tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81266950118238262432024-02-18T22:38:32.337-08:00The Florida National Scenic Trail 2011Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-38648502796317545032011-07-27T10:56:00.000-07:002011-08-21T20:43:27.509-07:00Miami International Airport to Oasis Visitor Center---February 14thAfter completing the Pacific Crest Trail on October 21st, 2010 one of my main thoughts was "it'll be a while before I do anything like this again". I was drained both mentally and physically, the 2,663 trail miles having whittled my 185 pound frame down to a very thin 140. At Halloween my brother joked that I really didn't need a costume, I could just go as a skeleton. Certainly a period of recovery was in order, a time to reconnect to the "real world".<br />
The first fortnight was the most difficult as a feeling of weakness completely overwhelmed me. This was hard for me to understand because I had felt so strong on the trail. Perhaps I had run out of adrenalin and my body had gone into shut down mode. Several more weeks passed and I began to feel gradually stronger especially as I was still wolfing down food at a rate that only a hungry hiker can appreciate. As a result, I was regaining a fair portion of the weight I had lost.<br />
It was during the Christmas holiday that one of my friends from Florida wrote that I should check out the National Scenic Trail in his state. I don't know the exact reason why, but the idea intrigued me even though up to that time I had never ever heard of the Florida National Scenic Trail. A little research on the Internet and suddenly that idea was becoming a plan. No doubt I missed the challenges of the trail, so I decided on an adventure that was longer in both time and distance than the Pacific Crest. If I was going out to the east coast to hike I might as well include the Appalachian Trail as a part of the experience. This combined with the trail in Florida would exceed 3,200 miles and would most certainly take more time than the three and a half months it took me to finish the Pacific Crest Trail. Over the next few weeks I ordered the maps and data book for the Florida Trail, paid my membership fee, arranged for the permits that would allow me to pass through the Seminole Indian Reservation and St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge, and bought a few items of gear that I thought I would need for these particular trails. In addition, I got the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Thru</span>-hiker Companion and Data Book for the Appalachian trail figuring that the planning for our nation's oldest national trail could be done while I was in the back country of the Sunshine State.<br />
So it was that in the late evening of February 13<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span> I found myself boarding the overnight flight from San Diego to Miami, on the way to "hit another trail" much sooner than I could ever have foreseen. Early the next morning as the plane descended for its final approach into Miami International, I gazed out the window at the landscape of South Florida. It certainly wouldn't be long now before I'd be out there in it, my excitement and nervousness building. There was only one problem I had to worry about: How do I get from the airport to the Loop Road? No public transportation is available.<br />
I had thought Alligator Alley Express was my best option as the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">FTA</span> website stated that the company offered a service between Miami and Naples with the Oasis Visitors Center being one of the drop off places. However, in attempting to contact them a few days before my flight I only got a message that the phone number was no longer in service suggesting in my mind that they were out of business. At the airport information desk, the employee directed me toward a mini-van operation that transported people around the greater Miami area, but the confusion among those working at the pick-up point over exactly where I wanted to go coupled with the $500 suggested price left me shaking my head and laughing at the ridiculous situation I was in. The trail head was only 45 miles east with no apparent means to get there. "Hell, I'm a long distance hiker," I thought. I'll take the city bus to the edge of town and, if need be, walk the rest of the way.<br />
The $5 bus ride to the western edge of the city was uneventful and the walk past Florida International University out to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Tamiami</span> Trail (Highway 41) was pleasant enough, the temperature being relatively mild in the wintertime. I tried hitching for an hour, but there were three factors working against me. First of all, there isn't much room along the highway for a car to safely pull over to give somebody a ride. Secondly, in the winter there are many homeless people in the area, so locals are averse to picking up complete strangers, especially those with a pack on their back. Finally, what traffic there actually was was very light and I suppose the chances of catching a ride diminish with a low number of cars.<br />
I believe I covered more than fifteen miles striding along the shoulder of 41. As the sun dipped below the western horizon I slipped onto a short, dirt side road that led to a transmitter tower and hurriedly set up my tent next to some tall marsh grasses. A fortuitous spot indeed seeing as how much of the area on either side of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Tamiami</span> is covered with water. Not quite the way I had pictured my first day, but except for the acute loneliness I felt inside my tent that evening, all else was fine.<br />
Hoofing it another five miles the next morning, I reached Everglades Safari, one of several establishments in the region offering air boat tours of the swamp. I stopped by to inquire about getting a ride to the ranger station. The people I spoke to, learning of my predicament, were eager to help and on my behalf spoke to a tour operator out of Ft. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Lauderdale</span> whose group was currently out in the middle of their swamp tour. He informed me that the next stop on their trip was only a half mile from the ranger station, all I had to do was take the front passenger seat and keep quiet so he could do his presentation as the group's guide. Agreed!<br />
While I was waiting for the group to return, I sat in the shade and did some wildlife watching. Wasn't it a thrill to see a four-foot alligator emerge from underneath the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">lily pads and take up a nice sunny place on a grassy bank in front of me. "Now this," I thought, "is Florida.", as my face broke into a broad smile. It was only an hour later after a short drive and walk that I was standing in front of the doors of the Oasis Visitors Center.</span><br />
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Everglades Safari Park<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoPIGj5iw6tkC1haP0TOHBtyAP_3cPDtnba05yi8mnjT70p4k_SY4ikZ9FVDcLFUD_nGzmW-p7WTqTtNVCan2vJZUv5oPLCmTKGNDqq20plFgxDSRwtfrQRldhvHze57Rx89k1zdM8HSvE/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+480.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634093095916778754" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoPIGj5iw6tkC1haP0TOHBtyAP_3cPDtnba05yi8mnjT70p4k_SY4ikZ9FVDcLFUD_nGzmW-p7WTqTtNVCan2vJZUv5oPLCmTKGNDqq20plFgxDSRwtfrQRldhvHze57Rx89k1zdM8HSvE/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+480.JPG" style="float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSBFN6Fye_bR97Zv6FzBUYt0VQAz_bLPP99V_YyxPh3RXXQk-whXbEfBMWLXK-fGbtwrFS36xuxgj_V86su3nahnV4rqchAl_0xbGwImS5_1xx-fVYOvsvtbk6thR-Xiz9S7BqL-5VZ_LI/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+481.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634093089475523362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSBFN6Fye_bR97Zv6FzBUYt0VQAz_bLPP99V_YyxPh3RXXQk-whXbEfBMWLXK-fGbtwrFS36xuxgj_V86su3nahnV4rqchAl_0xbGwImS5_1xx-fVYOvsvtbk6thR-Xiz9S7BqL-5VZ_LI/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+481.JPG" style="float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 240px;" /></a>Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-72013878196877560032011-07-27T10:51:00.000-07:002011-08-02T09:50:39.268-07:00Oasis Visitors Center to Seven Mile Camp---February 15thEntering the visitors center I headed for the counter to register for my hike through Big Cypress National Preserve. I told the ranger there about my plans to hike the eight miles south to the loop road where the southern terminus of the Florida Trail is located. With a look of deep concern<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEOF5j24FcW09AgYZvxocTXSmXj51Oyv7-Eqi45W2bZc4lUAZD_35UchqI1GAfk2jyM2xeNpAKu4z8calGhp1dRHhXCK2fnqjWk0q5RadZA-Oa6fgn0tZeyetvJaF8ni6FroDvZpPZnes6/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+484.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634092104052675826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEOF5j24FcW09AgYZvxocTXSmXj51Oyv7-Eqi45W2bZc4lUAZD_35UchqI1GAfk2jyM2xeNpAKu4z8calGhp1dRHhXCK2fnqjWk0q5RadZA-Oa6fgn0tZeyetvJaF8ni6FroDvZpPZnes6/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+484.JPG" /></a> she said, "Oh honey, you don't want to do that." Somewhat taken aback by her statement, I asked her what I was missing. She proceeded to tell me that an experienced hiker suffering from extreme dehydration had had to be airlifted out of that area just a few days before. "It's nothing but eight miles of deep mud," she said. The other ranger wandered over at just about this time to confirm what she had been telling me. Though a little daunted, I still felt I had to try, but taking the story to heart I made sure all of my Platypus bladders were full before taking my first steps south.<br />After crossing the 41 and passing the brown highway sign directing cars to the visitors center, I was indeed on a very muddy track through grassland with cypress trees not too distant. Unfortunately, what was one easily followed path suddenly became several paths that diverged into the cypress stand and much to my dismay I was unable to see an orange blaze to guide me further. Some little comfort was the fact that a day hiker I came across was having the same trouble as me. We chose the path that appeared to be the most well-travelled until we reached a stretch of calf-deep water. It was the end of the line for the day hiker, but as an intrepid thru-hiker I removed the compass from my pack and holding it firmly in my hand started bushwhacking a coarse due south.<br />The water didn't last long, but once on firmer ground again the undergrowth was getting rather thick, which made progress slow and difficult. After an hour and a half of imagining myself as some great explorer, I began to think better of continuing. Drinkable water was not an issue at that moment, but if I had gone further, I'm sure it would have become one. The only drinkable water was to be found in the center of the cypress domes and in this totally unfamiliar landscape, I wasn't sure where they were. So, reversing direction, compass pointed north, I made my way back towards the Oasis Visitors Center emerging from the trees about 100 feet left of the place I had entered, turned back from my true goal of the Loop Road, but with increased confidence in my compass ability.<br />The picnic area just west of the visitors center had some nice tables shaded by the nearby trees. Sitting there in the late afternoon, I checked my maps while snacking on granola bars and worrying about what would happen if I lost the trail while passing north. Before returning to the trail I took advantage of a hose and spigot to wash off some mud from my shoes and top off my water supply.<br />The early evening was sunny and warm with a gentle cooling breeze, nearly ideal conditions for a lovely stroll. The orange blazed trail was quite easy to pick up as it led north along the edge of the airstrip. Nice walking through pinewood, palmetto, palm and cypress with very little mud and no unavoidable water. The wildlife was mainly small birds flitting around in the bushes, but a hawk, perhaps disturbed by my presence, took up shrieking at me from the treetops. What I liked the most was the wonderful array of bromeliads clinging here and there to the trunks and branches of the cypress trees, a good number of them sporting large orangish blooms.<br />I didn't quite reach Seven Mile Camp before it began to get dark, so I wound up pitching my tent in a small clearing a few yards off the trail. As the dim light of dusk gave way to the darkness of night, the air was filled with shrieks and hoots and what I'd later learn to be the guttural growls of alligators. Lying in my tent listening to such a cacophony, I eventually drifted off to sleep.<br /><br /><br />Bromeliad Bloom<br />Cypress Stand<br />The Journey Begins<br />The Northern Route<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3G5ihc1iaFswV5BrCsgIGEPpnwyuxB2Rc47Uqlun057ASHqq1jwSH0sNvlF0ZxD0N89oRLkxDt-1zhwh4Yyozueep6kPiQOJVwhBk0Tl9LocoE9Vakj9W6IiBtnc2anjbbe1oC5b0RNSm/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+485.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634092093532544546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3G5ihc1iaFswV5BrCsgIGEPpnwyuxB2Rc47Uqlun057ASHqq1jwSH0sNvlF0ZxD0N89oRLkxDt-1zhwh4Yyozueep6kPiQOJVwhBk0Tl9LocoE9Vakj9W6IiBtnc2anjbbe1oC5b0RNSm/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+485.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHBuB_taE58_rl4ceQGQIJ56o6YYjMMeu-VOu5eTtv81NpdpWWT_QTUcZaC1XESFWvjnp1Da0YLhdpSSFcQbJXGxTPgbNN7VhP9CpWTV7MSAnN1_C6WgjyMyYZL9Wg-zvzzvc8mXis_X6t/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+487.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634092090959475474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHBuB_taE58_rl4ceQGQIJ56o6YYjMMeu-VOu5eTtv81NpdpWWT_QTUcZaC1XESFWvjnp1Da0YLhdpSSFcQbJXGxTPgbNN7VhP9CpWTV7MSAnN1_C6WgjyMyYZL9Wg-zvzzvc8mXis_X6t/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+487.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-PDWHznMe3092cmfQ3iT4iiBsk7_v6Fvki93xYGf0hOTtEVRbsSOXhjcRWWjGEBWpmMhPA-s-5fmXo62Fti-UUwk6PeTS1pn26emll0680OFz9GXyjzSmiIqy_Lae6qHg4TepfS5CnUvs/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+488.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634092090132269074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-PDWHznMe3092cmfQ3iT4iiBsk7_v6Fvki93xYGf0hOTtEVRbsSOXhjcRWWjGEBWpmMhPA-s-5fmXo62Fti-UUwk6PeTS1pn26emll0680OFz9GXyjzSmiIqy_Lae6qHg4TepfS5CnUvs/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+488.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3csaE0XwDCsJVzXajGbIJgGIDVP8TVqGj8o8Dtkl7LNGN6mpKzy_E935zIRWQXi2melWPTNFLJqHjCNH79F16rTo9edmOuwvjW-aFNwcilereDOIAP69YetKGcwEV1XtL2-oSdW3UwbXF/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+490.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634092086508005026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3csaE0XwDCsJVzXajGbIJgGIDVP8TVqGj8o8Dtkl7LNGN6mpKzy_E935zIRWQXi2melWPTNFLJqHjCNH79F16rTo9edmOuwvjW-aFNwcilereDOIAP69YetKGcwEV1XtL2-oSdW3UwbXF/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+490.