[at-l] trip report -- Florida Trail part 2

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

Day Two -- About 7:30 I decided it was late enough to get up, so I first took 
some pictures of the sunrise from my tent and then arose. We had a fun 
breakfast, little knowing what a hard day was to come. The first part of the day was 
pretty easy hiking, but we were beginning to feel dehydrated. The water 
rationing was taking a toll because the weather was both warmer and more humid. We 
saw a man through the woods riding the forest road on his golf cart, his 
Springer Spaniel beside him. We would have begged him for water, but, though he 
glanced at us, he kept on riding. He was too far away for us to stop him easily.

About then we were also beginning to grumble about the trail guide. There are 
very few landmarks cited. The trail guide reads like this: Mile 22.8 Trail 
crosses FR 321;   Mile 23 - Trail briefly joins FR 321-C; Mile 23.4 Trail 
briefly joins FR 321-C; Mile 25.6 Trail crosses FR 365; Mile 26.3 Trail crosses 
Sopchoppy River. This might be helpful if there were any way of telling what road 
we were crossing or joining, but there isn't. There are no signs on the roads 
at all where the trail crosses. Also, there are many more roads than the guide 
indicates. We crossed or briefly joined dozens of roads - - or the same road 
dozens of times. How to know?

Since we had no way of knowing how far we were ahead of ourselves the first 
day, we also had no way of telling where we were the second day. We muttered 
about why the guide book would post us on our position by mentioning roads that 
couldn't be identified. All day long we tried to figure out where we were and 
got frustrated by not being able to do so. We would find a certain 
configuration of roads on the map and decide we had a fix. Then we would find another 
configuration just like the first, but there was only one such marked on the map. 
Apparently there are a number of new roads since the map was made. I felt 
like we were in Catch-22, where moving the pins on the map moved the bombing 
lines. Somehow, it felt that if we could just move our position forward on the 
map, we would actually be there.

One thing that held us up was our first water stop. The water looked 
terrible, but we felt we had no choice but to get some. The trail ran parallel to a 
forest road, which at one point had a big puddle in it. Further investigation 
showed that there was source of very slowly moving water off to one side, and we 
did not have to take water right from the puddle. It was not easy to gain 
access though, and we were in amongst weeds and thickets and had very little room 
to work. I kept expecting to see a cottonmouth ready to get me.

Another aside -- That reminds me of the wonderful encouragement offered by 
friends and relatives prior to this trip. Hopeful said he thought a Florida 
Trail trip might be bland, but maybe we'd be lucky enough to be chased by a 'gator 
to liven things up. My brother-in-law Mike gleefully informed me that we 
should be able to see many snakes this time of year because it was getting warmer, 
and, of course, they would be hungry after being in hibernation. Thank you, 
guys! ;-> Turns out we saw no wildlife at all. I did run into some spider webs, 
and we did see a lot of scat in some places, mostly coyote and bear, but no 
critters.

But, I digress. The water was hard to get to and then I did the iodine 
incorrectly. I started reading the instructions and thought I remembered that I 
could put in the neutralizer after five minutes and did so. We had lunch in this 
spot also, and by the time we finished and I thought my water would be ready, I 
realized I'd neutralized my water much too soon. So we wondered if I could 
just add some more iodine, but we decided I should use eArThworm's filter 
instead and not take chances. This turned out to be a long stop. Moving on from here 
proved difficult too. We had to cross the water source. The trail had 
recently been cut and there were staubs, sometimes multiple ones from some kind of 
shrub, in the water, which we had to step over or on. This was tricky going and 
a slip or fall could have been very dangerous.

The ease picked up then and we moved along more easily, thinking we were far 
ahead of where we were. Finally we came to a bit if water which an optimistic 
person might call a river. Could this be the Sopchoppy? eArThworm sort of 
thought it was, but also felt it didn't look quite right. Things weren't the way 
she remembered from a previous trip. We decided we'd go into the woods a short 
distance, have something to eat and a bit of a rest, and then decide whether 
to move on or camp there.

Having learned not to pass water, I finished drinking one bottle and went 
back to the road to fill my water bag for us. As I came out of the woods, a truck 
drove by and I waved it down. The driver must have wondered what in the world 
was going on. Here was an older woman exiting the woods, miles from anywhere, 
with nothing but a nylon bag in her hands. I asked if he knew the road 
number, but he didn't. He said all he knew was where the roads went, driving from 
local knowledge, you know. So I asked if this was the Sopchoppy River beside us. 
He did his best not to grin. No, absolutely not the Sopchoppy. Drat, says I. 
The Sopchoppy, he says, is up quite a piece. That sounded bad. He did say 
maybe I could tell where I was by the fact that there was a nature trail just up 
the road. Yes, I said. I knew about that. We had just hiked out of that part of 
the woods. Well, he says, all he can tell me then is that this is definitely 
not the Sopchoppy. Sigh.

Funny that this water and the bridge is not even mentioned in the trail guide 
directions. Looks like it is big enough to be included, especially since 
roads that can't be identified are in there. We decided it would not ruin our 
wilderness experience at all to have a sign right before exiting the woods telling 
us what road it is and how far it is to the river.

So we hike on, getting tired, and no doubt worsted by our lack of sleep. 
Finally we came to a couple forest roads and a sign on a tree that said "River" 
and had an arrow pointing down the trail. Another sign was right under the blaze 
on the tree we'd just passed. It said "Home" and had an arrow the oother way. 
We cheered. We must be close to the river, we concluded, or why the sign. 
Soon we were in a swamp, a bog -- thick, black muck. This went on for a mile or 
more. Hard to tell the distance because it was such hard going.   In some 
places, my hiking poles sank halfway down their shafts. We were careful not to put 
a foot without checking first to see if we would disappear. Probably it 
wouldn't have come to that, but there were places where I believe I would have sunk 
in to my knees at least.

This section really slowed us down. Every step had to be tested. Feet sank 
and had to be pulled out of the muck. Branches snapped against our faces and 
briars grabbed our legs. I told eArThworm that if it were in the least bit 
feasible, I would simply sit down and refuse to move. As it was, there was no place 
to stop even to rest. We slugged on as best we could until we finally reached 
the end of the bog, though still not the river, which was where we were going 
to camp. At long last we crossed the Sopchoppy and found our campsite, only to 
find a huge tree limb in it, making the whole thing impossible for tents. 
There was only about enough room for our two tents if the tree hadn't been there, 
and the branch took up all the space. But we went about 25-30 feet down the 
trail and once again found a nice place to camp right on the trail itself.

We might have stopped slightly earlier than planned and camped on a sand bar 
when we reached the Sopchoppy, but we had passed two men camped where they 
would have been too close by for our comfort. They said they had come across the 
wet part of Bradwell Bay, and were enjoying a drink and a cigar. We may have 
totally misjudged them, but they seemed a little rough and made us feel 
nervous. We felt it was better to be a little further down the trail. When we got set 
up, I told eArThworm that I had been fussing in my mind about how these two 
guys were camped right on the trail, but then we found ourselves camping right 
in the middle of the trail . . . again. Oops. We decide this should be called 
the trail tenting trek.

Once again we had a lovely evening. Since the night was warmer and trees 
diluted the moonlight, we both slept like those logs you hear so much about.

Vcat