Happy Veteran’s Day, hiking buddies!

It’s been a great couple of days since last we spoke, hasn’t it?  When last I wrote to you, I was writing from the aft deck of FTA section leader Bob Deckert’s waterfront home.  Thank you again, Bob and Mary, for your superb expression of hospitality.

Bob dropped me off at the Alaqua trailhead in the Eglin AFB section.  Tom Daniel was waiting for us. It was these two with whom I spent a whole day deciding the route that the Florida Trail will take through the Nokuse (pronounced no – go – see) Plantation.  The plantation is a 53,000 acre privately-funded conservation effort by local-man-done-good (reeeeeal good, actually) Mr. M.C. Davis.  Nokuse means black bear in the language of the Creek Indian tribe.

A quick word about Tom Daniel - I spent that day with him and his FTA peers and no one mentioned that Daniel was honored last week with the American Trails Award for Trail Worker of the Year in the State of Florida.  I wrote a bit about Tom in my story for the Tribune this Sunday.  He’s a retired criminal investigator for the IRS and serious guy.  His primary bailiwick in the FTA is the miles of Florida Trail that follow the northern boundary of Eglin Air Force Base.  I finished Eglin yesterday.  It was a thoroughly wicked hike.

My favorite piece of it was the 15.2 mile Alaqua section. The hands-down highlight of this trail is the lowland magnolia forests that surround Alaqua Creek. I spent my first night on this trail at the Alaqua Campsite, a spacious, pine needle-carpeted campsite 3.4 miles east of the trailhead where I seeya-latered Bob and Tom. 

You’re probably thinking “3.4 miles?  What kind of kinder-hiking is DeWitt doing?
Well, there’s a good reason that I didn’t exactly slay the miles that day.  I didn’t want to get blown up.

That’s right, hikers, blown up.  I was about a half-mile away from the campsite when I remembered that I was supposed to check in with Eglin and inform them that I, a thru-hiker, was on the reservation.

The lady who answered the phone told me to STOP RIGHT THERE.  She followed with something like this - “There is some unexploded ordnance about a mile to the north of you. All the roads are closed. It’s being dealt with right now.  You should be alright where you are, but please don’t go any further until you here it go off.”

Is that just way, way, way cool, or what??

She didn’t know what kind of bomb it was.  So I hopefully assumed it to be a big one.  I stretched out and pulled my cover over my eyes for a nap.  I was awaked about an hour later by the rumble of an explosion.  This is not uncommon at Eglin.  Distant sounds of small arms fire and various and sundry explosive ordnance, all functioning as advertised, make for an interesting and unique soundtrack to the hike.

The bomb-delay put a serious cramp in my distance plans.  Daylight begins to abandon the panhandle at about 1630 and twilight is a very brief affair.  I ambled in to Alaqua Camp feeling fresh and froggy.  I put my energy to work collecting firewood.  The campsite has a fire ring and I decided that after having probably….almost….well, maybe…OK, slightly avoided a horrific death, I deserved a fire.

And a great fire it was. I sat on the bench nearest it and wolfed down one of my backpack pot roast dinners chased by a cup of instant green tea.  The food was delicious and the service was exceptional.  As deep black darkness closed around my solitary, fire lit form, I was once again reminded of how much I like being alone in the night woods under a what Tom Waits calls “a pin cushion sky.”

A cup of hot cocoa later, I decided it was time to check my eyelids for cracks.  I slept very well, serenaded with a lullaby of low-flying helicopters and the muffled thumps of far-off high-explosives doing what they do best.

The next morning came early.  I tore down a bag of oatmeal, packed my trash and made a canteen cup of seriously strong Tang (man that I am) and raised a toast to the 231st birthday of the United States Marine Corps.

November 10 - Marine Corps birthday- is a memorable date in the mind of every Marine. For those out of harms way, it is a day of lavish balls, many raised glasses and great camaraderie.  Those that have served in harm’s way tell of Marine Corps birthdays when a helicopter loaded with steak, baked potatoes and cake would land – often under fire- to bring the celebration to their remote and dangerous area of operations.  No Marine is forgotten, and no Marine forgets.  I took a few minutes to remember the Marines serving courageously in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Corporal Justin Chacos and Sgt. Davin Ernsberger are two leathernecks that come to mind.  OOORAH!  Get home safe, Devil Dogs, the rowdy lot of you.

I honored the day by setting out on my longest hike (fully loaded) to date.  It is thirteen miles from Alaqua Campsite to the trailhead at US 331 located nine miles north of Freeport, FL.  I was determined to get it all.  What I didn’t know was that this trail segment traverses some of the most gnarly terrain and eye-popping landscape that you can imagine.

The trail where it crosses the Alaqua Creek floodplain stands out most in my recollection of the hike. This three-mile snake of trail can be impassible in the rainy season.  To keep trail traffic moving, the FTA has mapped a second, higher ground detour.  Because it’s been relatively dry around here, the lower, much wilder main trail was wide open for business…. and I had a packful of money to spend.

You don’t absorb the landscape here, it absorbs you.  As you descend from the high, pine studded sand hills, the air begins to cool and you quickly find yourself immersed in an immense forest of magnolia, holly and gum trees.  Narrow spring-fed creeks, their banks thick with lush flora, split the landscape. 

It takes a sharp eye to stay with the trail.  It is the land of “Florida Switchbacks” – abrupt turns signaled by double blazes of orange.  Failure to notice the doubles can easily start you on a path to you-don’t-wanna-know.

The trickiest part of the trail is traversing the log that crosses Alaqua Creek.  Burdened by the manatee strapped to my back, I admit that it got a wee dicey.  Luckily, some thoughtful soul installed a steel cable hand line above the log. 

Gravely-voiced announcer:  “Hand line installer .. this Bud’s for you.”

So unusual and grand is this antediluvian forest that you feel pangs of sadness when at last the trail begins its uphill route to the higher climes.  I hit the Eglin Portal campsite at 1400.  A Cliff bar lunch and a fresh-squeezed quart of water later, I began the last three miles to the trailhead, barely resisting the tug to dip just once more into all of that dark, wet green. 

I hit the trail head just in time to rendezvous with Mr. Michael Knox, my long-time pal.  Surprised you, didn’t I?  Didn’t see him coming, did you? Well, it turns out he that couldn’t stand the idea of me celebrating the Marine Corps birthday alone.  That, hikers, is a true friend.  We made that nine-mile road walk in ten minutes and we were seated in the homey dining room of the Freeport Café in twelve.

I was still wringing wet with sweat when the perfect waitress, Dee, took our order.  Two sweet teas later, the lovely Dee returned with two heaping plates of brown-gravied, French-fry-sided slabs of country fried steak ….and her home-made slaw … and a salad with her secret recipe Thousand Island dressing.  We went through that chow like Grant took Richmond, leaving no meaningful work for the dishwasher.  Thank you, Dee.

We camped in the woods that night in a small makeshift campsite near an electrical distribution easement.  We offered many toasts, Mike suffered through a thousand thank you’s and we fed the fire until the libations were exhausted and the soporific effects of diner began to sandbag our eyes.  I crawled in to Big Agnes and slept the sleep of the protected.  Good night, Chesty, wherever you are.

A better Marine Corps birthday I’ve never had.  Thank you, Mike Knox, Gulf War veteran, USAF Explosive Ordnance Disposal.  And Happy Veterans Day to Mike and to all men and women who have worn this nation’s uniform.

Happy trails, indeed.  Cheers from the Florida Trail.  Mike