Oct. 30 – Tough going today.  Humping without the trekking poles put all of the weight of my pack on the balls of my feet.  I could feel the “hot spots” – precursors to blisters - and stopped in a shady glade to apply some first aid.

I carry a fairly extensive first aid kit which, with the professional assistance of Claudia, a Registered Nurse, is equipped to rock and roll when the need arises.  I lay on a layer of Spenco Second Skin and doubly secured it to my foot with cloth tape.  It’s important to weight the foot before closing the tape.  This keeps the loop of tape from strangling your foot once you begin walking.

The relief was great, but only for a while.  I had several miles to go and wasn’t about to fall short of my objective -Red Rock Canoe Launch.  Sometimes you get there by walking, sometimes by will.  The will got me there today. I hobbled in to Red Rock as if in leg irons.  In the words of Tom Waits, I was “Walking Spanish down the hall.”

The section of trail between Rt. 4 and Red Rock is a long leaf pine forest, one that was ravaged by both hurricane and fire.  As scenery goes, it gets a little tedious.  The real beauty of this stretch is in the shady draws between the hills of pine and wiregrass.  As you descend the hill, the forest becomes populated by turkey oaks. more info Just seeing the greening up of things is a nice change.  But then it gets better. Small stalks of bamboo sprout from the side of trail, which ultimately leads to a primitive boardwalk over a wet or occasionally wet area.  These are cool, shady places that happen along just about the time when you most need them. 

Of course, once you cross the bridge it’s right back uphill and then down to the next.  This is the topography of the Jackson Red Ground Trail.  Every time I’d get to feeling sorry for my aching feet, I’d imagine them bare, or maybe worse, encased in a pair of leather boots that were the state-of-the-art in 1818.  BAM!  I’d tell myself to shut my pie hole and “git some.” The greater suffering of others lessens that which you think you feel.  Pain is weakness leaving the body.  Pain is good and extreme pain is extremely good.  Yup, I used them all - with conviction.

All of this because I “dropped the candy in the dirt.” I left my trekking poles in the bed of Clay’s rig.  Trekking poles distribute my weight over four points instead of only two.  They add speed, balance and are a great aid to ascending.  Sgt. Maj. Griggs laughed at them.  “Where’s your make-up case?” he said when first he spotted them.  This from a guy who was just as happy chewing instant coffee as he was drinking it.  I’m paying the price for being sloppy about my gear.  Paid in full and lesson learned.

Although I know the shelter can’t be more than another mile south of the canoe launch, I’ve chosen to make camp before then.  Dusk snuck up on me.  I’ve been dreaming all day of sipping a cold canteen cup of Tang while cooling my jets in the frigid flow of Juniper Creek.  I saw a clearing just wide and flat enough to accommodate Big Agnes’s diminutive form and set up right there.  I recharged my water supplies and had that cup of Tang, with an extra spoonful for that righteous pre-80’s Orange Crush-like flavor.  I’ll have a look at my feet in the morning.

Oct. 31 2006

Slept like a corpse - 1900 to 0700.  The gurgling of creek and the hammering of woodpeckers were a great wake-up call.  I fired up the stove and made oatmeal and coffee.  I didn’t eat last night and polished breakfast off in an instant. The creek was just the tonic my soles (and my soul) needed.  One blister on each foot, each the size of a squishy silver dollar.  Calling Doctor DeWitt.

I bathe first, stripping to bare skin and going for total instant immersion.  The crisp cold of the creek awakens nerve in my body.  Soaking wet, I climb on to the bank and go to a secluded spot away from the water to wash. I use a slightly soaped (biodegradable camp soap) sponge to get clean.  I use my Camelback – held above my head – and warmed by its second job as part of my pillow ensemble-to rinse off the soap.  I dive back in to the creek for one more solid rinse after that. 

For these I use a hypodermic syringe with a very small gauge needle. I insert the needle from the side at edge of the blister and draw the fluid from the blister – after cleaning the site thoroughly with an alcohol wipe.  I cover the blisters with a light smidge of Neosporin and a substantial layer of Spenco. I follow this with a mondo piece of Molepad.  On goes the tape and we are done.  Good as new.

My surroundings are breathtaking.  I’m in the midst of a cedar forest among which grow a smattering of longleaf pine, holly and magnolia trees.  The forest floor is carpeted with fallen leaves and needles that have served well as my mattress.

Today will be a good day.

Later – I finally found some pitcher plants!  I found them on what is arguably the sweetest trail I’ve ever hiked in Florida.  It’s the Juniper Creek Trail, 7.7 miles of Atlantic white cedar, scenic bluffs, loads of elevation changes and sugar-white beaches creekside.  Yep, I swam. It finishes with a mile-long stretch of piney flatwoods just to remind you that you’re in Florida.  Wow!  I’m coming back here.  I’ll write more about the Juniper Trail in the Tampa Tribune on Sunday.

Found a nice campsite here at the state park end of the river near the Deaton Bridge trailhead.  Back on the Blackwater one last time.  I’m glad, I missed it.

I have a covered picnic table and a couple of benches – luxurious appointments. Cooked up a dinner of chicken and rice, had another deep drink of Tang and walked over to the benches to take in a panhandle sunset.

The cool temps of autumn begin to creep in, and a half-full moon peeks through 9000 foot clouds.  The moon is so bright that the clouds cast eerie shadows over the campground, while the light renders the white sand on the beach to and iridescent blue.  I fire up the stove again and concoct a cup of hot chocolate – I’ve packed a zip-lock with the kind that has the tiny marshmallows.  Warm and sweet, it is the perfect elixir with which to toast this magical Blackwater River Halloween night.  Cheers from the Florida Trail!