Trail Miles 621 to 691
White Springs to Crooked Branch Camp:
Judith makes us breakfast and we sit around the table and talk. We discover that she is a published writer and artist. She is very spiritual and our talk veers that way. We have a beautiful talk of death and afterlife. We don’t leave White Springs until after 9 am and we gain a hiker.
Amanda is from Oklahoma. She’s only 20, but has done her fair share of travel. This is her first big hike and her goal is to get up to the Appalachian Trail for a two month walk before she begins conservation work in Utah this summer. She’s not hiking all of the Florida Trail, just pieces here and there. No paved roads are her main focus. Her solo journey across Big Cypress is very different from the one we took. She had water for miles and miles and the mosquitoes were thick. The first night she fell asleep exhausted and woke up covered in bites. The Oasis center was open when she started and the employees actually told her they wanted her to put her permit on her backpack so that when she died they could identify her. How weird is that?
We climb up and down many small, yet steep ravines some even have stairs. There are many logs and small board bridges to cross as well.
We like the varied terrain and the white sand in juxtaposition to the dark waters.
We only hike sixteen miles today, but by the end I am tired and muscles that haven’t been tested in a while ache. At this spot on the river there is a rope swing, but we pass as it’s kind of late in the day to get chilled and gators feed then too. We don't want to feed any gators! Instead we build a fire and eat some wonderful food that Judith sent us off with. A fitting ending to a great day.
Crooked Branch Camp to Gibson Camp:
Another day on the Suwanee is another day in paradise.
There are really BIG trees along this section. They are magnificent. I think about the stories they could tell.
Yes, I get lost. We spread out along the trail sometimes and in a mind daze I take a quad road for a long ways before I realize I see no orange blaze. I backtrack and rejoin the trail, but I’m a mile and a half behind now. I need my Hawkeye apparently! He sticks with me like glue after that.
Amanda falls behind us today and texts us that she will catch up to us later somewhere along the trail. She had met up with the boaters who were camping along the river and they were providing trail magic for her.
Gibson Camp to Black Tract Camp:
Green is the color of the day. We are almost overpowered with young green. Everywhere we look is spring. Birds song fills the air. Flowers are blooming and sway in the gentle breeze. It is a glorious day.
We are continuing along the Suwanee River. The Alapaha River joins the Suwanee and its muddier water seems to make the Suwanee less black somehow. We watch canoeists out for an early morning paddle work their way upstream. It looks like a good workout. The trail, like the river, is more placid.
We soon come upon a camp and some good ole boys with beards and camo on. They ask if we want some bacon. I jump right into camp and eat some and Mark hesitates. The biggest man tells him, ‘Don’t be proud, eat some bacon.’ We both enjoy that bacon and the good ole boys! Trail magic.
The trail turns and the river continues on to the gulf. We enter a big lot subdivision area and some aggressive dogs come at us. This is the home’s gate sign. It looks like the owners might be a bit aggressive too.
We eat way too much food and buy some snacks to hike out with. We waddle away and it’s hot and humid. Even speedy Songbird is slow. Then my hiking pole breaks. Our son, who is taking care of our finances and business, calls with questions. We decide to just camp even though it’s early. We are hot and rattled. It is time to cool off.
We splash in the river and lay around. It’s nice. Camping is very nice.
Black Tract to Madison Junction and Days Inn:
Good bye Suwanee River. She is shrouded in mystery this morning and we promise to come again and explore her in a canoe.
The trail becomes a dirt road. While walking on the smooth surface, I order new hiking poles, new shirt for Mark (his shirt is shredded) and some probars. It's amazing how our technology makes this possible. We are sending these goods to some store ahead of us called JR’s. We hope it works out. Last time we ordered something from Amazon, we sent it to a post office and got scolded by the post master as they are not supposed to accept UPS or Fed Ex. He did give us our order though. God bless him.
Apparently, the road we are walking is part of the old Spanish trail that ran from St. Augustine on the coast to the capital. He also tells us ‘this’ is the real Florida.
We chuckle inwardly.
Almost everyone has told us their area is the real Florida. I basically think they mean anywhere that’s not where they are is not the real Florida. They could also mean anywhere that is not Disney World or Miami though.
(Days Inn is the furthest hotel from the trail. It was just okay, although we did get a lot from their breakfast to add to our food bags. LOL! It is also easy to get a food resupply from the convenience stores in this area. If you don't mind convenience store food, that is.)
White Springs to Crooked Branch Camp:
Judith makes us breakfast and we sit around the table and talk. We discover that she is a published writer and artist. She is very spiritual and our talk veers that way. We have a beautiful talk of death and afterlife. We don’t leave White Springs until after 9 am and we gain a hiker.
