Diamorpha at Arabia Mountain (DeKalb County)

 

It been raining all night and most of the morning as expected. I had cancelled my planned trip to Grandfather Mountain this weekend and was content with the short hike I got in yesterday at Fort Yargo. My plans for were to just do some things around the house given the wetness of everything outside. Last minute though, someone from the Atlanta Outdoor Club (AOC) posted a hike to see the colorful Diamorpha smallii on Arabia Mountain. Having hiked Arabia Mountain a number of times over my years in Atlanta, I thought this would be a somewhat unique experience to visit this endangered species just after a rain when it is at its perkiest. 

After about a forty-five minute drive to the parking area of the Nature Center, I quickly found the small group from AOC and after a quick round of introductions, we hit the bike trail. Soon, crossing the road we started walking along the long (and in my opinion, completely unnecessary) board walk to the southern end of the primary granite outcropping that is Arabia Mountain. 

Six of us in total, it seems most of us have hiked here before. After passing through the southern parking area, we're soon on the granite, where solution pools of dissolved and dissolving granite provide a plethora of minerally goodness for the flora. These pools are where the Diamorpha thrive. We can already see a number of examples of the vibrant red plant life in these lower elevation pools.

We quickly make our way to the highest point and locate the USGS cap. Calling this place a mountain has always been a little erroneous in my opinion, as it is much more of a small hill. The nearly barren landscape though does remind me of places in the Sierra Nevada. The group kind of meanders around taking in the amazing colors of the Diamorpha and other plant life growing on this 'desert in the rainforest'. The reds will fade in the coming days and not be seen again until next year, at least not with this level of richness.

Exploring around the formerly quarried areas, we eventually turn back south and begin making our way back to the southern end of the boardwalk. The rain has made few sections very slippery and we proceed cautiously. Luckily, everyone makes it safe and we follow the boardwalk back to our cars. Total distance as just over 5.2 miles, but seeing the palate of the flora made the trip worth it. I think the leader for organizing and we all say our goodbyes. A short trip, but I'm glad I did it.

Fort Yargo Lake Loop (Barrow County, Georgia)

I had planned to hike Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina this weekend, but the weather forecast was calling for storms and given the rugged and treacherous nature of that trail, it didn't seem like a good idea to be up on the ladders and ridges during a storm or even after one. I still wanted to get some miles in though and decided to head over to nearby Fort Yargo State Park, which is only about twenty minutes from my home. I've hiked in this park with one of the Meetup groups a couple of times in the past and found it satisfying enough for another visit. As long as I get my miles in early, I should be well head of the storm.

After parking near the visitors center and getting my bearings a bit, I decided to hike the loop around the lake. At least right now, the weather is just about perfect, with sunny skies, moderate temperatures, and nice breeze blowing. I can already see a number of kayakers out on the lake. The hike starts just behind the visitors center with a little patio offering a view of the actual fort, for which the park and lake are named. Fort Yargo was built in 1793 as a defense against the Cherokee and Creek. On past visits, I have explored the area in around the fort itself and opt to just see it from a distance today.

Next, the trail follows a well-constructed and long walking bridge across one of the fingers of the lake. It's wide and allows for both foot traffic and bikes. The trail then leads into the wood with a couple of options. I decided to take the Rock Garden path, which follows the shoreline of the lake much more closely and includes some very basic rock scrambling. I think the other path runs parallel, but avoids the rocks. The two paths rejoin after only about a tenth of a mile.

From here, the trail follows fairly closely to the lake shore, darting in and out of the woods. The trail itself is maintained really, really well. I even encounter a young man with a leaf blower clearing the fallen leaves and pine needles from the soil. The one thing I do note though is an abundance of poison ivy lining the sides of the trail. It appears to be kept under control and off the actual pathway, but should you wander off the trail, be prepared for an itchy good time. 

Hitting the southern end of the lake, I cross another wooden bridge just past the boat ramp where a couple of kayakers are getting ready to launch. I think to myself that this would be a great place to put my kayak in on my next visit. After this bridge, the trail goes through a camping and yurt area of the park, where a number of visitors appear to be going about their daily routines. 

The trail then leaves the shoreline and heads a little deeper into the woods. It's still very easy and I pass a few other hikers and mountain bikers as I finish the last part of the loop. Arriving back a the visitors center, I check my app and see that my distance is almost exactly 6 miles. Not a bad day and with the beautiful weather, this was a great alternative to the long drive to North Carolina.

Partial Solar Eclipse over Atlanta (Gwinnett, Georgia)

Solar eclipses don't come around very often and in eons past, scare the living daylight out of people (literally and figuratively). I had originally planned on flying up to Niagara Falls for today's eclipse and enjoying totality, but schedules didn't work out and I ended up staying home and just watching from my back yard using the proper eye ware. 

