Southeast Journey - Connection amidst Covid

Wise Man, Joan Jarvis, Bot, and Amos (I'm pretty sure Amos is hoping Joan's got some more sour cream for him)

From Withlacoohee State Forest, we continued our journey south to reconnect with a very special trail angel, Joan Jarvis of Oveido, Florida. Joan was a life saver, or shall I say a thru-hike savior, last year when we were on the trail. She assisted us in so many ways. She helped Scott get to an outfitter for a much needed pair of shoes, kept us dry during a very cold all-day rain, and made sure we were well-fueled with many a home-cooked meal. But, it was her company that kept us full in spirit. She is a long-time supporter of the Florida Trail and its hikers in so many ways. On this visit, Joan graciously allowed us to park in her driveway for two nights and we rejoiced in her company and good cooking once again. Amos got his first taste of chicken, sour cream and bacon bits and may never be the same. He deemed her his travel trailer angel! While with Joan we also had the immense pleasure of spending the afternoon with Sandra Friend and John Keatley. Sandra and John have authored countless books about hiking in Florida as well as the comprehensive website FloridaHikes.com. They have supported hikers through their research and commitment for many years. Their book, A Guide to the Florida Trail, proved invaluable during our 2019 thru-hike.

Prairie along the Florida Trail

Sandra suggested we gather at Joan's rather than a restaurant to "socially distance." We first thought Sandra was simply in  need of some quiet time and as fellow hikers, we get it. This was the first we'd heard this term "social-distancing." But she soon clarified for us that these recommendations were coming from the CDC. Sandra, John and Joan, caught us up with the pandemic unfolding in the rest of the civilized world. The local news then declared that Seminole County, which was where we were, had it's first covid case. Next, we received a text from home that our county in PA had four cases. Covid was getting real. I realize covid had been very real overseas for some time, but it was the first that we actually grasped the reality of its being on our very soil. From here on out, our Southeast Journey would begin to quickly change form. We decided we'd retreat to one of the most empty places we knew - the Florida prairielands.

Wise Man, Peacock, and Bot

We bid our friends adieu and later in the day we found ourselves on desolate roads in Desert Ranch. These roads are home to the Florida Trail for roughly thirty long miles. The walk is mind-numbing with nothing but farm-fields and powerlines as far as the eye can see. We thankfully had the help of trail angel, Trucker Bob for part of this section. It would have been hard-goin' without him! When all of a sudden we spotted a figure in the distance. As we grew closer we could see he wore a backpack and carried hiking sticks. A thru-hiker! We were delighted to pull over and say hi. One of our big movitators for returning to Florida this year had been to provide trail magic to this year's hikers, however since we'd gotten such a late start, the typical hiker season was nearly over. We hadn't expected to find one this far south. Meet Peacock, who was out for his first long hike. Being a Florida native, the high temps he'd be walking into as spring progressed didn't scare him. He happily received a cold beer from our trailer fridge and we passed along some of Joan's homemade fudge - both were gone in a gulp! More evidence of how trails build connections not only between places, but people.

Scott and Amos walking beneath Spanish moss on Hickory Hammock Trail

We found ourselves a campsite at Hickory Hammock Equestrian Campground, free of charge, through the South Florida Water Management District (SFWMD). The SFWMD generously allows folks to camp without cost on its lands. Sites must be reserved through their website, which can be a little tricky to navigate, but its well worth it, as sites are often remote, not overcrowded, and in beautiful locations. We parked beneath the limbs of a live oak that provided much needed shade in temps that were continuing to rise as our trip carried on, and enjoyed a peaceful night. The next day we took a hike on the Hickory Hammock Trail which runs 11 miles, paralleling the Florida Trail, and passed directly through our campground. We walked sandy sund-drenched paths through saw palmettos, bowed beneath live oaks draped in Spanish moss, and rejoiced in the company of palms. And the array of plants we spied within even our first steps were astounding.

