Florida Trail: Day 60
March 6, 2022
Mile: 566.8 to 591.7 (+.3 for 25.2 total miles)
Start: Hobo camp on the old rail bed in forest, 100ft from Highway 100
Finish: Campsite 20, Ocean Pond Campground
We woke up in our highway hobo camp as the first rays of dim sunlight started to filter through the trees and blow our cover to the traffic picking up on the busy road. Our tent was hidden in a jungly ditch behind some clusters of saw palmettoes whose broad green fronds provided us with a little bit of camouflage from any prying eyes passing by in traffic. We didn’t have any desire to linger too long at our makeshift hiker trash camp next to the highway in case someone spotted us. We packed up our gear unceremoniously, brought down our food bags hanging from the tree branch and then waited for a break in traffic before jumping into the ditch.
Not even a couple minutes later we spotted a couple of cops pulled over on the side of the highway not far north of us so we just hoped they’re too busy talking to each other to notice us. Seems like luck was on our side as we continued on our way down a lovely 3.5 mile highway walk before finally leaving the road and disappearing into the woods where there was a small easement in the Weyerhaeuser (a.k.a. the giant paper and lumber company) property. Here we hiked along a kind of rough hewn trail that must have been carved through the dense brush a while back with a Weedwacker. The trail was so rough and lumpy that we ended up deciding to follow the forest road instead of the uneven ankle breaking path. At times the Florida Trail easement was so thick with fallen vines and trees that you had to get creative with your yoga poses and gymnastics to pass through the brush. It was starting to get hot and the recently logged forest didn’t provide any help as the tree canopy had disappeared with the last bunch of timber harvested to make toilet paper or whatever Weyerhaeuser had planned for it.
The hike turned into us following forest roads until we reached an old railroad trestle spanning a wide slow-moving creek the color of brewed tea. The little stream was deep enough here that if we followed the road, we would find ourselves hiking in dark waist-deep water that could easily hide venomous water moccasins and alligators. Instead, we opted to balance carefully across the ancient wooden train bridge which, by the looks of it and knowing some of the local history, probably has crossed this creek for at least 100 years if not more. The logs were rotting underfoot and the crossing was sketchy but we carefully picked our way across the century old bridge, dodging holes where the wood had caved away and feeling our way first with hiking poles to make sure the timbers could still support our weight. You didn’t linger too long on a single wooden beam and tried to spread our weight out like we were walking on ice so if one log fell away, we could leap to the next.
We finally arrived at a tiny dingy hunt camp where we sat in true redneck style with their shirts off trying to catch some shade under the bare branches of early spring but not finding much solace. I cooked up a meal of chicken risotto for Shannon and I to share while balancing carefully on a couple of tiny 2×4 benches. We scooped drinking water from the creek which was actually flowing quite quickly, filtered the water and chugged the cool refreshing liquid. Despite the water having a tannic brown tea color, it was fresh tasting and we were delighted to be scooping water from the moving water of the creek because most of the time we had to scoop still or standing water from swamps.
As we were sitting waiting for our risotto to rehydrate and catching up on our electrolytes, an ATV rambled by on the forest road next to the hunt camp and the guy in the girl did a little joyride loop through the deep water, turning around and heading back through the creek again. Surprisingly we were like 20 feet from them and they couldn’t even see us so that was interesting. Maybe they chose not to see us two shirtless, dirty weird hikers but we stood still until they left. It’s funny how easily you can blend into the surroundings when people don’t expect to see you.
At the hunting camp there was an old ammo box that had a trail journal in it and even a hutch gated with chicken wire for a couple of small hunting dogs like beagles. It was nothing special tucked behind a pile of dirt but the benches were nice to sit on and soon we finished up our lunch and were on our way. We packed up and made moves down the dirt road cutting through the Weyerhaeuser timberland. This area is leased out to a local hunting club who have permission to hunt all year round but today we only saw one truck go by in the morning. Later in the afternoon as we reached the boundaries of where the private timber land met the Osceola National Forest, we caught sight of a few dirt bikers tearing down the trail. Luckily we saw them right before we both had to pee but even though we were only 10 feet from the side of the trail, the dirt bikers drove right by us and didn’t even notice our presence.
