Tag Archives: camping
Little Manatee River
I camped out at Little Manatee River as I made my way north through Florida. A nice park with a couple of decent trails. I hiked the Oxbow Nature Trail the afternoon I arrived. It wasn’t too long, and does get out along the river, but the heat of the afternoon called for a shorter hike.
Of all the campsites I had in the Florida parks, I liked Little Manatee the best. Nice big trees, and the sites are not right on top of each other. In fact, the foliage was so thick, Moby Dick could have parked in the next site, and I would have barely noticed.
Canoe rentals are available at the park office, and it’s a nice, relaxing, meandering float. The river is not too wide, and it moved slow.
On the north boundary is a 6.5 mile trail. I did that one early in the day to avoid the afternoon heat. Part of it does follow the river a bit, but the vegetation is thick, so one really sees very little of the Little Manatee.
Campfire
When I first dropped down into Florida, I camped out in the National Forest west of Tallahassee. I rewired a circuit breaker for the camp host before I had even paid for my site. The host came walking up to my tent that evening with some fat wood for my troubles. I’ve been carrying that resin-soaked kindling around ever since.
In Key Largo, I had a gentleman give me some firewood. The stuff was beautiful! I believe he said it was “live oak”, but I could be mistaken. “You use this stuff in campfires?” I asked. It should be savored in wood stoves in minus forty degree weather, not wasted in fire rings in Florida in the summer. Still, I’ve carried six pieces of that around in my small car too.
As the trip winds down, I’ve grown tired of the wood chips, although the wood scent is nice. In “Highlands” I finally broke down and had two consecutive nights with a campfire. That wood: twisted like northern elm, but grained and heavy like oak, seemed to burn forever. The fat wood I think could have damn near started itself. Wonderful stuff all around.
In the end, I left two pieces of the live oak with some campers who were staying a bit longer. It was beautiful stuff, but I wasn’t going to haul it back to Fairbanks just to feel those BTU’s at -40. Not to say, I did not give it some thought.
The Last of the Dragons
When I passed the birder on the Cypress trail, I was on the hunt for one thing: ‘Gator. I was bound and determined to see an alligator, even if I had to start looking over fences and into people’s backyard swimming pools. As luck would have it, I would not have to wait very long, nor resort to such tactics.
This nice ‘gator came swimming upstream 15 minutes or so after I arrived. I took its picture, then this video, followed by a few more pics. I was down to the camera phone at the time, and I had one film camera with me as well.
I sat down and watched the alligator climb up onshore and into a sunny patch to work on its tan. When the birder came along, I pointed it out. She told me those things are “everywhere”. Well, they are not in Alaska, so that makes them unique to me.
Now I want to see a Florida panther.
The blog title was shamelessly, yet respectfully, procured from Peter Fleming’s classic travel tale “Brazilian Adventure”
Highlands Hammock
The lure of ‘gators and an interest in seeing a hammock, led to a visit to Highlands Hammock. A hammock is an area in the south, with many in Florida, that has an elevation slightly higher than its surroundings, which allows hardwoods to grow. It is also an area with an incredibly rich soil, so it is ripe land to be converted for agriculture.
Highlands is one of Florida’s “original four”; it opened in 1931, before the Florida Parks system was started.
A unique park, with some wonderful trails. There is one main loop, which has a series of loops that branch out from the main. I spent an entire morning just looping from trail to trail. A fun day, and the mosquitos were minimal. Wildlife everywhere in this little gem of a park. From hurons to egrets to deer and plenty of curious raccoons.
The flora was equally impressive. Many huge Live Oaks, some over 1000 years old. The Alexander Blair “Big Oak” is a massive tree… in width if not height. Over 36′ feet around, but the monster has lost its top, The top is there laying on the ground, showing rebar and a lot of cement in what was a repair job that lasted who-knows-how-long. There is some green growth at the top, but I couldn’t help but chuckle at the anti-climax once I hit the end of that trail.
Trail through the Young Hammock
The Young Hammock had a lot of pines transitioning over to oaks. It was more open and a breeze came down the trail.
In the middle of the Ancient Hammock
I was told this was virgin Florida forest. Huge Live Oaks, and cabbage palms surround you in this ancient forest. Thick vegetation and not a lot of air movement while on this walk through time.
The Cypress catwalk trails takes you through a bald cypress swamp. I saw several hurons out there, and numerous egrets. I met a woman on the catwalk who was originally from Michigan and now lived in Tallahassee. She was a birder, and scolded me in a good natured way for walking past a hawk nest. I was on a mission, and it wasn’t looking for hawks. In turn, I gave her a hard time for being a birder without binoculars. I thought one was kicked out of the cult for leaving them behind.
We both enjoyed the minimal catwalk through much of the swamp. Hard to imagine a catwalk, completely open on one end, is use in a National Park. Someone could get their feet wet.
Key Largo
I camped at John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park as I started my trek across the Florida Keys. My main goal was going to remain elusive, as Dry Tortugas is booked out months in advance. Months! This isn’t even the peak season. I just don’t plan trips that way, but if I want to camp out beside Fort Jefferson, I’m going to have to compromise. I have two weekends booked already in the month of October, and I feel claustrophobic over it.
Camping in the east is a bit different than I am used to in the west, and camping on the Florida Keys is an art form all its own. There isn’t a whole lot of land out here on these tiny juttings of coral, so I get why every campsite is “thinner” than I am used to. Pennekamp is a very busy park, some great swimming and from what I hear some very good fishing happens near here, and those things do bring in the people.