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-28808359762500388822011-07-27T10:41:00.000-07:002011-08-02T20:20:08.197-07:00Seven Mile Camp to Oak Hill Camp---February 16thI awoke this morning to the caw of crows and the hammer of woodpeckers. The tarptent was soaked with dew, the result of the lower nighttime temps, high humidity and condensation, the morning sky a light blue and nearly cloudless. Continuing much as it had the previous evening, the path snaked its way through pine, palmetto, palm and cypress. Not long into the hike I met a couple who had overnighted at Seven Mile Camp and were now returning to the Oasis Visitors Center. They seemed surprised to see me, even more so when I told them about my plans for thru-hiking. Concerned about the availability of water, they offered me a liter of their water saying they had carried extra from the trail head the day before and wouldn't need it walking in the cool of the morning on their return journey. I readily accepted even though I still had plenty of water myself. Wishing me luck on my trek, they continued south while I headed in the opposite direction.<br />Passing Seven Mile Camp and Ten Mile Camp while it was still rather early, I soon came to a scenic area where the trail skirts a large sawgrass field. No questioning the reason for this semi-circular sweep of the path. If it ran straight through the field, it would soon be overgrown, not to mention the fact that hikers travelling past would be cut to ribbons. After all, the plant is called SAWgrass.<br />Shortly after one o'clock I arrived at Thirteen Mile Camp and took a relaxing hour-long break reading and hydrating in the shade of some squat palms. The day may have been considered hot by some if not for the cooling effects of a light wind. On the way to this rest spot I had found some sunglasses lying discarded in the dry grass next to the trail. Quite thankful for this because my pair had been broken (cracked down the center) during my bus ride to the edge of Miami. Now I was once more in possession of a pair that would protect my eyes from the glare of the midday sun.<br />When breaktime was over, I took a look at the camp register. Inside were names and messages from other 2011 thru-hikers, most of whom were at least a month ahead of me seeing as how the peak of thru-hiking season really kicks off around January 1st. The most recent entry was one signed by Rich Mayfield, who was attempting the Eastern Continental Trail from Key West to Canada. Just a day ahead I thought I'd stand a good chance of catching up to him. Another hiker had included directions to the nearest cypress dome where fresh water could be found---a quarter mile north on the trail turning left onto a swamp buggy road and then bushwhacking into the center of the dome on the right. "Look out for the alligator that will be eying you!", it warned. Ha, Ha. "What a humourous entry in the log", I thought.<br />Grabbing my gravity filter and tin cup I went in search of water. Following the directions I was soon standing amidst the little cypress trees (many no taller than myself) and grasses that form the outer edge of the dome. As I walked further towards the center, the cypress trees became bigger, growing closer together and patches of sawgrass appeared. Continuing on, I got the feeling that everything was closing in around me. Then suddenly, it all opened up to reveal a shallow, muddy pool with lush aquatic plants and reeds ringed by the largest of the cypress trees. A two foot gator, startled by my appearance, scrambled into the water on the opposite side of the pool. "Well, so much for that", I said to myself. Finding a place where I could skim off some relatively clean water with my tin cup, I began to fill the dirty bag of my filter. It was then that I noticed a five foot alligator resting by the side of the pool partially hidden by the plants. It was only 12-15 yards away and was indeed giving me the eyeball. I stood up quickly and looked around the area to see if there were any more surprises. Not spying any, I engaged in a brief staredown with the toothy reptile before slowly bending down again to fill the dirty bag with water. I suppose it felt the whole process was a bit time-consuming or maybe that I was a tad too close in proximity. Becoming ever so slightly agitated, it let out a few threatening growls similar to those I had heard the night before. Protecting its territory or perhaps the little freshwater that remained during the height of the dry season, I couldn't blame it for being a little grumpy. With bag now full, I quietly backed away and left the pool to its permanent residents.<br />Back at camp it took about 15 minutes for the gravity filter to process about four liters of water. Definitely not the best water I've tasted---I called it "alligator piss" in lieu of my experience---but adequate enough to stave off the thirst.<br />The next five miles the trail went from dry to wet to thick mud and finally to a short stretch of calf-deep water before reaching Oak Hill Camp. A few feet higher than the surrounding land, the camp provides a safe haven in the midst of the swampy waters, oak trees and palms forming a jungle-like canopy over the tent sites. In the early evening there was a lot of animal noise, especially with the squirrels chasing each other along the branches of the oaks and down the trunks into the bushes. At dusk I was serenaded by a chorus of crickets while reading another chapter of The Deerslayer by headlamp. Data Book says that deep water awaits tomorrow. Gulp!<br /><br /><br />Pine, Palmetto, Palm and Cypress<br />The Sawgrass Field<br />Path through Small Cypress<br />The Pool<br />The Toothy Reptile<br />Oak Hill Camp<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVBSKNHmeupiHZVvNVAYQh4SE97xMgIRPX67beAPw9LbE5RTgroV6XsPTk_wETwo9eHZ4cg7dbWmozqdj7t7ZBmxb8VbZyNsAektKw9ZxoPaqmtDEMX_qjmuBE7w4RF0FWdsv9LH0OUiav/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+492.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634090962627444418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVBSKNHmeupiHZVvNVAYQh4SE97xMgIRPX67beAPw9LbE5RTgroV6XsPTk_wETwo9eHZ4cg7dbWmozqdj7t7ZBmxb8VbZyNsAektKw9ZxoPaqmtDEMX_qjmuBE7w4RF0FWdsv9LH0OUiav/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+492.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi86SRJgmZpu8yQrur8AbE1XhHvg8wLRIxzbtsEZ-P5J65-i2vbJ-SfB9dKdZoUoZaWEkawUhmrPKDSDB92ltsKYgLMAkEbqM1NojdnARg98o9B_3tAAcUiqFbkvwKD_dN-dSRTXX-nbvJa/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+496.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634090766338103346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi86SRJgmZpu8yQrur8AbE1XhHvg8wLRIxzbtsEZ-P5J65-i2vbJ-SfB9dKdZoUoZaWEkawUhmrPKDSDB92ltsKYgLMAkEbqM1NojdnARg98o9B_3tAAcUiqFbkvwKD_dN-dSRTXX-nbvJa/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+496.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyyIYKOdEkXbGktxpbwXpNkysvEPXigr0azxzqby3bW_fzeMxRU2SfF8urpCaRLwt3KUe42RSp8glATg-l8Zn1hzepucSkdWGCEFfXZhc-xD6orQM73QLQrCSv1UbBCjteRTsI_Hl8H8QG/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+497.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634090760111852146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyyIYKOdEkXbGktxpbwXpNkysvEPXigr0azxzqby3bW_fzeMxRU2SfF8urpCaRLwt3KUe42RSp8glATg-l8Zn1hzepucSkdWGCEFfXZhc-xD6orQM73QLQrCSv1UbBCjteRTsI_Hl8H8QG/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+497.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivIKWX7D_7mPA5bq7lNxe2rj1-TT-NQX-9rALRxR0TvIb-EKs8kZqhdEk3ARpN6skuttB5ymBa5C_xmeli0sBX1g_telutjj6on5Fb0qjXnovZjvs-29UIUeK2NUYOw8UgOm4JcH3mVMS_/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+498.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634090758079082498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivIKWX7D_7mPA5bq7lNxe2rj1-TT-NQX-9rALRxR0TvIb-EKs8kZqhdEk3ARpN6skuttB5ymBa5C_xmeli0sBX1g_telutjj6on5Fb0qjXnovZjvs-29UIUeK2NUYOw8UgOm4JcH3mVMS_/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+498.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4DASk94bZs2rVcPMyG_iKXNAgaBLUQ7j0V40hp4FugNBUpjt7FbEc3a-V-X9Ukyj8wstB7QBVOfIvxoWqgVpm904vu45srKX-6wP1BRrUKevc88RngLfIJrJprCuuIXBre_aN7b7m2saE/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+499.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634090754344212434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4DASk94bZs2rVcPMyG_iKXNAgaBLUQ7j0V40hp4FugNBUpjt7FbEc3a-V-X9Ukyj8wstB7QBVOfIvxoWqgVpm904vu45srKX-6wP1BRrUKevc88RngLfIJrJprCuuIXBre_aN7b7m2saE/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+499.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCspaQmrtVMvlVXid9Fx8yzWFZ4PWRQWNSNGAYLaZBL-RGxNCXR-mDzUnwh5RIbd6euFlvOocffBPLMulMDcVq7J3i3xYvYdcUxV2wX0irQpjSBLDXpo4RUqX7GCR2m4dAxqixXXfm5RN/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+500.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634090749842784018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCspaQmrtVMvlVXid9Fx8yzWFZ4PWRQWNSNGAYLaZBL-RGxNCXR-mDzUnwh5RIbd6euFlvOocffBPLMulMDcVq7J3i3xYvYdcUxV2wX0irQpjSBLDXpo4RUqX7GCR2m4dAxqixXXfm5RN/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+500.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div>Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-3871208682258977102011-07-27T10:32:00.000-07:002011-08-03T11:22:33.715-07:00Oak Hill Camp to Nobles Homesite---February 17thUnlike yesterday, the tent was dry this morning thanks to the foliage overhead. The Data Book showed that the "Black Lagoon", the deepest water in Big Cypress, was a mere tenth of a mile north of Oak Hill Camp. Having taken a moment to summon up my courage, I strode determinedly out of camp and sure enough was soon in knee deep water, surrounded by cypress stands. Needless to say, this was hiking as I had never experienced it before and it seemed as if all my senses were heightened. Not wanting to get lost in the swamp, I proceeded cautiously, seeking out the orange blazes which led me from tree to tree deeper into this unique watery wilderness. The fact is that the water didn't last for long, only half a mile (more or less) before being replaced by mud, which at times was the consistency of wet cement. Tromp. Squish. Slurp. Had to make sure my shoes were tied tight or they would have been sucked right off my feet. I'd much rather have been back in the water because it was easier to walk through.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMNCB-ZzTPJGCGVThzjX5VdTWsCItdBedhjvhGNKYo204Zf-HJ-5fLlVejd9kcXEcnxD-AQr5B4Ce0uRJ9BunTPTzBKSxKjZeNBay7lfjR2ONmBmBoQ67GN_42FGWJCsg7h6uQAzC4CiI/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+501.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634088239319813106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMNCB-ZzTPJGCGVThzjX5VdTWsCItdBedhjvhGNKYo204Zf-HJ-5fLlVejd9kcXEcnxD-AQr5B4Ce0uRJ9BunTPTzBKSxKjZeNBay7lfjR2ONmBmBoQ67GN_42FGWJCsg7h6uQAzC4CiI/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+501.JPG" /></a> At some point in this mud-bound world I came across a debris field---abandoned clothing, tents, sleeping bags, a couple of packs, a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">walkie</span>-talkie<br />and the most curious item, a hiking staff decorated with emblems from at least 30 state or national parks standing upright in the mud along the trail. My mind, working furiously, couldn't help but pose some unanswered questions. Why would people abandon there equipment like this? Had they got into trouble? Were they airlifted out? Did these people make it? As a solo hiker, I had an eerie feeling as I stood there trying to make sense of it all. Alas, this mystery was to remain unsolved.<br />The trail was a mixed bag the rest of the morning into the early afternoon; sometimes mud, sometimes almost dry, and two other times with calf-deep water. More than once I found myself in the middle of a sea of brown, knee-high grass with cypress domes rising in all directions in the distance. At one point I was being followed by two hawks, their wings outstretched, floating on the air currents fifty feet above me. At least they weren't vultures! Ha. I think they were simply waiting for some nervous rodent to break cover upon my passing so they could swoop down and enjoy an easy meal.<br />On the final approach to Ivy Camp there was a lovely strand of palms running about 300 meters from north to south off to the right. Much like Oak Hill, Ivy Camp offered a shady area for tents or at this time of day a good place for a lunch break. A cypress dome was also close, a short trail leading from the back of the camp through the trees to the pool. No gators to deal with this time, but water quality was still questionable.<br />Not long after leaving Ivy Camp I was finally out of the mud. It was a relief to be hiking normally again, but I'd be lying if I said I was happy to be saying goodbye to Big Cypress National Preserve. The truth is that despite the difficulty I thoroughly enjoyed my time there because of the uniqueness of the experience. I mean how often does one have the chance to walk through cypress swamps and share drinking holes with gators? :-) Not often, I'd imagine. For this reason I'd heartily recommend the trek through the preserve to anyone seeking a little adventure.<br />Anyway, continuing on from this sentimental reflection, the trail had now merged with a swamp buggy road which led to I-75 (Alligator Alley). Passing through a fence, I followed the access road east to the highway rest stop. When I reached the picnic shelters, I dropped my pack and dug out a few granola bars from my food bag. Snack time! One elderly gentleman, either braver or more inquisitive than others at the tables, asked what I had been doing. I don't think he expected my response to be, "Walking through the swamp." He was even more astounded when I told him that this was just the beginning and that I planned to walk the whole of Florida on the National Scenic Trail. Still, a smile was on his lips as he wished me good luck. The other people within earshot could only offer <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">sidewards</span> glances, not sure what to think about such absurdities.<br />Question time over, I went to the bathroom to wash the mud off my legs and rinse out my socks in the sink. The last thing I did was fill the platypus bladder up with water from the drinking fountain. Although it was cool, it had the distinctive taste of sulphur and in this respect was worse than the "alligator piss" from the cypress domes. Phooey!<br />The remainder of the day was spent walking Nobles Road looking for wildlife along the canal, which paralleled it on the left. Gators were a common sight and getting a photo of them sunning themselves on the bank wasn't a problem. However, the birds and turtles were a different story. They simply flew away or vanished beneath the green water as I drew near. White ibis, blue heron, wood stork... there was quite a variety.<br />The camp for the night was just a grassy area at Nobles Homesite. I'm not sure why there was a historic icon next to it on the FTA maps because from my vantage point there was certainly nothing to see except my eyelids as they closed upon another day.<br /><br /><br /><br />The Black Lagoon<br />Sucking Mud<br />Entering the Dome<br />Deeper in the Dome<br />Center of the Dome<br />Palm Hammock and Cypress Dome<br />Bromeliad Beauty<br />Gator along Nobles Road Canal<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPT0ykoGp8-YAdUy3RU_jbX52EI85Ftddg9uhV01j6J2pyWXKfMyxU2Z7I4qjDnYFIJpKCpY3kiQnXByF6WhB0IG5E_EpXcnMnaUXAgXIh5CsZCNOB7xnTzY73QBzLIOlCllIi29MigYh/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+503.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634088235405289154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPT0ykoGp8-YAdUy3RU_jbX52EI85Ftddg9uhV01j6J2pyWXKfMyxU2Z7I4qjDnYFIJpKCpY3kiQnXByF6WhB0IG5E_EpXcnMnaUXAgXIh5CsZCNOB7xnTzY73QBzLIOlCllIi29MigYh/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+503.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzrTnz8OsqT60uRnajRcT9PSJCCCudEhqoGCZ-U1NWcgTyuGtdvyUm27KseUwc2DQPjIw5z-EYmXxuDZ11jPa3i_RA1S-JQoeb9l2T2DeAHOIfl6x8baHvYUyqEFPRtwF85r8-kjMt0z9N/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+504.