What an experience the Florida Trail is! If a backpacker begins at the southern terminus and heads north (NOBO), they are beginning at what is undoubtedly the most challenging part of the trail’s entire length. This is much like starting the Appalachian Trail by heading SOBO, climbing Maine’s daunting Katahdin on your very first day.
But no complaints from this backpacker. My first four days on this trail were the most unique experience I’ve ever had on foot. But let me back up a bit and share how the two days before my launch transpired.
Thanks to several active Facebook groups pertaining to the FT, I was given a lift by a local hiking fan from the Miami airport to a campground near the trailhead, where a busy group of volunteers hosted a gathering and sendoff for backpackers who intended to hit the trail the first week of January. Most were thru-hikers, intending to cover all 1100 miles in one go, but others like me were long section hikers (370 miles projected for me this year). It was wonderful meeting new people, talking gear and the trail, and camping together in a beautiful, lush setting.
January 4 arrived, my day of departure. With butterflies in my stomach, I hit the trail with three younger hikers I had enjoyed talking with the past two days.
The last time that yellow shirt would ever be this clean.
However, as it goes in long distance hiking, everyone had their own pace. They soon were dots on the horizon, as I followed the conservative pace I prefer, especially when just starting out. I’d rather hike alone, to feel more fully in tune with nature, so I was fine. In case of any unforeseen medical emergencies in this new, remote environment, I have my Garmin In Reach Mini emergency satellite device.
There were lots of gators in a canal by the visitors’ center,
but those were the last I saw till I was completely out of the swamp, and only one tiny black snake wiggling quickly out of my way. So that should calm the fears of some of my readers.
With greenery around me, it all started innocently enough with a dirt trail,
but within the first 15 minutes, it was time to plunge my trail runners into water and mud.
This would become the norm during the majority of time during the next 4 days, mostly alternating time on dry trail, followed by equal stretches of carefully walking through ankle to shin deep water
or extremely slimy, sticky mud up to the ankles or, later, higher.
The Everglades are actually a very wide, slow moving and mostly shallow river in southern Florida, drifting to the southern keys from Lake Okeechobee. It can take up to a year for this water to reach the gulf, so I was luckily never dealing with currents.
The first day was kind of a training ground, still with plenty of care needed in each step. What complicated it all and posed the greatest threat were the limestone slabs we were walking on, mostly buried by silt. In the middle of many of these slabs were holes that could plunge you from ankle deep water to knee deep with just one step. Because of the silt evenly covering it all, you had no idea what you’d be stepping onto or into.
These are some of the limestone slabs not covered with water and silt, which gives you an example of the holes awaiting the hikers.
I learned to spread my hiking poles out wide to the sides to help keep my balance, in case I began to plunge into a hole or slip to the side due to the squishy mud. By the end of my 3 1/2 days in the swamp, I had fallen 11 times! But I soon learned that Florida’s mud and water provide much softer landings than do NH and ME’s boulders. I kept count of my falls as points, and found the water falls to be very cooling in the hot January sun.
But the beauty and uniqueness of the trail enchanted me. My favorite were the occasional cypress strands, groves of sparsely spaced cypress with their wide root bases and bromeliads (air plants) growing out of the trunks. I felt like I was in a cathedral.
By the end of the first day, a mere 7 miles but at a cautious turtle-like pace of just one mile per hour, I was pleased when the dry area called 7 mile camp arrived, my planned overnight. There I met three other very friends hikers (happily in my age group) already camped there.
We were amazed and so appreciative that volunteer trail crews hauled the materials out there to assemble a picnic table. We considered that a much higher priority at this point than an outhouse.
We ladies went to get water from an area called a cypress mound, where taller, leafless cypress trees group in deeper water. Alligators like these sites, so we stayed in the shallows, careful scooped out water, and then cleared out. These mounds were to be our water sources the next few days.
The leafless trees in the background look as if they’re on a hill. However it’s just that the trees in the center are in the deepest, best water, so they grow taller . Alligators like to hang out there. We stay on the outer edges, with shallower water.
It was such a joy to camp out in such a unique environment. This is the maiden voyage for a new tent, the Durston XMid 1-P, and it was all I had hoped for. My new sleeping quilt scored high points too. It’s nice to get the right gear nailed down.
Doing evening yoga by the light of a full moon and waking to a light haze at the base of the tall palm trees was lovely.
I continued hiking on my own, but had contact occasionally with the couple, Jiffy Pop and Trail Magic. The trail started intensifying its mud and walking challenges. After 9 miles, I was happy to come to my next camp, which I shared with the couple again and a young male hiker.
When you need water, you’ll collect it in some unusual places, such as big puddles in ATV roads near camp. With our filters, it was fine.
It’s so fun how long distance hikers enjoy each other, despite wide ranges of ages and backgrounds.