Amanda is from Oklahoma. She’s only 20, but has done her fair share of travel. This is her first big hike and her goal is to get up to the Appalachian Trail for a two month walk before she begins conservation work in Utah this summer. She’s not hiking all of the Florida Trail, just pieces here and there. No paved roads are her main focus. Her solo journey across Big Cypress is very different from the one we took. She had water for miles and miles and the mosquitoes were thick. The first night she fell asleep exhausted and woke up covered in bites. The Oasis center was open when she started and the employees actually told her they wanted her to put her permit on her backpack so that when she died they could identify her. How weird is that?
We continue along the banks of the beautiful Suwanee today. Her waters look like black velvet as they snake along. Spring has really sprung and trees are sprouting new growth and the river reflects the clear blue sky.
We climb up and down many small, yet steep ravines some even have stairs. There are many logs and small board bridges to cross as well.
We like the varied terrain and the white sand in juxtaposition to the dark waters.
We only hike sixteen miles today, but by the end I am tired and muscles that haven’t been tested in a while ache. At this spot on the river there is a rope swing, but we pass as it’s kind of late in the day to get chilled and gators feed then too. We don't want to feed any gators! Instead we build a fire and eat some wonderful food that Judith sent us off with. A fitting ending to a great day.
(We highly recommend a walk or a float along this river.)
Crooked Branch Camp to Gibson Camp:
Another day on the Suwanee is another day in paradise.
Lilies are blooming. Dogwoods are blooming and lupine are blooming too.
There are really BIG trees along this section. They are magnificent. I think about the stories they could tell.
The river is getting sleepier as we travel down her banks. There are vessels out today. Some folks are fishing and others just paddle. Of course we talk with them. Many of the floaters have stand up paddle boards with seats. The guys we talk to are on a camping trip. A fisherman tells us that only catfish are biting now as the river is only 60 degrees. When she warms up to 70 degrees the bream will start biting. We see no alligators and only a few great blue herons. I see a few deer when I get off trail for a half a mile.
Yes, I get lost. We spread out along the trail sometimes and in a mind daze I take a quad road for a long ways before I realize I see no orange blaze. I backtrack and rejoin the trail, but I’m a mile and a half behind now. I need my Hawkeye apparently! He sticks with me like glue after that.
Amanda falls behind us today and texts us that she will catch up to us later somewhere along the trail. She had met up with the boaters who were camping along the river and they were providing trail magic for her.
Tonight, Songbird, Mark and I are camped near the boat dock at Gibson Camp, so all the fisherman leaving the river pass by us. A man dressed in swim trunks and a t-shirt walks by. He's probably in his 40's and looks very approachable and friendly. Songbird engages him in conversation because she is hoping he will offer her a beer. He does seem very nice. He is a family man who has his own landscaping business. He begins ‘fishing’ with us to see if we are interested in hearing some of his conspiracy theories. Of course Mark and I are, as we love these talks with people that just happen by. I think Songbird just wanted a beer, of which he did not have, and wished we’d quit asking questions.
He’s a Christian man and most of his conspiracies connect with his faith. He believes that some people are awake and most aren’t and he’s called to help wake them up. Apparently our two party political system is controlled by corporations, but above these corporations is a brotherhood that serves the dark lord and even offers human sacrifices in a place called Bohemian Grove in California.
He tells us to google it.
He tells us he’s like Noah, who warned people that a flood was coming, even though they had never seen rain. I ask him how he thought we should then live, and he said "to love and not let the news and the government divide and deceive us."
He also says he is always hearing how Californians are wackos and he knows lots of them, like us, and we don’t seem like nuts.
He obviously doesn't know us that well.
He says this division being spread among us, and even in our churches, is another way to control us. It’s all part of some big script the powers that be are following.
There’s a lot more he tells us and it gets weirder and weirder as the hour gets later and later. It is almost ten o'clock, well past hiker midnight, when we begin putting our stuff away. He gets the hint and offers up a beautiful prayer of protection for us and our families.
Mark and I are laying in our tent later wondering what that was all about when Songbird pipes up from her tent and says, "All I wanted was a beer!"
He’s a Christian man and most of his conspiracies connect with his faith. He believes that some people are awake and most aren’t and he’s called to help wake them up. Apparently our two party political system is controlled by corporations, but above these corporations is a brotherhood that serves the dark lord and even offers human sacrifices in a place called Bohemian Grove in California.
He tells us to google it.
He tells us he’s like Noah, who warned people that a flood was coming, even though they had never seen rain. I ask him how he thought we should then live, and he said "to love and not let the news and the government divide and deceive us."
He also says he is always hearing how Californians are wackos and he knows lots of them, like us, and we don’t seem like nuts.
He obviously doesn't know us that well.
He says this division being spread among us, and even in our churches, is another way to control us. It’s all part of some big script the powers that be are following.
There’s a lot more he tells us and it gets weirder and weirder as the hour gets later and later. It is almost ten o'clock, well past hiker midnight, when we begin putting our stuff away. He gets the hint and offers up a beautiful prayer of protection for us and our families.
