Florida Trail: Day 59
March 5, 2022
Mile: 538.1 to 566.8 (28.7 miles)
Start: Cow Creek campsite, somewhere wedged between a highway, neighborhood and cow pasture, Keystone Heights, FL
Finish: Hobo camp on the old rail bed in forest, 100ft from Highway 100
We woke up at sunrise this morning but decided that we were a little tired so we slept till about 7:30am. The cow pasture around us was covered in dense misty gray fog but the air was nice and cool out which is perfect hiking weather. Quickly we packed up our damp tent and sleeping bags, eager to get big miles done today. Our goal was to do at least 25 miles today because that mileage will get us into the town of Lake Butler where the tiny town government allowed Florida Trail hikers to camp next to the town hall and use the bathrooms at the nearby train depot for free as long as you asked for permission from a certain phone number. This kindness, or Trail Magic, is granted only to Florida Trail thru-hikers.
Despite the town of Lake Butler offering a free place to sleep, shower and use the bathroom, we’ve heard it’s not always the safest option to camp essentially in the center of a small town of 1,800 people. You share the camping lawn with not only the enormous herds of feral cats that wander Lake Butler’s downtown, but also with the resident homeless population who actually are supposed to be very nice individuals who just like talking and drinking vodka on occasion. It’s the non-homeless locals who you have to worry about.
Some of the hikers who’d camped at Lake Butler’s town hall said that they’d packed up in the middle of the night and left because they had to deal with parties of teenagers harassing them or drunks stumbling around the park all night or sketchy people lingering around their tent. We didn’t really want to have to deal with that kind of drama of sleeping in a thin-walled tent, knowing that strange people are all around you. Humans truly are the most dangerous predator out here on the trail. Plus camping in the middle of a town where hardly anyone knows about the Florida Trail or you don’t have strength in fellow hiker numbers like on the Appalachian or Pacific Crest Trails kind of seems like you’re asking for trouble, to get robbed or who knows what. We decided that we’re going to camp in the woods somewhere beyond town so that would mean we’d have to hike almost an entire marathon today.
We packed up all of our backpacking gear in the soft cow field, our packs surrounded by wildflowers, sweet smelling clover and large lime green grasshoppers springing up like kernels of popping corn. The grasshoppers were as long and thick as my finger and as I stared at one particuilarly bold specimen who had decided to make my hat its temporary home, my mouth started watering. I know in American culture we weren’t raised to eat insects but in other cultures its supposed to be somewhat commonplace to make snacks or meals of the little critters. Grasshoppers especially supposedly provide one with abundant protein and taste yummy if cooked the right way. My eyes flickered to the grasshopper, the bold insect poised several inches in front of my hand in a relaxed pose. I could easily reach out and grab the grasshopper, snap off its long hind legs as I’ve read about in my survival books and pop the juicy bug in my mouth. I swallowed saliva back and steeled my resolve – was I ready to resort to eating bugs on the Florida Trail? All of a sudden my hand shot out instinctively. Slowly I pulled back a tightly closed fist, my hand wrapped securely around the prize. One by one, I unraveled my fingers revealing a succulent, juicy granola bar. Fortunately for our grasshopper friend, today wasn’t going to be the day I start supplementing my thru-hiking diet with insects.
The first few miles of the Florida Trail navigated its way around a couple of neighborhoods where suburban dogs barked at us through the forest and people went about their day. The trail spit us down the old Palatka-Lake Butler railway line where almost the entire day we’d hike along the ancient railroad bed which had been torn up several decades ago after the boom and bust of the local timber, phosphate and shipping supplies industries. Today the railroad ties had all been yanked up, the steel tracks and nails pulled up leaving behind a well-maintained double track. The old rail bed is known as a “right of way” in land use terms which meant for the most part the public could feel free to use the path for Florida Trail hikers. It seemed like the Clay County locals used the right of way for ATV and dirt bike trails or on occasion as backroads with their cars.
The Florida Trail here followed the straight double track where the canopy of lush trees and wild brush created jungle tunnels formed from a century of forest regrowth. The towering pines stretched tall overhead and hemmed in the path from above which made it feel somewhat magical and almost mysterious as you stared down the never ending shadow tunnel laid before you. The trail was gorgeous and the dappled light glowed softly on the soft pine needles underfoot as you darted in and out of sun patches.
