[at-l] felix's e-mail re making a diff - oh, and some pics from our wild ...

[GoVolsKelly at aol.com (GoVolsKelly@aol.com)]

Yes, I've tried'em, and yes, they work magnificently.  

>From January 2003:

Plans.  Why make them?  I don't know why I do.  Nothing I do ever works out 
like I plan, so why bother?  When I hike/camp especially. I got a late start on 
Saturday.  I intended to leave at 3:00 a.m. to get to the Florida Trail 
trailhead at Juniper Springs in the Ocala Forest at 8:00 a.m. to begin my six mile 
hike to Hidden Pond, a popular, "Unofficial"campsite in the middle of the 
Juniper Prairie Wilderness, the southernmost designated wilderness area in the 
southernmost forest in the United States. I was going to hike in, set up camp, 
spend the night there, and then hike out on Sunday and continue from there.  
Well.  I didn't leave at 3:00 a.m.  I left at noon. Due to my late start, I 
needed to find a place to pitch a tent when I arrived, and had called Alexander 
Springs to inquire about the availability of campsites.  I was told to "come on 
up, we got plenty."  I got there at 4:30, leaving me enough time to set up the 
tent and go explore a little.  

On my explorations, I was a little frightened to see all the BEWARE OF BEARS 
signs posted all over the place. Bears in Florida.  Who knew?  Anyhoo, it kept 
getting darker and colder and I got hungry and so those worries out weighed 
the bear worry.  I made dinner of Mountain High brand Beef Stroganoff.  I had 
some Duraflames in the truck which I used along with a bundle of wood I bought 
at the gate, and made myself a yummy fire. I pulled on both pairs of long 
johns, some fleece pants, a long sleeved tee, a fleece pullover and my parka.  I 
decided to go 'splorin' a li'l more and I put on my newly purchased and 
oh-so-lovely camouflage gloves and my ridiculous and hideous matching face mask.  Get 
down with my bad sky piece!  I plopped the Petzl on my forehead, turned it 
on, and went exploring around Alexander Springs, hoping to find someone to talk 
to.  I walked passed three guys, and they looked at me strangely, not knowing 
whether I was man, woman or child.  I expected them to say something along the 
lines of "what the hell was that?"  But instead, I was rewarded by one of 
them saying to the other, "Wow, that's convenient."  I wonder what was so damned 
convenient?  My bad sky piece or my Petzl.  I reckon it was the Petzl.  I 
didn't have to hold a light, and could put my hideous gloved hands in the pockets 
of my paraka.....barely.  I had so much stuff on, that my arms nearly stuck 
straight out to my sides. I was a living, breathing, cartoon.. Southpark style. 

As I was walking along, what did I find in the bright light of my Petzl? A 
rat in full body armor.  Yup, folks, an armadillo.  It sauntered across the foot 
path I was on.  Both us admired and contemplated the strangeness of the 
other, and then Mr./Mrs. Armadillo sauntered on, as much as a rat in full body 
armor can saunter.... Kinda like I was sauntering in MY full body armor.  I had 
never seen an armadillo before, and I was so excited that I did a little jig, 
but you couldn't tell I was jigggin' under all them layers, tho.

I finally got too cold and headed back to my campsite and sat by the fire. I 
had an old, round Persian rug that I intended to give to my Mom, but decided 
not to since I was buying a house and I might need it in the new house, so it 
was in my truck doing nothing.  Not that night, No sirree Bob. It provided me a 
most beautiful and luxurious place to rest my feet.  I plopped down a beach 
chair on the rug in front of my fireplace.  All the comforts of home.  The wood 
I got at the gate was NOT burning properly, being damp and all, as everything 
in Florida almost always is, and my Duraflames had burnt out.  I needed some 
more fake wood. I got in the truck and drove to the local country store and 
bar.  This place, barely big enough to turn around in, was warm and cozy and I 
wanted to pitch a tent RIGHT THERE.  Anyway, it was little, and I thought NO 
WAY is this place going to have Duraflames.  I found it between some ancient 
cans of car oil and several boxes of matches.  I had asked the lady behind the 
counter if they had any fake wood, and having been in Oclala a mere four hours 
(which is essentially more southern than South Florida) the conversation went 
something like this:  

"Y'all got inny fake wud?"  

The girl behind the counter points to a corner and says, "Yeah, hunneeee, 
over'n s'corner thar, if theys inny lay-ift, what zat on yur hay-ed?"  

