Stuck in a car with strangers

This morning I woke up at the crack of dawn, brushed my teeth until the cottonmouth feeling subsided, poured a cup of dark, strong coffee, and drove to a lonely parking lot an hour outside of town.

There I exchanged "good mornings" with a handful of strangers.

I got into a pickup truck with two of them.

The bed of the truck bristled with power tools and razor sharp shears.

We drove farther off into the wilderness, headed toward Alabama - so far from civilization that my cell phone would not take or make calls, would not send or receive text messages. Google maps were useless.

I usually have an excellent sense of direction, but overcast skies made it difficult to figure out east from west.

I had no idea where the #$@% we were.

We rumbled down red dirt roads, rutted from recent rains.

I realized that for the first time in months... (years?) I couldn't find my way home if I needed to. Roads had no names. There were no homes. No businesses. And... no cell service. It would be a long and lonely walk to something approximating civilization, and if I walked in the wrong direction, I certainly wouldn't find my way out before dark. If a got lost and a truck did happen to pass, I'd have to think twice before flagging it down. This, after all, is Deliverance country. (Ok, Deliverance was filmed in Rabun County, Georgia, but you get my point.)

When our truck stopped, and we tumbled out of the cab, I realized driving into the woods with strangers might not have been the most prudent decision I'd ever made.

But I made a commitment, and I would stick with it.

For the next four hours we hiked our way along a narrow ribbon of trail, pausing to chop away overgrown vines and re-paint orange blazes (the primary trail marker on the Florida Trail). A couple of volunteers pushed heavy-duty lawnmowers over the trail to beat back the undergrowth.

We paused at noon to have a bite to eat, but otherwise we worked non-stop until mid-afternoon. All total, we tidied up several miles of trail and filled two extra large trash bags with discarded beer cans, boots, baby diapers, and assorted other litter. (People really are disgusting. But that's another rant for another time...)

 Blackwater River at Peaden Bridge Road

Violet blooming trail-side on the Florida Trail

Each week volunteers from the Florida Trail Association dedicate time and effort to maintaining the 1,400 miles of trial that stretch from the Panhandle to the Everglades. They make sure the trail is navigable, that signs, bridges, and other infrastructure are in good repair. Without their tireless work, the jungle would retake the trail in a matter of months.

This week I was fortunate to be part of the effort. I am bone-tired now. And hungry. And late - I had to re-schedule a sports massage...

But I suspect I'll sleep better tonight than I have in weeks.

I'm glad I trusted strangers.*

Sometimes the things that are uncomfortable (waking up too early after a too late night), that are outside my comfort zone (being a passenger in a stranger's car), that are exhausting (hiking and bushwhacking and picking up garbage for 4 hours)... sometimes those things are more rewarding than everything else we do.

How have you stepped outside of your comfort zone lately?

*Because it's an important safety detail: Hubby had the appropriate contact information for my little volunteer adventure in the wilderness. I'm brave, but not stupid. PS - I still generally don't advocate getting into cars with strangers.

Fit date ideas for Valentine's day

So... I've never been much of a romantic-dinner-for-two person on Valentine's Day. In fact, one of my favorite Valentine stories is from the year I went out with a group of also-single-then co-workers to a swanky dessert restaurant in San Diego.

Loving my dessert at Extraordinary Desserts in San Diego (circa  2008)

Our group included surfers, kayakers, and swimmers. At the time, I was training for a triathlon. We were conversing over chocolate cake and a bottle of wine when talk turned to wetsuits. All of us, at one point or another, had answered to the (ahem) call of mother nature in the ocean. Olympic swimmers pee in the pool, so, we wondered aloud: Why should surfers be any different?

The couple seated next to us waved for a waiter and asked to be re-seated.

Oops.

I guess peeing in the pool isn't romantic chit-chat?

Needless to say, traditional candle-lit romance and overpriced flowers aren't the way to this runner's heart.

So, what does a girl like me do on Valentine's Day?