The old railroad was a unique beauty spot on the Florida trail except for the jagged rocks used to build the foundation of the rail bed. The stones were sharp underfoot and rolled like giant marbles out from under you. We had to be careful to place each footstep gingerly, feeling the way forward with a tentative step so the stones wouldn’t puncture the soles of your shoes or cause you intense pain from a toe bone grinding against the razor edge of the talus. It seemed like the rail bed was a necessary evil as if there wasn’t a rock bed here lifting the trail up from the surroundings, we’d find ourselves slogging through the soft sandy dunes of the pine forests or sloshing through soggy cypress swamps. It must’ve been a challenge in the late 1800s to build the railroad through here and the feat of engineering wasn’t lost on us.
Shannon currently only has one hiking pole since he broke his carbon fiber Hiker Hunger brand poles the other day. The going was slower for him today with his one pole, especially with all of the loose rocks underfoot. He couldn’t rely on putting his full body weight on two hiking poles like he was used to which made him a little lopsided bouncing down the uneven railroad bed. It was a bit of a struggle to adjust going from having 4 points of balance to now being a tripod. Despite the trail looking to be extremely flat, today was a challenge with all of the large sharp rail bed rocks that wobbled underfoot and threw you off balance. Maybe it’s his body weight being heavier than mine or the carbon fiber walls being thinner on his Amazon bargain brand poles versus my REI carbon fiber poles but he typically smashes part of his hiking pole into oblivion at least once every long distance trail we hike. Mine have never broken in the 8 years that I’ve had them and we hike together on the same terrain so who knows. Someone who will go unnamed often is a little forgetful about procuring a new hiking pole segment when theirs breaks. This time this person had broken their hiking pole about 6 days ago with a long town visit in between with abundant WiFi to purchase a new one. Despite daily reminders, they kept saying that they were going to order a new one. Now they were feeling the consequences of their inaction. Oh well, hopefully he orders a new pole before we hit a deep swamp section again. Sliding through sticky mud, ankle-breaking solution holes and thigh-deep water with only one hiking pole sounds not so fun.
After a few hours the Palatka-Lake Butler rail trail briefly turned into smooth fresh pavement where we encountered a “Trail Closed” sign stretching across the Florida Trail. We debated whether to hike through the construction zone or road walk around the trail closure sign. I was a little wary to continue down past the “Trail Closed” sign but other hikers in our navigation app had mentioned that the construction workers improving the bike path were very nice and had permitted the hikers to walk through the construction area instead of having to add extra miles road walking around. We were hoping that this would be the same group of nice construction people who’d maybe let us through.
Soon we encountered a big bulldozer blocking the trail with lots of trucks surrounding it. About a dozen construction workers were digging, directing earthmovers, laying pipes around what appeared to be a paved bike path. A big burly guy approached us and we were a little nervous to see if he’d tell us off about coming down through the construction area. It turns out he was the construction supervisor and was super nice and was absolutely so excited to see us hikers. The supervisor said that he’s seen 20 or 30 Florida Trail hikers in the past couple of weeks and loved talking to them.
We couldn’t believe that there were 20 or 30 other thru-hikers out there! Here it’s been almost 3 weeks where we haven’t seen a single other hiker and our jaws dropped with the news. The supervisor smiled kindly at us as we asked him all sorts of questions about the other hikers and the construction project. He even gave Shannon and I the “white glove treatment,” guiding us through the busy construction site, telling his guys to shut off their equipment or barking out for them to watch out for us all the while asking what flavor of ice cold Propel electrolyte drink we wanted from his truck cooler. I felt like a VIP (and a stinky one at that). Some of the construction guys smiled at us and others looked exasperated probably thinking to themselves, “Not another stupid hiker!”
Anyways, the construction supervisor asked if we wanted a cold drink from his cooler which we debated because it would mean carrying extra weight but we could tell our bodies kind of needed to drink the extra liquid. As the supervisor watched us fumble for an answer, he gently told us that if we said no to the free drinks we’d be the first hikers to turn them down. So we gladly agreed to a cold beverage on the trail. Plus catching up on electrolytes is always a good thing in hot, humid Florida.
As we headed towards the supervisor’s truck, he called in for the street sweeper to pause until we walked by and then described some of the hikers he’d seen over the past couple weeks. He said there were two girls and a guy, one of whom had gone home or something because of how cold the temperatures were a few weeks back (it had dropped into the 30s). I was wondering if it was maybe our 3 hiker friends we met way back by the Everglades named Cookie, Cashmere and TicToc but he wasn’t sure and said maybe it was another group of hikers from what we were describing.