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634088230959671906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzrTnz8OsqT60uRnajRcT9PSJCCCudEhqoGCZ-U1NWcgTyuGtdvyUm27KseUwc2DQPjIw5z-EYmXxuDZ11jPa3i_RA1S-JQoeb9l2T2DeAHOIfl6x8baHvYUyqEFPRtwF85r8-kjMt0z9N/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+504.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_staYcgwa0CjQ9mlXgfDGjKYitfbOiW6DtTPOtr9PoLF00PAC8UIyAPQM-Ong3NiFRyCApJ_3lEFHu1qbVU5nXtIZ_WJmwdWVpT58Mi6KjR3BqYhJ3m47uid0w6qPdNkVtiC5T-1RZtN/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+505.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634087785714635330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_staYcgwa0CjQ9mlXgfDGjKYitfbOiW6DtTPOtr9PoLF00PAC8UIyAPQM-Ong3NiFRyCApJ_3lEFHu1qbVU5nXtIZ_WJmwdWVpT58Mi6KjR3BqYhJ3m47uid0w6qPdNkVtiC5T-1RZtN/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+505.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCsFPsHgHr1_C5Ka-2SkvZjACI9NWIYi9wMxQXk9ccNNI395swV2PobRmGeocotJfshUelg1vPBmpbg761BPy7hZBMiRVBg8C83mSQoiKLsxPAgvQGGcV-8HME7zZmEhUd5QHpaZR-VkU/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+506.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634087781373632370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCsFPsHgHr1_C5Ka-2SkvZjACI9NWIYi9wMxQXk9ccNNI395swV2PobRmGeocotJfshUelg1vPBmpbg761BPy7hZBMiRVBg8C83mSQoiKLsxPAgvQGGcV-8HME7zZmEhUd5QHpaZR-VkU/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+506.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRimYsOlMO51MhNXwS6qmDvmS6H3vCD2FwD3h_ALGC0tyY-TV19Cn5UcTtKF78NLmDDZAPv7OS0z16BE3AhEZ5NXGJyyEfPQV33IpRbwEVLkpCbvJiHz7SBJFWmjd5i26yStLiYKLWF5Ji/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+507.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634087777275889074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRimYsOlMO51MhNXwS6qmDvmS6H3vCD2FwD3h_ALGC0tyY-TV19Cn5UcTtKF78NLmDDZAPv7OS0z16BE3AhEZ5NXGJyyEfPQV33IpRbwEVLkpCbvJiHz7SBJFWmjd5i26yStLiYKLWF5Ji/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+507.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevocQgmeslq8X1YJ_DsPG80gzhfEeq2ZUr8MEpRutWrdooOGnxbd9MLVavMZIpstCP2GeCiaPOSzeP4gWb8TAr_nRCHNd1I0OPwoqQoLMkKyY4agMn2CflmLzZgKSgTpKjd-tGWiQjK0v/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+508.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634087774310489666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevocQgmeslq8X1YJ_DsPG80gzhfEeq2ZUr8MEpRutWrdooOGnxbd9MLVavMZIpstCP2GeCiaPOSzeP4gWb8TAr_nRCHNd1I0OPwoqQoLMkKyY4agMn2CflmLzZgKSgTpKjd-tGWiQjK0v/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+508.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrxYXKPkXE3q3ijoej0Al-Tnbe_ROPjCvvrjgFsADuXM7S1fpF17zaDvJ1POeRQNRzvjxIs52rfj242Y-UMQbAixv6tb2hobfkPPkDBcYe1HaQwiazAyZccABV6b8myuogGMnBqRhlh1Xa/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+509.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634087768701482370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrxYXKPkXE3q3ijoej0Al-Tnbe_ROPjCvvrjgFsADuXM7S1fpF17zaDvJ1POeRQNRzvjxIs52rfj242Y-UMQbAixv6tb2hobfkPPkDBcYe1HaQwiazAyZccABV6b8myuogGMnBqRhlh1Xa/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+509.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div>Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-41448485561194783932011-07-27T10:30:00.000-07:002011-08-04T10:39:02.583-07:00Nobles Homesite to Deerfence L3 Canal---February 18thThere was a full moon last night, but it was unusually silent. I can only attribute the lack of noise to the fact that I was no longer in the middle of the swamp and there might not be as much animal life around here. One thing there was plenty of ---ants! During the night an ant colony ate a few dozen minute holes in the bottom of my tent and set up shop in the right corner. I had to shake out my gear piece by piece to get rid of them all. Luckily, I escaped with only a small number of bites because the few I got really packed a punch. Ouch! I suppose, like me, the ants found the inside of my tent a warm and dry place to escape the morning dew, which had absolutely drenched the outside. Had to pack it away sopping wet.<br />It was a nice walk on a grassy track through scattered pines to the west feeder canal, but that's when civilization encroached. Passing cars kicking up dust on the dirt road marked the beginning of the two-hour trek down West Boundary Road, which leads to the Ah-Tha-Thi-Ki Museum housing a history of the Seminole people. It appeared to me as if the Seminoles, a once proud nation, are now serving the breakfast tables of America with citrus, for as I passed along the canals and ditches there was grove after grove of oranges and grapefruit. Another three hours on the shoulder of CR 833 revealed the other mainstays of the South Florida economy---cane fields and cattle ranches. At this time of year some of the fields were being burned, so in the distance I could see plumes of gray and white smoke rising up like a mushroom cloud to meet the sky. <br />To combat the loneliness of the road I travel, a good deal of time was taken up thinking of friends, family and loved ones. Singing songs also boosted my spirits and helped the time go by.<br />Another two hours spent along the Deerfence Canal and it was time to think about finding a camp for the night. At the Junction of the Deerfence and the L3 a big construction project was taking place. A couple of canal workers greeted me with a cold bottle of water and some wildlife stories. One of them went to his truck and returned with an 8x10 photo he'd printed off the Internet. It pictured a gigantic gator running across a road with a full-sized wild boar stuffed in its jaws. If I had the misfortune of coming across such a behemoth, I wouldn't stand a chance. For some reason, as they were issuing their dire warnings, I began to feel like Dorothy in the forest of Oz. "Gators and panthers and bears. Oh my! Gators and panthers and bears. Oh my! Follow the orange-blazed road. Follow the orange-blazed road. Follow follow follow follow follow the orange-blazed road." Ha. I figured that since I'd made it past Big Cypress, I'd stand a pretty good chance of surviving along the canals. With that in mind, I found a nice little spot in a turn out just off the road and settled down for the night.<br /><br />West Boundary Road <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdMjVdp2RRDqrtDnrUstJZd9FPY6UI9eOnAQ9EXYoIxb8o0Wwq02GqZU0xu6IswgrFeTHZMe2jr44vgp_7FAmtf-hBAh2U0U7f3I2FTcv6tmDjgofA0KaGqRlumAAg-xi7mH1S9uRUo7Su/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+510.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634086241434425938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdMjVdp2RRDqrtDnrUstJZd9FPY6UI9eOnAQ9EXYoIxb8o0Wwq02GqZU0xu6IswgrFeTHZMe2jr44vgp_7FAmtf-hBAh2U0U7f3I2FTcv6tmDjgofA0KaGqRlumAAg-xi7mH1S9uRUo7Su/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+510.JPG" /></a>Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-28025884200774467202011-07-27T10:28:00.000-07:002011-08-04T17:34:44.659-07:00Deerfence L3 Canal to Palm Tree Camp---February 19thSurprise, surprise---the tent was wet again this morning. This is becoming somewhat of a recurring theme. Witnessed a beautiful sunrise with the first rays of morning light filtering through tall grass near my campsite. Allowed the sun a bit of extra time to dry off the tent before packing up and getting a start to the day. Shade is at a premium along the dikes. You might find a lone tree or two, but for the most part its just one long exposed stretch. Your best chance at getting out of the direct sunlight is sitting in the shadow of a pump house which you pass all too infrequently. My sun hat, sunglasses, bandanna and long-sleeve Under Armour Heat Gear shirt did a good job of protecting me from sunburn. Thank goodness for the breeze blowing most of the day keeping it tolerably pleasant<br />Even though the dikes are only raised seven to ten feet above the surrounding land, standing on top of them gives you a commanding view all around because they're higher than any other natural feature in the South Florida landscape. You can literally see for miles. The only disadvantage in this is that on a long, straight stretch along the canal it can seem as if you're not making any progress whatsoever, one orange grove, cane field or cattle ranch looking pretty much like the next.<br />I passed a person in a small tent on the dike at about nine this morning. I suppose I was a little dazed as I haven't seen anyone out on the trail since day one. Confused as well at someone still being in their tent at that hour. Should have stopped to ask if he was hiking the trail too, but I didn't. At times as a solo hiker I think I get into the habit of not talking, focused more on the miles ahead of me or the nature that surrounds me. One thing I can say is that the folks passing on the white gravel road below sure were friendly, waves and smiles as they drove by.<br />Not a long day by any means as I was setting up camp in a flat area just down from the dike by early afternoon. There were a couple of small palm trees but being next to a small ditch were in the wrong position to offer any respite from the sun. I went back up and over the dike to get water from the canal. Not the greatest source of H2O, but what else was I going to do? Put it through my gravity filter and hoped for the best. Did a bit of laundry by hand and, seeing as I was miles from nowhere, stripped down and had a nice field bath. With all the camp chores done, I had the chance to read a few more chapters from The Deerslayer. James Fenimore Cooper is one of my favourite american authors and Hawkeye (Natty Bumpo) is one of my favourite characters in literature.<br /><br />Canal Sunrise<br />Along the Dike<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheiq6yWfSZbBVkQvEAigfIoHM7Q14ReJPDPJxAZeYAO533s8alnLPlUXuOX7IwOe6X0EvApXdTU8QEH25pA5k4xu2Ijmhvu_vbRUk6GvR-zWlV19s5d71_ygqvniIehZO-sJnj6CMZx73-/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+512.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634085781337661106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheiq6yWfSZbBVkQvEAigfIoHM7Q14ReJPDPJxAZeYAO533s8alnLPlUXuOX7IwOe6X0EvApXdTU8QEH25pA5k4xu2Ijmhvu_vbRUk6GvR-zWlV19s5d71_ygqvniIehZO-sJnj6CMZx73-/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+512.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GxEDF7borClC4IIid6qYeRAGTOJ5FploERswmJ3c46ZOCHmBa46KEAVkztU6nw3kZVZaDMm7yC6bKRUjs3aBwb4-b-0YgR5b3nFc1zZhNtvtVMtzqgyLYk7DU46SAtjLdJYG_M3K1ceB/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+514.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634085777554379890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GxEDF7borClC4IIid6qYeRAGTOJ5FploERswmJ3c46ZOCHmBa46KEAVkztU6nw3kZVZaDMm7yC6bKRUjs3aBwb4-b-0YgR5b3nFc1zZhNtvtVMtzqgyLYk7DU46SAtjLdJYG_M3K1ceB/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+514.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-28785877361382745112011-07-27T10:25:00.000-07:002011-08-05T09:38:57.988-07:00Palm Tree Camp to Clewiston Campsite---February 20thThe morning mists left my tent soaked yet again. As they began to dissipate with the strength of the rising sun, I saw a lone figure shaking out a rain fly on top of the dike about 300 meters distant. Keeping an eye in that direction, I eventually noticed someone walking my way while I was breaking camp. A few minutes later I met Rich <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Mayfield</span>, the person I passed along the L3 canal yesterday and whose register entry I had read at Thirteen Mile Camp several days before. <br />Like me, he was also from California---<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Laguna</span> Hills. Ex-Navy and fairly well travelled, this was his first long trail<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuT0R1TwjElNrzEWkxAMX2Cmn_aFn9LRvVZZvxmrKJ7y5s4e_4_nNJrBvK3BLehYfHFjQh37ObiBMQtNDfV7FxBj2JlmKSaiZ1ZnUC9vqoLq2PL-J4lqdMsuZVvyNeTHPTcnqyeMTxuQdG/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+515.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634085307532388258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuT0R1TwjElNrzEWkxAMX2Cmn_aFn9LRvVZZvxmrKJ7y5s4e_4_nNJrBvK3BLehYfHFjQh37ObiBMQtNDfV7FxBj2JlmKSaiZ1ZnUC9vqoLq2PL-J4lqdMsuZVvyNeTHPTcnqyeMTxuQdG/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+515.JPG" /></a>. Talking helped pass the time as we travelled through farmland on our way to the southern shores of Lake Okeechobee. We swapped stories of our experiences on the trail, in the military and overseas. I didn't envy his long road walk up the highway from Key West, which had thrashed his feet, forcing him off the trail for a couple of days. However, having spent many years abroad, I did appreciate talking with someone who had also spent time outside the United States. I believe it gives a person a broader view of the world as a whole.<br />Lake Harbour, a small community to the south of the lake, offered no market that we could find for any type of resupply and the post office has very limited hours. Rich has a problem there because he sent himself a drop-box, but will have to wait until Tuesday to get it. He forgot that tomorrow is President's Day.<br />After taking a snack break in John Stretch Park, where some kindly <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">RVers</span> gave us cold drinking water to top off our water containers, we climbed up the side of Herbert Hoover Dike. The view did not present the vast waters of Lake Okeechobee as we had expected, but rather, the ring canal and extensive grasses and swampland, which I have to admit was something of a letdown, the reality not matching the image I had created in my mind.<br />Two hours later we arrived at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Clewiston</span> Campsite, which had palms and a strangler fig to camp under and a shaded picnic table at which to sit. We both squeezed our tents in close to the fig's trunk, so hopefully the overhanging limbs will keep the moisture off. Nothing else to do but take it easy for the remainder of the day. A pair of falcons feeding fish to their chicks in a nearby aerie held my attention while Rich was fascinated by a spider making short work of a mosquito in his tent. Our real life Animal Planet. :-)<br /><br />View from Herbert Hoover DikeEric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-44720526505254298522011-07-27T10:22:00.000-07:002011-08-21T21:12:41.413-07:00Clewiston Campsite to Moore Haven RV Resort/Marina---February 21stWhen I awoke, I was greeted by a spectacular sunrise over Lake Okeechobee, the sunlight through the mist creating an array of pink, orange, red and gold in the sky and coloring the water's surface. Back on the trail around 8, about the time the morning mist burned off, and reaching Clewiston by 10.<br />
Clewiston is by far the largest town on the Lake Okeechobee West section of the Florida Trail offering all major services. Walking down the main street (US 27) past fast food joints and traffic lights, we finally came to a supermarket where I intended to resupply. Eating a pint of strawberry ice cream on a bench in the cool, air conditioned space inside, just beyond the sliding doors, was a real treat. Especially, as the day <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTdXymxsihAQYPSA2idxDWIzRlXyc3sCXaeBGUj_s5Clen8woY6Agaqfq3_MdALWI4bvXkZxyk84UkeB0re2cYJu_fbNuPhXlyabrIfx_HpV77S9msnpCG86H0b02oyp-YTerv1u3POESd/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+516.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634084396388198594" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTdXymxsihAQYPSA2idxDWIzRlXyc3sCXaeBGUj_s5Clen8woY6Agaqfq3_MdALWI4bvXkZxyk84UkeB0re2cYJu_fbNuPhXlyabrIfx_HpV77S9msnpCG86H0b02oyp-YTerv1u3POESd/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+516.JPG" style="float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a>was heating up rapidly outside. <br />