I took off the bad sky piece so as not to scare the locals or the wildlife 
for that matter, so I reckon she was talking about my Petzl, which I had left 
shining brightly on, and forgotten to take off.  So there I walked in, like a 
deranged miner, looking for fake wood. And beer.  Next door to this dandy 
country store was a bar, and I nearly gave up the wilderness and had drinks with the 
locals.  Alas, I stuck to my semi-plan, grabbed a six-pack of Heineken and 
the last two logs of fake wood.  They had one six pack of Heineken and two logs. 
Destiny! I was running short on cash, and wondering if they excepted accept 
American Express.  No worries, they take everything! Food stamps, MasterCard, 
Visa, fresh kill, you name it, they take it, and even give you $20 extra if you 
need it.  So I paid for my purchases and got myself some cash to boot.  Gotta 
love a country store like that.  

I drove back to camp and crawled out of my toasty truck, grabbed my six pack 
and my fake "wud" and sat down in my beach chair on my luxurious Persian rug 
and grew my fire and drank my beers.....  All six of them.  Then I had to go.  
Dang!  Why didn't I think of that?!?!?  I had to go, like, twelve times.  Ohh 
whine whine pooh!  I had to undo eighteen things just to pee.  I wished I had 
added a diaper to those layers.  I didn't want to leave the comfort of my 
fire, so I slept there.  The fire would die down, I'd wake up, put another log on, 
and go back to sleep.  I did this till the wood was gone. I finally put on my 
toasty-toes and my hand warmers and climbed in my tent and into my 15 degree 
bag.  15 degree bag MY ASS.  I was freezing.  I was so cold, my snot was 
freezing.  It was gross.  And then, about 3:00 a.m., you guessed it, I had to pee. 
Out of the bag and out of tent and into the cold and around a tree, unbutton, 
unsnap, unzip, unlace, pull-up, pull down one layer, next layer, next layer, 
last layer, squat and pee. Then repeat the whole process in reverse.  Whew!  I 
slept little, but my feet and hands stayed warm, thanks to toasty-toes. 

Finally, morning arrived and I was just too cold to get out and cook 
breakfast.  I climbed in my truck, and went on a hunt for a warm restaurant and HOT 
food and HOT coffee.  On the way, I had to slam on the breaks of the truck to 
turn around and observe one of the most awesome sights I have seen in a while. 
It was cold, folks, 23 degrees according to the radio, and the Springs 
themselves stay at a comfortable 72 degrees.  It was around 7:00a.m., and the sun was 
coming up.  Palm trees and other Florida Foliage dominated the landscape.  I 
had the road to myself.  I went over a crossed Alexander Springs, and the steam 
from the springs floated above with the foliage in the background, not a 
cloud in the sky, the sun shining brightly over everything, trying its best to 
penetrate the fog over the springs.  I wanted to breath in what I was seeing.  I 
wanted to touch it and feel it and be a part of it.  I reckon I was a part of 
it, although I felt distant, manmade and compared to this miracle of nature. 
This was a once in a lifetime.  It was God, and it was a site to behold, and 
one I looked at while it lasted.  I was alone in the midst and mist of God, And 
it was beautiful. I didn't bother to take a picture.  I didn't want something 
tangible and inferior to replace what I had seen.  It eventually warmed, and 
the steam vanished, but not the beauty, and certainly not my awe.

I drove almost to Salt Springs on Highway 19, and pulled into a lot that di
dn't have much but a lot and a tiny strip mall.  I couldn't tell you what was in 
any of the shops in the strip mall, as none had names.  I asked a lady in the 
parking lot where I could get a hot breakfast.  She looked at me like I was 
stupid or something, and pointed to a place that had a neon sign that said, 
OPEN.  OK, so it's called Open.  I reckon it don't have a name when it's closed.  
And if it's closed, what's the point of having a name? It's a moot point. 
Logistics of the forest.  

I walked in to Open and everyone stared. I reckon everyone there knew every 
else.  Oh well, give her a chair and a menu with no name on it, and hot coffee 
and eggs and country potatoes and biscuits and gravy.  I listened as the other 
diners talked amongst themselves, sometimes to each other from across the 
diner, waitress included.  It was entertaining.  I did learn something, however.  
Some country rednecks were talking about the ways of city rednecks.  It went 
something like this:  "Ye-ah, tha-yat Will-yum (William), hay's a city 
ray-ed-nay-ick, I gotta git on'im awl day, we cuntry ray-ed-nay-icks gotta tetch 
these city ra-ed-nay-ick a thang or two. 
So I reckon Imma city redneck.  I never knew they was a name for me. The eggs 
and bacon and homemade biscuits and gravy and hashbrowns were just as good as 
the entertainment.

After I finished my country breakfast, I headed south on Highway 19 again, 
looking for Forest Road 10. I found Forest Road 76, which was no where near 
forest road 75 or 77, but one road from 10.  OK!  I headed down forest road 76 
just to check it out, found the Florida Trail, and after checking my map, found 
that I could hike in a few miles to Hidden Pond, my original destination. I 
parked the car, hiked the hike, and it was beautiful.  It was just gorgeous. The 
forest was beautiful the weather was amazing, the prairies in Florida cannot 
be described.  The sky was the most awesome shade of sapphire you have ever 
seen and I got to see the pond of my past that I remember so fondly from my last 
hike there.  Soft sand will kill you, tho, and I got shin splints...You walk 
on the beach for three hours! 