Two sites from mine was a converted International school bus, which I thought was cool, and my enthusiasm led to a tour of the bus, much to the annoyance of the teen age daughter, but that didn’t stop me once the invite was extended. I didn’t want to appear rude, after all. They were some very nice people down from Maine, and I appreciated the info and tour, since I have a ’67 Dodge that could see something similar down the trail.
Sadly, my view of the bus was limited. Around dusk, the Moby Dick of recreational vehicles, squeezed its way between my tent and the bus.
I was sitting in my camp chair at the picnic table when the sun light went out. I felt like I was down at the base of a canyon. Suddenly, my view, was the Great Wall of Winnebago. All I could think of was, thank the blocked out stars that I would only be here the one night.
Still, this was the Florida Keys, and the Pennekamp park is very nice, if insanely busy.
River of Grass
The grassy waters of Shark River Slough:
Bald cypress
“Here is land, tranquil in its quiet beauty, serving not as the source of water, but as the last receiver of it. To its natural abundance we owe the spectacular plant and animal life that distinguishes this place from all others in our country.”
—President Harry S. Truman
Dedicating Everglades National Park
December 6, 1947
Everglades truly is a special place, the largest subtropical wilderness in the United States. I admit, I am intrigued by the 99 mile Wilderness Waterway. A canoe trip between Everglades City and Flamingo. Even the shorter Canoe Trails would be a blast. Although in winter.
Looking out onto a sea of sawgrass
At one time, water would overflow from Lake Okeechobee, and slowly flow south, through a much larger Shark River Slough and the Everglades, finally entering the Gulf of Mexico. Today, approximately 1/5 remains of what the Everglades once were.
The Everglades: Then & Now
The Crow Caws at Noon
Visitor center resident crow
The wildlife here is thick, but sometimes you have to look a bit. We had vultures in the Everglades, but I’ve gotten used to them. The rangers tell of them taking a fancy to any rubber on cars in parking lots and trail heads. You knew which visitors listened, when you found their car wrapped up in blue tarps and bungee cords. I awoke one morning to the sound of large wings. Poking my head out of the tent, I could see one vulture on a fire ring and two on my car. One shout of “Shoo!” was enough for the two on my car, the one on the fire ring seemed to know I was not talking to him.
I think there is a gang of crows that have been following me around. It started at the visitor center, when one seemed to take exception to my walking under its light post, and it has gone downhill from there.
On the walk out to West Lake, I stopped to take a video of three croaking crows. Sadly, it was blurry so it won’t be seen again. Upon turning my back, and placing the camera in my pocket, I felt a menacing darkness to the force. Turning around, one of those blurry crows was flying straight at my head. I’m glad it was a crow fight and not a bombing run, because he had a perfect target with my bent over back. A second crow also flew straight at me, but his heart was not in it since the game was up and the target aware.
Breeding fowl
There are egrets all around the campground, and breeding herens of some sort at a lake that was off limits. To make sure it was off limits, the park rangers hired a fighter squadron of horse flies to stave off intruders. They were passionate in their work.
I have yet to see a Florida Panther, but I was on the trail of a bronze one. My alligator sightings also remain at zero.
Less butterflies; More dragonflies
Thick, mangrove forest
I hiked several of the trails around Flamingo. They offered mangrove forests, coastal plaines, rivers of grass, hammocks, and wildlife galore.
Christian Point Trail was one that I tackled. 1.8 miles one way, and it was not being maintained. There were no cars at the trail head, which sealed the deal.
Bring DEET. Lots and lots of DEET.
I had not brought along my REI Jungle Juice, but if I didn’t wash my hands after applying the stuff I bought, my steering wheel would deteriorate, so I figured it was acceptable. And it did work… at first.
At the start, the trail goes through some very thick vegetation, and it was in the low 80’s. I have no idea what the humidity was, mainly because I had no interest in knowing. As I perspired, the DEET was diluted, and the horde of blood suckers were on me. I briefly thought of stopping, getting the bug dope out of my pack and reapplying, but just a short pause was enough to deter such thoughts. I quickened my pace, and hoped that the coastal plain was near.
*A side note: this was the last time the bug dope was not in one of my pockets.
The country opens up
There were butterflies everywhere, and occasionally I would spot a dragonfly. Probably 10 to 1. Butterflies are all right to look at, but dragonflies are beautiful… especially when one is hunting down a mosquito. I am so attached to dragonflies, that I feel awful when I hit one with my truck in Alaska. With every windshield fatality, I figure 10,000 mosquitos just flew free.
I could see the vegetation lessen and feel the air heat up even more. Suddenly, I broke the barrier and ran for the sunlight. The horde would not follow, but it could afford to wait patiently.
I enjoyed hiking the coastal plain, in spite of the heat. The lack of mosquitos allowed me to slow down and enjoy the unusual country I was hiking through. Little geckos or small lizards were everywhere. The vegetation was surprisingly thick and green, but the vast majority of it did not come up to my knees.
The Prize at the end of the trail: Florida Bay
The vegetation suddenly thickened, but there were no mosquitos. The trail ended at a small opening, looking out at Florida Bay. There was no beach, just some soggy earth, then the ocean. There was a bench with a resident gecko. He allowed me to join him, and I ate some lunch, drank a quart of water and stalled. I had suffered for this view, and I was going to take it in. What a relaxing spot.
Heading back, I crossed a desolate patch of earth that at one time must have been a water hole. I spotted a hermit crab in the thick brush, then I thought I saw a land crab move from under a chunk of log.
Then I spotted the corpses. I don’t know how I missed them the first time, although I was taking a slightly different track across the dried up earth. The ground was littered with the corpses of crabs. I assume that they came out en masse when this was still standing water after the rains. Then they were found: gulls, crows, vultures? I don’t know. Maybe all of those and others. But it was a feast.
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