Netted paw-paw (Asimina reticulata)

In my time in Florida I have spotted far more paw-paws than I ever have in the Appalachian mountains. However, here in Florida, those I have seen are of the smaller variety. The woody-stemmed netted paw-paw, scientifically named Asimina reticulata, grows no more than roughly four feet tall, but is related to the full-sized tree Asimina trilobal, that which many of us think of when we think of paw-paws. However Florida's smaller species, such as this one, also provide edible fruits. The flesh is reportedly fruity tasting and loaded with protein. However be cautious in consuming them as some people can have allergic reactions. The seeds and skin should not be eaten under any circumstances. I have yet to try one of these native fruits. Have any readers tried a smaller species paw-paw?

Cardinal airplant (Tillandsia fasciculata)

Cardinal airplant (Tillandsia fasciculata) is a state-listed endangered plant. Airplants enjoy the forest canopy, taking up residence on tree branches. We found a couple of these plants upon the ground, still attached to a fallen limb. The leaves of the cardinal airplant are long and sharp-pointed creating a gray-green rosette. However, its purple flower and pollen-coated stamens were most eye-catching. Due to an introduced Mexican weevil which bores into airplants, the cardinal airplant is presently endangered.

Rabbit tobacco (Pterocaulon pyncostachyum)

Here's a plant with a fun name - rabbit tobacco - a fitting one to discuss in our Easter season. However, what it's got do with rabbits, I don't know, perhaps it is rabbit height. Native Americans would smoke the leaves as a tobacco substitute, hence the tobacco reference. Another common name is blackroot, for the reason that the roots produce a poisonous black sap. It's an altogether strange looking plant that to me resembles a fat purple-tipped pipe cleaner.

Campsite marker on Hickory Hammock Trail

Although not part of the Florida Trail thru-trail, Hickory Hammock Trail is still considered part of the Florida Trail and is complete with a backpacker's campsite, which we hiked to, making for four miles round-trip. We kept Amos well-paced on this day and were certain to carry not just a liter of water but a gallon for our boy. We've been learning that hiking with a dog is oh so different from hiking without one - it's paced us as well. We're sauntering as John Muir would have liked. All the more time to notice the plants! And critters like this...anyone know what we have here?

Frog on palm frond - anyone know this guy's name?

Oh and climb trees...

Hanging out in a live oak - trickier to climb than they look!

We spent the next two nights at Starvation Slough campsite, another SFWMD site, and we had the place completely to ourselves. It was dreamy. Even if Amos periodically awoke to a wild hog passing through, which he scared off with some tremendous growling we'd never before heard from him. While at Starvation Slough we took an eight mile hike out-and-back to Starvation Slough North campsite along the Florida Trail. This was one of the first portions of the Florida Trail we ever hiked and has remained one of our favorites. It leads you through fields filled with primrose willow shrubs and past a deep pond, surely home to alligators. Here we spied some plants we've seen time and time again in this very spot.

Maryland meadowbeauty (Rhexia mariana)

Maryland meadowbeauty is a beauty indeed with conspicuous stamens and pale pink petals. This is a flower I also regularly enjoyed finding on the Mountains to Sea Trail, although deciphering between species can sometimes be tricky.            

Orange milkwort (Polygala lutea)

This flower is a common sight in the prairielands. Orange milkwort or Polygala lutea, is also called candyweed because some species' roots smell of licorice, such as Polygala nana. I have pulled up Polygala lutea in the past and was certain that I smelled licorice, however I now cannot find evidence to support my memory. I'll have to try another when we return. Nonetheless, this licorice smell leads me to wonder if these species contain methyl-salicylic acid, a known pain reliever and anti-inflammatory. Locals simply call it "swamp Cheetos" because perhaps being low-to-the-ground as it is, it looks just like that - like some poor hiker dropped a cheese puff in the grass.