He talked about a girl who had a small skateboard strapped to her back so instead of pounding pavement on the long road walks, she could skateboard down the roads and bike paths of the Florida Trail. I thought that was pretty smart and we’ve already seen another guy with a longboard strapped to his backpack in the middle of Big Cypress Swamp which he’d used on literally hundreds of miles of pavement. I think a lightweight skateboard would be such a brilliant idea to bring on this trail. I mean technically you’re still foot powered but you’re just getting the crappier road miles done faster. Less time on the road means less chance of being hit by a semi truck or shot at by rednecks driving by (yes, this actually happened to another Florida Trail hiker a few weeks ago) so I thought that would be pretty good. If I did this hike again I’d definitely bring a skateboard. And I guess I would also have learn to skateboard too haha. But… I don’t think I would do this hike again. There are many more amazing treks out there I’d like to do first before coming back to the Florida Trail.
We thanked our friend the construction supervisor for the cold Propel electrolyte drinks and headed down the trail past the work zone, eventually cutting into the small town of Hampton which was so tiny that if you sneezed while driving through you’d probably miss seeing the town. Hampton also seemed like kind of a rough place. Next to the trail was an abandoned house with lots of trash and burn marks on the outside probably from a meth explosion. Other hikers had been warned at the local gas station to watch out for crack whores and had had issues with locals begging them for money and stuff. When we rolled up to the gas station there was a picnic table outside that was all carved up with crude graffiti, the same level of skill and messages that you’d probably see in an afterschool detention hall. The cheap plastic table was also chained to the wall which made me laugh when Shannon couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t pull the table out further to sit on.
Inside the convenience store the owner was a nice Indian man with vitiligo that made his skin sparkle in beautiful speckled patterns. He was so kind, helping us out so much and even let us fill up our water bladders from the sink in the back of the store. We bought some snacks and sat outside eating them on the chained up graffiti table when, lo and behold, our favorite construction supervisor stopped to fill up on gas but more so I think to get a little break from supervising. He ended up talking to us for about half an hour having grown up in the area and with the people he now worked for. The dad started the business of paving roads in the 1950s, passing along the company to his kids who grew it and diversified to timber harvesting, hurricane repair and hurricane road building. And he said in Florida alone they have 1,600 employees and the business stretches all the way to Texas. He said during hurricane season mostly they just work on rebuilding roads that have been washed away from storm surges.
He was a cool guy who said he’s also been married 30 years and gave us some secret life advice on how he should always be honest with your partner, how they should be your best friend and that it’s easy to give up and not talk to someone but that’s the cowardly solution and you should always be upfront about something bothering you. He was also really kind but had a very thick southern accent that I understood pretty well, my brain instantly snapping back into my Mississippi days when I lived and worked there. Shannon had never farther south than North Carolina which to some southern people is pretty much “Yankee Land.” There was one point where the guy said something about, “…highway tee-yun,” which I understood as what 5+5 equals: the number 10. Shannon for the life of him could not understand “tee-yun” so I had to translate for him.
It was nice to hear a deep southern accent again and it brought me back to the days of fishing, hanging by a campfire and drinking moonshine procured out a country friend’s mailbox. It was also fun to hear how our new friend would ask for something to be repeated he would just say, “Ma’am?” Or “Sir?” We definitely don’t talk that way up north and, heck, in New England I’ve even been yelled at for calling someone a “Ma’am” because it made them feel old. I kind of miss the southern dialect with all of its politeness and idiosyncrasies.
As we were finishing talking with the construction supervisor, some younger kids showed up to the gas station blasting music so loud the subwoofers rattled their windows and their shitty car bumper looked like it was five seconds from falling off. Shannon and I finished up our super healthy breakfast of sausage and egg sandwiches (mine without the biscuit), gummy bears, sugary sweet tea and spicy potato chips. We said goodbye to our new construction supervisor friend and thanked him again for chatting with us and for the cold drinks on the trail.