Here are a few of my favorite non-traditional Valentine's dates:

• A run followed by brunch (especially if the run involves Sunset Cliffs in San Diego)



We weren't the only people who thought Sunset Cliffs was a nice spot for Valentine's

• Couples sports massage
• A hike and picnic lunch



Hiking in Mission Trails

• A walk on the beach (yes, even in the winter in cold climates)
• Tandem kayaking*

*Seriously, tandem kayaking can make or break a couple. (Honest) kayak salespeople refer to them as "divorce-makers." But I swear that's not always true. Hubby and I paddle well together. I paddle, and turn around to find him taking photos.

For more ideas, see my new posts Five fit and fun Valentine's dates (for any location) and Four fit and fun Valentine's dates in Florida.

Are you a Valentine's lover of V-day Grinch?

Favorite V-day date?

Postcards from Torreya State Park

Greetings from Torreya State Park!

Hello!

It took me awhile to figure out how to find the best local hiking and trail-running trails in Northwest Florida. Unlike in southern California, there's no Jerry Schad publishing detailed field guides of every mile of fire road and singletrack.

Fortunately a few resources are filling in the many gaps* in my local knowledge. I will forever be thankful to the Florida Trail Association, Northwest Florida Outdoor Adventure, Florida State Parks, and Florida Adventurer (among others) for their efforts in documenting local parks and trails.

One of the names that appears over and over again in local hiking reviews is Torreya State Park.

Torreya State Park

So when Hubby and I were driving home from Tallahassee, we decided to take a detour through the park.

The park has well-maintained picnic areas with running water and flush toilets. Trails are well marked with blue or orange blazes. (Orange is the outer loop trail. Blue denotes the connector trails between the loop and various parking, picnic, and camping areas. See map below.) And there are plenty of guidepost signs along the route, as well.

Guideposts on the trail at Torreya SP

The trails range from wide and well-worn paths to narrow and slightly overgrown trails. I did some trail running on the wider, flatter paths, but some sections of the trail were tree-rooted ankle-twisters, so this was more of a hike than a run.

Trail at Torreya SP

We startled some wildlife...

Can you spot the deer in this photo?

... but once they realized we were harmless hikers, they went right back to grazing.

The trail skirts a section of the Apalachicola River, but the bluffs are too steep to make riverbank hiking an option.

Apalachicola River

Another key feature of the park is preservation of Confederate history. I'll be honest when I say that I'm not at all comfortable with seeing signs of the nation's bloodiest war and it's slave-owning past.

Marker explaining the Confederate history of the park

Prior to our visit, I did not know about the historical significance of the park, so the signs came as a bit of a shock to me.

Confederate Gun Emplacement

That said, those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it. Perhaps it's better to remember our unpleasant history than to pretend it never happened...

Either way, Gregory House, partway through the hike, makes a nice place to stop for lunch or refill a water bottle.

Gregory House

The views from Gregory House are pretty, too.

Apalachicola River, view from Gregory House

I can see why Torreya is on every hiker's must-see list.

One final note about hiking in northwest Florida...
Every Florida State Park I've been to stocks trail maps in kiosks within the park. Unfortunately the maps are generally not available for download from the state park website, which makes pre-hike planning a bit problematic.

So, here's my contribution to local hiking information: The Torreya State Park Trail Map.

Torreya State Park Trail Map

What's your favorite hiking trail?
How do you find out about places to hike or trail run?

*Full disclosure: I still don't feel as confident in the woods here as I did in Southern California, but it's only been two years. I trekked my way through the Southern California backcountry for a decade. After 10 years anything becomes routine.

Morning motivation

5 months.
2,500 miles traveled on foot.
More than 300,000 feet of total elevation gain/loss over the course of the trek.

And a few words of wisdom learned from the journey...

Hiking from Mexico to Canada along the Pacific Crest Trail (video)

The video is about 90 seconds long, and the parting thoughts are worth the wait (there's an advertisement that plays first).

Happy Monday, all!

Postcards from Falling Waters State Park

About two weeks ago Hubby and I went spelunking at Florida Caverns State Park. On the drive home we realized we'd be passing Falling Waters State Park, and with plenty of daylight left it would be a shame to skip the opportunity for a state park 2-fer.

So here's the photo journey through Falling Waters State Park:

Falling Waters State Park

The park includes a series of elevated boardwalks over the limestone sinkholes. The walkways allow hikers to get close to the pits without falling in.

Placard explaining why you can't just hike through this forest...