Clewiston was Rich's jumping off point. He planned to stay in a hotel and get a lift back to the Lake Harbour post office to pick up his drop-box the next day. We shook hands, thanked each other for the conversation and wished each other the best. One might think it possible for us to meet again, but that's not what happens often on the trail. I'm travelling at a faster pace than him and he plans to take time off with some friends once he gets to Orlando.<br />
I guess the one bad thing about Clewiston was the smell. A dirty-diapers-like stink was certainly noticeable near the market and, though fainter, the breeze brought the foul odor to the nostrils while I was up on the dike leaving town. Spanky, a former A.T. hiker we met at the store, told us that the smell came from a poultry farm or something to that effect.<br />
The rest of my hiking time along the dike that day was spent bird-watching, marvelling at what appeared to be a hurricane damaged forest stripped of leaves and branches, photographing a wayward turtle and waving to a handful of passing cyclists.<br />
Once on the outskirts of Moore Haven, I discovered that the lock was closed to foot traffic as a matter of national security on the very off chance that some crazed Jihadi warrior disguised as a Florida Trail thru-hiker, carrying a backpack full of TNT instead of trail mix and granola bars, tried to blow himself up along with the lock, emptying the waters of this great lake onto the people of South Florida. Sounds a little far-fetched to me, but better safe than sorry, eh? Then again, an old Greek axiom states, "Nothing to Excess". <br />
Two miles of road-walking detour later I found myself on the other side of the lock at the entrance to Moore Haven RV Resort and Marina. At the fee station, where I paid my $10 for camping, I met the new owner, a friendly woman in her fifties with a classic southern drawl. Hearing about my thru-hiking status, my trip along the Pacific Crest the previous summer, and my eleven years living and teaching in the Czech Republic, the next two hours were spent in conversation as she peppered me with questions and related her own tales of interesting people she had met since taking over management of the place. <br />
I suppose the chat could have continued, but it was starting to get dark and I needed to set up my tent. Besides, a performance of some local musicians was to take place in the evening at 7.<br />
By the time I got myself situated, the pickin' and singin' had already started. Unfortunately, I still had to hit the showers. Ahhhh...the cool water washing over me to clean of the day's dirt and sweat. How utterly refreshing! <br />
Freshly showered and wearing a change of clothes, I entered the "music hall" and took a seat on the left side near the wall. Fourteen musicians were seated in chairs up at the front with instruments ranging from acoustic guitar, bass, and mandolin to keyboards and harmonica. Each person in the group took his or her turn up front, selecting a song and providing the vocals. Even a couple of women from the audience were invited to come up and sing. At intermission, all-you can-eat bowls of Bluebell Ice Cream and cups of root beer floats could be had for a dollar. It goes without saying that I had both. All in all the country and folk concert lasted from 7 to 10 and a good time was had by everyone present. I was by far the youngest one there as most of those assembled were retirees in their sixties and seventies. Spoke a while with a retired couple from northern Georgia who lived near the Appalachian Trail, then back in my tent I finished another chapter of The Deerslayer.<br />
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Okeechobee Sunrise<br />
Hurricane Damaged Trees<br />
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<div></div></div>Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-51812439409820259082011-07-27T10:20:00.002-07:002011-08-21T21:09:11.475-07:00Moore Haven RV Resort/Marina to Indian Prairie Campsite---February 22ndThis morning the camp and marina were blanketed <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbGcdaPT-2h1WrpA6uFbJDD0nW_RwYvx0lSqCQligvy0uLggIbMgyVKFC6YrCK5VrjQaHHsWb2ZQPYs5cXbzcTB-pQyA6aK7Vtn7ftDAjr5acE-mQ85cVjqKigh01e6X2DfHzmIaK-xE1g/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+521.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634083717375195074" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbGcdaPT-2h1WrpA6uFbJDD0nW_RwYvx0lSqCQligvy0uLggIbMgyVKFC6YrCK5VrjQaHHsWb2ZQPYs5cXbzcTB-pQyA6aK7Vtn7ftDAjr5acE-mQ85cVjqKigh01e6X2DfHzmIaK-xE1g/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+521.JPG" style="float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a>in fog, which didn't burn off until 9:30. I had some errands to run in town, picking up a package containing my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">levagaiters</span> at the post office then doing a bit more resupply at U Save, so I didn't get back on the trail until 10:30.<br />
I was simply pushing it all day trying to get to camp. Long stretches of dike with views and landscape similar to those of the last two days and a bit of time walking on a bike/pedestrian path next to SR 78. With the sun beating down on my head all day, I can't wait to be on a path among trees again.<br />
So far the weather pattern in South Florida goes something like this: In the early morning there is mist, which burns off as the sun rises revealing a clear and cloudless sky. Soon, the first clouds start to form, building up throughout the day, but none threatening rain. They drift across the heavens pushed by a gentle breeze or light wind. Towards evening or in the early hours of night as it cools down, things clear up, the entire process repeating itself the next day.<br />
The sun lay low in the west as I entered camp. I managed to set up my tent beneath the palm fronds and crawl inside before the mosquitoes got too bad. When night fell, the crickets started putting out a good volume of noise. I fell asleep while listening to their <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">distinctive</span> chirping.<br />
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Indian Prairie CampEric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-9298763419126071192011-07-27T10:16:00.001-07:002011-08-06T11:52:43.839-07:00Indian Prairie Campsite to S-65E Lock---February 23rd<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx_vbxJKsnntNNIfb7GlMHcIWZc_O5MjssIH6gf1u9cDlz32pN5Hee8z6CryGbcNWX_71JDpAcdIdkO7QWTNn70RnEG1voOOL8OutlT7p863yA3MozeTwkJqk3Vhkg_anSSrEaRnjaBMCc/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+524.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634083015494241826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx_vbxJKsnntNNIfb7GlMHcIWZc_O5MjssIH6gf1u9cDlz32pN5Hee8z6CryGbcNWX_71JDpAcdIdkO7QWTNn70RnEG1voOOL8OutlT7p863yA3MozeTwkJqk3Vhkg_anSSrEaRnjaBMCc/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+524.JPG" /></a><br />At night I heard the noise of lowing cattle and the too close for comfort grumble of a gator. How far does an alligator stray from its watery home when the sun is down? I have no idea. The palm fronds did a good job of keeping the dew off the tent, so I was actually able to pack it up dry, a rare occurrence on this trip. This morning along the trail it was the millipede march as dozens of the multi-legged creatures were crossing from one side of the path to the other. Banks of mist drifting with the wind kept things relatively cool. Sometimes I was walking in thick fog while at others the sun shone through revealing a beautiful azure sky.<br />Later in the day I passed <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Buckhead</span> Ridge, which was separated from the trail by a canal that made the waters of Lake Okeechobee accessible. It looked like a little country Venice with water ways for streets, a few small boats motoring towards the lake's open waters perhaps heading out to a favorite fishing spot. From the bridge over the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kissimmee</span> River I caught a glimpse of the vast expanse of blue representing the nation's largest freshwater lake. It's about the only view of its kind on the Florida <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Trail's</span> Western Route of Lake Okeechobee. On the other side of the bridge, I stopped by <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Okee</span>-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Tantie</span> Recreation Area, picking up some snack items to supplement what will be pretty limited supplies for the next week or so. Bought a USA Today to catch up on the news I've missed during the last ten days.<br />Finally, it was time to turn away from Okeechobee and make the long trek along the levee following the course of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kissimmee</span>. By this time the day had turned hot and humid, so I took a long respite at a water control structure, sitting on a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">palate</span> on the shady side of a utility shed reading from the pages of my book. As soon as the heat of the day had passed I made the short walk to the S-65E Lock and spillway. Camping under an oak at the junction, I looked up at the branches draped with Spanish Moss and wondered whether they would keep me dry or drench me. One observation I did make today is that almost everybody in these parts has a big pickup truck pulling a boat trailer since that is about the only kind of vehicle I saw on the roads.<br /><br /><br />Buckhead RidgeEric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-6502487864418764692011-07-27T10:12:00.000-07:002011-08-06T15:06:57.422-07:00S-65E Lock to Chandler East Camp---February 24thListened to the drip, drip, drip of water droplets falling from the ends of Spanish Moss onto my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">tarptent</span> as I summoned the will to get up this morning. Occasionally the rustling of a dry oak leaf was also heard as it drifted down through the branches and settled on the tent's exterior. At the start it was road walk mostly, which made me question the footpath's designation as a national scenic trail. For me as a hiker, trail and road are not synonymous. Eventually I got into pasture land, dodging pies and chips---not the kind that tame a hiker's hunger! A minimal time was spent in oak, pine and palm toward the end of the hiking day, which finished rather early at 13:00, making me feel quite restless. Chandler Camp was the planned stop for the day, but with all the remaining daylight I felt I should still be out hiking. The camp itself was the best yet, located in the center of some stately oaks with the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kissimmee</span> River not far away. After pitching my tent I headed to its banks to collect drinking water, soak my feet and wash off.<br />When I returned to my tent, I noticed a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">daypack</span> hanging from a post at the edge of camp. Thinking it strange that I hadn't seen it when I first arrived, I went over to investigate. I shuffled through the contents of its outer pockets finding only papers, a pen and some shotgun shells. Then, opening the main zipper, I found an assortment of trail bars, which I certainly looked forward to eating. However, to my surprise, the water bottles at the bottom were still quite cold as if they'd just been removed from an ice chest or cooler. Up to that moment I had assumed that the pack had been left by someone days or possibly weeks before. Obviously somebody had passed through here and left it while I'd been down at the river and was surely going to return before day's end. Sure enough, about an hour later, a young man with some hunting dogs came by, shouldered his pack and headed off on the path that led to the road. I'm definitely glad he hadn't stumbled along at the precise moment I was rifling through his bag and got the wrong impression. That would have been terribly awkward! :-) Anyway, he left none the wiser.<br />Three animal encounters today---two good and one scared the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">bejeebers</span> out of me. On the road walk I saw two deer, a doe and a fawn still sporting its camouflage spots, cross the pavement ahead of me. They both turned to look at me before casually continuing into the field of grass which lined that side of CR 599.<br />Shortly after entering the forested section of today's hike I surprised a couple of raccoons. The mum loped off, but the baby quickly ran and climbed the nearest tree, which, as luck would have it, was not that tall, so I was able to take a number of pictures. Cute little rascal! When the photo shoot had ended, I wandered down the path a bit and waited for it to climb down. It wasn't long before it left the safety of the trees and happily shuffled along the forest floor in the general direction of my hiding spot. Suddenly, its animal senses alerted, it froze in mid-stride and slowly turning its head, spied me half hidden behind a palmetto. Then, WHOOSH, like a rocket he scampered back to the tree, zipped up the trunk and ended up on the same branch he'd been on before. I thought it rather humorous, but not wanting to keep it too long parted from its mother, decided it was high time to go and leave them in peace.<br />Perhaps as cosmic payback for playing games with the young raccoon, my next meeting with an animal was not so fun. While looking ahead for an orange blaze, the next thing I knew there was movement at my feet and when I looked down I saw a snake, its upper body raised and its mouth open. It had me jumping like a jack rabbit with a full pack on. Lucky I wasn't bitten. Whew! A big sigh of relief. Now at a safe distance I could see it had a very distinctive triangular dark yellow head. Its body was also dark yellow with black markings resembling offset stripes running the length of its body. I'm no <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">herpetologist, so I can't tell you what kind of snake it was. I can tell you that it blended well into the fallen oak leaves and palm detritus. As it slithered into the undergrowth I could imagine it hissing, "Geez, watch where you're going!" For the next hour or two I proceeded much more cautiously, every twig looking like a snake. Even cow pies took on the shape of coiled serpents.</span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Well, it was an enjoyable evening I had in camp. Sitting at the picnic table I managed to finish The Deerslayer. When I checked the camp register that was stored in a post box I saw the last entry written by two thru-hikers on January 26th. "We may be the last thru-hikers to pass here this season," it read. I'm happy to report that they weren't. :-)</span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"></span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Baby Raccoon</span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Chandler East Camp </span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2z7DB5xJphBtYU3L2AztDpPNizUOkEXIWfXYw3Nm_tLAiB9LHu2gzpID3EAj4_NbsVfYK3MdjhL7W4-VW_VKBlaof2_ErLBvSHUBKMRSwGmW5sc_bRrdBmWO0wqCnFkEhwMXfJmmbC8dg/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+526.