We hurriedly packed up our bags and got the heck out of the village of Hampton with aggressive dogs barking at us the whole way out of town. It was a straight shot back on the pine needle laden rail trail and we made good miles laughing and talking for a long time. Then we both kind of got tired of talking and decided to put on some audiobooks. The trail eventually crossed through several cypress swamps, some of which had been dug up to put a new culvert in prior to paving the old rail bed. The local turtle population seemed to be enamored with the new piles of sand brought in for construction. At least 5 or 6 turtles were climbing, digging and making turtle tracks through the sand like it was Spring Break and we couldn’t help but laugh at how happy these little shelled creatures seemed to be in the giant sand mountains. The cypress swamps were beautiful and as we hiked through them, we scared up flocks of ibis. It was so peaceful to be in the woods on this nice forest path and we were grateful for the few hours we had here as we knew that soon we’d be road walking on pavement dodging cars and trucks again on the busy streets.
By early afternoon Shannon’s feet were hurting pretty bad from a combination of the pointy railbed rocks underfoot and only having one working hiking pole. We pulled over before the trail took a 6 mile detour on the road to go around a closed bridge. I think Shannon’s mind was elsewhere this afternoon because I had told him probably 4 times already that the rail bridge on the bike path was out and we had to do a detour walking onto the main road. I was a little bit concerned about how slow he was hiking behind me so we stopped for a snack break to recharge. Just before the road we stopped when we found a surprise of several gallons of freshwater from a Trail Angel named Janie. She had put dates on the water jugs and we were so surprised to see that one gallon had been dropped off only yesterday. The unexpected Trail Magic was a sign that we should have a quick snack break and rehydrate with some electrolyte drink mix.
I stretched out our tarp on the old railway and set out our sit pads to get comfortable. We sat in the dappled sunlight drinking water and electrolyte drink mix while chowing down on snacks in the shade. As we looked at the navigation app we could see that we still had quite a few miles to go to the town of Lake Butler but if you broke the rest of the mileage up into sections it made the whole day a little bit more digestible. Instead of 10 miles to town, first we’d have 2.2 miles down the dirt road to the main highway. Second it’d be 1.9 miles across the bridge and then another 2.4 back down to the bike path. From there it was only another 4.5 to town. It made the miles definitely easier to chew up because now we had checkpoints and places we are aiming for. It’s one thing to see the overall miles go down as you get to your end destination but having checkpoints and checking off a series of goals definitely helps you put in bigger mileage days like we were trying to accomplish today.
After our little snack break and water jug trail magic, we left the bike path for a dusty road walk detour around a downed bridge on the poorly maintained railbed over the New River. When we reached the main highway, traffic was so close and loud that I had to shut off my audiobook because you couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the vehicles. The detour got kind of scary as we reached a skinny long bridge spanning the river. The bridge had no road shoulder and nowhere to get out of the way if oncoming traffic was coming. We waited until a bunch of cars passed by and then took a chance run-walking across the bridge. Unless you were sprinting or biking you wouldn’t have made it across before more traffic showed up on the death-defying bridge. We had to think thin and jumped up on the cement guardrail dangling halfway over the river below when a big 18 wheeler barreled towards us. After the truck passed so close we could’ve touched it, we picked up the pace and ran towards the end of the bridge as fast as we could with our big backpacks on.
We turned down the final side of the U-shaped detour and headed in the direction of the bike path again. As we walked past a grassy pasture filled with cattle, we caught the eye of an enormous muscular bull who was lying down but stood up and started huffing when he saw us. Shannon was impressed at the size of the bull’s, um, balls which reached pretty much down to his cow ankles but all I noticed was that he did not look happy to see us.
“Don’t make eye contact,” Shannon instructed me. The bull eyed suspiciously as he put his heft in front of his herd of girl cows, blocking our view of the cattle as if us backpackers were a threat. Oh boy. I noticed that all that stood between us and the bull was a barbed wire fence that the half-ton beast could easily rip through on a testosterone fueled rampage. Our eyes went forward, using our peripheral vision to steal glances of the bull as we hiked a little faster past the bull’s pen.
Across from the cattle farm was a huge field of solar panels which we admired that the rural community was embracing something as novel as renewable energy. A white truck drove by and pulled into a house up ahead before backing down the driveway towards us. We were a little nervous because you never know if it’s a good thing or bad thing that a random person is heading over to confront you. Luckily for us, the truck owner turned out to be a really nice guy whose Trail Name is “Bigfoot” who offered us two bottles of ice cold water. He told us about how he and his wife “Salty Frog” were hiking the Appalachian Trail section by section until it was completed. They’ve already hiked about 250 miles of the 2,185-mile-long Appalachian Trail and were looking to get another 100 miles or so under their belts over the summer. Bigfoot was very nice and said he tries to chase down any Florida Trail hikers that he sees to offer them some Trail Magic water when they come by. Huzzah! What a treat it was to stay hydrated when most of the water around here was contaminated with cow poop runoff.