As our maximum of ~82% approached at 3:04 PM, my mother, my wife, and I gleefully stared up at the astronomical wonder and tried our best to cover our phone camera lenses with filters and snap a few shots. We got a couple that were okay. I've seen total solar eclipses before and it's somewhat eerie, even with a full understanding of the mechanics of the alignment. It's still quite the spectacular thing to experience though.

Appalachian Trail - Gooch Gap to Cooper's Gap (Union County, Georgia)

 

Continuing my quest to complete all sections of Georgia's portion of the Appalachian Trail this year, I posted a section from Gooch Gap to Cooper's Gap on the Meetup as an event. My event descriptions always tend to be very descriptive and detailed of the hike in an effort to ensure those that join me are up to the challenge. I don't mean to be harsh, but I am trying to scare people off. I've had far too many "I walk around my neighborhood twice a week" folks try to jump into 10+ mile mountainous hikes over the years. That said, my event had a few signups and after driving the 1.5 hours to the Gooch Gap parking area just south of Suches, GA, I met up with the five other hikers that would be joining me today. I knew a couple of them from past events, but it's always good to meet new folks with common interests.

At the appointed time, we did a quick round of introductions and I explained our plan for the day. With that, we were southbound on the Appalachian Trail. I had listed the hike with a 2.5ish mph pace, but I've been feeling pretty good and pushed the up to 3-3.25 mph. I asked the group if anyone objected and if anyone had voiced a concern, I would have slowed it down. However, everyone here seemed to be in good hiking shape and welcomed the faster pace.

The trail is so well maintained this time of year, as a large 2024 class of thru-hikers would have passed through this section in the past couple of weeks. We also encountered a few late-starters who had only begun their 2200 mile odyssey a couple of days ago. All of us gave them words of encouragement as they take those steps towards Mount Katahdin in Maine. Along our route, I point out the white blazes to my companions. These single white vertical lines on some of the trees mark the AT and ensure hikers are going the right way.

With a couple of minor water crossings, we finally reach Cooper's Gap and stop for quick snack break. We've been keeping a great pace and arrived here almost thirty minutes sooner than I had planned. The group seems to be in good spirits and welcomes the short break. I remind everyone to drink plenty of water. It's a gorgeous day with temperatures hovering in the low sixties right now. The sun is shining and a light breeze passes over us as we sit around someone's abandoned campsite here at the parking area.

After twenty minutes or so, I ask if everyone is ready to head back and get nods of agreement. We quickly put our packs back on and head back the way we came. The pace is similar and everyone comments about how quickly we seemed to arrive at the turn. It's always nice to hike with fast people. It makes me feel like I'm actually getting some good exercise.

As we make our way along the undulating trail, I note that one of the hikers has fallen behind a little bit. When I ask, it seems she's getting some cramps and has taken some salt pills to try help. We continue on, but I keep an eye on her and one of the other hikers agrees to hang back a bit to help her.

With only a mile or so to the cars, I tell those that are hanging with me that we'll go ahead and make for the trailhead and that I'll wait around to ensure everyone makes it safely. They seem to like that plan, though everyone is a little concerned about our comrade. As the cars at the parking area come into site, I announced that we've made it and congratulate everyone on a job well done. All but one of the hikers decides to stick around until the last two joins us at the trail head, which happens just a few minutes later. The troubled hiker is tired, but in good spirits. I remind her to keep drinking water and to get some electrolytes into her, which we offer her from our collective stash. She's seems fine and we all head home.

Today's hike was just at 9.6 miles with nearly 1,700' feet of elevation gain. In the way I've divided the Georgia sections of the AT up, this is number 4. I'm not necessarily doing them in order, but more by convenience. It will probably be late into the fall before I finish out all of the sections, but I'm looking forward to checking them off of my 'to do' list. This section was actually quite pretty, though I think a lot of that perception was based on what a fabulous day it was to be outside.

Chicopee Woods (Hall County, Georgia)

 I was supposed to run a 5k early this morning, but overslept. To ensure I still got some exercise, I made the last minute decision to join the Meetup group for a hike around Chicopee Woods, which isn't too far from my house. After a short twenty-five minute drive and paying the $5 daily fee, I drove to the meeting point. There are a lot of cars with bike racks here. I know these trails are popular among mountain bikers, but I wasn't expecting this many. I quickly locate my group, who are a bit surprised to see me since I only signed up on the website a few minutes before leaving my house.

After our customary round of introductions, we head into the woods. The trails are well marked and well maintained, but these first trails we're on are the kind that I really don't enjoy. The trails cut back and forth to add mileage for mountain bikers, while not actually going anywhere. Soon though, we depart this area and get deeper into the woods where the trails open up. They still cut back and forth, but in much wider loops and around ridges, which is far more interesting to me.