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634081898149367042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2z7DB5xJphBtYU3L2AztDpPNizUOkEXIWfXYw3Nm_tLAiB9LHu2gzpID3EAj4_NbsVfYK3MdjhL7W4-VW_VKBlaof2_ErLBvSHUBKMRSwGmW5sc_bRrdBmWO0wqCnFkEhwMXfJmmbC8dg/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+526.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJG62VcS1X-zQMg_GEjXuQRoRhA1Pk9QlNOw_xPrxd1moQKn9JlpktX2W-4BHlenoM0Mqjz0Qy9pEWDWcTtqxRRGGc85FfxXox6ImQ_C-GD6j2BK_rgcYV616Po5Muh6Bc66gEYxhZa7B/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+528.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634081892246851858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJG62VcS1X-zQMg_GEjXuQRoRhA1Pk9QlNOw_xPrxd1moQKn9JlpktX2W-4BHlenoM0Mqjz0Qy9pEWDWcTtqxRRGGc85FfxXox6ImQ_C-GD6j2BK_rgcYV616Po5Muh6Bc66gEYxhZa7B/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+528.JPG" /></a>Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-8386690198350213382011-07-27T10:03:00.000-07:002011-08-06T21:09:21.124-07:00Chandler East Camp to Hickory Hammock Camp---February 25thMosquitoes were whining outside my tent this morning much as they had at dusk yesterday. They're really not that bothersome because not long after the sun rises they disappear and remain hidden for the rest of the day. Where they go during the daylight hours is a mystery to me. Who cares really, as long as they're gone.<br />Today's journey started with the traverse of a morning meadow minefield and in order to successfully navigate it I had to employ what I'll call the "bovine bowel biscuit ballet<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCtg3Fkubc9DO_GNy82icgWzV6M5fqsseG5ASRJPYvndfIg1cHjisGq27Rj2PRH-k2oZz2tbMJCvSbB1DkiRz7bfmptYN81BzL7zun5YCVVqTItzWPGuV2QCyCxj0N-X2_YCpswUzcfn30/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+529.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634080761783848242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCtg3Fkubc9DO_GNy82icgWzV6M5fqsseG5ASRJPYvndfIg1cHjisGq27Rj2PRH-k2oZz2tbMJCvSbB1DkiRz7bfmptYN81BzL7zun5YCVVqTItzWPGuV2QCyCxj0N-X2_YCpswUzcfn30/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+529.JPG" /></a>". Tiptoe, tiptoe, tiptoe...leap, land and twirl. Thankfully I passed through the grassy gauntlet with relatively little foreign matter on the bottom of my shoes. Walking in cattle country truly poses unique challenges!<br />Beyond the pasture was a sign informing hikers that the Chandler Slough was closed and directing us to a reroute on NW 144, which, looking at the map, was simply an extenuation of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Lofton</span> Road. I was frustrated at having to continue on another road until I reached the spot where the reroute again joined the trail. There on a wooden sign next to the stile was an explanation of why Florida Trail officials felt the closure was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">neccessary</span>. Waist Deep Water. Muck bottom. A possible problem with chomping gators. Guess the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">roadwalk</span> wasn't that bad after all. Ha.<br />When an orange blaze directed me over another stile off of US 98, I climbed over, walked 50 meters down the trail, dropped my pack between some bushes off to the side and then returned to the highway. The <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kracker</span> Store was a little over a mile away in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Basinger</span> and I needed to get enough food for a five-day resupply. The walk took more time than I thought it would under the hot Florida sun. I had to improvise a bit to fill the menu, but in general the store had enough of the hiker staples like peanut butter, pop tarts and tortillas. Bringing a basketful of goods to the check-out, the shop assisstant asked if I was a Florida Trail thru-hiker. When I answered in the affirmative he told me to go grab a free soda. Thank you very kindly, sir. Don't mind if I do. The can was empty before I stepped off the front porch.<br />Back where I dropped my pack, I took some time to rest a few minutes, snacking on some food I had bought while packing the rest away. There was a short stint of oak, palmetto and, ever so briefly, cypress that eventually led back to US 98. Just before the fence crossing a long, thin black snake lay in the path, twitching its tail rapidly on the leaf litter as a warning. Touching it with my trekking pole, it darted away.<br />It was an unpleasant two-hour slog walking along the uneven side of US 98, feet never finding anywhere flat to tread as the ground angled from the asphalt into the ditch on both sides of the road. I didn't want to walk up on the pavement as there was no hard shoulder to speak of and I was afraid of being hit by a passing car. To make matters worse, there was little to no shade along the highway. What a relief it was to finally cross the Istopago Canal and make the turn into the shady reaches of Hickory Hammock.<br />After one more hour, hiking under arching branches and palm fronds, I was in camp. My feet throbbing as a result of pounding the pavement, my shoulders stiff from carrying a heavy load, the pump water smelling of rotten eggs and not tasting much better, I was dirty, smelly and beat, yet, as on other days, completely satisfied. The skeeters set in again at dusk, but try as they might, they couldn't penetrate my tent's mesh defenses. Time to start another book. Last of the Mohicans this time.<br /><br /><br />Closure of Chandler Slough<br />Beyond the Stile<br />The Arching Branches<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Xkv7AyDvdn41hLtvmAkN0nOSaOP501knAymJ1gFsWfuMg-oMgD-o_bv4_R_psef0lL2x5pJguTkBYwCNwwa1qxBmtdupfFiXFy9ymIlqu_aC3MOUNnElcRginUSWbYsQ2RkseESmFWtw/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+530.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634080759526133826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Xkv7AyDvdn41hLtvmAkN0nOSaOP501knAymJ1gFsWfuMg-oMgD-o_bv4_R_psef0lL2x5pJguTkBYwCNwwa1qxBmtdupfFiXFy9ymIlqu_aC3MOUNnElcRginUSWbYsQ2RkseESmFWtw/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+530.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZPimaWwFImFsbRai6ArtyFCJeXs8KXFpkEL1RhQiOTGOIEMk9yAu3Ulooy7k0cDUBGZJn2xg8KtCWA5Lr_EZJ2JNkqMVVNrSCI-k9glpvhon5y819f28Bu19G9OdqKxGav0qJYDLnvCE/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+531.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634080755311637426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZPimaWwFImFsbRai6ArtyFCJeXs8KXFpkEL1RhQiOTGOIEMk9yAu3Ulooy7k0cDUBGZJn2xg8KtCWA5Lr_EZJ2JNkqMVVNrSCI-k9glpvhon5y819f28Bu19G9OdqKxGav0qJYDLnvCE/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+531.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-48016135301209922092011-07-27T09:44:00.000-07:002011-09-10T20:51:12.465-07:00Hickory Hammock Camp to Fort Kissimmee Camp---February 26th<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5dvEMJ89T4MY8OW6imXpbBAxbmCUOvkuHzdR61iBuXukIcuNLXo1Ls4cilzuFDaGvuFHjs54ra9GQYadrLOFW_0DVIawbxE2WAxnGQmyPMcwEKWrVwGqsTCbOMjZGcJahGerAClOrI3v/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+532.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638181037680670290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5dvEMJ89T4MY8OW6imXpbBAxbmCUOvkuHzdR61iBuXukIcuNLXo1Ls4cilzuFDaGvuFHjs54ra9GQYadrLOFW_0DVIawbxE2WAxnGQmyPMcwEKWrVwGqsTCbOMjZGcJahGerAClOrI3v/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+532.JPG" style="float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a> I thought it was the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pitter</span>-patter of light rain on the tent in the wee hours of the morning, but it turned out to be the drip from Spanish Moss laden with droplets from the mist. Heading out of camp, I was soon in a section of trail surrounded by palms, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">liana</span> and vines, which made me feel as if I were on some subtropical island. Where's my machete?<br />
When I arrived at the equestrian campground, the place was packed. Groups of people, either sitting in folding chairs or standing, were shooting the bull in front of great huge tents. Surprised by the number of people, I asked what the reason was for such a large gathering.<br />
Hunting season for small game had opened was the reply. Now came a question for me, had I seen any wild pigs or turkey on the trail. Couldn't really say that I had and now I understood why. They were probably holed up in the deepest parts of the undergrowth hoping not to be plugged. My orange hiking shirt was well-chosen for the Florida Trail not only to match the color of the blazes but to protect me from some itchy trigger fingers as well. I felt safer wearing it that day. Hunters in general though are good folk and seem to enjoy the social benefits of the activity, sharing chat time with friends out in the woods. It's fishermen that I don't understand, sitting around for hours, waiting for a fish with a brain the size of a pea to sink its jaw into a hook with a worm attached. Although, to be fair, I suppose a fisherman would have a hard time understanding a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">thru</span>-hiker.<br />
Anyway, before I left I asked for an assessment of the water quality of the well water. The caretaker said it contained traces of sulphur (hence the awful taste) but he'd been drinking it for years with no ill effects. Kindly, one of the hunting groups gave me a few bottles of spring water. The well water I pumped into the Platypus bladder as a reserve.<br />
Moving onward, I continued to enjoy the shady path until it kicked me out at a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">fence line</span>. On the hiker side there was grass. Past the barbed-wire and NO <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">TRESPASSING</span> signs there were trees. As the day grew hotter I wished I were on the other side of that fence. I know that "the grass is always greener" is not always true, but there was no doubt it was shadier. After a time I got to High Rise Bridge, where, wouldn't you know, some teens were out fishing. Walking the raised boardwalk, I saw a lot of green and brown <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Anole</span> lizards dashing about. There were many other wooden walkways between there and Mosquito Hammock, but at this time of year the ground beneath them was mostly dry.<br />
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<div>The campsite at Mosquito Hammock was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">pretty</span> overgrown and it seemed like it had been abandoned by regular travellers. When I pulled in and sat down at the old picnic table, I looked down and saw that my shirt and shorts were covered with burrs. Spent a good deal of time picking them all out before enjoying a lunch break. After the meal there was more <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">fence line</span> walking before reaching Avon Park Air Force Range. I stopped at the south kiosk to register and sign the liability forms, but there were none to be had. It didn't appear that restocking the forms was a top priority of Air Force personnel.</div><br />
<div>Avon Park was one of my favorite places on the Florida Trail. I had a wonderful time strolling through the oak hammocks. At one point a large number of bees started buzzing past my head. When I looked around, I saw that they were flying toward their hive in the hollow of an oak tree trunk not far from the trail. Above me in the branches of the hammocks I saw brown owls and different species of hawk, and yes, down on the ground I saw my first wild turkeys. Just before Hicks Slough, I looked up and there were all these oranges dotting the sky in the upper reaches of the canopy. Confused at first, I thought I was seeing things, maybe something wrong with my eyes. As I soon discovered, these wild trees grow much taller than there domesticated relatives, so I had to jump up and use my trekking pole to knock down a couple of the lower ones. Once at Hicks Slough, I cut them into quarters with my pocket knife. Taking a bite, the juice simply exploded and ran down my chin. They were absolutely delicious! Later on I found a couple of tangerine trees, again collecting a few of the lower ones to eat when I got to camp. My last bird sighting of the day was a bunch of buzzards circling near the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Kissimmee</span> and resting on the dead branches of an oak. I almost expected them to break into song like they used to at America Sings in Disneyland (Yes, that dates me. The ride no longer exists.).</div><br />
<div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Kissimmee</span> Camp is a bit more developed than others along the trail. I set up my tent near a picnic <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">pavilion, a boat ramp is 200 yards away, and I'll most assuredly avail myself of the solar shower. There are a few other vehicles here, their owners most likely out boating/fishing on the river, but it looks like I'll be the only one who'll be staying the night.</span></div><br />
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<div><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"></span></div><br />
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<div>The Fence Line Divide</div><br />
<div>The Boardwalk</div><br />
<div>Oak Hammocks</div><br />
<div>Trail in Avon Park</div><br />
<div>Buzzards</div><br />
<div>Hunting Season near Cattle Country</div><br />
<div>Avon Park Kiosk<br />
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<div></div></div></div></div></div>Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-91094196796244607892011-07-27T09:19:00.000-07:002011-08-08T11:36:13.667-07:00Fort Kissimmee Camp to Kicco WMA Camp---February 27thSome fine walking this morning along the banks of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kissimmee</span>, the sun highlighting the wispy vapour rising <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6XsmldIZLoXmjih344JBExIq-YRLe37DnKuhy9VkbZTMlTZKeCVYae8PFiUryOiZCFJzJ2rmnHLPjnyLwWbrvTAvjH7vIvcfGP5F1tCkd_qG02Uhx1mPjl8eHXNTHnOoTxOVm1qu515oZ/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+542.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634073636125762194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6XsmldIZLoXmjih344JBExIq-YRLe37DnKuhy9VkbZTMlTZKeCVYae8PFiUryOiZCFJzJ2rmnHLPjnyLwWbrvTAvjH7vIvcfGP5F1tCkd_qG02Uhx1mPjl8eHXNTHnOoTxOVm1qu515oZ/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+542.JPG" /></a>off the river. The main camping area happened to be a quarter of a mile down a side road from the boat ramp. All kinds of pickups and RVs were parked just off the trail and tents the size of small hotels were standing in the back of each campsite. Nobody was awake at this hour, the only noise coming from a barking dog as I silently slipped by. The trail was a little bit wetter than it had been on previous days especially when crossing Gum Branch and passing Tick Island Slough, but it was quite apparent that the water levels were low compared to other times of the year. I loved the black water of the slough, which perfectly reflected the brilliant blue sky and the cypress trees growing around its edge. However, I wasn't too thrilled with the name---Tick Island. Assuming the name had to be earned by providing a welcome habitat to the blood-sucking, disease-spreading insect, I checked my arms and legs regularly to make sure there were no creepy crawlies trying to attach themselves to my flesh.