Bigfoot also warned us that it was probably not a good idea to camp in the town of Lake Butler which we already decided we weren’t going to because of other hikers’ comments in our navigation app. It was also a good data point to hear the locals convey similar sentiments as the other thru-hikers to avoid a place as earlier today the construction manager guy also told us to avoid camping in Lake Butler. We thanked our new friend Bigfoot and were on our way down the long winding country road.
As we passed by more farmland and solar panels, we saw two large dogs in the road which instantly made us both on edge. I was a little nervous that, like most dogs you encounter while hiking, these were going to be mean dogs but it turns out the sweet pitbull just wanted her butt scratched and the cockapoo was pretty shy but friendly. Sometimes you have to worry about country dogs attacking you as we’ve had our fair share of narrowly avoided aggressive dogs. Hiking poles and pepper spray are great defenses and I’ve even had to kick attacking dogs in the head to get the hell away from us. We’ve known other hikers who’ve seriously maimed or even shot and killed country dogs who’ve tried to maul them as they’ve been backpacking down the road.
Luckily these dogs just seemed like they were out and about having a good time exploring the neighborhood unsupervised. The cockapoo definitely wanted to chase all of the birds in the neighboring farm field but wasn’t sure if it should or not. No idea who the owners were but the dogs ended up following us for about 10 minutes down the road, stopping only when they got barked at in front of another dog’s house. Sometimes you hear about hikers picking up “trail dogs“ and these random dogs will just follow you for miles and miles. Some hikers even adopt the trail dogs when they can’t find the owners.
Anyways, we said goodbye to our adopted trail dogs and ducked down to the paved bike path towards the town of Lake Butler. All throughout the day we’ve passed dozens of “No Motor Vehicles” signs on the bike path but we’re pretty sure either people can’t read or they don’t give a sh*t. Probably the second option as we’ve already had to step out of the way for 2 SUVs and about 4 ATVs and a dirt bike on the trail. Anyways we were passed again by a couple ATVs as locals were doing the nightly rounds checking out the solar panels and then coming back around on the bike path. Around sunset we spotted our first cyclists of the day after 20 miles on the bike path and realized that we must be getting close to town. The trail passed over a bridge where a rope swing dangled over nothingness and sharp cypress knees erupting from the black mud like pointed daggers. Maybe the rope swing gets used in the summertime when the water levels are a lot deeper. All I knew was that I would never jump off a rope swing in Florida into any of this water because of alligators.
Shannon and I rolled up into the town of Lake Butler around 6pm with less than an hour of daylight left. I had decided to put my digital camera away which I try to do when we are in areas that are maybe a little bit rougher so no one gets any ideas about robbing us. Out of sight, out of mind as I say. We didn’t quite get the camera put away before a bunch of younger guys doing their Saturday night car cruise slowed down to stare at us with our backpacks. You could hear them out their window ask, “What do you think those two are doing?” It didn’t give me warm and fuzzy feelings. As soon as we ducked into the woods, the camera went away and pepper spray was adjusted to be a little more accessible.
In Lake Butler, we hit up the town hall to get water passing by what seemed like at least 20 feral cats on the way. An older lady of about 70 who we’re pretty sure was homeless sat at a picnic table feeding some of the local stray cats. She was very sweet, greeting us and telling us that she doesn’t usually feed the cats but the other lady who does has Covid and the kitties can’t survive alone on mice and rats. There must’ve been at least 10 cats around this lady eating cat kibble. She said she was staying next to the food bowls to make sure the vultures didn’t come eat the kitty food and all of a sudden we noticed a flock of vultures staring at us from their tree roosts.
The lady was very kind and commented that we were brave to be going camping in the woods because she said she used to do that but she can’t fight like she used to anymore so she just feeds the kitties instead. On most other hiking trails we’ve done we’ve felt relatively safe camping in the forest but in Florida I totally understand what this lady was saying. And that’s why we’re not going to camp in town tonight.