Mark and I are laying in our tent later wondering what that was all about when Songbird pipes up from her tent and says, "All I wanted was a beer!"
Gibson Camp to Black Tract Camp:
Green is the color of the day. We are almost overpowered with young green. Everywhere we look is spring. Birds song fills the air. Flowers are blooming and sway in the gentle breeze. It is a glorious day.
We are continuing along the Suwanee River. The Alapaha River joins the Suwanee and its muddier water seems to make the Suwanee less black somehow. We watch canoeists out for an early morning paddle work their way upstream. It looks like a good workout. The trail, like the river, is more placid.
We soon come upon a camp and some good ole boys with beards and camo on. They ask if we want some bacon. I jump right into camp and eat some and Mark hesitates. The biggest man tells him, ‘Don’t be proud, eat some bacon.’ We both enjoy that bacon and the good ole boys! Trail magic.
The trail turns and the river continues on to the gulf. We enter a big lot subdivision area and some aggressive dogs come at us. This is the home’s gate sign. It looks like the owners might be a bit aggressive too.
One of the dogs is frothing at the mouth. I’m terrified and imagine how terrified Songbird must have been, as she is ahead of us. As a runner, she has been bitten many times in the past and all the loose dogs along this trail are causing her anxiety. We find her recovering by a road.
We cross the Withlacoochee River. She too has muddy water.
We decide to head to the nearby tiny town of Ellaville with a convenience store a half mile from the trail. We cross the familiar Suwanee River again on an old unused bridge with graffiti.
We eat way too much food and buy some snacks to hike out with. We waddle away and it’s hot and humid. Even speedy Songbird is slow. Then my hiking pole breaks. Our son, who is taking care of our finances and business, calls with questions. We decide to just camp even though it’s early. We are hot and rattled. It is time to cool off.
We splash in the river and lay around. It’s nice. Camping is very nice.
Black Tract to Madison Junction and Days Inn:
Good bye Suwanee River. She is shrouded in mystery this morning and we promise to come again and explore her in a canoe.
Onward. Westward to Pensacola we go.
We meet trail maintainers RJ and Stephanie. They are part of the Suwanee FTA chapter and like working on the trail. Great couple. Thank you very much!
The trail becomes a dirt road. While walking on the smooth surface, I order new hiking poles, new shirt for Mark (his shirt is shredded) and some probars. It's amazing how our technology makes this possible. We are sending these goods to some store ahead of us called JR’s. We hope it works out. Last time we ordered something from Amazon, we sent it to a post office and got scolded by the post master as they are not supposed to accept UPS or Fed Ex. He did give us our order though. God bless him.
The dirt road turns to pavement road and we meet another member of the Suwanee chapter. Bill Bunting from nearby Madison. He tells us this road walk will be replaced someday by a trail that follows the Suwanee River to St. Marks. He also gives us a bit of history of the area.
Apparently, the road we are walking is part of the old Spanish trail that ran from St. Augustine on the coast to the capital. He also tells us ‘this’ is the real Florida.
We chuckle inwardly.
Almost everyone has told us their area is the real Florida. I basically think they mean anywhere that’s not where they are is not the real Florida. They could also mean anywhere that is not Disney World or Miami though.
We run out of steam as it heats up and stop at a church to rest and get more water from their spigot. Churches are great resources! When we take off again, I play some Jack Johnson and kick it into high gear. Most people probably find his music pretty mellow, but the poetic lyrics and music stirs my soul. It is Songbird's first time hearing Jack and I like sharing my favorite musical artist with her.
When we reach civilization alongside Interstate 10, we decide to go to the Days Inn because it’s the least expensive hotel with a pool. Only after paying do we see the pool is closed. The joke's on us. Then we go to Denny’s next door. They are out of chicken, tomatoes, avocados, smoothies and a long list of other things I can’t remember. Joke is on us again. We are too tired to leave. I get water with lemon and a few more things and then a few more and we end up waddling out of there too. I see a trend with restaurants. We eat too much.
Currently, Mark is doing super and my heels hurt and Songbird seems a little less tweety. A good nights rest should fix us gals up.
Miles hiked this section: 70
Lesson Learned: Just go with the flow and eat the darn bacon.
A two minute slideshow from Lake Hampton to Madison Junction
Miles hiked this section: 70
Lesson Learned: Just go with the flow and eat the darn bacon.
A two minute slideshow from Lake Hampton to Madison Junction
(Days Inn is the furthest hotel from the trail. It was just okay, although we did get a lot from their breakfast to add to our food bags. LOL! It is also easy to get a food resupply from the convenience stores in this area. If you don't mind convenience store food, that is.)
People are so funny! There is definitely some truth behind the corporations bit but then it veers into the strange!
ReplyDeleteThe Suwannee is a gorgeous place to be hiking.
We loved the Suwanee and hope to return. Thanks for following along and commenting.
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