While at my parents house I took the opportunity to reprioritize a few things in hopes of saving both volume and weight. I succeed at the former, the latter not so much. A major space saver was removing my hydration bladder from the pack. When full it takes up 2 liters of my 50 liter pack. It also was a pain to refill as half my pack had to be unpacked just to access it. Instead I go with two water bottles and a larger four liter reservoir that sits atop my packs interior space and is easily accessible when I need to filter of refill my water. The other large thing to go was my first aid pack. I took the few things that I need from it and placed them in a zip lock bag and pitched the bulky nylon pack. A small stuff sack I had been using as a pillow also went as well as a few extra shirts I hadn’t touched. All in all I freed up about five liters of space that made everything else fit better and allowing me the flexibility to carry more water if I needed.
On my first day out from a two day break with my parents, I must follow State Road 60 for 6 miles before entering the Three Lakes Wildlife Management Area. I then walk another 2 miles down a dirt access road before reaching the Three Lakes Trailhead. Toward the end of the access road I stop for a drink of water and notice a van approaching from behind. I step to the side of the road to let it pass. Instead, though, it pulls close and a fruit bearing hand extends out the passenger window. Inside, three smiling faces gleam at me. They seem glad, almost ecstatic, to see me, these strangers do. The three women inside explain they are also hikers and are meeting a group just a few hours back from me at the trail head just ahead. They motor on and I meet up with them once they have parked. Introductions proceed around.
There is April Showers, a 50 something blond haired woman, who is an experienced hiker and just out hiking the natural portions of the trail and skipping most of the road walks. The other two, Natalie and Bridget, are friends through their church (Seventh Day Adventist). They have both just finished major milestones in their young lives. Natalie has recently returned from a mission to Germany and Bridget just completed a master’s degree. So together they wanted a little adventure before "settling down". Natalie suffered some injuries to her shins early on and has not hiked almost since the start. She has been helping drive the van and offering moral support to her friend. Bridgett is a somewhat petite, somewhat stout young woman, who is very enthusiastic about the hike. She has had a bad bout with blisters so is mostly skipping the road walks like April. That is why they are all in the van together.
The van is owned and generally operated by one Chuck Norris (trail name), who is also the Thru Hike Coordinator of the Florida Trail Association. He and the van are playing a support role for a number of hikers that began the Florida Trail the day after I did. Essentially, the hikers leave most of their gear and supplies in the van while they hike. They meet up at designated spots to resupply and pick up gear when they need. This allows them to focus on the hiking and not be burdened by their packs. It also allows them easy access to resupply, as they can just drive to the nearest Walmart when necessary. This is called “slackpacking” rather than backpacking. When I meet up with the van, though, Chuck is not at the helm. Since the portion of trail before here is a road walk, these three women have skipped it and can drive the van, which has allowed Chuck the opportunity to hike.
I actually met Chuck Norris last March at the Florida Trail Association’s annual conference and have corresponded with him via email a few times in preparation for my own trip. He had informed me that he would be starting out about the same time I did and had offered for me to hike along with them. So, I knew that they would be out on the trail, but figured that they would have passed me while I was on my 2 day break at my parents’ house. This seems not to have been the case. While curios to meet back up with Chuck, I also am not excited about hiking along a bunch of strangers.
I do not voice my hesitations aloud but chat generally about my intentions for the next few days as Bridgett and April prepare their packs for the hike into camp. Bridgett is emphatic that I stop at Godwin Hammock Camp where the group is staying and "meet everybody". Upon setting out this morning, I had intended to hike 22 miles and camp at Dry Pond. My dad had dropped me off at 8 am, far earlier than I am ever motivated to get going myself. Godwin camp would still give me a respectable 15 miles for the day, but I am hesitant to squander my only early start thus far on the trip. I decide to think it over as I hike in, and set off into the open grass and palmetto prairie that is the beginning to the Three Lakes Section.