Soon, we hit a crossroads with a gravel road where the ruins of a structure are half-buried in a hill. Up top, I can see what I think is a boiler and below is some intricate brickwork, but after walking around what remains, I'm at a loss to make a call on what this building was. No one else is really sure either. It's always interesting to see these kinds of abandon pieces of civilization in the woods.

Making our way further in, we get passed by a number of mountain bikers. We call them out as they approach and everyone in our well-trained group steps off of the trail and gives the bikes plenty of room. However, a couple of the bikers mouth off about hiking other trails instead of these. Before I can respond, they are already gone, but it puts me in a pretty foul mood and I start pushing the pace a bit to satiate my anger. Before I know it, I'm a good distance ahead of the main group, though a couple of hikers have managed to keep up with me. I go for a while longer, but eventually decide to stop and allow the group to catch up.

Once everyone has reached this clearing and had a couple of minutes to catch their breath, I head out again and what someone calls a "blistering pace". Still charged from the mountain biker encounter, I continue pushing hard and before I know it, I've opened up that big gap again. Luckily, there is a junction and not knowing which way our organizer wants to go, I stop and wait for the group.

The day goes on like this and without really noticing it, we've already put in just over eight miles and still have a ways to go before getting back to the cars. I mention this to the organizer. "I guess we'll get a few bonus miles today", he says. I don't mind that at all. The more the better. I've got a couple of big hikes coming up later this year and need the exercise.

Finally, we reach the parking area having hiked about 11.3 miles in total. The elevation gain was only around 800', but that's still a decent day and with the pace I maintained throughout, I feel like a got a pretty good workout. The trails here were actually pretty nice, especially after that first section. We say our goodbyes and head off.

One final note - When I returned home, I looked up this trail system and as it turns out, it is on private property and foot traffic is not allowed. These trails are exclusively for mountain bikers. I didn't realize that when we were out there, but perhaps those mouthy bikers were actually in the right.

Sweetwater Creek (Douglas County, Georgia)

 Sweetwater Creek State Park is one of my favorite parks in the Atlanta area. The wide creek and historical ruins always make for an interesting hiking destination. I had signed up to do this hike with the Meetup group several weeks ago, but with the heavy rains the Atlanta area has received over the last week, I thought it make the hike even more of an adventure. I was right.

After doing our normal round of introductions, we hit the trail and headed east from the parking area. Unfortunately, the large foot bridge that crosses the creek and leads to the northern section of the park is under construction and we're unable to cross. This forces us to double-back a ways and head south alongside the raging brown waters of the creek.

I can honestly say that I've never seen this creek flowing with this much fury. There is so much water traversing over the shallow rock formations that it makes for something like a class 4 rapid right now. We pass by the ruins of the old Manchester Mill and continue along the trails. In places the waters are almost washing out the trail, but with a fair amount of rock scrambling and sinking our feet in the mud, we're able to continue along the southern loop trail Some of the vistas are fantastic

All along the way, I enjoy great conversations with the other hikers as I always do with this group. Eventually, we reach a point where one of the feeder creeks has washed out the trail and we're forced to turn back. No matter, this park has many miles of trails and we quickly adjust our plans and continue on. 

Finally returning to the parking area, we've put in about 7.6 miles and will call it a day at this point. The views of the raging waters made this truly a fantastic hike and I'm really glad I decided to join the group for it. 

Ichetucknee Springs - Blue Hole (Columbia County, Florida)

 

My final stop on this long road trip brings me to Ichetuckee Springs. I had thought the trail listed as Blue Hole might be interesting to check out. After parking my car, I followed the rangers directions and walked along a long boardwalk that eventually returned me to solid ground and on a well maintained gravel trail. Apparently, this place is quite popular. After about half-a-mile, I reach the Blue Hole spring, which has an observation deck built over it. 

Some teenage swimmers are dipping in the water, which is a rich blue color and reminds me of what the eyes of Fremen must look like in Frank Herbert's Dune fantasy world. I take a few shots of the spring and in the distance of a number of large soft-shell turtles sunning themselves on fallen trees. 

Afterwards, I return the way I came and check out a few other features of the park. It really is great to see all of these spring-fed creeks down here and the crystal clear water. It brings back memories of kayaking through these areas a couple of years ago in search of manatees. For now though, I must finish my journey home.

Devils Millhopper (Alachua County, Florida)

 

When I was planning my Everglades trip, I looked for interesting sites to visit on my way home. Devil's Millhopper was one such sight. I really didn't know what to expect of a state geological park, but I was pleasantly surprised. When I arrived at the parking area, there as a group yoga event going on. I tried my best not to disrupt them and headed for the trails, as I only have a few minutes to explore here.

