Moore Haven RV Resort/Marina to Indian Prairie Campsite---February 22nd

This morning the camp and marina were blanketed in fog, which didn't burn off until 9:30. I had some errands to run in town, picking up a package containing my levagaiters 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.
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.
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.
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 distinctive chirping.


Indian Prairie Camp

Indian Prairie Campsite to S-65E Lock---February 23rd

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.
Later in the day I passed Buckhead 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 Kissimmee 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 Trail's Western Route of Lake Okeechobee. On the other side of the bridge, I stopped by Okee-Tantie 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.
Finally, it was time to turn away from Okeechobee and make the long trek along the levee following the course of the Kissimmee. By this time the day had turned hot and humid, so I took a long respite at a water control structure, sitting on a palate 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.


Buckhead Ridge

S-65E Lock to Chandler East Camp---February 24th

Listened to the drip, drip, drip of water droplets falling from the ends of Spanish Moss onto my tarptent 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 Kissimmee River not far away. After pitching my tent I headed to its banks to collect drinking water, soak my feet and wash off.
When I returned to my tent, I noticed a daypack 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.
Three animal encounters today---two good and one scared the bejeebers 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.
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.
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 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.
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. :-)

Baby Raccoon
Chandler East Camp

Chandler East Camp to Hickory Hammock Camp---February 25th

Mosquitoes 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.
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". 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!
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 Lofton 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 neccessary. Waist Deep Water. Muck bottom. A possible problem with chomping gators. Guess the roadwalk wasn't that bad after all. Ha.
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 Kracker Store was a little over a mile away in Basinger 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.
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.
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.
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.


Closure of Chandler Slough
Beyond the Stile
The Arching Branches

Hickory Hammock Camp to Fort Kissimmee Camp---February 26th

I thought it was the pitter-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, liana and vines, which made me feel as if I were on some subtropical island. Where's my machete?
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.
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 thru-hiker.
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.
Moving onward, I continued to enjoy the shady path until it kicked me out at a fence line. On the hiker side there was grass. Past the barbed-wire and NO TRESPASSING 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 Anole 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.

The campsite at Mosquito Hammock was pretty 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 fence line 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.

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 Kissimmee 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.).

Kissimmee Camp is a bit more developed than others along the trail. I set up my tent near a picnic 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.

The Fence Line Divide

The Boardwalk

Oak Hammocks

Trail in Avon Park

Buzzards

Hunting Season near Cattle Country

Avon Park Kiosk

Fort Kissimmee Camp to Kicco WMA Camp---February 27th

Some fine walking this morning along the banks of the Kissimmee, the sun highlighting the wispy vapour rising 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.
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.
Kicco 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.
By 3:30 in the afternoon I entered the Kicco 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.
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.


Gum Branch
Tick Island Slough

Kicco WMA Camp to Parker Hammocks Camp---February 28th

From 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.
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.
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.
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.
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. :-)


Horse near River Ranch Resort
Broad Swath of the Kissimmee
Grassland and Sunny Skies
Path through Palm Hammock
White Ibis
Lake Jackson
Parker Slough
Boardwalk near Bull Creek