May--it was better than that. I lost count of the spring migrants passing through that place--redstart, three varieties of vireo, more than a dozen warbler species and both summer and scarlet tanagers. I kept neither a list nor a species count, but there was plenty of action.
Prothonotary and parula warblers were quite common, as were acadian flycatchers and white-eyed vireos. Later, as we ate supper in a din of bird song, a male blackburnian warbler serenaded us from a few feet away. In the small hours of the night early Sunday, a chorus of owls erupted--barred, great horned and a screech owl!
Nobody knows how Dragon Swamp got its name--or if they knew they never wrote it down. It is too far north for the American alligator, a few of which survive in the Great Dismal Swamp on the Virginia-North Carolina line.
Kain said the Dragon is a paradise for wildlife, and that may be an understatement. We saw eagles, plenty of evidence of beavers, and tracks made in the marshes by several other animals and birds.
"It hasn't rained in more than three weeks," Kain said as we set out to paddle a section of the river on Sunday. "We'll have some snags and pullovers, but they shouldn't be too bad."
Well, we did, and they weren't, but as one who jumped out to pull boats over logs at a few spots, I'm sure glad the water was warm!
Given its location on the Middle Peninsula, development pressure on the Dragon is inevitable, although the area around it is relatively undeveloped today. Friends of Dragon Run has acquired almost 300 acres in five tracts, said Kain. Other organizations are also striving to preserve this wild gem. Largest landholder among them is The Nature Conservancy, which has preserved some 3,000 acres along the Dragon.
Kain said no one is certain how many of the more than 35 miles of the river have been protected to date; preservation efforts are ongoing. In all, she said, 3,611 acres have been protected in the Dragon Run basin.
In addition to these efforts, the Dragon is protected by its isolation and a lack of access. Few roads cross the swamp, and even most private landowners, said Kain, try to keep people away from the river.
"Anyone who really wants to see it should contact me," she said.
Teta Kain is not being difficult when she says that. The Dragon is not an easy place to deal with. It is hard to reach; hard to paddle; virtually impossible to explore on foot. Seeing it is its own reward--a stunningly beautiful place you must meet on its own terms. (I know from experience, coming home Sunday with more than 30 tick and chigger bites.)
In any event, with water levels already low and a dozen or so pullovers in just the three miles that we paddled of the Dragon, it may well be fall before anyone is paddling through the swamp again, especially the upper reaches.
I have traveled in the company of many naturalists, both professional and self-taught. Few know their back yard as well as Kain knows the Dragon. Paddling through its twists and turns, there seemed to be little she did not know and know well, whether it was plants, trees, birds, fish, animals or the hydrology of the stream.
"How many times have you made this trip?" I asked. "Well," she said, "I paddle it between 20 and 30 times a year and I've been doing it four years."
It took me a decade to see the Dragon. Anyone who has patience, determination and basic boat-handling skills can do the same. The best way to start is to get in touch with Kain. Call 804/693-5246, or e-mail her at teta@vims .edu.
For a glimpse of Friends of Dragon Run, visit their Web site, dragonrun.org.
PAUL SULLIVAN, a former reporter with The Free Lance-Star, is a freelance writer living in Spotsylvania County. Contact him by mail at The Free Lance-Star, 616 Amelia St., Fredericksburg, Va. 22401; by fax at 373-8455; or by e-mail to PBSullivan2@cs.com.