I quickly found the trail leading into the giant sinkhole, which was formed from dissolved limestone. The steps lead some one hundred feet down toward the bottom of the spectacle. There are a number of springs the flow down into these depths and seep further into the ground. As I understand it, they feed an underground aquifer. Ferns and fallen trees line the steep sides of the sinkhole. It's a really interesting feature and somewhat unique in my experience. With my time spent though, I must return to my car and head to my next destination.

Silver Glen Springs (Marion County, Florida)

 

I'm not entirely sure of when I became aware of Silver Glen Springs, but I suspect it was one of those interest-tracking algorithms on Facebook. Anyway, on my way home from a week in the Everglades, I decided to make a stop here and check it out. Arriving early, there was almost no one in the area yet, but I still had to pay a $12 admission to just spend a few minutes walking the trails.

First I explored the Spring Boils Trail, which actually leads away from the major spring and into a temperate rain forest. The path is a mix of board walk and sandy soil, and the moisture this early in the morning is palpable. When I reach the end of the trail, I'm greeted with a very unusual sight. An observation deck overlooks a number of churning springs in the clear water just a few feet beyond. Apparently, the spring water bubbles up and stirs the ever present sand. It's really unique and worth a look if you're in the area.

From here, I walk back the way I came and attempt to find a good view of Silver Glen Springs itself. Disappointingly, there are a number of boats just outside a barrier and orange cones and floating buoys mar what would be a spectacular view. Large fish gather around the spewing water. Apparently, this spring discharges an amazing 65 million gallons of water per day. From looking at it from a distance, that seems pretty reasonable. It's a torrent rising to the surface of this blue within blue pool. I just wish the people hadn't spoiled it and we could see it in it's natural state.

Everglades Kayak Tour (Everglades National Park , Florida)

Earlier this year, I was considering how and where to spend some of my vacation time. I realized that I have never visited southern Florida or Everglades National Park. When I found an outfitter that guides multi-day kayak and camping trips deep into these mysterious waters, I thought that would really be the way to take it all in. Having run half-marathon this morning and already visiting a couple of other sites on my way to my hotel in Everglades City, I was more than ready to crash at my hotel room for a good nights sleep. I expected I would need it. I've done multi-day paddles before, but those were limited to two or three days and normally twenty-five miles or less. Knowing our plan was for about forty-eight miles over five days, I knew I was in for a strenuous adventure.

Day 1

I arrived at the Everglades National Park make-shift visitor center at the end of Oyster Bar road. It seems a hurricane in recent years had destroyed the structure here and while a new permanent visitors center is under construction, currently, a decked out double-wide is serving this purpose.

Looking around the parking area, I try to locate my guide and/or group. I ask a couple of gentlemen and as luck would have it, one of them is my guide. He asks me to sign the normal waiver and then follows me back to my car with a couple of drybags for me to stow all of my gear of the trip. He had warned us to pack very light, but as a backpacker, I would have done that anyway. I'm easily able to fit all of my clothes and other necessities into the two (10L and 5L) dry bags. A few moments later, another couple arrives and as it turns out this will be our entire group. Apparently, there was one last minute cancellation, leaving a party of four in total. Ah well, small groups are sometimes better. 

Dave, our guide, helps us pack the kayaks and make the necessary adjustments, which area already on the boat launch ramp. Today, Dave and I will be paddling single twenty-one foot ocean-going fiberglass kayaks, while the other couple paddle a larger tandem. All of camping gear has already been packed neatly away into the storage bins of the three boats. With that, we are off on our adventure.

We start by paddling out into Chokoloskee Bay and then ducking under a small bridge, which S Copeland Ave passes over, and then down a long shoot that runs parallel to the road. Eventually it dumps us out back into the bay and we paddle alongside Chokoloskee Island, which is a small community built upon the largest midden (or oyster shell mound) in the park. These middens started as dumping grounds for the local Native Americans and over the centuries were built up into substantial land masses rising above these shallow waters.

Along the way, we encounter a rich and diverse view of aquatic fowl. I see duckbills, cormorants, egrets, herons, and ibis all feeding on the abundant sea life in these shallow waters. I say shallow and I really do mean it. While some areas are a few feet deep, I get my boat stuck in the mud more than once and nearly exhaust myself trying to get it free. At one point, I strongly considered getting out of the boat and pulling it to slightly less-shallow waters, but thought better of it when I considered how deep my feet would like sink into this mud. I was eventually able to brut force my way through it by literally paddling through mud. The others in my group had similar experiences, but I think I got stuck the worst of all of us.