<br />In addition to the slough, there were some absolutely magnificent oaks along the trail that impressed me as well. Massive trunks supporting branches so long that they seem to be defying all we know about the laws of gravity. Spanish Moss growing so plentifully, it was as if some branches had been hung with curtains. Here it was that I had my second raccoon sighting, the masked creature ambling across the trail in front of me.
<br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kicco</span> Road was no fun, exposed to the sun as I was, the white sand and rock reflecting the heat up into my face. The only real positive was that the walking was quick, so I didn't have to spend too much time baking like a rotisserie chicken before I was back under the welcome branches of the oaks. There must be a fair amount of free range cattle in this area because heifer hoodoos and steer strafing were a prominent feature on or near the trail.
<br />By 3:30 in the afternoon I entered the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kicco</span> Wildlife Management Area game station. Nobody was manning the check point, so I had the place to myself. I "showered" and washed the dust out of my socks at the game dressing table. Stepping on the scale, it read 180 pounds. No big weight loss, maybe just a few pounds which is a good thing. I figured since I wasn't doing the 30 mile days like I did on the PCT and therefore not burning as many calories, maintaining my body weight wouldn't be such a problem.
<br />As beautiful as the oak trees are, I miss the mountains and grand, sweeping vistas of the Sierras. I haven't seen anyone all day and consequently haven't spoken a word. Those reading this journal should try it sometime. It's harder than you think. Anyway, it's time for me to go and set up camp.
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<br />Gum Branch
<br />Tick Island Slough
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<br />Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-40213753079876947242011-07-27T09:07:00.000-07:002011-08-09T14:27:07.284-07:00Kicco WMA Camp to Parker Hammocks Camp---February 28thFrom 7 in the morning until noon the Florida National Scenic Trail turned into the Florida National Sometimes Scenic Roadwalk. Dirt road to paved country road to state highway back to dirt road and then to plowed fence line. Not quite what I'd call getting away from it all. The two things worth seeing were the beautiful horses in the paddocks near the River Ranch Resort and the Kissimmee River no longer confined behind the walls of the levees, spreading out to form a wonderful wetland for all types of migratory birds. The thing I could definitely have done without was the hundreds of cars and semi-trucks barreling past me as I walked along the grassy incline of SR 60. On the bright side, it made the dirt road beyond it seem like bliss because at least the traffic was gone. Another bright note was the fact that in the powdery dust near the road's edge I came across what I believe could only have been panther tracks. I know my chances of seeing one of these elusive creatures is slim to none, so seeing evidence of one was a delight.
<br />In the afternoon, I was back on trail walking through seas of grass and palmetto, jumping from hammock to hammock. My favorite hammock is the one formed of dense stands of sable palm, (a tall thin palm, which is Florida's state tree) interspersed with giant oaks. I think I prefer the palm hammock because it reminds me somewhat of a jungle with deep pockets of shade. I feel like I'm in the tropics. It was in one of these hammocks that I stumbled upon a wild grapefruit tree, the fruit of which provided a juicy snack at break time especially since my water supply was running low.
<br />For anyone doing this section of trail, the blue-blaze to Lake Jackson Observation Tower is a must. An amazing view, lots of birdlife---coots, white ibis, great herons, a variety of ducks---and a nice cooling breeze at the top of the tower to take away the heat. I remained there for some time taking it all in. I even considered stopping for the day and setting up camp, it really was that nice. At the base of the tower was a flat spot for pitching a tent and a picnic table was handy, but unfortunately, you have to be in a designated area to stay the night. Playing by the rules, I pushed on to Parker Hammocks.
<br />The canal connecting Lake Manon to Lake Jackson, a short distance from camp, is the only source of water and not a particularly good one. Well, beggars can't be choosers. Besides, I was terribly thirsty, my Under Armour T-shirt soaked with sweat. As a general rule, the thirstier you are, the tastier the water is. It surely was in this case.
<br />Earlier in the day I had seen an armadillo scurrying through the undergrowth. As I slowly drifted off to sleep I could hear another one snuffling around in the woods near my tent. At least I hoped it was an armadillo making that noise. :-)
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<br />Horse near River Ranch Resort
<br />Broad Swath of the Kissimmee
<br />Grassland and Sunny Skies
<br />Path through Palm Hammock
<br />White Ibis
<br />Lake Jackson
<br />Parker Slough
<br />Boardwalk near Bull Creek
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<br />Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-85130432991439174622011-07-27T08:57:00.000-07:002011-08-09T13:28:10.933-07:00Parker Hammocks Camp to Little Scrub Campsite-March 1stWoke up early to see what could be seen from Lake <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Maran</span> Observation Tower, which because of heavy fog wasn't much, just some birds flying past and a patch of open water. Besides, the observation tower indicated on the FT map is really an observation deck. It doesn't take you up a flight of stairs like the tower at Lake Jackson, but is only slightly elevated above the level of the ground, a ramp leading to the platform. Nevertheless, in better conditions, I'm sure <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">there'd</span> be some great views.
<br />On the way back to camp I came to the realization that today's thicker fog was an indication that the weather had changed. Indeed, it was the first day of rain on the trail. Off again, on again with one brief downpour.
<br />Shortly after crossing CR 523 I really couldn't believe what I saw---two other hikers on the trail ahead of me. Human Contact! These were the first hikers I'd met on the Florida Trail in over a week. Going by the trail names Amoeba and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cloudwalker</span>, they were doing bits of the trail as section hikers. We were able to talk for a while beneath the underpass of the Florida Turnpike as we stopped to have a break and take shelter from the rain. Amoeba was from Syracuse, New York and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cloudwalker</span> was from <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ocala</span>, Florida. Both have hiked the Appalachian Trail and spent some time on the PCT. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cloudwalker</span> told me that some parts of Florida are experiencing a significant period of drought and that's the reason water levels are so low at the moment. Perhaps the rain falling today will help alleviate that problem.
<br />Hiking between the Florida Turnpike and US 441 was mostly through sparse pine and palmetto. Cypress domes were seen all around on the horizon, dark gray skies threatening rain from above. The one downpour I mentioned earlier occurred while hiking this section and I happened to be caught out in it as the water came down in sheets, soaking me from head to toe. The jaunt along 441 was quick with very little traffic, so I was actually able to walk on the road surface. Along the way I saw three raccoons near a side ditch.
<br />To my astonishment, I became a part of the wildlife tour as I was passing through Forever Florida. Walking on the dirt road that forms this part of trail, the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">eco</span>-safari bus loaded with tourists rounds a turn and heads in my direction. When the lady who is conducting the tour sees me, she starts speaking over the microphone about how five miles of the Florida National Scenic Trail crosses park lands. Pointing at me, she says, "Look, there's a hiker now." Suddenly, all of these eyes are riveted on me and I feel like some endangered specie at the San Diego Wild Animal Park back home. The tour guide tells me I'm welcome to ride along with them, but I'm going the wrong way to which I replied that I'd started in Miami and was going all the way to Pensacola. Well, that news certainly dropped some jaws among the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">gawkers</span> as some gasps were heard and more finger pointing ensued. Truly surreal being a part of the Human Zoo.
<br />The Forever Florida campsite is superb. Built for the trail rides offered by Florida Eco-Safaris, it is intended for the stay of Forever Florida guests, but <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">thru</span>-hikers are more than welcome to take advantage of the facilities when not in use. Restrooms with flush toilets, showers with hot water, lights run off of solar energy, potable water, kitchen area with sink, a fire ring surrounded by benches and a picnic shelter---a hiker's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Shangri</span>-la. I stopped by for a pit stop and a snack break and was rewarded with a liter of ginger ale that some previous guest had left in the kitchen. Glug-glug!
<br />Another 4.3 miles and I pulled into a more humble abode, Little Scrub Campsite, which I like very much. No mosquitoes, a soft sandy floor for the tent and a true sense of being away from it all. The water pump wasn't working, but no need to worry because I'd filled the 4-liter Platypus tank at Forever Florida. The sun came out around three making it easy for me to dry things out towards the end of a rainy day, including my wrinkly sodden feet. The soft light of the evening was a joy to behold.
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<br />Palmetto and Distant Cypress Dome
<br />Wet Feet
<br />Little Scrub Camp
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<br />Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-45083807481620864152011-07-27T08:45:00.000-07:002011-08-09T19:14:14.874-07:00Little Scrub Campsite to Junction CR 419/Nova Road---March 2ndA pleasant beginning to the day tramping through scrub, palmetto and pine towards the cypress of Yoke Branch. At the southern edge of the branch there was an area that had just recently burned, smoke still rising from the trunks of a few toppled trees. Whether this was a controlled burn I couldn't tell, but considering the extent of the burn I'd say it was. There was a cypress swamp, but due to the extended dry spell during which there has been very little heavy rain, it was almost dry.
<br />I saw Amoeba and Cloudwalker again. They are using a two car system in which they'll both drive to a trailhead, park one of the cars, then travel to where they want to start their hike, leave the second car there, hike the section, then hop in the first car and return to retrieve the second. Cloudwalker told me that he had heard news that Bradwell Bay was empty and that tomorrow he was going to check it out to see if it was true. I certainly hope that there is some water there. It would be a shame if there wasn't. Though forbidding, it was one of the unique swamp water places I was looking forward to experiencing. No water would clearly detract from that experience.
<br />The highlight of today was the area around Crabgrass Creek, footbridges spanning the three branches, a wide variety of deciduous trees, palms, ferns and wildflowers growing along the sides of the path. At one point a black snake was seen sunning itself in the middle of the trail, before it slithered off into the underbrush. It was only a common racer snake, but my initial thought whenever I first catch sight of one is COTTONMOUTH!!!! My heart beats faster even when it's a false alarm.
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<br />I was walking the highway when the FT section chief pulled over with a friend in his pickup. We chatted a while about trail conditions and the number of hikers on the trail this year. It would seem that the Florida Trail is becoming more popular from what he said. He also informed me that I was in for a long road walk because the trail which had formerly crossed the Deseret Cattle and Citrus Ranch had had to be rerouted along the CR 419 when the owners withdrew their permission for hikers to cross. (Come on Mormons, let me through. After all, I'm a Mormon too.) What a long road walk it was too! From 13:30 to 18:30. Five hours on pavement under the blazing sun. Argh!
<br />The fiery ball in the sky was falling fast and the skeeters were starting to swarm by the time I reached the junction with Nova Road. I hastily threw up my tent as fast as I could and jumped inside, thwarting the blood-thirsty insects attempts to drain my veins. I was probably camping illegally so close to a county road, but where else was I going to spend the night hemmed in as I was by fences bearing No Trespassing signs? My only hope is that nobody will notice me tucked away behind this small stand of trees and that I'll be left in peace.
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<br />Wildflowers near Yoke Branch
<br />Bridge across Crabgrass Creek
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<br />Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-23506053328139291432011-07-26T20:09:00.000-07:002011-08-09T21:15:41.060-07:00Junction CR 419/Nova Road to Tiger Branch Campsite---March 3rdUp before the sun in order to break camp before the county sheriff asks me what the heck I'm doing here. Another five hours along asphalt, but it wasn't as bad as yesterday. It was in the morning so temperatures were cooler, the weather was cooperating, providing a little cloud cover, the roads were tree-lined, creating plenty of shade since the sun was still low and, as an added bonus, there was even ground next to the shoulder. In addition, very few cars travelled these roads. However, one that did pulled over and stopped beside me. The driver asked if I was doing the Florida Trail. Almost before I could reply, I was given a V8 and a banana. Turns out he was a trail angel giving a section hiker a ride to the Taylor Creek trail head.