I wonder if this is how wild animals around here feel: flight, fight or freeze. Sometimes when it’s been a long time of us living in the forest with minimal human interaction, when we encounter other humans out hiking or hunting or driving by, it feels like we don’t know what to do or how to act. I sometimes freeze up and feel like I have nowhere to go and just hope the humans are too ignorant of their surroundings to see me. Oftentimes people out for a day in the forest are so out of touch with nature and on their phones that they don’t even know we’re here. We’ve had people walk right by our camp and not notice us or have scared up day hikers as we’ve tried to pass them even though we’ve been crunching leaves loudly and talking for the past 10 minutes behind them.
As we traipsed through the experimental Osceola National Forest, we found much-needed relief from the sun amongst the beautiful rows of longleaf pines. The trail was fast underfoot on the flat wide forest road and soon we were passing by the pale pastels of the Rainbow Swamp, a winter phenomenon where sunlight passing through the bare cypress branches creates a colorful rainbow sheen on the blackwater swamp due to the shimmering natural oils from the water-loving cypress trees.
Wet bogs next to the trail were resplendent with carnivorous bladderworts whose pinwheel shaped leaves unfolded over the blackwater’s surface, their delicate yellow flowers protruding like fragile umbrellas as they swayed and bobbed softly in the breeze. Below the water the wispy beauty of the marsh flower masked a deadly secret that befell any unfortunate insect larvae, fish fry or even tadpole swimming too close to the bladder chambers. If an aquatic species brushes against one of the delicate hairs of the bladderwort’s trap doors, the creature is vacuumed into a pit of digestive enzymes in a few milliseconds which is faster than the blink of a human eye. The critter is digested by the bladderwort in 15 minutes and the trap door is reset. If the prey is a larger size like a mosquito larva or tadpole, the animal is digested bit by bit by the bladderwort in what can only be described as a particularly gruesome way to die. The bladderwort is one of the most complex plant organisms in the world with its carnivorous trap doors. Staring at the plants from the Florida Trail, it was hard to believe that these unassuming little yellow swamp flowers hid an underwater Little Shop of Horrors.
We cut through a backcountry road to the town of Olustee which is so small that it really isn’t much of a town at all but a highway intersection. Shannon and I stopped in at the rundown convenience store which advertised themselves as carrying “Gizzards, Pizza, Deli and More!” in foot tall lettering outside of the store. This was a real country store to not only carry chicken and turkey gizzards but to advertise them on the outside of the building. As we neared the store, we turned the corner and surprise, surprise we spotted another hiker with his backpack. Shannon and I got so excited and did a little dance, cheering for how pumped we were to see another Florida Trail hiker. He was a little overwhelmed but we introduced ourselves to Prophet who’s been out hiking long-distance trails for about five years now. Prophet seemed cool and we chatted about how he’s trying to get to the bigger town of Lake City as the little convenience store in Olustee was located in one of those counties where it’s real religious and you can’t sell alcohol on Sundays. Shannon and I were a little bummed because we had hoped to grab a drink to pack out with us another 7 or so miles to the Ocean Pond campsite where we planned on watching the sunset from the beach with a beer in hand. Instead we stayed and exchanged stories with Prophet while chowing down on gummy rings, iced tea and gas station hot dogs on a bench outside the store.
He brushed crumbs out of his big bushy beard, a testament to his hiker trash lifestyle, and recounted a story about trying to cross the old railroad bridge that had been closed going into Lake Butler where we had to do a 6 mile road walk around the closure. A few feet out into the river the water became chest deep and he couldn’t see through the blackness to figure out how many gators were lurking so he decided it would be best to turn around. He said when he retraced his steps on the old railbed to head back to the Florida Trail he encountered a couple of very large wild hogs in the woods next to the path and he got pretty nervous because one of them was a male with big tusks. He left the path, jumping into the farmer’s field next to the trail but of course the pigs are so wily and they dig holes that break down fences to get into wherever they want. As Prophet was walking through the field, he turned around a tree and just behind the tree were the two giant pigs he’d been trying to avoid in the first place. The male hog started grunting aggressively at Prophet and he promptly turned tail and climbed up on a hay bale to get out of the pig’s way. Those wild hogs are aggressive as all get up and you definitely don’t want to mess with them.
