Technically, there is no camping allowed in the refuge, unless you are through-hiking the trail, but somehow I managed to convince a park ranger that he should let us go through. This is what is called "Trail Magic", when unexpected little surprises come your way on the trail. There are other unexpected surprises that are not trail magic, however, they are simply really bad things that you hadn't planned on. And this was one of those trips.
We decided to do a little car-switcheroo, where my friend Roger and I would park our car at JR's Aucilla Store, on US 98 in Aucilla, and my friends Cindy and Paula would park theirs at the end point, the Wakulla River. Our plan was that we would convince JR (who we had never met before) to give us a ride to the trail head on the FT, then hike four days or so west to the Wakulla River, get Cindy's car, and drive back to JR's place, where Roger and I would pick up our car, and we would all drive happily home from our wilderness adventure.
When we arrived at JR's Aucilla Store, we found JR to be a likable man, and we easily convinced him to give us a ride as we had planned. We had to hang around quite a long time in the store, however, as JR made a few calls in an attempt to get someone to watch the shop for him, and figure out what to do with his mangy dog named Stupid, who wouldn't fit in the van with us, and who doesn't like to be left behind. While the four of us waited for JR to make arrangements, we shopped a bit, purchasing items like venison jerky, sausage sandwiches, and fountain drinks, while admiring the enormous taxidermic wild hog heads gracing JR's walls. There was a cozy, pot belly stove in the store, where hunters could warm their hands and drink coffee, and talk about hog hunting while their hound dogs bellowed outside in the back of their pick up trucks.
I forgot to mention that it was pretty cold that day, and we began the process of bundling up for the hike, packing and repacking our backpacks, talking amongst ourselves about various types of cold weather gear - gloves, neck gaiters, and the like. Once we were confident that we all had the proper clothing and we were just about ready to go, one of those surprising things happened, that is not what you would call trail magic. It started to rain.
When I say rain, I don't mean a gentle dampening, I mean a cold, gusty, winter squall of rain that pelted the windows of JR's Aucilla Store like bullets, as my friends and I pressed our noses against the glass, with Stupid, wondering which one of us we could blame for not checking the weather report before we went on the trip. A quick glance at each other, without speaking, and we all started unpacking and repacking our packs to don our rain gear and look for our waterproof pack covers. And all the while JR is waiting patiently for us, hoping that we'll get our act together, as his van is running outside. Whilst we fumble for our gear, JR says, "You gotta gun with you?" We looked at him oddly, and I reply, "No. We don't carry guns. Why would we need a gun?" JR says, "Because when you get out there, you know you're gonna wanna kill yourself."
The rain is coming down even harder at this point - the van's tires are sitting a in a puddle that comes halfway up the wheels. A flood is forming on the other side of the road, across from JR's Aucilla Store, threatening to wash across the street, and we scramble to put our backpacks into his vehicle.
We pile into the van, and JR drives us about 3 miles up the road, where he ditches us at a grassy clearing, chuckling the whole time. It doesn't occur to us at this point that we could have changed our minds and cancelled the trip, so we begin our hike, 7 miles, to the Pinhook Campsite. It is late afternoon.
After 10 minutes, we are soaked to the skin. I realize that expensive rain gear is no damned good, no matter what they say about it at the outfitter stores. I also realize that I have never put up my tent in a driving rainstorm before. And that I don't even know if my tent will hold up to a driving rainstorm because we usually plan our hiking trips around pleasant weather conditions. We hike and we hike, as if we really think that the faster we walk, maybe we will get away from the rain. We stop once to take a break and are chilled to the bone, so we keep hiking as if our life depended on it.
After 3 long hours we arrive at our primitive campsite and it is pouring like God is putting an end to the world in the forgotten coast of Florida. We set up our tents as best we can, and I make a mental note to be better prepared, maybe invest in a rain tarp before my next backpacking trip. I am happy to have brought a chamois cloth with me, though, as there is a gallon of water or so inside my tent. I soak up the water with the chamois, and wring it out the door, soak some more, then wring some more. Every time I open the door of the tent, more rain comes inside. Cindy and Paula are having better luck with their tipi tent, but Cindy remarks anyway, "We should have brought the gun." Roger, as usual, is not complaining, but methodically setting up his own tent and wringing water out as I am doing. There is a short break in the rain, a welcoming 10 minutes, where Roger fires up our camp stoves, and prepares tea and ramen noodles, which we slurp down just in time for it to start raining again.
Attempting to make tea and soup before it starts raining again.
There is nothing more that we can do except to retire into our wet tents. I have placed my foam pad and sleeping bag on the floor of my tent; like an island it sits with rain water all around it. Luckily I have dry fleece sleeping garments to put on, and a few hand warmers that I bought at the checkout counter at Walgreens, an impulse buy that was the smartest thing I have ever done in my life. I stuff the hand warmers inside my fleece and socks, and climb into my sleeping bag. The temperature is dropping and it's raining like crazy again. It was going to be a long night.
(to be continued)
Would do it again in a second! Great time and great company!!!
ReplyDeleteHee hee I know!
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