Ahoy Hikers!

So where have I been?  Man, it’s been an interesting week.

I’m writing you from the intersection of SR 20 and SR 77, a fairly remote crossroads that lies between Freeport and Chipley, FL.  There’s a BP fuel station at the intersection, but really, it’s much more than that. 

Imagine a frontier trading post.  As the closest store within tens of miles, this place is where the locals shop not only for fuel, but for many of their household needs.  Additionally, the store serves breakfast and lunch, all of which are prepared right there at the trading post. 

Breakfast is an assortment of biscuits decked out in the inevitable bacon, cheese, egg and sausage combinations.  Available also is sausage gravy, a southern delicacy that the ladies behind counter manage quite well.

Lunch is basically fried anything-you-can-name.  Burritos, egg rolls, everything.  All fried to a nice shade of golden, artery-occluding brown.  I confess to having tried the burritos – once.

There is a small area in the store that has tables for dining-in patrons.  I have been able to commandeer the one farthest back next to the electrical outlets.  I was able to transform it into the Tampa Tribune Backwoods Bureau where I could caption my photos, blog, write my Sunday page, charge up everything and work out some technical issues with the lovely and talented Natasha DelToro.. 

I did manage to get away from the bureau for two days this week.  FTA legislative liaison Kent Wimmer picked me Tuesday to bring me to the Apalachicola National Forest where the F-Troop - the FTA’s hardest charging group of trail building volunteers from throughout the state– were assembling and placing an 80 foot bridge across Monkey Creek.  I’ve posted a SNAP gallery with some images from the bridge project.

They were supported in that amazing effort by a crew from the SCA – the Student Conservation Association.  What a bunch of cool people the SCA people are.  Consisting largely of college-age men and women, an SCA crew spends 12 weeks in the backcountry building trails and doing seriously hard labor conservation projects.

I was totally impressed with their outdoor ethics, their intellect, their positive energy and wide-open friendliness.  I’d love to spend twelve weeks on the trail with these people.  They are the best of their generation.

In fact, I’ve asked them to guest blog for me while I’m deep in the no-signal having boonies.  Won’t it be nice to read something written by someone with an education?  I just hope I have a job when I emerge form the woods!  Want to know more about the SCA and its remarkable service history?  Maybe you’d like to join their ranks or support them in some way.  http://www.thesca.org will get you up to speed.

Ramrodding the project was a fascinating character from Idaho named Ian Barlow. Barlow is a specialist in performing complex rigging operations using nothing but human power and mechanical advantage.  A modern-day Archimedes, if you will.  And a great guy to boot.

Want to know more about the bridge project?  If you’re a local, look in the Tampa Tribune a week from this Sunday.  If not, check out tbo.com on that same Sunday.  That 4000 pound bridge section that I helped install was moved into place without any motorized devices whatsoever.  It’s a great story about some amazing people.  Don’t miss it.

Until today, the half-dozen strong staff of the BP trading post has been kind enough to turn a blind eye to my tent, which I pitched out of sight behind a shed.  Unfortunately the owner got wind of my presence and insisted that I relocate off the property, They were very nice about it.

Thank you, kind and generous belles of the BP. 

You don’t know the meaning of the word stranger. Everyone is honey, or baby or darlin’ and you’ve called me all three. I won’t forget your old south hospitality and sweet dispositions.  Especially you, Theresa.  You, who invited this scruffy old hiker to wash his clothes and get take a SHOWER at your home.  You are a genuine trail angel!

Tomorrow morning I strike out for the Econfina Creek section of the Florida Trail.  Many consider this piece to be the most beautiful section of the trail.  Judging by the beauty I’ve witnessed on this remarkable footpath to date, I’d hate to have to choose my favorite section.  One thing is for sure, I’ve developed a serious case of cabin fever and I can’t wait to be among the sights and nights of the trail. 

On a different tack, I’ve received some comments and mail asking about the specific weighs of each piece of equipment that I’m carrying.  The truth is that although I take weight into consideration, I don’t get my knickers in a knot over it.

I chose each piece of gear in my pack based upon its historical reliability.  I can engage this luxury because I’m fortunate to be big enough and strong enough to carry a backpack of considerable weight without it affecting my speed or well-being.  Unlike the ultra-light backpacking set, I like a handle on my toothbrush and full-length tent stakes that keep Big Agnes firmly anchored in the event of a serious blow. 

Those full length stakes – driven to the hilt in this loose panhandle sand - came in handy last night when 80 mph winds ripped through here, accompanied by torrential rain and lightning. At one point the canopy over the gas station was in serious jeopardy but Agnes shrugged it off.  I slept warm and dry and so did my gear, there.  Such shelter comes with a few ounces of extra weight.  I happily bear each and every one of them.

Keep in mind also that I’m on this trail for at least three months.  90 days of open-close, zip-unzip, off-on and well, you get the idea.  Gear employed in an application such as this is subjected to a mush greater frequency of use as well as and occasional bashing or other mishap.  A lot of go-light gear, while functional, just doesn’t pass the long-term toughness test.  I know this because I have a utility room filled with broken and torn pieces of it.

I really enjoy your comments and emails.  It’s great to have you on the trail with me.  You’ll want to get good nights sleep tonight. We leave at zero dark thirty.

Cheers from the Florida Trail, Mike

PS Get well soon, Clyde.  I love you, man.