As we leave the last civilization behind and enter the untamed wilds of the Everglades, I'm in awe of the environment. It's nothing like what I expected. We paddle east on the Lopez River surrounded by mangrove forests. From a distance, you would think this is all dry land where the trees or growing, but you would be wrong. This 'land' is nothing more than the exposed roots of the mangroves during low tide. There is no soil to speak of and the roots encroach on one another into an impassably tangled mess. This goes on in all directions as far as the eye can see and only the slightly deeper waters (maybe three feet at low tide) of the river prevent the forest from covering the channel in which we now paddle.

We'll be spending tonight on the Crooked Creek Chickee, which after paddling into a little cove, becomes clearly visible. A chickee is nothing more than a platform built above the shallow waters for visitors to pitch their tents on. This one is made up of two 12' X 12' platforms connected by a twenty foot walkway with an outhouse attached to it. Now at low tide, the platform is about four feet above the water level and getting out of the kayaks and unloading them is quite the ordeal. Our guide has done this countless times though and coaches and assists all of us until we and all of the required gear are safely out of the boats and on the platform.

As we erect our tents and our guide sets up the kitchen for the evening, we discuss our adventures for the day and wonder at how the water level will be when we wake in the morning. Before dinner, we are treated to cans of Sweetwater IPA and some cheese and crackers. We dangle our legs over the water and enjoy these treats while Dave makes our evening meal. Tonight, we'll be having fried grouper, beans, a salad, and garlic bread. It's all quite delicious.

Before long, the sun is down, but not before a dazzling sunset, and we all decide to turn in for the night. While I feel completely safe on this chickee, I do take note of what a short distance I would need to roll over in my sleep before sending myself and my tent into the murky waters (hint: it was about a foot). As the crazy calls of the wild fauna begin their evening calls, I drift off into a deep sleep. We paddled just about 9.5 miles this first day.

Day 2

I awake early and begin stirring. Soon, I crawl out of my tent and make my morning visit to the toilet. Though the sun isn't up yet, the others wake up soon after and Dave begins making breakfast. We eat a bite, enjoy some coffee, and begin breaking down our tents and packing. Loading our gear back into the boats is as challenging as taking it out was, but we manage it in a very systematic way under our guide's supervision. And then, loading ourselves into the boat is another interesting challenge, but with Dave's help, everyone manages to climb in without incident.

We paddle just a bit further on the Lopez River and then into the Wilderness Waterway across Sunday Bay against a strong headwind. The paddling is pretty exhausting, but I do my best to keep up. Along the way we see a number of dolphins swimming around us. Beautiful creatures and I wish we could get better views, but no doubt, they are in search of their morning meal in these shallow waters.

From Sunday Bay, we pass into Oyster Bay continually surrounded by mangrove forests, which go on as far as the eye can see. The water remains very shallow here. High tide was just about the time we were having breakfast, but even now the waters are no more than three feet deep in most places.

Dave guides us to a oyster bar with a few mangroves growing out of it, but with plenty of room for us to land our boats and hop out to relieve ourselves and to enjoy a quick lunch, which he had prepared while we ate breakfast. As I climb out of my boat, I'm very cautious of the incredibly sharp oyster shells that make up clusters every where we step. I feel a little bad stepping on them, but there really aren't any alternatives. Having finished our sandwiches and gotten a short rest, we're back on the water. 

More headwinds and dolphins as we paddle across the next bay, Huston Bay. Soon we pass by an old residence on stilts adjacent to one of the mangrove forest "islands". From what we are told, this is the last remaining residence within the park, but no one lives here full time. It seems to be well maintained though and the owners do occasionally come out to stay.

Leaving the Wilderness Waterway, we turn west and paddle a little ways down the Chatham River. By now, I'm completely drained. Any energy reserves I had held back during the half-marathon on Sunday morning are now depleted and I can't wait to get to our next campsite. Soon, the outhouse attached to Watson Place comes into view and I'm thankful to be able to pull my boat out of the water and lay my paddle down for the evening. 

Watson Place is a midden, like Chokoloskee Island, though much smaller. For all intents and purposes, it is dry ground and will be our campsite for the next two nights. After paddling right at 10 miles today, I'm ready for a break. There is a small dock attached to the mainland and I take advantage of this to sit in my folding chair and relax a little bit before putting up my tent. The others follow suit, while Dave tells us of the man this place is named for. Apparently, Watson had run a small sugar-cane plantation on this midden, but was often unwilling to pay those in his employee. He chose instead to murder some of them, or so the stories go. Eventually, justice caught up to him and he was arrested while purchasing supplies in town. When the Everglades was declared a national park, Watson Place was set up as one of the defined primitive campgrounds. 