Live oaks along Florida Trail between Starvation Slough and Starvation Slough North campsite

After the pond, the trail carries you beneath canopies of live oak, branches intertwining overhead and adorned in wild pine air plants and Spanish moss. The sound of the breeze through the large fronds of  squat cabbage palms was dreamy. We encountered wild oranges that we now knew better than to try and eat - these were very bitter last we tried them - but the smell of their blossoms still lingered. Intoxicating. It was hot but the forest canopy made for dappled sunshine and we were all grateful for the shade. Amos clearly was adapting to the Florida temps as he completed this hike without a hitch, however he sure was ready for a dunk in Starvation Slough when we again neared camp. Worry not, we did inspect it for gators first!

Amos cooling off in the muddy waters of Starvation Slough

Although isolated in the prairie, we were not without cell service, and the texts from home kept coming. We talked to our friends back in Asheville one evening and they were in full on social distancing mode, which is not easy in the shared homes in which many of them live. Although we were basking in the Florida sun without a care 'cept for the gators and hogs, these texts and phonecalls were foreboding. We questioned if we should head south to see Scott's mom in Sarasota as planned. She assured us we should come nonetheless and so we braced ourselves for the big city, packed on camp and hit the road.

Spider web - these net-like webs ornamented the palmetto fronds, glistening in the morning dew in Apalachicola National Forest

We visited Mom and felt safe and secure in her condo, we dined in by choice, and enjoyed homecooked meals yet again. Amos spent the day at his first dog-sitters - Auntie Kara's Canine Camp - and rocked it. Look her up! She was amazing, so patient with the worrisome parents and so caring with Amos. Of the six dogs he shared the camp with, he chose to make best buds with her nine-year 8-pound chihuahua, Fenway. While visiting, we had do a shop as did she and so we ventured out to several grocery stores in the area. In the midst of our errand running, we got word from back home that all but essential businesses were now closed and restaurants were on take-out only. My mom phoned and reported that she would be catching the first flight back to PA from Illinois where she'd been visiting her 99-year old father due to her later flight now being canceled. For the first time, seeing empty shelves in the supermarket and the fervor with which people shopped, put the fear in us. Covid was now undeniably real. As much as we would have loved to stay and visit with Mama Weis longer, we no longer felt safe in this metropolitan area, rather like bugs caught in a spider's sticky web, in immanent danger. Vulnerable. We spent the night in the parking lot at Big Slough Preserve, 40 minutes east of the city. It was illegal to camp here overnight but we were unable to find a single campground with any vacancy and hotels that took pets were over three hundred dollars a pop. We got through the night without a hitch, were greeted by an equestrian rider in the morning and promptly headed back north for the panhandle. The wilds of Apalachicola National Forest never seemed so safe!

Lady lupine (Lupinus villosus) - clumps of these colorful lupines dotted the sandy soil near our campsites in Apalachicola National Forest

We retreated to known places - first the Jewel trailhead for two nights - the same place where we'd met up with Flat Top and Steps and then back to the dry swamp in the shelter of pond cypress trees. Within just a couple of days, campgrounds had closed in both state and national forests and we felt less inclined to cruise around burning gas, looking for novel places to camp. We were doing our best to hunker down. One day we took a hike, heading south, on the Florida Trail from the Jewel trailhead towards Porter Lake. The trail was blissful and in much better repair than what we had remembered from the year before due to hurricane damage. We hiked amidst long leaf pines and saw palmettos, letting their roots and boughs take our worries, while marveling at the wildflowers that seemed to not have a care in the world.

Sweet pinxter azalea (Rhododendron canescens)

Sweet pinxter, a native azalea in full bloom, speckled the green understory. It seemed spring had truly sprung. Nature would continue its cycles even if life as we knew it was coming to a grinding halt.

Bearded grass-pink (Calopogon barbatus) - the "beard" is the yellow tuft at tip flower and pollinia is at tip of curved reproductive column below

Bearded grass-pink, an eye-catching orchid, illuminated the grasses here and there. It's scientific name Calopogon means "beautiful beard" and that it had. I couldn't help but notice what looked like a tiny drop of dew on a curved petal. Further research has told me that this "curved" petal is actually a reproductive column that contains pollinia (mass of pollen grains). Pollinators, such as bees, mistake its yellow "beard" for stamens. When then dive in, the weight of the bee forces the upper lip to bend downward, unknowingly dunking the belly of the bee into the pollinia. These flowers are pretty clever.

