Our night at Nobles campsite was perfect. The campsite was on an old unused airfield now turned to grass meadow. There was good clear water available from a nearby pond, and the breezy night was filled with lightning bugs and stars (and just a few mosquitos), and nothing but the sounds of nature around us. In the morning I saw a couple of white tail dear running off into the early mist. From Nobles, we continued heading south along an old lime rock road to the I75 underpass and rest area. It was a hot day again, with very little shade or breeze. The canal alongside the road held lots of very large gators and turtles, and the trees beside it were full of wood storks, ibis and herons.
South of I75 is wilderness. The drainage canals and rock roads that have accompanied the trail since (and around) Lake Okeechobee disappear. The trail is now a trodden path, sometimes following a dirt buggy road, sometimes cross country or just following the lay of the terrain. This area in only 25 - 40 feet above sea level, and is frequently flooded. We are lucky enough to be tackling it after a relatively dry spell. Hurricane Wilma late in 2005 made this area particularly wet for last years hiking season and forced me to abandon my previous plans to backpack here then. However, drier is a relative term in wetland terms. The trail soon turned to 6 inch deep slimy sticky mud, and then to water. The remainder of the day was spent wading in knee deep water over the 6 inches of mud. As the sun started to set we picked out a hammock of higher, drier ground close the the trail and made camp, which we shared with the usual collection of swamp creatures, including a leopard frog, which unfortunately disappeared in the moment it took me to turn to reach for my camera, and an owl or two in the trees above. The next day was more of the same. We were off the trail, but did apparently bump into it at one stage, as we passed the 29 mile marker in the center of an old underwater roadway. The Orange blazes here are very weather worn, and really not at all obvious on the trees, if it's not right in front of you, and the is no obvious path through the water where the trail should be, it is very hard to stay on the trail. We were following this roadway because it was an obvious course to follow given the absence of obvious hiking trail. It was heading in the right general direction, and there is often a ridge of slightly higher mud in the center of the trail, but the water is still knee deep, and reaches to mid thigh deep in other places. And the water is still over the silty mud. It is clear until the sediment is stirred up by hiking through, so water collection was not a problem.
Taking a break from the hot sun is the biggest issue in this section. The cypress trees are bare or just starting to sprout at this time of year, and there are very few dry areas to sit for a break. Fortunately, as sundown approached, we entered a high and dry, mixed pine and palmetto forest area where we made camp.
We didn't know it at the time, but that was the last we were to see of the wetlands for a while. The terrain stayed mixed pine and palmetto, with grasslands and sawgrass fields, and DRY. Dry as in not a drop of water to be found. After having had clear water available and everywhere for almost two days, and having carried about 20lbs of water each, by the next night, having not seen a drop of standing water all day, we were now rationning water. Around noon we had actually picked up the blazed trail again, and stopped at a trail campsite with a pipe well, hoping to top up our water supply. The usually long enough hose reached nothing, so we continued on. A couple of miles later a group of 4 ATV'ers pulled over and hailed us. They had fresh COLD water to spare and filled up several quarts for us. True trail magic on such a hot day.
The trail here is in need of some maintenance. We lost the blazes several times, and were sometimes bushwacking through palmettos and sawgrass. Underfoot is a karst limestone base, with deep, sometimes seemingly bottomless, ankle grabbing potholes, requiring full attention to where each foot was placed, and not really allowing any rhythm to develop. The pace was only around a mile per hour for the worst spots, except in the grassy spots where we were able to increase it a little. By sundown and as the light faded enough that the blazes were no longer visible on the trees, we had about 10.5 miles to go to the next reliable water at the Oasis Visitor Center. Even with the extra water, we knew that we'd have to ration our water until we had a chance to resupply. Hiking on in the dark may have been an option if the trail were more obvious, but the past several miles had proved that we would both have to concentrate on our footing, to prevent injury, as well as the trail blazes, to stay on track. Doing both in the dark was not an option tonight. We took 2 steps off the trail and made camp, opting to go straight to bed and sleep. Neither of us wanted to use water for food, and sitting around talking would have used more water than sleeping. We were both asleep within an hour, though I do confess to having spent a little time hallucinating about real, non re-hydrated food. Not from hunger, but just from the desire to eat something that hadn't needed a freshness pack!
Next morning, we were up before light, packed up, and ready to leave as soon as the light allowed. We skipped the morning coffee ritual, preferring a cup of plain water instead, and both had enough water left to get us to Oasis especially as the first several miles would be hiked in the cooler morning air. We were fresh from the sleep, and raring to get going. Our other incentive to get going is the possibility of surface water at Ten mile camp, and Seven mile camp. IF we find water at either we would stop and have breakfast, coffee and supplement our water for the remainder of the day.