I take some time to find a good spot for my tent and go ahead and get camp set up. Afterwards, I return to the dock just as our guide brings out gin & tonics for everyone, along with some chips and salsa. A nice snack before dinner. Speaking of dinner, Dave has the full kitchen set up tonight and after helping him pull a picnic table into the proper place has put up a bug net tent around the entire kitchen. At least the mosquitos and 'no-see-ums' won't bother us while we enjoy our dinner tonight, which consists of jambalaya, salad, and an apple pie.

Dinner was delicious and afterwards, we all spend a little more time out on the dock watching the sun go down. As soon as it does though, the hungry armies of insects invade and I make a run for the protection of my tent. I end a couple of mosquitos that got inside and then fall off into slumber.

Day 3

It was nice sleeping on dry ground last night without fear of rolling off into the water, but as soon as I leave my tent, the bloodsuckers are on me. I dose myself with a healthy shower of bug spray and they seem to leave me alone at least for a bit. This morning, we can be a bit more relaxed since we won't be breaking camp today. Dave makes pancakes and bacon on the stove and we all enjoy our fill over coffee.

He asks if I would want to be in the tandem kayak today, to which I gratefully agree. I'm still tired from battling those winds yesterday and being in the front seat of a tandem with a more experienced paddler in the back is just what my arms need to recover. We load the gear we'll need for the day into the boats and launch back into the Chatham River heading northeast this time. Paddling here in the Everglades seems to be a battle of tides and winds. Luckily, both are with us this morning and the paddling is pretty easy.

We make our way through more mangrove forest and eventually past the Sweetwater Bay Chickee. From there, we paddle into some very narrow passages and see our first alligators. These are big boys of anywhere between eight to eleven feet. We're forced to paddle within just a few feet of a couple of them that are sunning themselves on the mangrove roots. This is more of what I was expecting from the Everglades. That's not to say that what we've seen the last couple of day isn't gorgeous. It's just not the image I had in my head. In my imagination, I expected it to be much more of these narrow passage ways and alligators at every turn.

Going just about as far as we can, we maneuver to turn the boats around. As we pass back by the alligators, they spring into the water and disappear. Returning to the chickee we passed earlier, Dave says we'll take our lunch there. As we dock our boats and climb out (just as challenging as it was the first day), a large alligator from the nearby 'shoreline' swims out to greet us. We're told this is unusual behavior and that this animal has likely been fed by humans. We smack the water with a paddle from the safety of the chickee, but instead of fleeing as one would expect, the creature lifts its head out of the water. I'm honestly not really that concerned, but the other couple seem to be. Dave seems calm about this encounter as well. We keep note of his location and behavior while we finish our lunches.

Soon, it's time to load ourselves back into our boats. By this time, our 'friend' has disappeared. As we paddle back towards Watson Place, we continue to see amazing wildlife. Four alligators in total, hundreds of birds and at one point, an osprey launches into the air just ahead of me.

Back at our campsite, we relax on the dock and note some tiny little crabs poking their heads between the boards. They scatter as soon as we get close, but are very interested in what's going on it seems, or perhaps they are just looking for scraps. Dave brings out some grilled Cajun-spiced gator bites and a bottle of pinot grigio. We comment about how fitting it seems to be eating alligator after our encounter at the chickee. 

We paddled about 8.6 miles today, out and back and even with the appetizer, we're all hungry and ready for dinner. Tonight, we feast on fried chicken, stuffing, corn on the cob and individual key lime pie slices for desert. Scrumptious!

After dinner, we all turn in early to escape the bloodsuckers, but I struggle to fall asleep tonight. I always toss and turn when camping, but I can't seem to doze off for some reason today. Perhaps the alligator encounter is on my mind or perhaps, I'm missing my family. I'm not sure, but before I figure it out, I finally have fallen off to never-never land.

Day 4

Our fourth day begins much as our third, but with the added pressure of breaking camp this morning. After breakfast, we do just that and are soon paddling the Chatham once again. In the distance, I see something that I think is another alligator, but it doesn't seem to move and if it were an alligator, it would be a HUGE one. We paddle a bit closer and discover a black rain jacket floating on top of the water. The river channel here is a bit deeper and motorized craft can pass through (though carefully). I use my paddle to life the jacket out of the water and we tuck it under one of the bungies. Always good to pick up trash when you can.

Luckily, we're paddling with the current again this morning and I'm not wearing out my arms and core. Soon we reach the mouth of the Chatham River and enter the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico. That said, the continental shelf is some fifty miles long and we're still paddling over very shallow waters. The color has changed though. Where water in the interior was a murky brown, the waters of the gulf have a deeper green tint to them. We see a dozen or more dolphins as we to our destination for the day.