The photo angles don't do justice to the size of the sinkholes. They could easily swallow a car and many are a hundred feet deep or more.

Sinkhole (one of many)

Another sinkhole and placard explaining the Karst formation

It was nearly impossible to get a photo that showed the depth of Florida's highest waterfall. The falls start at ground-level, and cascade down 100 feet into a limestone tunnel. A set of stairs with decks allow visitors to get about halfway down the falls.

The top of the waterfall

If you ever needed any perspective about how very flat Florida is, consider that the state's tallest waterfall doesn't cascade off of the side of a mountain or even a steep hill... it tumbles into a cave.

Waterfall information

On a deck about halfway down the waterfall

The park also has a short series of nature trails and a pretty-looking swimming area. (Note: Even though the swimming area was much nicer-looking than the "Blue Hole" at Florida Caverns, Hubby and I still didn't go for a swim. By the time we arrived, thunder clouds were moving in.)

Trail between the waterfall and the lake

Lake at Falling Waters State Park

Lake and swimming area (far side of lake)

Near the trailhead parking area there is a butterfly garden...

American Beautyberry

In the spirit of full disclosure, we spent as much time chasing butterflies as we did hiking in this park.

What's your favorite state park or wilderness area?

Postcards from deep underground

Hello friends!
Greetings from 50 feet under!

This weekend Hubby and I packed up the car and headed about 130 miles northeast to Florida Caverns State Park.

(Yes, folks, there are caves in Florida. Who knew?)

We arrived mid-morning. A ranger told us that we'd be able to join the 12:30 tour, so that left us with some time to explore the hiking trails in the park.


Floodplain Trail at Florida Caverns State Park

We covered ourselves liberally in DEET. (After 2 years in Florida, my beliefs about eco-friendly insect repellent have gone the way of the tyrannosaurus.)

Properly lubed up with bug-killing juice, Hubby and I hiked the Bluff Trail and Floodplain Trail near the Visitor Center.


Entrance to the Tunnel Cave

The Floodplain Trail leads hikers right through a tunnel cave. The tunnel seemed pretty innocuous - you could see the light at the end (no proverb/pun intended).


Exit (or far-side entrance) of the Tunnel Cave

But mid-tunnel was dark enough that the muddy puddle I stepped into came as a complete surprise. (Glad I was wearing my shiggy shoes!)


Mid-tunnel view back to Hubby waving at the entrance...

Back outside the cave, the trails were slippery, tree-root-riddled, ankle-twisters. Hiking required constant attention to the trail underfoot. The Bluff and Floodplain trails are definitely not trail-running trails.

Tree roots and slippery mud cover the Floodplain Trail

The Floodplain trail follows along the edge of limestone bluffs over the Chipola River floodplain. The swampy land is prehistoric-looking and fascinating. The entire hike felt like a 1,000-year step back in time, complete with giant spiders and (what we're pretty sure were) snapping alligators.

Swamp formed in the floodplain of the Chipola River, for which the trail is named

After our brief hike, we headed back to the Visitor Center to wait for our tour guide. Then we descended into the deep, dark underground.

Path to the Visitor Center and entrance to the cave tour

(Seriously, the tour guide turned off the lights for a moment while we were down there and it was - quite literally - pitch black. Not a bit of light seeps in through the solid limestone walls of the cave.)


Our tour group "oohing" and "ahhing" over the stactites and stalgmites




Word hint: Stalactites hang from the ceiling (thing "hang tite" so you don't fall)
Stalagmites - with a "g" are on the ground



Spelunking!



Narrow passageway between chambers in the cave

I should note that we were definitely not alone in the cave. The guide explained that there are dozens of creatures that call the limestone caves home. On this tour we saw cave crickets and an Eastern Pipistrelle bat. (I am a bat-lover by nature. Most bats eat mosquitos and other nuisance bugs. Therefore they are my friends.)


Eastern pipistrelle bat hanging from the cave ceiling

The caves are still actively forming new features, with water dripping from the stalactites and pooling on the floor. The pace of change is glacial, but the touch of a single human fingertip can deposit oils on the stone fomations that will stop their growth forever.


Pools of water in the cave



Stalactites and stalagmites (tour group in the background for perspective)




The final chamber on the cave tour (I'm hiding in this photo - middle right.)

