Coastal greetings, Hikers!

Oh man, wasn’t the St. Marks trail just indescribable??  You know, just when I think (and write) that I surely must have seen the best this trail has to offer, I vanish into another section that just obliterates any standard of natural wonder I’ve fixed in my mind and replaces it with pure enchantment.

Yup, the Florida Trail can do that to you.  You’ve been warned. 

I’ll write more about the refuge section tomorrow.  Tonight, let me tell you what kind of good vibes that were waiting for me when I left the first half of it.  I write this to you from the Corner Tt 98, a small pub that meets you with a welcoming “Hey!” before you execute the right turn on the trail toward the town of St. Marks. 

It’s a two mile road walk from the trailhead to here.  The trail cuts south a block sooner, along the St’Mark’s multi-use trail, and I’m not sure why.  A stand-up trial should pass one by an establishment designed to whet one’s parched whistle and frankly, this is no place to miss.  That is, if one is occasionally subject to the powerful thirst of the adult variety. I am, on occasion, given to such a thirst.  I am always thankful for the heaven-sent “Corners.”

It’s a small place, and like Harry Crews would describe it – a clean, well-lighted place.  The boast is the coldest beer in town, and this is in no way an idle claim.  Trust me.  It’s owned by a guy named “TK”.  You’re feeling the vibe already, aintcha, hikers.

All TK ever wante4d to do is own a bar like this, and he drove the rubber off of a hundred dump trucks over years and years ()with a break as a fender and body man and few other entrepreneurial forays) to save up the bucks to buy this place.  The American Dream, that’s what it is.

He keeps a friendly place, and the guests slip in and out like the change form their pockets.  It’s a check-in station.  Locals reconnect, reassure and recharge here.  And then they are gone. 

They stare at me when they first come in. Laptops are uncommon, and hikers even less than laptops.  I sit here, happy to rest swamp-soaked legs and pack-weary back on the stool while TK keeps the refreshments coming.  The looks are suspicious at first and then interested later, once they’re comfortable that I’m not a government agent.  I’m not kidding.

Well, enough for now.  I’ve got a print piece to write for Sunday and it’s due tomorrow.  I’m actually around to meet my deadline, so you can guess how amazed my editor will be to find the St.Mark’s story in his in-basket tomorrow.  One more miracle in a whole dadgum world of miracles.

We’ll talk again tomorrow, you guys have hiked your butts off weather you know it or not.  You will tomorrow.

Swampwater cheers from the Florida Trail, Mike