Long lost greetings, Hikers!

I apologize for not writing to all sooner.  For the past 100 miles I have been in the clutches of whimsical nature of Alltel’s signal, which is, as you know, my sole means of contact with the outside world.  Trust me, if you ever grow weary of the ring of your cell phone; take yourself a hike through the Osceola National Forest and points south.  Quite the “Forest of Solitude,” it is.  I swear, one time I looked for the signal bars on my phone and instead there was a single blinking word: Fuhgeddaboutit

I learned yet another little known cell phone weakness.  When you’re in the remote land of Analog it sucks the life out of your battery like right now.  I’m talking overnight, hikers.  Don’t leave your cell pone on up here. That’s good intel for those looking to hike around here.

So, instead I keep a journal.  I crawl in to Agnes at night, switch on the head lamp and pen a few notes to myself so that I’d remember what to tell you about.  So, as I did last time, I’ll break it up so you can stay awake through this. Here goes..

After polishing off a cheeseburger and a night of camping at Milton’s Store, I headed in to the Osceola, a 26-mile trail that cuts through the forest’s plantation pine heart. It is in these woods that you get a sense of how these plantations were used to drain the lowlands that surround the inland basins – often referred to as bay’s- into which rainfall and seeping springs drain.  As you know, growing pine trees was and still is big business around these parts.

It is in these wet, secluded bays that the prettiest parts of the forest can be enjoyed.  In the bays grow the cypress trees, their knobby knees jutting from the dry, dormant earth of winter.  I love cypress knees.  I don’t know if you’ve ever had the chance to visit Tom Gaskin’s Cypress Knee Museum on US 27 in south Florida.  Heck, I don’t even know if it’s there any more. It’s an old-time roadside attraction dating back to the days before interstate highway systems and everyone being in a rush to get somewhere on them. 

Tom Gaskins was the real thing.  With a sheath knife on his belt and square miles of cypress swamp to roam and explore, Mr. Gaskins would discover cypress knees that had gown to all sorts of interesting shapes.. Marilyn Monroe, Coca-Cola Bottles, Abraham Lincoln.. know what I mean?  Mr. Gaskins had a humorous eye.

I met the son of Tom Gaskins, a real gentleman he was.  Tom Sr. was in a nursing home, the infirmities of advanced age having stolen him from the woods he loved.  I regret that I never had the chance to shake his hand.  I know we’d have gotten on well.

The Osceola section of the trail ends at the Olustee Historic State Park.  And hikers, that’s a whole ‘nother story. 

But before I leave you, let me share with you a few of the things that I’ve come to appreciate about life on this magnificent trail.  These are in no particular order. I keep a list of these small pleasures in my journal and from time to time I add to it.

1. Solo hike mornings
2. The way Terry Gross says “Fresh Air” on NPR
3. A sparkling, diamond-studded forest after the rain
4. Clean socks
5. Blue skies and sunshine after days without either
6. Hot apple cinnamon oatmeal and coffee on a polar-frigid morning
7. Arrowheads and Pottery found and left behind for a 10 year-old to discover later
8. Small towns right off of the trail
9. Florida history
10. The first glimpse of dawn taken in from the toasty confines of my sleeping bag
11. Signal. Oh yes, hikers.  Signal is good.
12. Stars.  In the complete absence of ambient light, lie back on your poncho and look deep into the heavens.  Watch satellites pass overhead.  Try wrapping your mind around the vastness of the universe. “Bil-yuns and Bil-yuns” quoth the late Dr. Carl Sagan.  I like to think about the whole light years concept in times such as these. Realizing that I’m an insignificant speck of humanity in the cosmos, and loving it.

Cheers, my friends, from the Florida Trail, Mike