<br />Finally finished with paths built for cars, I walked the last couple of miles exclusively for those on foot. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLshH5fiZfJ3SEJtdLnWC7HUX_H_r9CJGeaMkccoZiLmJYCBQOtfyxr5sbmxqd3zZP14-Sp2p8dgzS9npJQrZV8ErnYcSxC79vIOIbpzseRPEav936aHrAdsExihQgk6MtrKAVZJGk5Xv3/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+567.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633864792402886562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLshH5fiZfJ3SEJtdLnWC7HUX_H_r9CJGeaMkccoZiLmJYCBQOtfyxr5sbmxqd3zZP14-Sp2p8dgzS9npJQrZV8ErnYcSxC79vIOIbpzseRPEav936aHrAdsExihQgk6MtrKAVZJGk5Xv3/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+567.JPG" /></a> It was a pleasant surprise to see benches, a picnic table and a port-a-potty when I arrived at Tiger Branch Campsite. Took my time setting up my tent, airing out my sleeping bag and reading from The Last of the Mohicans. Margaret, the section hiker/passenger in the trail angel's car arrived at 3 p.m. She's done quite a bit of both the Florida and Appalachian trails, but only as a section hiker. Only out for the weekend, she offered me some dried apples and strawberries which she had dehydrated at home. She also had a surplus of drinking water which she threw into the bargain. How could I refuse for just like Little Scrub Campsite, no matter how much I tried to prime the pump, I couldn't draw out even a drop of liquid from the well. I learned that in the hot weather the rubber seals dry out and crack so when you crank the handle there's no suction because they won't seal properly.
<br />Anyway, Margaret teaches physical therapy at a university in St. Augustine. She earned the trail name "Hammer" from her students due to her being strict and very demanding in the classroom. She's also a retired Colonel (full bird), having served in the Air Force Reserve.
<br />As the conversation waned, I retired to my tent before the mosquitoes got too thick. Camped in the midst of pines and palms, a breath of wind was stirring the treetops and rustling the fronds as I drifted off to sleep.
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<br />The Long and Not So Winding Road
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<br />Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-49436700856969209912011-07-26T20:02:00.000-07:002011-08-10T10:20:00.108-07:00Tiger Branch Campsite to Mills Creek Camp---March 4thThe morning rose clear and cloudless, but after bidding farewell to "Hammer" and enjoying the soft light of the early hour as I strode through a forest of palms, the sky turned gray and it began to rain. The first downpour happened while I was exiting the north gate of Tosohatchee Wildlife Management Area. I took shelter under the branches of a young oak and waited for the heavy drops of rain to lessen. The second downpour occurred while I was hiking under the leafy canopy. Not being hit directly by the rain, I was nevertheless slowly getting soaked by the steady dripping from leaf, twig and branch. All hope of staying half-way dry were given up as the heavens opened at Orlando Wetlands Park<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmjC2P7EhlhHVcbSZnh1Jpb-GHg0XfBvlMZOc9CokHy3cyPoLgpsKEYOgr5xgMO9LgtZ4ZkgZNtZcBdg567XftbMBV1HkmoPpIabXJN4Z_Ux3ODwha78yDNJkLMzRLMKQbufOb6yFhA2Cm/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+570.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633863928299085698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmjC2P7EhlhHVcbSZnh1Jpb-GHg0XfBvlMZOc9CokHy3cyPoLgpsKEYOgr5xgMO9LgtZ4ZkgZNtZcBdg567XftbMBV1HkmoPpIabXJN4Z_Ux3ODwha78yDNJkLMzRLMKQbufOb6yFhA2Cm/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+570.JPG" /></a> and for the most part it continued to rain for the remainder of the day.
<br />At Orlando Wetlands, instead of following the orange blaze along the fence line, it is best to walk up on the dike so you can view the marsh. The path atop the dike and the Florida Trail end up at the same place as you leave the park. Unfortunately, with it raining cats and dogs, on this day there wasn't much to see. A few coots and a blue heron amongst the lily pads and reeds were the only birdlife I spied. The animal that truly seemed to enjoy such inclement weather was the wild pig. I had my first sighting near a creek where two wild pigs were on the bank, heads lowered, drinking. When they saw me on the opposite side, they gave out a loud squeal and dashed off. The second sighting was another wild pig wallowing in the mud in a depression near the fence line. Pretty much the same reaction when it caught wind of me. No time to get the camera out before it was gone.
<br />Coming out of Orlando Wetlands Park there is an exceptionally nice rest spot at the game check station on Wheeler Road. A small shelter houses two picnic tables and the door and windows are completely enclosed with mesh so the mosquitoes won't bother you. You can get potable water from the faucet and sink at the game dressing table just a few yards from the enclosure. I took the opportunity to get a brief respite from the elements, while eating a late lunch and filling up on water.
<br />For me, the walk along Christmas Road was like the Bataan Death March. Ten miles on wet tootsies, my feet aching excruciatingly. The last few miles it felt like I was hobbling on nubs that were throbbing twice as fast as my heart. At one point a guy stopped to offer me a ride, but I declined. Am I insane?! As soon as I reached Mills Creek Camp, I set up my tent in a bit of a drizzle, crawled inside, took of my shoes and socks and lay down. Soooooo happy to be off my feet. Simply exhausted.
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<br />Oak Branch among Palms
<br />Tosohatchee Creek
<br />Orlando Wetlands Park
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<br />Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-59636850632625178652011-07-26T19:57:00.000-07:002011-08-10T11:11:35.265-07:00Mills Creek Camp to Campsite near Firescar---March 5th<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8cR9AZDrsB1gmITjMY3aSi4N2xPM_fOFMa-rBkCRjjtKJm-HCPCmYJ8ZVP8BErC_uzCuJFBfDO9VizNsv7jeNe4Zj9z1FwSj1UmEyolyeYLA_sDLn51EjtwvdW4YqyOWIlFjB39EaY2F5/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+574.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633862049275448530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8cR9AZDrsB1gmITjMY3aSi4N2xPM_fOFMa-rBkCRjjtKJm-HCPCmYJ8ZVP8BErC_uzCuJFBfDO9VizNsv7jeNe4Zj9z1FwSj1UmEyolyeYLA_sDLn51EjtwvdW4YqyOWIlFjB39EaY2F5/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+574.JPG" /></a>My feet were feeling so much better after the pain I had experienced during the latter half of the trek yesterday, so I was able to enjoy a nice walk this morning after visiting the best port-a-potty on the entire length of the Florida Trail. From what "Hammer" told me, the F.T. benefits from a lot of Eagle Scout projects and Mills Creek Camp was one. New benches, picnic table, fire ring and the lovely red commode.
<br />Anyway, my early rise was rewarded with four wild turkey and three deer sightings. I almost felt miles away from suburbia even though I'm on the very outskirts of a major U.S. city. On a footpath through scrub, palm, fern and all manner of trees, I could hear vehicle noise as the day lengthened. Then, on Flagler Trail, a lovely dirt road shaded by overarching palm fronds and branches, joggers, cyclists and walkers suddenly appeared.
<br />The trail led to the Econ River, its water the color of black tea with bars of bleached-white sand. Some stagnant branches were like split pea soup, covered with duck weed and other water plants. Lovely views were had from the banks above. Again "deep" in the primitive woodland, there were many crossings on wooden planks and small bridges.
<br />Near a trailhead, I dropped my pack and hid it in the brush under some palm fronds. Without my load, I continued to Lockwood Boulevard, where a half mile south all the conveniences of the modern world await. My first task was to contact my family since it has been nearly three weeks without word from me. I bought a phone card at the 7/11 on the corner and went to the pay phone. After a few rings, my nephew Caleb answered. It was nice to hear a voice from home and know that now they won't have to worry. Next, a run for the border at Taco Bell, where I sat and ate, sucking on soda until I felt my belly would pop. Then, over to the grocery store to get enough food to last me to the other side of Orlando. Finally, the return trip to retrieve my pack and set up a nice camp under the trees on a flat place near the river down from the trail.
<br />I'm glad the weather held all day. It was sketchy at noon, but there was a sunny finish to a fairly easy day. My feet are still in recovery and the skin sloughing from my left pinky toe requires attention because it's going to be a long day tomorrow as I try to make it through Orlando.
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<br />Outskirts of Orlando
<br />Bridge over the Econ
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<br />Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-63003729194238044862011-07-26T19:53:00.001-07:002011-08-10T18:16:54.728-07:00Campsite near Firescar to Wekiva Shelter---March 6thUp and on the trail before sunrise, but travelling in the dim pre-dawn light was fairly easy since I had been this way before. Crossed Lockwood Boulevard again a short time later was in the community of Oveido, where I saw some crowing roosters walking in the streets. The data book mentions these famous feathered fowls, though I don't know the story behind them. "Who do they belong to?", I wondered. "How do they survive on the streets and avoid being hit by cars? How did they get here to begin with? Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" Ha. Whatever the answers, it's clear that these are not your run of the mill cock-a -doodle-dooers.
<br />A majority of the day was spent following the Cross Seminole Bike Path, which runs from the southeast to the northwest through the suburbs of Orlando, crossing several creeks en route. Much nicer dealing with squirrels, cyclists, joggers and people out walking their dogs than speeding automobiles. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hPTG6Jq6Om-gCv3o3ysfN_c7zFQ6P7FF9q7Yk6pfdNhaidNvypzdZc90i-Ycl98kn8NFli7krdrqED3Jc8St5FplTczFlCT32_L6qW40Dmr1ebgVi7MWm0AnXkmET1xjnze9NZi7QsHT/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+580.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633860641041050914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hPTG6Jq6Om-gCv3o3ysfN_c7zFQ6P7FF9q7Yk6pfdNhaidNvypzdZc90i-Ycl98kn8NFli7krdrqED3Jc8St5FplTczFlCT32_L6qW40Dmr1ebgVi7MWm0AnXkmET1xjnze9NZi7QsHT/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+580.JPG" /></a>
<br />Plenty of benches are located along the path, so if you feel tired you can sit down, relax and perhaps do some people watching. Drinking fountains can also be found, especially when you pass by any parks. Convenience stores are easily accessible if you want to drop in and grab a snack. Two big Publix supermarkets near the northern end of the trail can be used for resupply before you leave the city.
<br />At Big Tree Park I took a small detour in order to see The General, an impressive 3,500 year old cypress, one of the biggest of its kind in the United States. Its sister tree, the 2,000 year old Lady Liberty stands a mere 30 meters away. The area used to be in the middle of a vast swamp, but now you need only take a short jaunt down a boardwalk to gaze upon these glorious, colossal trees.
<br />Two big bridges allow people to safely avoid the traffic on the U.S. 17-92 and the I-4. Built to accommodate the recreational users of the bicycle path, its much preferred to the alternate means of crossing--- playing a live Florida Trail version of thru-hiker Frogger! Before leaving the Orlando area entirely, I passed through the outlying towns of Heathrow and Lake Mary, where I saw adults and children out playing baseball and soccer. It did my heart good to see so many getting in some activity through friendly competition. A great way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
<br />From the last of the road walk, it was more or less a mile to the Wekiva Shelter. The trek across Orlando was far better than I had expected. At the fee station, I had to pay $12 to camp (newly instituted in December 2010), but I reckon with all the cuts in government spending, state parks can use all the money they can get their hands on. Got my water out of the horse trough. Passed through the gravity filter, it tasted much better than some of the well water I'd had recently. Even though it was the first shelter on the trail, I elected to spend the night in the tent to keep the tiny six-legged vampires at bay. Longest day so far and the poor dawgs are feeling it. Red and Swollen. Nighttime do your wonders!
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<br />Big Tree Info
<br />The General
<br />Lady Liberty
<br />Duck Pond
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<br />Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-18980683294043735752011-07-26T19:30:00.001-07:002011-08-10T21:18:44.973-07:00Wekiva Shelter to Clearwater Lake---March 7thA starlit sky gave way to a steel-gray dawn, remaining overcast until noon<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiucoN1X_Zz6X6uj4pAp65VJQ7qFRPIR2uj4exexvYF-81rH85x1ksEKDR9rZ8yl23u_kjXD6jUF5QNaYMK11wXjkEeGSxrc4YtiVL2EmLfwAKcgM0XiFvy8WwAepNAyjnFYUJwPjHWEtZV/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+587.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633854819489003714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiucoN1X_Zz6X6uj4pAp65VJQ7qFRPIR2uj4exexvYF-81rH85x1ksEKDR9rZ8yl23u_kjXD6jUF5QNaYMK11wXjkEeGSxrc4YtiVL2EmLfwAKcgM0XiFvy8WwAepNAyjnFYUJwPjHWEtZV/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+587.JPG" /></a>. It was the coolest morning of the trek, so cold in fact that for the first time I used glove liners to keep my hands warm. It is winter after all, something easily forgotten when hiking in the Sunshine State.
<br />I started in scrub and small pine, but reached some fire-scarred areas rather quickly. However, once on the forest road leading over Black Water Creek, the palms and other trees had closed in around me. No doubt the creek is appropriately named as its still waters look almost like oil.
<br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Sharktooth</span> Camp, situated in a clearing, was a fine spot for a mid-morning break. After downing a few peanut butter granola bars, I took a short side trail to check out Shark Tooth Springs which turned out to be a clear steady flow coming from the base of an elevated patch of ground. Although it formed a small creek, I didn't drink from it due to the distinct smell of sulphur emanating from its surface.