We tried to open some of the bathrooms at the town hall but they were locked up. A guy came out of one and apologized for showering while he put on deodorant and cologne. I’m pretty sure he was the other homeless guy that Florida Trail hikers were referring to on the navigation app about being nice and pretty harmless. The guy also seemed to want to talk and hang out with us which we might’ve done if we were going to camp at the town hall. Unfortunately we didn’t have a good feeling about sticking around too long downtown with the sun starting to set and other people walking by as night grew darker. The homeless people shared with us that there were bathrooms we could use at the grocery store and Dollar General so we could check those out. They also told us about another Florida Trail hiker who had left early this morning after camping next to Lake Butler town hall so maybe we would run into him soon. It’s been almost 3 weeks since we’ve seen another thru-hiker on the Florida Trail so it would be kind of nice to see a fellow hiker.
We thanked the lady and the guy for their advice and headed off in the direction of the dollar store before turning up the street to this Mexican restaurant that we heard was good for dinner. It felt like we were in a sundown town when we entered the restaurant as it got so quiet that you could hear a pin drop when we walked in with our backpacks. The place was packed since it was Saturday night dinner rush and once we pushed open that door, the laughter and conversation stopped. About 60 or 70 people stared at us with mouths agape, some whispering to their neighbors before giving us the evil eye. Heck, we’re not even that dirty today!
This isn’t the first place we’ve been to on the Florida Trail where the entire restaurant goes silent when you walk in with your backpack. It feels like you’re in the wild West entering a small town where the vibe is “we don’t appreciate your kind here.” I had to ask myself to consider if maybe I had 3 heads growing from my neck by the way people were staring at us. Floridians really do not like homeless people it seems. With the majority of Floridians not even knowing the Florida Trail exists since only about 30 people a year actually hike the whole thing, most people just assume you’re part of the growing homeless population.
Eventually we were seated and shoved our packs in the booth with us. Not too soon after we were sat, the people behind us left probably because of the smell. The place had okay Mexican food with small portions and it wasn’t even that great as you could tell they’ve learned to cater more towards American tastes. Like my dish of camarones a la Diabla, or “shrimp of the devil” in a spicy red Chile sauce, came with french fries, sour cream and ketchup and was not spicy at all. My portion was pretty small unfortunately but Shannon got a lot of food and so I just ate the free chips and salsa while drinking Diet Coke to get the caffeine to put a little pep in my step from the caffeine to hike upwards of 7 more miles. Shannon threw back 2 Corona beers like they were water and when the waiter came back asking him if he wanted another, I interjected.
“I don’t think you need one,” I said. “We still have to hike at least 4 miles in the dark to find a campsite tonight.” Shannon looked like he wanted to yell at me. Well, we had at least another 1.5 hours of hiking left to find a campsite, it was after 8pm, pitch dark out and we didn’t know where we were going to camp tonight so I was questioning what the point of having 3 beers was. The waiter gave us the bill and I went to use the bathroom and pay while I could see Shannon seething in the booth. I apologized afterwards for making decisions for Shannon but truth be told I wasn’t actually that sorry for cutting him off from alcohol. I’m not about to wait around for him to get drunk at some shitty Mexican restaurant as we still don’t know if it’s legal or safe to actually camp at the spot we were looking at 4 miles ahead. The town of Lake Butler was so small that there weren’t any hotels or hostels and our only other option was to set up camp near the local homeless people we met earlier and cross our fingers that the local drunk teenagers decided to stay home tonight instead of harassing Florida Trail hikers.
It was pitch dark out when we left town, following the cracked sidewalk for a short bit before it disappeared and turned into 7 miles of highway. Luckily for another mile we could stay off the highway in the dark by following the old railroad berm in the dark. I think it was good we were leaving Lake Butler because there were lots of teenagers and young 20-somethings blasting music and driving around looking for parties or a good time or a fight. Who knows but we got the heck out of dodge.
The next bit of trail was tricky, especially in the dark, as it wasn’t really trail at all but road walking on a highway next to 7 miles of Weyerhaeuser private timber and paper mill property. On the opposite side of the highway was the old rail bed right of way which we thought we might be able to use as a trail but it was thick and overgrown and impossible to pass through without the help of a machete or weed whacker. So, we resorted to hiking along the side of the highway with our headlamps on bright mode. Cars honked at us in the dark even though we had given them lots of space as we were off the road and in the ditch to avoid being run over. I don’t think the locals probably expected to see headlamps bobbing on the side of the highway at night and we safely avoided being hit by the decent amount of traffic blowing past us at 70mph.