Dwarf sundew (Drosera brevifolia)

Here's another wildly unique plant, dwarf sundew, scientifically called Drosera brevifolia. It may look sweet and mild-tempered, but if you're an insect...watch out! Sundews are carnivorous. At the base of the plant is a small rosette of scarlet leaves. Each of these leaves possesses stalked sticky mucilaginous glands - these can easily be seen with the naked eye - which trap insects. This mucilaginous secretion is also rich in enzymes which then works to digest the insect and provide nutrients to the plant. Look for sundews in damp sandy soil.

Scott and Amos on Florida Trail between Jewel trailhead and Porter Lake

However, upon returning to camp after our hike we were met with a horrific site. We were covered in ticks, from full-bodied to so tiny they were nearly translucent. We picked them off ourselves as best we could and then got to work on Amos. This poor guy had them in his crotch, behind his ears, and even in between his toes in the pads of his feet. Being from the northeast, we're used to ticks, but this was like nothing we'd ever seen. When we hiked the Florida Trail last year, we had no more than a few ticks on us the entire hike. We hadn't even been worried about them this time around. Apparently a week of higher temperatures makes all the difference. Terror overwhelmed us at the thought of getting sick and not knowing if we had covid or lyme. I've had lyme. It's not pretty. And these ticks, with a conspicuous white dot on their backs -lone start ticks - were not like those we have back home. A little google work some days later put us a ease, when we read that, according to the CDC lone stars do not carry lyme. In fact, they carry a bacteria that can allegedly counteract lyme, although I think this statement must be oversimplified. There bacteria can cause various other problems, like a red meat allergy, but given the fact neither of us has even red meat in over twenty years, that wasn't a worry. Still, we couldn't bear the thought of another tick infestation for poor Amos or us. So our next hike took us back to Saint Marks NWR where we hoped the ticks were lesser.

A crane amidst palms in Saint Marks National Wildlife National Wildlife Refuge on primitive trails

We began at the parking area for primitive trails not far from the park entrance. Here we hiked a roughly six mile loop (following trails 105A-114-127-106) that was stunningly beautiful, even if a little frightening for we were flanked on both sides by canals nearly level with the trail. We kept Amos close and never did have to wrestle alligators however we startled flocks of strange birds and spied a cottonmouth making his way through the dark waters beside us. The flowers of every color guided us, giving us safe passage. Ticks were nowhere to be seen.

Southeastern sneezeweed (Helenium pinnatifidium)

Southeastern sneezeweed stood tall and shook in the light breeze. Reportedly Native Americans would dry and powder sneezeweed to use as snuff. Sneezeweed could be confused with tickseed, however they have wider "button" or circular arrangements of disk flowers at their centers.

Swamp leather-flower, aka fairy hat (Clematis crispa)

Swamp leather-flower hung humbly amidst the low walls of green vegetation to either side of the trail. This would be an easy one to pass by as they dangle inconspicuously from twining vines. Another darling name for these flowers is fairy hats, which should you stumble across one, you'll see why. Cup-shaped, they bow their plant faces towards the earth, curling only their petals upward like the brim of a hat.

Following Florida Trail along Sopchoppy River bluffs - notice the knobby knees of cypress knees and exposed roots

The last hike we would take in the Florida wilds would be on the bluffs of the Sopchoppy River. We hoped that here too we could find a less tick ambushed trail. We parked at Oak Park trailhead and walked to Monkey Creek. Old man's beard (Usnea), a highly medicinal lichen, hung in clumps from tree limbs, knobby cypress knees protruded from the Sopchoppy's black waters, and we startled a fox that went leaping through saw palmetto. We hadn't planned on this being our last hike, but when we returned to the parking lot, roughly 3.5 miles later, we and Amos were again littered with ticks. That evening, while camped in the same parking area, we decided the high temps, ticks, and fear of covid was enough. Also we hadn't had a shower since Sarasota and there was no hope for another with campgrounds closed. Wet wipes only go so far. It was time to say goodbye to Florida until next year and head towards home. 