After the wild hog story, Prophet told us about so many hilarious anecdotes that we couldn’t stop laughing. When Covid hit the US, he was out hiking on the Florida Trail and hadn’t had cell service in a couple days. He ran into this guy camping and the guy told him about how there was this new mysterious disease that they were calling a pandemic with thousands of people dying. Obviously Prophet got a little nervous and as he’s talking to this camper, another guy comes sneaking out of the forest dressed head to toe in camo with a freaking crossbow in hand and yelling about how it’s the end of the world. Everyone started freaking out that the world was ending from Covid in this little hole of a backcountry campground. It was almost laughable because it turns out all this camo guy had packed for the end of the world was a handle of vodka, some weed, a nicotine vape pen and a crossbow and that’s how he was going to survive – lol. Anyways Prophet started panicking and it wasn’t till he got cell service a few days later that he found out it wasn’t actually the end of the world but “just” a global pandemic. Things were going to change but it was still pretty scary. Shannon and I often wondered what would happen if we’re out here hiking in the woods and let’s say Putin with his stupid war on the Ukraine decides to go full crazy and press the nuke button. We have the basics to get us to survive for a while but I don’t know – it would be pretty interesting.
Prophet shared that in the past years the ticks on the Florida Trail have been so bad that they were falling from the trees like bloodsucking snow. He said this year the ticks haven’t been so bad and we felt lucky. Prophet also told us after this trail he’s meeting up with a friend and they’re going to hike the 4,200-mile-long North Country Trail which extends from Bismarck, North Dakota east all the way through Minnesota, Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York and then finishing up in Vermont. We’re not sure how they’re going to hike that in one season because most of the trail is so far north that some of it might not be accessible until maybe May or June. It’ll be interesting. He told us about a sketchy hitch he had in the back of two redneck boys’ pickup truck where he threw his pack in before looking to see what was in the bed of the truck. When he jumped in, he found himself sitting next to two dead alligators that the country boys had recently shot. They took off down the road laughing with Prophet in the truck bed and every time they turned, he swore one of the alligators moved because it wasn’t quite dead. Talk about a hitchhike from hell!
After eating a whole bag of gas station chips, iced tea, a fried egg roll and mango popsicle, I was full up and ready to keep going. Shannon and I said goodbye to Prophet and told him that we might see him in Lake City. We hit the highway to cover some more road walking because let’s be real, it’s not a day on the Florida Trail until you’ve pounded some pavement. Shannon and I waved to a guy who was standing in his front yard trying to figure out what we were doing with our lives. He shouted over the highway traffic asking us for some positive words. Shannon blurted out, “Well we’re both standing on this side of the ground so we’ve got that going for us!”
The guy must’ve been kind of depressed because he replied, “Nah I’m going up there,” and pointed up to the heavens. Shannon laughed and shook his head while reminding the guy that right now he was still here on the earth and we all laughed awkwardly. It was kind of a weird encounter but hopefully we made this guy smile.
The trail headed down a dirt road and into the woods where the walking was more of a bushwhack through overgrown saplings, palmettos and brush until we arrived at the Olustee Civil War battlefield. I guess in the 1860s the Yankees got rocked by the Confederate army here and we were probably walking on hundreds of unmarked graves which was a little spooky. In February they usually have Civil War reenactment here and you could spy the remnants of where the tents had been posted and where the reenactment had taken place recently. As we were talking, somehow the mouthpiece on my water hose fell off and with it being maybe only an inch long and clear it was nearly impossible to find in the leaves. This is not good because now water could leak from my water bladder hose which is not a situation you want to find yourself in with water sources few and far between. We spent probably a good 30 minutes searching for the water hose mouthpiece amongst the brush and leaves as the sunlight faded but it was like finding a needle in a haystack. I guess besides all the lives lost on the Civil War battlefield numbering close to 3,000 we also lost my water bottle topper. Maybe the ghost would use it to help them drink water in the afterlife. Who knows. I would not want to camp here though because you could still see or some of the trenches where the rocks were built up or bombed into place. This place was probably haunted as all get up but I sure do appreciate the sacrifice of the Union soldiers.