The first few miles offer uneven footing over low mowed palmetto roots, with spectacular sight lines of the oak and palm hammocks on the horizon. Just before reaching the aforementioned hammock, three white tale deer bound out from palmettos 30 paces off the trail. I feel fortunate to have gotten such a close view, for certainly had I been hiking with a group, our collective noise would have flushed them from their roost far earlier. These are, in fact, the first deer I’ve seen on the trip, which most surely has much to do with the fact that it is hunting season. Upon reaching the edge of the prairie, I decide to pause for a quick break before entering the dense mature hammock. Here I find a tree stand set against a solitary tall palm. For those not acquainted with such a structure, let me briefly describe this for you, for I have encountered many on the trail thus far (perhaps also why I haven’t seen many deer yet). A tree stand in its most basic form is a ladder attached to a platform that is braced against a tree, thus allowing it’s occupant an elevated view of the surrounding environs. Sometimes they have a chair attached with a rail for propping a rifle on. This is a hunter’s tool, and most of the dozens I’ve passed are of sturdy welded steel construction, chained to the support tree. This one is an old rickety wooden contraption that has been nailed to the tree. Perhaps out of sheer curiosity of the view, I cautiously climb up and sit atop the crumbling wooden platform. Though the view is grand, I gain no new empathy for the modern hunter simply by walking in his shoes (figuratively). With my curiosity satiated, I climb down and proceed into the woods.
Just into the hammock I am again compelled to stop and climb. Just off the trail, and into the thicket, a large grapefruit tree stands tall with its ripe, bright yellow fruit well out of arms reach. With so few people who pass this way, and fewer so inclined to take to the thorn laden branches to gain this prize, I feel obligated to be perhaps the only human this season to taste this fruit. Shortly I am perched tenuously 8 feet up and am able to free five of the larger specimen, robbing gravity its eventual victory. I take all these indulgent distractions, as a sign of curiosity toward the group of hikers behind me and then decide to stop at Godwin Hammock Camp.
I reach Godwin by 4 pm, far earlier than any camp thus far. As campsites go, Godwin Hammock possesses none of truly functional elements I've come to appreciate: a picnic table, fire ring, access to water and cleared flat ground. What it lacks in function, it makes up for with setting. It is just at the edge of an oak hammock and an open palmetto prairie.
Being the first to arrive, I choose a spot close to a large fallen oak and set up. Bridget and April are not far behind and choose spots closer to the edge of camp. The next arrivals are a raucous pair. They introduce themselves in short order as Needles and Bush Whacker. Both appear to be in their mid to late fifties, with Bush Whacker the younger and Needles the senior, both bearded. Bush Whacker reminds me that I met his wife Lynne a few weeks previous at the Seminole museum. They are followed in short order by Headin Out, a man perhaps in his early sixties with a strong Michigan accent and a polite disposition. Jugglin June Cleaver arrives next. She is a semiretired school teacher from the Tampa area on her first such adventure. She is slight of frame, with short hair, and the most pleasant disposition imaginable (thus the June Cleaver name). Last to arrive is Max, a lumbering forty something just out of the Air Force and living in Delaware with near grown kids. He is also out long distance hiking for the first time. His hair is short and his face somehow amazingly shaven. Not having a trail name of my own, I introduce myself simply as Seth.
With everyone at camp and set about the same various tasks of making dinner and setting up tents, I take a moment to take in the group dynamics. Certainly Needles and Bush Whacker possess the strongest personalities, talking loudly directly to and for the others from their claim of the two small benches, the camps only real amenity. They make a big production of the fire and enjoy making friendly jokes about the others in the group. April is a go-with-the-flow gal; she’s relaxed and out to enjoy the experience. April and Needles engage in small flirtations, sitting shoulder to shoulder, brushing against one another occasionally, so that I mistake them as a couple. Contrastingly, Headin Out speaks sparsely, keeping to himself and retiring early to his tent. As well, Max is quiet, but seems to enjoy laughing, even if the joke be at his own expense. June is personable, engaging individually with seemingly sincere interest. She smiles and laughs easily, and takes no offense to the joshing from others about her mild mannered vernacular, her “golly gees” and the like. Bridgett, is talkative (mainly of herself) and takes the most direct interest in engaging with me outside of the group dynamic, perhaps because we are closest in age by some good two decades. Having met me first she seems to take pride in introducing me to each new arrival to camp. I make an effort to talk with each person individually at least briefly. All are nice and equally curious to talk to me. I, a solitary hiker, must seem as much a novelty to them, as they, a group of hikers living out of a van, do to me. Few linger around the fire much past dinner and the darkening of the sky, and we are all in our tents by 8pm.
I rouse myself in the morning to the sound of goodbyes, and by the time I am out of my tent around 8, only Needles and Bush Whacker remain. They admittedly like to have a “morning fire” and so usually start later than the rest. They inform me that the rest of the group is heading to Chuck’s aunt’s house for a fish fry and will be camping out on her lawn. They intend to camp at Three Lakes Camp, 17 miles ahead and meet up with the group the next day. So it seems we will be campmates again this evening. After their departure I go about making breakfast and packing up. Around 9, as I am almost ready to leave, another hiker appears and introduces himself as Speaker. At 22, he is the youngest hiker I have met on the trail. Just last year he completed the AT and so is strong and hiking at a ferocious pace of 3 ½ miles an hour. He knows of the van group and is in fact chasing them down, in hopes of some company and support. Soon he is off and shortly too am I.