<br />The nice cool walk in Seminole State Forest was interrupted at Cassia Trail Head by guess what---another road walk. It wasn't bad, but I've had too many of them already. When cars, motorcycles and eighteen-wheelers are roaring past you, you begin to ask yourself, "What's the point?!" I can walk along a road near my home. At least it would have a sidewalk. Let's face it, road walks are no fun. Yes, I can usually walk faster and cover more ground than on the average trail, but that's because I'm usually trying to bust past them and return to the footpath. A road walk is tougher physically because it really wears on your feet. It's also tougher mentally because you lose your motivation, sucking in fumes instead of fresh air. Oh well, now I've vented and I feel better for it.
<br />Lunch was in the shadow of some tall pines near a dried out pond on Maggie Jones Road. Just off Boy Scout Road there's a pretty place the Boy Scouts of America have for their Jamboree. Plenty of oak trees and leaf-lined paths for hiking as well as a huge grassy area for tenting. My afternoon break was at a picnic table beneath the overarching branches of those oaks.
<br />I made really good time today, finishing at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Clearwater</span> Lake by mid-afternoon. Much of that can be attributed to the road walking. At $18.50 a night I'm not likely to use these type of camps often. I suppose I was spoiled by the Pacific Crest Trail where the most I paid for a camp was $5 and that was the backpackers camp at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Tuolomne</span> Meadows in Yosemite, one of our nation's premier national parks. Anyway, took a refreshing shower, "washed" my clothes in the sink and shaved three weeks of growth off my face. Satisfied and semi-clean, I had enough time on my hands to polish off the second book of the journey, The Last of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Mohicans</span>.
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<br />Black Water Creek
<br />The Morning Trail
<br />Bearded
<br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Clean-Shaven</span>
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<br />Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-59038532115587289142011-07-26T19:26:00.000-07:002011-08-11T11:11:03.327-07:00Clearwater Lake to Brook Pond---March 8thA chilly night ended with the crow's caw and the whooping of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">sandhill</span> cranes. I was out and about before anyone was stirring in camp. My early presence on the path startled some deer which went bounding away, flashing their white tails. The white sandy trail wound through open forest covered with leaves and pine straw for the greater part of the day. Palmetto, palm and an assortment of deciduous hardwoods converged around the few long boardwalks in this section.
<br />Coming off one, I was shocked to see people again. A trail crew of at least 20 youngsters armed with rakes, hoes, pruning shears and infectious smiles, they had entered the trail from a nearby forest road, where they had parked their vehicles. Pleased to see the level of participation and the general enthusiasm, I thanked them in advance for their hard work and care. This level of volunteerism bodes well for the future of this national scenic trail.
<br />Before noon I had travelled the half mile blue blaze to Alexander Springs Recreation Area. At the fee station I met Ernie <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Chiapuzzi</span>, a section hiker from Pennsylvania who was suffering from a bad case of shin splints and a lack of sleep from an uncharacteristically cold night. He said I could join him at Camp 2 since he'd already paid for the spot. I dropped my pack there at the picnic table and headed for the springs.
<br />The volume of water flowing out of Alexander Springs is enough to form a small river. On the one side there is a "beach" and picnic area. A shady boardwalk starts here and forms a semi- circle around the springs, continuing about a mile along the other side of the river. It is lined with many informative displays about the trees and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">plantlife</span> that can be found in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ocala</span> National Forest. In the middle and at the end of the boardwalk, there are observation platforms that jut out into the clear water, where you can look for gators, turtles, fish or birds and greet any people paddling past in canoes.
<br />Returning from the river walk excursion, I decided to take a swim. It was a tad nippy getting in, but once the plunge was taken, it was absolutely wonderful. Much of the river bottom is covered with eel grass, but at the source, where the water gushes out of the white limestone rock, it's free of grasses creating a light aquamarine hole in the dark-green that surrounds it. I swam out to this place and dove down. The brilliant white of the limestone walls and the color of the clear water as sunlight streaks through it were magnificent. Now I understood why the springs attract a fair number of novice scuba divers. A great place to do your first dives.
<br />I left the area at 2:30 in the afternoon after speaking a while with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ernman</span>, which is Ernie's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">trail name</span> he uses on <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">whiteblaze</span>.net, the site for info regarding the Appalachian Trail. Not sure how much farther he'll be able to go with such pain in his lower legs. The open pine forest was slowly changing to scrub by the time I reached a primitive camp near Brook Pond. It's been a fabulous day and the weather was fantastic. A chorus of croaking frogs serenaded me into slumber.
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<br />The Shady Boardwalk
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<br />Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-61464769512609970142011-07-26T19:17:00.000-07:002011-08-11T12:43:59.284-07:00Brook Pond to Hidden Pond---March 9th<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju7YxW2j-kfcFZcLMxqah1Epb2u4v_Q7C144_hMNgWfeneotTEhEkdgK-ko0lyDZXIxPm442iCjaeUbCXOGSu0c7XYpEgUt_rOJrdkC0Uvbt8tHk3iXOZa3V1EMwjKMEr2u4ZYFl9Sh98T/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+594.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633852591185067938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju7YxW2j-kfcFZcLMxqah1Epb2u4v_Q7C144_hMNgWfeneotTEhEkdgK-ko0lyDZXIxPm442iCjaeUbCXOGSu0c7XYpEgUt_rOJrdkC0Uvbt8tHk3iXOZa3V1EMwjKMEr2u4ZYFl9Sh98T/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+594.JPG" /></a> The nervous gobble of a wild turkey greeted me as I emerged from the tent. Breaking cover, it flew across my field of vision to the high grasses at the far side of the pond. Leaving camp as the orange glow of the coming sunrise lit the eastern horizon, I was back in open woodland again a small part of which had fallen victim to a recent blaze, the distinct smell of ash hanging heavily in the air.
<br />The silence of the morning hours was broken now and then by the sound of a plane droning overhead, a car racing down a gravel road, or the yipping of dogs. The engine noise of both plane and car disappeared, but the sounds of the hounds seemed to be growing closer. Before I knew it, two beagles were on my heels following me into <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Farles</span> Prairie Picnic Area, where I got water from a reliable pump. The pups looked a little thin, so I can only hope they have someone looking after them. While I was filling the water bladders, they ran off down the road.
<br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Farles</span> Prairie is an area of open grassland dotted with ponds (mostly dry at this time of year) and larger shallow lakes ringed with a variety of marsh grasses. It gets shadier the closer you get to Juniper Springs. There's a lovely break spot at the north end of the marsh boardwalk that would have made a great campsite if the timing had been right.
<br />The Florida Trail passes right across the entrance road to Juniper Springs. The attendant at the fee station was very kind not to charge me. "Since you're hiking the trail," she said, "I'll let you in for free." Thanks! The springs were basically built up like a big swimming pool by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s. A mill house was constructed about the same time at the outlet, the flow of water powering the wheel and providing a little hydroelectric energy for the camp. I went for a refreshing dip and dove repeatedly into the deepest waters of the spring from the platform above it. Climbing out of the pool, I wandered over to the picnic area to dry off in the sun. While sitting at the table, I wrote some messages about my hike on the backs of the postcards I had bought at the rec area store. As soon as I reach a post office, I'll send them off.
<br />Before continuing my trek, I was so lucky I did the boardwalk nature trail. At the end of the walk is Fern Hammock Springs, one of the prettiest sights of the entire trip. Large pools filled with dark eel grasses punctuated by rings of clear water with white sand that rises and falls as water rushes from the ground beneath it. Truly extraordinary. Don't miss it! This is such a beautiful area that I would have liked to have gone on the Juniper Run, which is a canoe trip down Juniper Creek to the shores of Lake George. Unfortunately, it was already mid-afternoon and the trip is a minimum of four hours. Oh well, maybe next time.
<br />Back on trail, it's fairly exposed to the sun because this area of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ocala</span> was ravaged by fire some years ago. The palmetto and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">scrub brush have rebounded, but the trees are like a phalanx of so many blackened spears. Towards the end of the hiking day, the land began to resemble that at Farles Prairie; small ponds and a dried savannah of reeds and marsh grass. I'm in a good camp at Hidden Pond, tent tucked away under some small oaks. Water is readily available and there are logs to sit on. A thru-hiker really couldn't ask for more.</span>
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<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Farles Prairie</span>
<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">The Force of Water</span>
<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Juniper Run</span>
<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Fern Hammock Spring</span>
<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Juniper Springs</span>
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<br />Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126695011823826243.post-92067910813582126852011-07-26T12:38:00.001-07:002011-08-11T17:22:31.830-07:00Hidden Pond to Grassy Pond---March 10thSurvived a deluge last night, one of the worst thunderstorms I've been in. It started at 6 p.m. and lasted for over four hours. When the storm front hit, there were strong gusts of wind pushing in the side of the tent. That was followed by a fierce electrical storm, lightning flashing all around, then the booming thunder. Shortly thereafter, buckets of water poured out of the sky. The front left corner of my tent was inundated, soaking the extra clothing I had laid there and dampening the shoulder of my sleeping bag. At 5 a.m. I was jolted awake by heavy drops of rain pounding on top of the tarptent. This second downpour continued for another two hours until the tarptent was reaching saturation point. As soon as the rain began to ease, I arose and packed quickly, the waterlogged tent feeling like it weighed fifteen pounds. My main goaldue to the weather was simply to do fast miles, buy supplies at Store 88, get to camp and hopefully dry out my stuff.
<br />Hunkered up in my rain jacket, I started walking through the scrub and the charred totems of the fire-scarred forest. An hour in I bumped into an older man and his son hiking in the rain, heads lowered and trickles of water running off their gear. When the elderly gentleman looked up, he exclaimed, "Wow! What do you know?! A real person." I suppose it was in reference to the fact that not many people were out hiking the trail in this horrible weather. The rain finally stopped at around nine, remaining overcast for the rest of the day, except for the final hour of daylight when the sun managed to battle through the clouds.
<br />During this time of darkened skies the trail snaked its way along the edge of Hopkins Prairie from Forest Road 50 to the blue-blazed path leading to Salt Springs. There was a sink hole on the north side of FR 50 that would have made for excellent swimming on a warm sunny day, but with conditions as they were, I took a quick look and trudged on by. Walking along the rim of Hopkins Prairie, with trees to one side and open grassland, ponds and lakes on the other was a real pleasure. On the way I saw a wooden structure which seemed a little strange standing out on its own. It looked like a small house on stilts. "Is this some odd shelter hikers can take refuge in?" I thought to myself. Going closer to investigate, I discovered it was actually a house for a colony of bats that help to control the mosquito population. I love bats! Any creature that can eliminate these annoying insects during a nighttime feed is a friend of mine.
<br />The five mile round trip to Salt Springs on a blue blaze was much too far for me. I know you can resupply there and perhaps get a few other services, but I had my sights set on the 0.4 mile blue-blaze to Store 88. Just before reaching the turn off to the shop, I passed the junction where the eastern corridor and western corridor of the Florida Trail merge to head north. I'd successfully completed the fourth section as it is listed in the data book. Yipee!!! Stopping a moment to snap a picture, I hurried off again, eager to reach the shop before it closed.
<br />Store 88 was not quite what I expected. I'm not sure if it even qualified as a store because it was more like a few shelves along the walls in the far corner of the bar stocked with a limited selection of goods. It took me several minutes to decide on which items would do for breakfast, lunch and dinner over the course of the next few days: honey buns, snickers bars, vienna sausages, pork and beans, ham slices and a loaf of wheat bread. I think I cleaned out half the shop. Lord help the thru-hiker who arrives here tomorrow looking for food! To supplement my meager stock, I picked up a small jar of honey someone had left on a post along the trail. I would have grabbed the jar of peanut butter as well, but missing its top, ants had already got to it.
<br />The day's miles were covered by 3:30. I pitched my tent in a copse near the shores of Grassy Pond and hung all my wet clothes and sleeping bag on the limbs of the small oak to let the drying process begin. Then I went to the pond for water. Getting it was more problematic than I had anticipated because I was separated from the shallow waters by a barrier of mud. I tried to find an access point where drier and firmer ground would allow me to reach the water's edge without sinking calf deep in the sucking stuff, but was unable to. In the end, I went in barefoot, skimmed the clearer water off the surface with my tin cup, then transferred it to the dirty bag of my filter. Upon returning to where I had first entered the pond, I had to spend a good while removing the mud from my legs using a combination of dry grasses and water to wipe and clean them off. Dinner was honey ham sandwiches and a danish for desert. By this time most of my clothing and gear were tolerably dry. I do believe I'll sleep well tonight for I'm falling asleep even as I write. Zzzzzz.
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<br />Bat House in Hopkins Prairie
<br />East Meets West at the Corridor Junction
<br />Show Me the Way <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg79ABVsfOGbFwK0dmKxjWYjlWGhrnrpXzYYYnQPwaogXKx_F543yTwfWQlVgYKBIc5QIPMZASZP7rw8XGolEpQR22AUBLCOsveIcnzoZWddctIqWBwpPCSeyhI2b2KF-M7QtgJbHk8VQBF/s1600/Florida+and+Appalachia+604.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633748290209001138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg79ABVsfOGbFwK0dmKxjWYjlWGhrnrpXzYYYnQPwaogXKx_F543yTwfWQlVgYKBIc5QIPMZASZP7rw8XGolEpQR22AUBLCOsveIcnzoZWddctIqWBwpPCSeyhI2b2KF-M7QtgJbHk8VQBF/s320/Florida+and+Appalachia+604.JPG" /></a>
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<br />Eric Bowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11350617072947101350noreply@blogger.com0