Web producer Kevin Sparkman heads to the back of the skiff after tying a tow line to the flying inflatable boat which, caught in a gusty crosswind, has flipped over.

Earlier today, when the flying inflatable boat first tipped its wing into the water, it was "a little bit broken," according to Ron Thorstad, pilot and owner. A subsequent disaster could not be averted, however. Now completely upside down with its wing submerged, it's "a lot broken."

Every moment of this 10-day river expedition -- even not-so-pleasant ones -- are being gathered up for possible use in the resulting documentary film. Here, David Strayer mans the camera and Joel Tower is ready with the audio equipment as the team prepares to recover pieces of Ron's overturned flying inflatable boat. Dave asks: "What do you think it's going to look like when we turn it over?" Ron's reply: "Mangled."

Jill Heinerth suits up in dive gear to help recover the flipped flying inflatable boat. The river water here is cold, dark and fast-running.

Dive lights and tow lines are being prepared so that Ron and Jill, in almost zero visibility and a fast current, can attempt to disconnect the submerged wing from the overturned flying inflatable boat.

Ron requests a hammer as he's been unable to finesse the bolts loose in order to free the wing. The current is so fast that he has difficulty grasping the tool when it's offered to him.

As the wing breaks free of the flying inflatable boat, director Wes Skiles ponders the meaning of this disaster in the context of the expedition.

Ron enlists a volunteer from the crew to add weight to the difficult task of righting the flipped flying inflatable boat, 300-lb. engine and all.

Ron struggles to release the last part of the wing from the flying inflatable boat.

Finally released from the flying inflatable boat, the wing floats on the surface of the water behind the houseboats.

Ron holds pulls a handful of nuts and bolts from his pocket: the remains of his $28,000 flying inflatable boat. Ever the optimist, he exclaims: "Hey, I've saved $12.00 dollars of hardware! Eeeecheeewaawaa!"

Ron handles the flipping flying boat disaster with grace and humor, thus setting the bar high for behavior from the rest of the crew when it encounters challenges and dilemmas both big and small.

The crew prepares to head off the main stem of the St. Johns and into Blue Springs to film the environs and the manatees.

The film crew fills a flotilla of canoes, kayaks and skiffs with cameras and audio equipment in order to intimately explore Blue Springs State Park.

The flying boat disaster all-too fresh in his memory, Wes is concerned about manatees flipping his canoe; this one high-definition camera is worth $125,000.

This aerial view shows the head spring of Blue Springs State Park. This trip's a homecoming of sorts for Russell and Keven Sparkman, producers of the River Returns web documentar. As youth, they lived on Blue Springs and learned to swim here.

DEP scientists Jim Maher (left) is among the contingent that negotiates canoes and kayaks under the moss-draped overhangs that guard the entry into Blue Springs State Park.

Wes hovers above the opening of the headspring at Blue Springs.

According to the latest counts, almost 120 manatees use the Blue Springs run as a winter refuge from the colder waters of the river and ocean. Here, five manatees bask in the sun in the clear shallows right at the edge of the tea-colored water of the St. John River.

Scientists actually identify manatees by their scar patterns because almost all of the slow-moving mammals bear one or more slashes or gashes as a result of encounters with outboard motors.

Manatees are mammals whose mammary glands are under their flippers. Here, a calf nurses.

Among the most dangerous moments to be a manatee is every time it takes a breath. Here, a manatee surfaces for a bit of air, heedless of speeding boats with sharp propellers.

Gentle and curious, a manatee approaches Wes' underwater camera.

At the end of a long day on the river, there's good food, good friends and good music. Here, key grip Simon Manses treats the crew to an original tune he wrote about rivers as biologist Tom Morris uses his headlamp to shed light on the poetic lyrics.