After I got back, I got in my truck to head back to town to eat at the 
Cracker Barrel. I tried to back out of my wilderness parking spot...... No no nono 
no no!  I was going NOWHERE. My truck was stuck in the sand.  I was stuck, 
miles from nothing, with no hope in site, 10 miles from the nearest paved road.  I 
contemplated my situation and cussed.   

A lot. 

I waited and contemplated and screamed and cussed, but I didn't cry or kick 
the car, but I did throw the piece of junk with no signal cellphone a few 
times.  Then, out of the forest came an angel.  My angel was a divorced Grandpa 
named Robert, out hiking and camping with his dog, Buddy.  I walked down the road 
to meet him, and he says, "Are you stuck" Yup.  "Well, from here, it don't 
look like you're THAT stuck.  I'm VERY stuck. "Well, lets take a looksee.. As we 
got closer and it was apparent to him the front end of my truck was sunk 
lower than my rear end, and that my rear wheels were nearly off the ground, 
Robert, in his infinite wisdom says, "YUP you're stuck."  I told Robert that I 
didn't know w=hich way to walk for help, and could he help me in this department.  
He told me his camp was a couple of miles north, and he'd go get his car and 
try and pull me out.  I told him I='d walk with him, otherwise I might kick my 
new truck and do more damage.  We walked and talked and he was a nice guy with 
a nice dog.  We rounded the corner of a place called Hopkins Prairie, and my 
GOD!  It took my breath away!  Miles and miles of beautiful blue ponds, with a 
background of Palms, Cypress trees and tall, breezy grasses.  There were 
birds galore and a sky the color of cobalt. This is definitely the place where I 
shall pitch my tent next time around.

When we got to his campsite all I could think was "Lord above!"  What was 
parked in front of his campsite?  A beautiful Blue Jaguar.  Unbelievable.  We 
hopped in the Jag, stopped at the camp hosts spot and borrowed a chain and went 
to rescue my truck from the freaking shin-splinting sand. When we arrived back 
at my truck, we talked about which way was the best way to tackle the 
situation. I mean, neither one of us wanted to bend an axle or anything.  We're not 
talking a lot wiggle room here.  After we looked at my bumper for a few minutes, 
waiting on it to tell us what to do, a man and his young boys drove by in a 
Jeep.  Perfect!  In less than a minute, I was out.  I thanked them both 
profusely, and offered all my left over food and anything else I had that they might 
need. I had intended to stay another night, but I'm sorry folks, it was just 
too damn cold, and I wasn't prepared.  They wouldn't take anything, even money. 
 Anyway, Robert, Buddy, boys in the jeep, where ever you are, I thank you 
kindly.

I drove down the dirt road where my car was stuck, and as soon as I hit 
pavement, and went over 50 mph, my car started shimmying and shaking like fringe on 
a stripper.  I was almost 400 miles from home, alone, and just plain tired.  
Tired of EVERYTHING.  Mostly tired of things not working out.  I had an 
awesome attitude up until that point, and now, to hell WITHITALL! I wanted to throw 
the TRUCK, not just the stupid, worthless, no signal cellphone in the nearest 
gator infested swamp. (Word to the wise, when hiking, a cellphone is useless, 
might as well bring a 2 pound brick.) On top of it all, it was Sunday, and no 
way in the world was a service station in open in small town USA.  I was 
wrong.  Again, I was rewarded with a bit o'good luck. 

Tiny, of Tiny's Service, in Alton, Florida, listened to my woes.  He hopped 
in my truck, me in the passenger side, and Tiny-not-so-Tiny, drove my car to 
the 50 mph mark, nearly knocking me out of the car with his elbows while he 
drove. He knew immediately what was wrong.  I felt like an idiot. Tiny told me 
"you got sand in yur tar."  Yep, folks, sand in my tar.  He pulled about a cup of 
sand out the inside rim of my tire, and my truck was fine. 

I drove 100 mph down I-95, and made it home in record time to my VERY 
sympathetic and VERY warm boyfriend.

What did I learn?  
1. My adventures in the forest are never what I expect. 
2. Armadillos are cute.  
3. Country stores carry "wud", imported beer and take Amex.
4. Toasty Toes work. 
5. There are places with no names or simply "open" that are awesome  
6. I'm a city redneck.  
7. Sand in your "tar" will turn your truck into a paint mixer.  
8. People are nice.

And last, and most importantly of all, I love the wilderness still.

Love,
KellyWent


In a message dated 2/8/2004 4:12:29 PM Eastern Standard Time, 
jbullar1@twcny.rr.com writes:


> Have any of you 
> ever tried carrying those chemical hand warmer packets 
>