Along the highway we occasionally peeked in the woods to see if there was any way we could get off the highway and find a safe campsite but everything seemed overgrown and too thick to bushwhack through. A couple miles outside of town, part of the old rail trail seemed to have been sort of maintained over the years and wasn’t completely swallowed by overgrown jungle. With great relief, we removed ourselves from the swerving trucks on the highway and onto the woods path. From the looks of the tire tracks and broken saplings, I had a feeling that the old railbed we were walking on was easily accessible to trucks and ATVs. There were even fresh ATV tracks leading onto the path where locals used this short section of rail trail. It was nice flat walking but it didn’t feel quite right to set up our tent with how easily someone could drive up onto the trail. Shannon insisted it was fine but as soon as he set his bag down to unpack I stood stock still as something rumbled down the trail not far away.
“Shhh! Do you hear that?” I hissed. Far off down the railbed I heard the whine of country music and saw pinpricks of headlights in the distance that didn’t look to be from the highway. A few minutes later we heard the rumble of a couple ATVs coming down the trail in the dark so we picked up our gea and stood to the side of the trail. You could tell these teenagers were just out for a nighttime joyride with their girls, yelling and laughing through the woods. They absolutely did not expect to see us out here and must’ve thought some Deliverance style shit was about to go down. Despite us waving and standing to the side of the trail to let them through, the ATVers looked terrified and tore off away from us to get the hell out of the forest. We laughed at us dumb hikers being the scary ones for once but also knew that we couldn’t stay and camp here so we headed back to the highway.
About 3.5 miles out of town there was a fire tower posted on what appeared to be public land that another hiker in our navigation app had suggested that you might be able to stealth camp there. After having been chased off a stealth camping spot last week by security guards or cops, we didn’t want to risk another run in with law enforcement and needed to be certain it was okay to camp there. The land on the east side of the trail was all Weyerhaeuser which is a lumber and paper company and it’s private land. The land on the west side of the trailer was overgrown railway that we thought was maybe public land but weren’t entirely sure. We waited for traffic to go by before walking up to the fire tower entrance to check it out.
The gate was shut and chained but not padlocked with barbed wire fencing surrounding the entire property. Shannon thought that since there was no padlock that it meant that us thru-hikers could go in and camp there because it’s state forest land. Having already been chased by law enforcement once this week, I think breaking and entering a property that’s not yours is probably not the best life decision. With the gates chained up and barbed wire fencing surrounding the fire tower, it’s a sure sign to me that the state forest rangers didn’t want anyone there. Maybe it was the beers talking but Shannon naively asked why we couldn’t just call the superintendent person whose name was carved and painted on the fire tower sign outside the park.
I had to explain that it is 8:30pm at night, this property doesn’t allow camping normally, a Forest Service Superintendent is a way higher up person who probably is responsible for several properties and parks and the answer is going to be a resounding “no” even if we could even find her phone number. Shannon reluctantly agreed and to avoid attracting any more attention or trigger any security cameras, we headed down the trail (aka the highway). About 5 minutes north of the fire tower we spotted a gap in the jungle next to the old railway. Waiting for traffic to pass, we ducked in the forest to figure out if it was passable for camping as it was now almost 10pm and we’d hiked almost 29 miles today. Lucky for us there was a quasi flat spot that was only slightly soggy where we could lay a tent and be out of sight of the passing cars. We set up our tent only a stone’s throw away from the bustling traffic of the highway using our red headlamp mode which being the shortest wavelength of visible light is hard to detect. To be extra careful we covered the light with our hands when a car passed so anyone driving by wouldn’t suspect that we were here. Out of sight, out of mind.
Eventually we had our tent set up, hanging the food as I had seen bear poop a little while back and disappeared into our tent trying to unwind from the adrenaline of highway walking in the dark. It was way past hiker midnight (hiker midnight = 8 or 9pm) by the time we went to sleep and we knew we couldn’t linger long in the morning so we had to try to fall asleep as best we could. It was tough to sleep with the highway noise so close and listening to drunk drivers swerving over the rumble strips. I think the chances of the drunk drivers driving off the road and hitting us in our tent were pretty small but not zero. Oh well. Anyways we put in our earplugs, shut our eyes and around 11pm finally fell asleep. Hopefully tomorrow we would have a better campsite than the ones we’ve had in the last couple days.