Ten Mile camp had no water, so we hiked on. As we rounded the corner approaching Seven Mile campsite we stopped and looked at each other asking "Do you smell coffee?" Sure enough, a party of 3 Chilean men was out camping, cooking taco bread from scratch over a fire, and boiling hot sweet coffee. They greeted us and offered to share. Can you just imagine turning that down? So we sat sipping the coffee elixir, and they even offered a couple of 16oz bottles of water. Enough to top us up for the remaining 7 miles, and also to cook and share a rehydrated meal! More trail magic. An hour or so later, refreshed and fed, we set off for the final stretch. We actually found our first surface water in two days about 3 miles further down the trail, in the form of 4 muddy puddles in ruts on a dirt road. Having topped up and with only 4 miles still to hike, we passed it up, but had we not been filled up, we would have been filtering ourselves some puddle water for sure! Shortly after the puddles we crossed paths with first a Church group out camping for the weekend, then a little closer in, started to see more lightly clad walkers. Seeing couples out walking in jeans and clean t-shirts, and all their day's belongings in a plastic walmart bag is always a good sign that you're close to the trailhead. The last two miles seemed incredibly long though.
So, now we're at Oasis. No water worries, surrounded by gator watching tourists, stinky and sweaty from five days of hiking, and ready to eat real food. There's just the little matter of the other car still being a 200 mile round trip away again, but we have other priorities first, a shower and food being the most important. The rest of the day is spent on such trivial matters.
On Monday morning we were back at Oasis with two vehicles. The plan for the day involved dropping one car, and driving round to the southern terminus at Loop Rd. For this last day of our southbound hike, we actually hiked northbound back to the car.
The trail started out muddy, but not underwater as it was when I hiked it this time last year. This bodes well for a drier, quicker hiking day today, though we started out much later than we anticipated. After about 4 miles we stopped at the Frog Hammock campsite with it's pitcher pump. What we would have done to see one of these yesterday! Not that we needed it today, but we couldn't get water out of it anyway, because there was no water in the pitcher to prime it with. Had we needed it we'd have hiked back out on the trail to a puddle to fill it, but there again, if there were puddles, we wouldn't have needed the pump! Whatever!
After the hammock the trail became wetter and we were again walking in ankle deep water as we entered Robert's Strand. The strands are the areas in the wetlands where there is flowing water. It is a beautiful, lush pocket of swamp landscape on the otherwise grassy and forested prairie, and it is where the majority of the wildlife congregates. The Strand was also where we found our first piece of wildlife to be a little more cautious about for the day. As we pushed through a stand of ferns, sitting about 3 or 4 feet high in the topmost fronds was our first cottonmouth. He was aware we were there, and watched us as carefully as we watch him as we slowly and gently edged around his resting place.
The water flows slowly in the strand, and is deeper than it had been on the wetlands. The deepest parts were about midcalf or up to the knee, but the stumps and roots below the surface make navigation rather slower. On the north side of the Strand the trail the trail turned back to wet through cypress forest. There were literally thousands of bromeliads on the trees there. It must be an incredible sight when the are all blooming, though we only saw a few starting into their bloom.
As tempting as it was to look at the Bromeliads, we found another, more vital excuse to keep our eyes on the ground. As the trail rose a little, the water receded to puddles and mud again, and in a puddle in the middle of the trail we found our next cottonmouth, wriggling around in a muddy puddle. Then we found one sitting by the side of the trail. Then one stretched out in the trail. Then one in a stump where we hoped to stop for a brief rest, then another in the trail, and another, and, well, you get the picture. They were literally everywhere for a couple of miles. Some just stayed coiled and unconcerned, other than watching us as we carefully passed, some were already agiitated as we approached and either wriggled around in front of us, or stretched determinedly in our path. We had to probe ahead at every step, to both sides, and in the center of the trail before stepping forward. It was very slow going. Neither of us even wanted to consider walking off in the drier grass to the side.
Paying such close attention to the mud at our feet did make us aware of all the other tracks in the mud, in addition to ours. In addition to the raccoon, deer, heron, bobcat, and panther track we had been seeing on the trail all week, we also saw tiny mouse print tracks, and our first "for definite" bear tracks. We surmized that the abundance of snakes was probably due to the drying puddles. Small fish were flopping and dying in the puddles as they evaporated, attracting birds and probably the mice and other small animals to an easy meal. The snakes were assumably just hanging around on the trail highway waiting for the next meal to come come running by. They weren't really interested in us other than for us to move on quickly so the could get on with the wait undisturbed. Apart from slowing us down a lot, the snakes caused no harm, and the bear never materialized.
We made it back to Oasis late afternoon, muddy, but well hydrated, and happy at having completed this strenuous section. Having completed the circumnavigation of Lake Okeechobee back in November, this now means that every time we look at a Florida Trail map we get the satisfying feeling of having completed everything up to the top of the Lake.
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