The need to abandon the city for a serene outdoor activity is oh-so-cliche. Returning to nature and doing “your part” to help the environment during Georgia’s water crisis is too.

However, the two or three hours it took to ride the 6-mile stretch of the Broad River with a guide from Broad River Outpost revealed much of the water culture’s truths:

Water really can be scarce and many can be affected. Being socially and environmentally cautious can pay off.

The Broad River Outpost office is saturated with character that drips from every freshly dunked life vest. From the faint smell of burning wood to the wild muscadine grapes on the side of the trail, this is the water culture of Georgia.

Spenser Simrill, a professor of creative writing and American literature at the University, has been working at BRO for the past four summers. He said there has never been a worse time to go down the river, but there also has never been a better time.

“It is more important to experience nature in times like these because you realize that things are fragile,” Simrill said.

In talking about the drought, he said he has been taking shorter showers, washing his car less and turning the faucet off when brushing his teeth as a way to be more environmentally conscious.

Phrases such as “Stash Your Trash,” “If you’re with me, you won’t get stuck” and “Just throw the apple in the woods, the squirrels like to eat ‘em” abound in the area of the cabin that houses all of the kayaking/canoeing equipment.

“You have to kind of be a jack-of-all-trades around here,” said one of Simrill’s co-workers, Augie Parrinello, as he gestured toward the small building.

A senior geology major at the University, Parrinello said he thinks the average person assumes environmentalism is a return to primitive ways of life.

“Society at this point in time is canceling out the natural order of the earth,” he said. “There is more abundance in working with the earth. If you get rid of the basic operating system of the planet, this isn’t gonna work out, ya know?”

Simrill and Parrinello said they viewed the drought as a natural process. Although it has been a topic of interest for a couple of years, Parrinello said it isn’t necessarily a question of natural or unnatural phenomenon.

“It’s a political thing,” he said. “When they’re under the gun, they’re freaking out, but when it rains, it becomes a non-issue. We should always be aware of it.”

With normal levels being between 30 and 45 inches deep, the river now runs within the normal range.

Before the rain of the past week, it was as low as 15 inches, Parrinello said.

The shallowest parts of the river being near the banks, Parrinello stopped several times to grab scattered trash between the turtles and bowing branches.

“The goal is to get people to have fun,” he said. “But overall, I try not to be so near-sighted – I try to look into the future.”

Both BRO employees said they find the water to be a haven for people of all types.

Simrill said teaching for him is a complete mental exercise, but it is good to spend time physically challenging himself also.

“One of the cool things about Athens is that we are a small city and we’ve got the vibrant music scene, and of course, football,” Simrill said. “But around [Athens] it is very rural. With all of the noise, it is nice to have that solitude.”

Alexia Ward, a graduate student at the University, and Mica Doctoroff, visiting from Atlanta, said they decided to come out to the river because people told them it was the thing to do. The two newbies were headed down the river for the first time.

They said the drought hadn’t affected them as much personally since they felt they were already environmentally conscious.

“Socially we’ve become a lot more responsible in ways that I didn’t think Georgia could,” Ward said. “It’s pretty awesome to see businessmen letting their yellow mellow.”

She said she doesn’t agree the drought is a natural thing as it has caused more than four years of tight supply and dangerous consequences for smaller towns in the state.

“People take water for granted,” Doctoroff said. “[The drought] makes people value nature more.”

The shimmering mica from rock degradation seeps between your toes as you sink into the mud and the heron fly close to the banks on either side.

Each paddle stroke is deliberate, wading through shallow areas of no more than a foot at times.

“There’s no way that you can look at that river and not realize that something is wrong,” Simrill said. “There is the concern that if it gets worse it could have a more permanent effect, but droughts are natural.”

Whatever the case, the water culture that invades Broad River Outpost with an average of 250 boats per day is holding steady to the pastime that makes the city glitter less and helping the environment mean more than a little tree-hugging.