The day quickly turns hot as I start out.I stop 8 miles out at the Lake Jackson boat ramp to filter water. Though the lake is remote and undeveloped, a boat ramp is not an ideal place to collect water. Unfortunately though for me the water levels are low and the surrounding banks are muddy and too shallow to access without making a mess of myself and quickly clogging my filter. With this chore complete, I head north toward the next major section of trail. Today I will leave the Kissimmee region and begin the traverse around Orlando. This transition takes place just beyond the Prairie Lakes Trailhead. When I reach the trail head I encounter a day hiker rapping up an 8 mile loop and about to take off in his car. He engages me eagerly in conversation, for as a thru hiker, I am most certainly a novelty to most FTA members and hikers. So few people do what I am doing each year on the Florida Trail that coming across a thru hiker, must be like seeing a bear or an owl. I can hear him now “Guess what I saw today?” Just as he is now a part of my story I am now a part of his. It turns out that his son is also named Seth, a point we do not linger on. He offers me a beer and departs before I can finish it, leaving me to think aloud “what do you want me to do with this bottle!?” Thankfully he returns down the drive to inquire if I need any water. I tell him no, but ask that he remove me the obligation of carrying this bottle around for the next 70 miles.
After this encounter with the day hiker, I cross a barbed wire fence and continue northeast in an uncelebrated split in the trail. A laminated piece of paper stapled to a fencepost at hip level, announces that this is where one either heads east or west around Orlando. This is no mild decision, as it affects the next 200+ miles of my hike. I have decided to head east, primarily because it involves less road walking and will, at its northern point, take me through a larger portion of the Ocala National Forest.
On a nearby fence post I find a note inside a plastic bag inscribed to Chuck Norris from Billy Goat, something about missing him on the trial again this year. Three miles after I begin this new section of trail, I pass through a broad pine and palmetto prairie, skirting cypress domes to the east, and then pass underneath Florida’s Turnpike. The Sun is fully below the horizon by time I accomplish this and because I am trending east do not fully take in the sunset. I do take note that the remaining light seems to linger and not fully fade into night for quite a while after sunset. This is due to the rising near full moon to the north and east directly ahead of me. Because the moon is so full and the trail is following a dirt road I decide to walk as long as I can aided only by the moonlight. I do so with caution, making sure to keep an eye out for the blazes. On two occasions, though, I miss turns and decide to finally get out my headlamp. Within an hour of passing the Turnpike, I see the glow of a campfire and hear the muffled sounds of conversation. It is in this way that I reach Three Lakes Camp and rejoin with two of my previous night’s companions, Needles and Bush Whacker. They greet me warmly, and stoke the fire to celebrate my arrival. These two are true companions to each other, coequal sidekicks on the trail. They joke and laugh and self-medicate as I set up my tent and make dinner.
In this more intimate camp setting, I inquire about the origins of their trail names. Having not yet encountered other hikers before this van group along the trail, besides in passing, I hadn’t put much thought into a trail name. Also not being really fully immersed in this subculture that is long distance hiking, not knowing its bylaws, I wasn’t sure if one names oneself or if it bestowed upon you. Not wanting to leave it up to some relative stranger, I put a bit of thought into how I might like to be called. Must a trail name reflect some essential element of ones self or personality or could it simply refer to your style or just be a clever turn of ones given name? Not wanting to give too much of myself away or take this too seriously, I decide to go with the style tract. So how then am I different from most hikers I’ve encountered? Let’s see… I’m a newbie… nothing there. Had I seen some uncommon fauna, like a bear or panther?... nope. Well I do get a late start and so end up hiking at night a lot… that could be something… “Headlamp”… that’s it! Call me Headlamp.
Before we all retire for the night, I inform Bush Whacker and Needles of my chosen name. I take their chuckling as approval and wish them goodnight. A few things lead me to believe I may not see them again. Tomorrow they are meeting up with the rest of the van crew, which is slackpacking and moving generally faster than me. Also they all tend to get started earlier than I, so I figure that they will quickly outpace me. I am actually a little relieved at this. One of my major motivations for hiking the Florida Trail was to step back and gain a little perspective. The thought of constant company along the trail runs counter to this for me. So, though I am glad for the company this and last evenings, I go to bed comforted by the thought that soon I will again have my solitude. How wrong I was.