We stop at on one of the keys for lunch. This is another oyster bed, but this one has also been built up by sand and bleached-white dead trees that were blown up during the last hurricane. This one is much larger that most places we've stopped for our lunches, and we all take a short time to explore before loading back into the boats and continuing our paddle to Pavilion Key. 

Pavilion Key is a small island that forms a shape like a narrow letter 'C' with sandy beaches on most of its shoreline. We paddle around to the back (gulf) side of the island and land our boats into the white sands. This will be our campsite for the night. Among the giant conch shells we pull out boats well out of the water and decide where to pitch our tents. I decide on a spot north of the boats just above the high tide line, while the couple goes south of the boats. Dave walks a short distance into the islands interior and erects his tent and our kitchen there. The island is only a couple of hundred feet wide here and so, it's not like we have to walk very far. 

As Dave prepares a snack for us, I tell everyone that I'm going to find a place on the inland side of the island to bath. I've never gone skinny dipping in the ocean, but with three days of sweat, bug spray, and sun screen  on me and what I imagine to be a god-awful aroma emanating from me, I'm more than happy to rinse off in the salty waters of the gulf. It's actually pretty refreshing and I feel much better after cleaning up a bit. While the port-a-potties at our other two campsites were in dire need of service, I think the two on this island must have been serviced earlier this morning. They make for an easy place to store my clean clothes while I'm in the water.

The others decided to walk a ways down the beach while I cleaned up, but follow my lead upon their return. Dave cracks open a bottle of pinot noir. I had predicted that we would be getting red wine tonight, as it is really the only alcoholic beverage one can tolerably drink at room temperature and after three four days of the Florida heat, nothing was cold any longer.

For our dinner tonight, we are served a large helping of cheese tortellini with a pesto sauce, Italian sausage, something akin to a waldorf salad and a garlic knot. The meals throughout this trip have been top notch. After dinner, we all retire to the beach near our campsites and build a campfire. They weren't permitted at Watson Place, but here, there is no danger of anything burning other than the dried driftwood we gather for fuel.

We enjoy the campfire while watching the brilliantly red sun sink beneath the horizon. This is our last night and we had a good paddle of 8.2 miles today, but I'm going to be sad for this adventure to end. Soon, I wish my new friends goodnight and crawl into my tent. I'm separated from them by a couple hundred feet tonight, unlike the past couple where we were in close quarters. With my tents rainfly still in the bag, I'm able to see a myriad of stars through the top of the tent. 

I doze off pretty quickly on the combination of sleeping pad and soft sand, but before too long, I'm awakened by the loud squawk of some kind of bird just behind my tent. It startles me as it arouses me from slumber, but I quickly fall back asleep with the cool breeze passing through my tent and the sound of the waves rolling in just a few feet from me.

Day 5

Our last day and return to civilization. We get an early start after enjoying a quick breakfast. While Dave didn't plan for us to be on the water until nearly 9:00 AM, we're packed and paddling before 8:00 AM. I don't think any of us are anxious for this adventure to end, but knowing that a hot shower is in our future is some added motivation.

As we paddle through the Thousand Island section, we encounter many more dolphins and waterfowl. Apparently the alligators don't really come out into this much saltier water very often.

Paddling by Rabbit Key Pass, we find another small oyster bar to stop at for lunch. Today, we're having standard gas-station faire, including sausage sticks, cheese sticks, and granola. It's understandable given the difficulty in keeping food from spoiling out here. We also take note of the hundreds of little crabs on this oyster bar poking their heads out to see what's going on and then quickly hiding back in their holes. Most are about the size of a quarter and somehow cute.

After lunch, we continue north until Chokoloskee Island comes back into view. This time we'll be paddling on the western side of the island and in the distance we see the bridge we paddled under on Monday morning. Beyond, is the boat ramp at the park's visitors center. 

And just like that, our adventure is over. We help Dave unload the kayaks and then load them onto his trailer, and then say our goodbyes. It's been an amazing five days exploring this wild environment and I'm thrilled to have been able to enjoy this time with good people. In total, we paddled 47.4 miles, including 11.1 this final day.

I take advantage of the wash room to clean up a bit and put on some fresh clothes from my car. While my new friends are staying in nearby Everglades City, I have to drive about four hours to my hotel for the night in Ocola, FL. Like all great adventures this one has now come to an end, though I will likely stop at a couple of interesting sites on my drive home.

Big Cypress Bend Boardwalk (Collier County, Florida)

My next stop on my way to the Everglades takes me to the Big Cypress Bend Boardwalk, near Carnestown, FL. The idea of a long boardwalk into the Everglades environment just seemed appealing to me and also gave me another chance to stretch my legs, which were very tight from having run a half-marathon early this morning in Tampa.