Day 3 was a doozy! The afternoon commenced with what would be an 8 mile stretch of nothing but ankle to thigh deep water and much more of that slimy brown stuff.
At the end of the day, the end results. Those aren’t swollen ankles, just a buildup of the silt in my socks. I had lost my gaiters at the end of my first day, which helped keep some of it out.
This would all continue till noon the next day. No dry ground where you could set down your pack for a break or a snack. You had to really plan ahead.
I was getting nervous as the sun set and I still hadn’t reached the tiny two tent capacity island I was aiming for, aptly named Thank God. At last! And thankfully, no one else was using the spots I had hoped to experience a solo night in the Everglades, but after a couple of hours, I heard sloshing pass the break in the bushes that was the entrance. Those were human noises, I was sure. Shining my headlamp on the entrance, the splashes returned. Now I had a companion, who had missed the entrance while night hiking (oh horror, in my opinion!). He was very friendly, so I didn’t mind not going solo that night. In the morning he told me he had heard a gator crawl up near the tents, pause, and return to Water World. I regretted sleeping through that sound.
The beautiful view of Big Cypress through the hidden entrance to this tiny haven of dry ground.
The next day continued with more miles of the continuous water and mud, with one lovely dry break that only made the plunge back in the wetness yet more practice in caution and patience, all now at a whopping 1.5 miles per hours, thanks to practice.
But finally, finally, a partially flooded ATV road appeared, which led to a rest stop where the trail crossed under I-75. Oh joy!
There awaited four wonderful volunteers/trail angels with drinks, snacks, shoe washing tubs, an electric charging station, and shaded seating. We FT hikers have amazing support!
Two hours later, I dragged myself away, with their promise that the water and mud were DONE till north of Orlando!! Not my problem till next January! During my 5 easy miles hiking with a thru-hiker on a dirt road, we spotted our first wild gator, soaking up the sun on a dirt patch by a culvert that ran under the road. I expect to see many more when walking along levees in the coming days.
We came to our planned-for camp, which turned fun with several more familiar hikers arriving, all from the camping sendoff days ago.
Day five was extremely easy, first on a dirt road that led me through an inauspicious metal gate that marked entry into one of the Seminole nation’s reservations, for which I had secured a permit in advance.
This flat road (Florida, you know), eventually became paved and did challenge the patience in the hot sun with not many of changes in the scenery. But all things pass, especially when the trail’s easy, I had cell service and could finally catch up with my sister.
Lunch in a spot of shade by the little used road.
My first order of business when getting to the village where I’d stay was to pick up my first food box sent from home at an RV park that accepts mail drops but not the hikers that come with them. I also sent myself fresh hiking shoes and socks, to replace the ones trashed by all the Big Cypress threw at them.
The local Baptist church’s pastor is a big supporter of the hikers, though, and we were allowed to camp out in the spacious shaded lawn behind the fellowship hall, even with him being out of town this week. We have at our disposal a cold shower, bathrooms, a kitchen, a dining hall, wifi, a fire pit, and even a chickee, a traditional Seminole outdoor pavilion roofed with palm fronds. What luxury!
A beautiful example of a chickee at a cemetery I passed on the way. Many native people here have them in their back yards.
At least 20 hikers converged that night with tents and a hammock, and I recognized most of them from the initial sendoff, which has turned out to be such a Godsend. My favorite couple I had camped with also arrived. Nice to have friends on the trail.
I took a zero day here, as did about half the hikers, to rest our legs and air out our waterlogged, prune feet. But I have to admit that I feel fantastic, as if I hadn’t slogged through gruel for four days. I give credit to all my advance training and my whole food plant-based way of eating. It’s amazing how quickly one can recover without all the inflammation that accompanies a diet high in animal products, including dairy and eggs, and added oil, salt and sugar. Truly, I feel great!
As always happens, my zero day passed much too quickly. The highlights were going to the excellent Seminole museum just steps away, with displays showing their life in the past, as well as a beautiful boardwalk explaining plants, animals and ceremonial grounds.
The women often wore up to 25 pounds of beads around their necks. That’s the weight of my backpack!
We later listened to a local Seminole man who visited our church campsite and talked about his tribe’s history and lifestyle to all of us. One of the guys here had met him at the store and he offered to come talk with us, bringing his 2 children and their pet baby gator!
I never really understood what would eventually happen to the gator, whose jaws were presently taped up tight. I’m guessing his future wasn’t going to be spent on a pillow in the corner of the kitchen.
And here I now sit in a Sunday school room, reliving my momentous first week on the FT. I count myself so very fortunate to be doing all of this at age 70, with such complete support from my loyal husband, and having the strength, stamina and strong desire to have these challenging adventures. I look forward to continuing on to see what else the Florida Trail has in store for me. See you again in about a week.
