2 posts tagged “hiking”
Husband is in geek ecstasy using a seal-o-meal to prep all the food for our camping trip. Keeps bringing me little packages & bouncing.
@gapingvoid Were you an outdoorsy kid when you went? Previous interest or experience camping, hiking, kayaking? Just curious WRT my brother
Have returned from my adventure in the swamp. Was beautiful and grounding, inspiring and awesome. Oh, yeah, and filled with bloodsuckers.
My husband and I ended up in Florida because it's where my mother and brother were, and they needed our help. Mostly, we miss being up North (closer to his family, more connection to the cities and life there), but it's pretty damn hard to complain when it's the first days of April, you're cooking out on the grill in bare feet, a skirt, and a sleeveless shirt.Shrimp are in the marinade; going make skewers on the grill tonight. For a moment, living in Florida = bliss
This post is a follow-up to the other posts earlier this month about camping.
Full disclosure: I want to be the sort of person who hikes and goes camping, even does insane things like the 1,400-mile Florida Trail, but am actually the sort of person who bought a tent nearly five years ago and only used it once. On someone's lawn. It's not that I'm wimpy, either...I'm just easily distracted and have a lot of hobbies. Plus that pesky master's thesis I should be writing. Becoming el supremo outdoorswoman always fell by the wayside. I'm sure I'm not alone in this regard.
Having acknowledged that, Teh Husband and I started exchanging links to Florida trails and campsites in mid-October. Between his job stress and my family stress, we were eager for a quick-and-easy getaway and eventually settled on a site nearby that offered us a maximum 12-mile hike into camp and about a minimum 2-mile hike out. We gathered together our emergency packs and evaluated what might be useful for camping and then went out and bought about $200 worth of other necessities (eg, hiking boots, wool socks, sleeping bags, mess kit, LED flashlights, a small hatchet).
We left home Sunday around 11 am and arrived to find the parking lot deserted but for a pair of women and horses. We would run into those women once on the trail, one bike rider, and another horseback rider, but that was it. Amusingly, all of the horseback riders had issues with their mounts approaching us; the large packs we carried made us read as "unknowns" to the horses and they were too nervous to approach us. After taking our packs off (and making the requisite noises of blissful relief), the women were able to chide their horses past us. Then, for hours, we would be alone--not another soul, no TV, no radio, no cell phones, no Internet. Early on, our walking was silent as we got accustomed to the weight of the packs and enjoyed the scenery. When we would break for snacks, we would each suddenly become animated and share our thoughts and observations. Unfortunately for me, one of my early observations was that my feet were a bit sore; eventually that soreness would develop into several blisters. After treating my feet with alcohol swabs (EEEEEE!) and bandages, we continued to make our way.
We had some frustration with the quality of our map and had to turn around a few times throughout the day. It was during one of these "off-path" excursions that my husband stopped dead in his tracks and called my name somewhat tersely. With shorter legs and hampered a bit by my sore feet, I lagged behind somewhat and struggled to catch up. Looking ahead on the trail, I saw a large black furry creature loping toward us.
"What's that?"
"That's a bear. Or a very large dog." My husband, who previously lived in an area with a heavy bear population, would find it in himself to joke at a time like this.
"What do we do now?"
What we did was this: Got off the trail and hunkered down. If I had to guess, the bear was running down the trail, not running at us--a very important distinction. My husband took the hatchet out of it's sleeve, and my hand tightened around my walking stick.
"I do not want to have to go up against this bear with a hatchet."
Truer words were never spoken, I wager. Lucky for us, when we popped our heads back out on to the trail, the bear had gone his/her own way and was no longer in sight. I was thrilled and terrified; more than anything else, I felt special for having seen a Florida bear in the wild and happy to have had a good experience with the animal.
After this encounter, there was definitely a lot of nervous scanning by me. No furtherbear sightings to report, though we did also see a very large and dark bird I couldn't identify.
We got lost a little bit more and finally came to our campground, a bit disheartened at its prospects. Described as the trail's "primitive camp," it was really more like a post-apocalyptic camp--signs of civilization abounded, but none were useful to us. The largest structure in the camp was a screened-in enclosure with electrical outlets. The screens were torn, and the inside of the enclosure was layered with leaves, needles, and other forest floor debris. A brick firepit was filled with trash and had kind of caved in on itself. No potable water could be found on the site, and a nearby swampy lake was probably our best prospect.
Since we didn't really want to camp sans fire and our water filters weren't up to anything as dubious as swampwater, we decided to continue hiking and spend the night at the group campsite. Though it was only another 1.5 miles away, the sun was setting, and my feet were about ready to give up. After the halfway point, I started counting each step in my head, just to keep motivated, to keep one foot in front of the other. We stumbled into the group camp, exhausted but delighted to see fire rings and a water pump. My husband definitely didn the bulk of setting up camp, while I handled refiling our water supply.
He started a campfire without incident, and we each gobbled down a baked potato smothered in cheese and broccoli soup. I'm sure there's some sort of maxim about how much more delicious camp food is after a long hike, and this certainly didn't disappoint. After cleaning up our food mess and hanging the bulk of our edible things in a bear bag, we chilled out by the fire, drinking hot cocoa and spiced rum. We chatted and just enjoyed the crisp air on our skin, the stars above us, and the bulk of the trail behind us.
The night and next morning went without incident. Since my feet were pretty banged up, we didn't do any extra hiking, just pulled up camp and made our way to the trailhead. When we reached the parking lot, our car was the only one there.
"We've probably never been as alone as we just were," said Teh Husband with some degree of wonder and happiness.
At the end of the trail, at the end of the day, I definitely learned a lot of things on this hike; in no particular order:
* There are bears in Florida.
* At the first sign/hint/inkling of blisters, action is required.
* Make sure the map you're carrying has the absolute greatest amount of information. If there's a map posted at the trailhead, double check it against your map and include any new-to-you details. In our case, we only included the markings for the trails we knew we wanted to walk and that wasn't helpful when we were lost and/or decided to alter our course.
* There are bears in Florida.
* You can never have enough hot cocoa.
* When a more experienced hiker talks about lightening your pack, listen. My husband convinced me to choose a lighter flashlight for my pack, and I kinda thought he was being neurotic. But every ounce does add up, particularly during the last hour.
* Florida. It has bears.
I'm sure there were more trail lessons, but I've already held off on this post long enough. While it's no longer timely, I wanted to at least post it for my own memories.
We won't be able to camp again 'til December, but I'm already looking forward to it. Besides, I have to increase the tent's usage beyond 1:1 (actual camping:lawn camping) in order for this post to have an validity!
