(or, How I Survived My Own Stupidity)
Well, I won't say that this trip was a success...mostly due to poor decision-making on my part. On the other hand, road walking in Florida is much easier at night...wait, I should start at the beginning...
Saturday, I headed out to Ocala National Forest at about 4:00 PM, arriving at the Pat's Island trail head for the Florida Trail at about 6:00. I wavered for a couple of minutes before deciding to hike down to Hidden Pond, intending to camp there for the evening and get going early in the AM. The hike in was beautiful, including a bit of rain and a thunderstorm in the distance. The temperature was perfect, somewhere in the mid-70s, and the bugs weren't too bad.
Arriving at the campsite, I found a father and his two sons camping in a t***, and asked politely if they minded if I set up near them. They had no objection and had a few questions about the hammock; apparently Larry (the father) had tried an USGI hammock waaaay back when and hated it. I explained the differences between that and what I was using as well as how comfortable a properly-designed hammock was.
Sunday, morning came early for me; I woke before dawn, at about 5:45, and got up to start breakfast. Two cups of "coffee" later, and I was ready to face the day. I spent a few minutes jawing with Larry and his sons, then went and packed up my stuff. I got water from the pond and hit the trail by 8:00.
As I hiked through the mounting heat of the day, I found that the spiders weren't as bad as last August. Unfortunately, some sort of biting fly was much worse. It felt like an horsefly (and was just as tenacious), but it didn't look like one, instead having a brown body and almost moth-like wings. Not sure what it was, but they were a plague upon me all day long, swarming my legs every time I stopped for more than a second. And the ticks were terrible; I pulled thirteen of them off of me in one day, despite permethrin on my clothes and Ultrathon on my legs.
I reached Whiskey Creek after about fifteen minutes of hiking, and made my first bad decision of the day. Instead of stopping to get water with my cooking vessel and dumping it into the Camelback, I pressed on, wanting to get as far ahead as possible. Not a good call...
I hiked on across the Juniper Prairie, making good time. I soon came to Juniper Springs and crossed from open prairie to subtropical jungle. Ah, banana spiders, my old friends. And, of course, the flies would swarm me when I stopped to knock down a web. My speed dropped from about three and an half miles an hour to two and an half, having to stop and knock down a web every couple hundred paces--still not as bad as last year, though. Here, I made my second bad call for the day; I didn't stop in at Juniper Springs to refill the Camelback. Very bad decision.
I crossed SR 40 at about 9:15, dodging massive motorized metal and reentering the woods on the opposite side. More spiders ensued, but they again weren't as bad as I remembered from last year. However, there were several blowdowns across the trail that had yet to be cleared, some of them requiring quite a bit of scrambling.
Seven miles later, it was nearly 11:30 and I was out of water. Crossing Farles Prairie in the hot sunlight, with the temperatures in the upper eighties and the humidity hovering near 100% was not fun. I had to push two miles through that with heat cramps and the beginning of heat stroke bearing me down. Nausea wracked me as I continued on, and the only thing that kept me from losing my lunch was the fact that I couldn't spare the water it would take. I stopped sweating about an half-mile from Farles Campground, a very bad sign. Fortunately, I made it to the campground and the pitcher pump there before I collapsed.
I filled the Camelbak and was going to get my cooking vessel out of my pack when one of the folks fishing there ran over to his truck and got me an ice-cold bottle of water. I can't say how grateful I was to him, and he sure does have some good karma coming to him for that. I drank the water slowly, so as to not upset a stomach already on the edge of rejecting everything in it. I spent about two hours there, slowly drinking water in the shade and then jumping into the lake to bring my body temperature down. I ate my pepperoni that I'd intended as an afternoon snack to bring my salt balance back to normal. I lost my knife in the campground and was unable to find it after a Class One search of the premises. Man, I liked that knife...
About a gallon and an half of water later, and I asked the fishing folks if any of them were headed northbound; I'd had enough of this crap. Unfortunately, none of them were. So, I thanked them for the water, packed up my stuff, and wandered back down the trail to find somewhere to wait out the worst of the day's heat.
Soon, I was hearing thunder in the distance. Here, I made my third bad decision of the day--I wanted out of the woods. I packed everything up, finally feeling good enough to walk down the trail again. I headed out around 4:30, and was soon rained on. It was an...interesting...experience, walking across Farles Prairie in a lightning storm. The area is mostly blown-down and burnt-out old longleaf pines mixed with new growth--all of it about the same height I am. I was honestly wondering if I was going to survive the experience for a bit there. Fortunately, it wasn't my time yet.
I continued on, thinking that I could get to SR 40 and hitch back to the car. Somewhere in here I lost my favorite hat (that one was my fault; I didn't secure it well enough) and the bite valve to my Camelback (that one wasn't my fault, though; it just let go without any warning). In my rush to get to the road, I decided to say "screw it" and not search my entire back track to find them.
I miscalculated the distance to the road, arriving just after dark. And, of course, no one wanted to pick up a burly guy wearing a kilt in the middle of the night. Here, I made my fourth bad call: I decided that someone would be willing to let me hitch back to the car. Yeah, no. And me down to less than a liter of water...well, at least it wasn't a heat index in the nineties...
I stopped for dinner at the intersection of SR 40 and SR 19. My fifth bad decision for the day (hey, what's one more?) was made here. I'd had an hot spot on my left pinkie toe for the last couple of miles, and it would have been just a minute or two to put some duct tape on it. Yeah, I was in too much of a rush. I paid for that one; as the miles went on, it rose from an annoyance to agony with each step. Especially walking against traffic--the shoulder angle kept pressure on that toe for the next six and an half miles.
Running out of water about a mile up SR 19, I pressed on through the waning night. One car stopped as I attempted to flag them down...literally to laugh at me. Wonderful people. It got to the point where I would walk five hundred steps, stop and sit down for two minutes, get back up and do another five hundred steps. It took me nearly seven hours to walk eleven miles and change. Not fun.
I finally reached Forest Road 46 and took my shoes off. What a relief that was. Soft sand underfoot for the next two miles made for a slightly better walk than the road had been, though it still took me the better part of two hours to make the distance. Oddly enough, even though the road is nearly forty feet wide through there, spiders had still managed to weave webs across it. I have no idea how.
I don't think I've ever been as grateful to reach my car as I've been to reach any other place in my life. I packed everything into the seat and got on the road. Two hours later, and quite a bit of road hypnosis fighting later, I reached my house. A short shower, a bandaid over the bloody blister on my pinkie toe, a pair of ibuprofin, and a liter of water later, and I hit the hay.
I woke this morning after about five hours' sleep, and--other than my feet--I feel pretty good. I'm surprised; I'd thought that I would feel like crud today. Not so much.
Still, the lessons embedded in this experience are going to stay with me for a good long time.
- Make sure you have enough water for the distance covered.
- Don't rely on anyone else's generosity; it probably won't be forthcoming.
- Take care of your feet. They're absolutely the most important thing on a hike.
- An extra night in the woods is better than a night hiking for no reason.
- Stick with the plan only when the plan makes sense in the face of changing circumstances.
- Wear long pants in Ocala during the summer...or, better yet, go during the winter.
- Keep track of your gear. It might just be worth it.
- I can do 30+ miles in a day. Just not easily.
Well, I know I said that the hike was not a success. That's not quite right, though; it was definitely a success as a learning experience. Just not much fun.
No video on this one; it'd be about thirty seconds of me walking through Juniper Prairie and that's about it. Not really worth putting it together. Sorry about that.
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H.Y.O.H.
Originally Posted by raiffnuke
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