There really isn't much to this park other than the boardwalk itself, but it is about a quarter of a mile long and takes visitors through the palms and murky waters of this swamp-like environment. As I made the walk, I kept looking for alligators, but never saw one. As I reached the end of the boardwalk, it dumps out onto a gravel path along the side of a small lake, where I was able to see some interesting birds doing their thing. 

Returning to the car, I am glad I stopped if for nothing else just to get a little fresh air and perhaps, a preview of the kind of flora I will be seeing over the next five days on my trip deep into the Everglades.

Koreshan (Lee County, Florida)

On my way between Tampa and the Everglades, I had planned a couple of additional stops at points of interest. The first was the state historic site and former home to the now defunct religious movement of the Koreshan Unity. This self-sustaining community was founded in 1894 by the two-hundred or so followers of Dr. Cyrus R. Teed, who adopted the name Koresh. Koresh was regarded by his followers as a new messiah. His teachings started in the 1870's and would very likely be called "cultish" in today's society. He preached celibacy, community, and equality to attain immortality. His group also believed in the hollow Earth theory, that described a system where we lived inside the crust of the planet and the sky was was also inside the planet. The group went to great lengths, even inventing some "scientific" equipment, to attempt to prove their beliefs. Koresh died in 1908 and membership declined steadily until the the final four remaining members deeded the land and community to the State of Florida in 1961.

As I walk around these old buildings and homes, I can't help but imagine what life must have been like here. The accommodations are nice, even by today's standards and it seems the community had everything it needed to sustain itself. I'm struck though by the concept of being tied to this man and believe system, without the ability to express one's own ideas. 

It seems the grounds are kept in a state of arrested decay for the most part and many of the homes and other structures have plexiglass walls built preventing visitors from entering into the furnished areas, while allowing visibility. There are actually quite a few visitors here, more than I would expect for such a place. It's an interesting reminder of how easily people can be influenced and the control that some of those influencers can maintain.

Gasparilla Half-Marathon (Hillsborough County, Florida)

Last year, I had traveled to Tampa, FL to run the Gasparilla Half-Marathon and then ended up getting sick the morning of the race and unable to run it. That's annoyed me for a year and so, I decided to make the drive once again and do the race no matter what this time. It was also part of a much longer road trip that will be detailed in my next few posts. Arriving in Tampa around noon on Saturday, I picked up my race packet and then checked into my hotel. I decided to go a little extravagant and stay at the Marriot down town, which is just across the street from the starting line. It made everything much more convenient. 

I was also able to spend Saturday afternoon and evening with one of my best friends, who had driven over from Orlando to hang out. We hit Cigar City Brewing for lunch and then visited the Salvador Dali museum in St. Petersburg, before enjoying a few drinks at a bar across the street from my hotel. With him needing to drive back home, I was able to call it an early night and get a pretty good night's sleep.

I awoke around 4:30 AM to my blaring alarm and started getting ready for the race. It was just a quick jaunt to the starting corrals, but I had forgotten to grab safety pins for my race bib. I checked at the front desk, but ended up having to walk to my car a couple of blocks away in a parking garage to get them. It all worked out though and I arrived to my place in the corral in plenty of time.

The race started just a couple of minutes after the scheduled start time of 6:00 AM. Though it was still dark, I was wearing my prescription sunglasses. For early starts like this, it's always a trade-off between everything looking dark or everything looking blurry. I normally opt for dark, as things will get bright pretty quickly as the sun rises.

As the corrals ahead of me began making their way under the starting banner, the successive groups moved forward until finally, I was running my first half-marathon in Florida. I was hoping for a time under three hours, but also had to remind myself that the next big part of this vacation is a 5-day kayak paddle through the Everglades. And so, I tried to not exhaust myself. 

With a couple of miles down and having found my pace, I was feeling pretty good. I was trying to hang near the three-hour pacer. At points she would get ahead of me and then I would catch up and pass her. The first few miles meandered through the streets of downtown Tampa before finally hitting Bayshore Blvd, which runs right along the shoreline of Tampa Bay. With the sun no up and heating things up nicely, it was a beautiful view for many miles of the race. 

Finally reaching the turn, I returned along Bayshore a similar distance. I did walk a few sections here and there, but I was trying to be mindful of my time. It was a difficult balance, know that I couldn't afford to spend all of my energy reserves during this race. With the finish line in sight, I made a break for it and did a near spring for the last tenth of a mile or so. I was pleased to see an official finish time of 2:56:18. Far from my best time, but better than any recent races that I've run. I grabbed a banana and a granola bar and headed back to my room to grab a quick shower before heading off on the next part of the trip. I really enjoyed this well-organized race. Though, I may not make the journey again, I would recommend this one to any of my runner friends.