We hiked in the dwindling sunlight where the rays sparkled through the towering pine trees and tropical saw palmettos. There must’ve been a fire here recently as some of the trees were still smoking and the bands of fog shimmered in rainbow hues in the setting sun. There was a campsite ahead which we’d thought about staying on to make it a 23 mile day but there’s supposedly a lot of “resident campers” who pretty much live at this campground. Some people had said it’s a bit sketchy and we didn’t have a great feeling walking through the camp and seeing people completely passed out and smelling weed and what not. The trash cans all had signs posted on them saying “Do not put human waste in here!” This questionable sign definitely cemented our decision to move on. Camping around too many people definitely makes me nervous and when the location comments from the Florida Trail Association instruct you to not leave your gear unattended here, it’s probably not the best place to linger. Plus who wants to camp where people put human poop in the trash cans?
We hiked quickly through the weird camp and the trail immediately turned muddy, mushy and water soaked. It’s always lovely to get your feet wet at the end of the day before camp as you know the humidity collects overnight and in the morning you’re still going to have wet sneakers. It was a little bit of a bushwhack on some side trails at points but we made it through. As the darkness closed in around us, we still had a little bit to go, maybe 20 minutes or so, and with the swamp being here it’s prime territory for venomous cottonmouth snakes so we didn’t want to accidentally step on one as we swung around trees, jumped over mud puddles and plunged ankle-deep in blackwater. I stopped to pull out my headlamp when night made it difficult to navigate through the ponds where alligators were lurking. It was lucky that we put on our headlamps to see better as not even a few minutes later we nearly stepped on a large black snake with its head flattened and body arched tensely in the middle of the trail. It had kind of a rough pattern splattered across its back so maybe it wasn’t a venomous cottonmouth but we sure as heck didn’t want to find out. We sure are vigilant where we put our feet and our hands while we hike, especially in venomous snake territory.
As darkness settled, we chatted about family and friends wondering what they’re doing until we reached the blue blazed Ocean Pond trailhead that would take us 0.3 miles to the campground where we were planning to stay for the night. As we popped out of the trail and into the campgrounds, we tried to orient ourselves in the dark to where we were. We thought we were at an entrance to the camp from looking at the map on the little building next to the trail. After a little exploring, we found some camping forms to fill out and pay the fee for staying the night as there seemed to be no park ranger on duty.
We didn’t mind paying to stay at this campsite as they had unlimited hot water showers and we seriously needed a shower. Shannon and I both had painful heat rash so bad under our arms that it looked like someone had taken red paint and drawn weird circles around our armpits. In addition, our hiking sun shirts were absolutely plastered with salt from days of sweating under the hot Florida sun that they were stiff and hurt to put on. We picked out a camping spot that was close to the bathrooms and required minimal walking. I started cooking and setting up the tent while Shannon went to deposit the money back at the campground entrance. Dinner was cooked in the dark under the light of our headlamps. Shannon ate Right Rice and I had some gluten-free mac & cheese and then each of us took turns waiting with our gear and showering. The hot water was luxurious and it felt amazing to have a shower after sweating so much the past 5 days. We did shower laundry using soap to hand wash our clothes under the hot water and hung the wet clothing to dry on the picnic table overnight. After chores were done, we promptly jumped in the tent and were lulled to sleep by the faint breeze in the Spanish moss, the sound of squawking herons and the croaking of the frogs at the edge of the beautiful Ocean Pond. I had set up a tent far enough from the water’s edge to put enough distance between us and any alligator that might want to creep up but close enough to where we could poke our heads out in the morning to watch any sunrise if there was one.