Sunbathing outside the trailer, see Amos in his background, at Starvation Slough campsite

But we were reluctant to let go of the adventure. We decided we'd head north by way of Mississippi. I had never been and there were national forests there where we could boondock. Also, temps looked lower, so perhaps ticks would be lesser. Covid cases were still few and the weather looked good. We drove nearly seven hours and landed in Bienville National Forest at nightfall only to find a locked campground and a sign that read: Closed due to Coronavirus. It was like something from a bad horror movie. We tried in vain to find a roadside pull-off, but the forest was flooded. Narrowly we managed to turn round after venturing down a bumpy sand road and parked just in front of the campground. That night, a train barreled by every few hours, blaring its horn, less than a quarter mile away, its lights shining through the trees into our camper. In the morning we explored the Shockaloe Equestrian Campground, also home to a 22-mile trail. It looked lovely. The smell of sweet wisteria flowers filled the air. It was all so bittersweet. Then we took a look at the weather forecast. Tornadoes, heavy rain and hail were predicted from here to central Tennessee. That was it. It was time to get home.

Amos at ease in his very tiny home on wheels

We drove ten hours - the furthest we'd traveled with the travel trailer in one day - making it near delirium, just north of Knoxville, Tennessee, and more importantly just north of the storms. A Bass Pro Shop seemed a fine place to call it a night. The parking lot abutted forest and we shared it with only a lone Mack truck. Amos was remarkably better, even in this paved paradise, and we remarked on how far he had come. We'd gotten into this peaceful routine of arriving at camp every night, and while we popped up the trailer, cleaned up and got dinner cooking, he'd dig himself a shallow hole in the dirt and lay down to nap until sundown. Even then, we'd often have to pull him inside, where he'd chew on a bone for a bit and sack out for the night. In the morning, he stirred when we did and would bound to the truck with excitement as we folded down the trailer. This from the dog who on the first night of our adventure, whined and fussed for three hours straight. This from the dog who, back home, would quiver to even drive through a tiny town. This from a dog who would pee on the floor in fear when entering a new space. He brought such joy to our days from car rides to hikes and we brought to him security and love and in the process, he'd become brave.

The next day was the same, a ten hour drive, this time with flashing alerts all along the highways that blinked, "Practice Social Distancing" and "Shelter in Place." My parents back in PA called us to tell us how very relieved they were that we were returning. We were too. It would not have been responsible for us  to continue our journey, nor was it safe with the need to use public facilities and fill up on gas on the regular. We also knew to fall ill in the wilds of a national forest would be a dire situation for not only us, but undue stress placed upon a small neighboring trail town. But, still we wondered if we were really any safer to be driving closer to the epicenter. Milford, PA is after all, just 90 minutes from New York City. But alas, we'd be home, which felt like a pretty safe place. On the way, we washed our hands after every gas stop and made a point to pull off and pee in the woods rather than use a restroom. We were eager to be off the road. We made it as far as another Bass Pro Shop outside Harrisburg, PA and slept with one eye open, near a busy intersection threaded with periodic disconcerting passerby. In the morning we awoke to pounding on the door from mall security. He stated firmly, "You can't stay here." We assured him he would be on our way asap and in a less gruff town, replied, "Stay healthy." By noon that day, driving through light snow into our flat-topped Pocono Mountains, we arrived safe and sound. Amos ran circles on the lawn.

Hickory Hammock Trail 

We are grateful to have had the time that we did down south. Every single day of our roughly five-week venture was a gift. We are thankful to be healthy and to have all that we need. We are blessed to be in the company of family. Our journey was graced with friendship, tremendous beauty, wonder, and of course so many a unique flower. There are still so many places we wish to revisit in Florida and still so many places we wish to explore for the first time. To this we have to look forward. Thank you to all who made our experience truly a journey of the heart and soul. We'll be thinking of you and those towering cypress until we meet again...

  

Scott amidst the pond cypress trees in dry swamp, Apalachicola National Forest