Coming back out of the caves an hour later, the sunlight stung my eyes, even with sunglasses on. The ranger said that after about a month in pitch-black conditions, human eyes completely cease to function. (Skeptic's note: I heartily doubt that claim. Eye muscles may atrophy, but I suspect total "cave blindness" is a myth.)

The tour took about an hour, and left us with plenty of daylight to keep exploring the park.

In the far northwest corner of Florida Caverns State Park, another 2 miles along the park road, there is a swimming area known as the "Blue Hole."

Having read the park literature before our trip, Hubby and I packed our swimsuits in anticipation of a refreshing cool-down after our hike.

Unfortunately, we discovered that the name "Blue Hole" is somebody's idea of a cruel joke. The water was so brown, so murky that images of alligator attacks flashed in my mind.

The pond, formed by a natural spring, is great for wildlife watching. We spotted turtles, birds, fish, and dragonflies... But you'll notice (photo above) that despite the equipment, no one is swimming in the water.

I didn't either.

The river that runs out from the Blue Hole is picturesque, and wide, flat multi-use (horse/bike/hike) trails fan out from this location.

We hiked part of a horse trail until I was bitten by a horse fly. (Those little bastards sting! And they apparently bite straight through DEET. Damnit!)

So, having accomplished far more than we originally planned, we decided to call it a day. (Read: I wasn't sticking around to become fodder for more horseflies.) I would, however, strongly recommend a winter trip to Florida Caverns to run the multi-use trails.

On the drive home, we realized we'd also be passing Falling Waters State Park. So we stopped to check that park out, too.

I'll tell you all about that next week...

Have you ever been spelunking?
What's the most extreme place you've ever hiked or run?

Book review on the run: AWOL on the Appalachian Trail

I have been on a bit of a hiking-reading kick lately. Immediately after reading Wild, I ordered AWOL on the Appalachian Trail by David Miller.

Much like a thru-hike itself, the book has brilliant high points, and slow and plodding lows.

Miller, feeling stuck in a rut at his job, talks with his wife, forms a plan, then quits his stable, work-a-day, engineering job to spend a summer hiking north from Springer Mountain, Georgia to Katahdin, Maine.

At times, the plodding sections of this Appalachian Trail memoir read like a blogger's bullet-pointed workout-and-diet post.

These pages turn into a litany of brief, uninspiring statements along the lines of: I walked 6 miles. It rained. I stopped to eat some trail mix. It continued raining. I walked 5 more miles. I realized the sleeping shelter was full. The rain slowed to a drizzle (or poured so hard I couldn't see). I walked 4 more miles and camped at another trailside hut. (Note: I've taken some creative license here, but a few sections had about this much charisma.)

But, to be fair, it would be difficult to chronicle day after day of travel on foot, over 2,180 miles and across 14 states, without having a few lulls.

The high points in this book made every slow page well worth the wait.

The text glows when Miller talks about his motivations for the hike and how hard it was (initially) to make the allegedly "crazy" decision to go AWOL from work for a thru-hike. Miller's tale sounds familiar, like the echos of a debate that has been raging in my own head.

"I'm no maverick. Upon leaving college I dove into the workforce, eager to have my own stuff and a job to pay for it. Parents approved, bosses gave raises, and my friends could relate. The approval, the comforts, the commitments wound themselves around me like invisible threads. When my life stayed the course, I wouldn't even feel them binding. Then I would waver enough to sense the growing entrapment, the taming of my life in which I had been complicit.

Working a nine-to-five job took more energy than I had expected, leaving less time to pursue diverse interests. I grew to detest the statement 'I am a...' with the sentence completed by an occupational title..."

The section continues on, highlighted and double-underlined in my book, but I will spare you further spoilers and recommend that you read it for yourself.

Another section that stood out:

"Not everyone needs to be a hiker, but using 'not my thing' is too convenient. Activities that even momentarily cause discomfort, that don't provide immediate positive feedback, are subtracted from the realm of experience. We are outraged when we are constrained by others, but willfully, unwittingly put limits on ourselves."

In addition to inspiring passages, I should note that also Miller offers excellent technical advice throughout the book. Unfortunately he also makes a rookie mistake late in his hike. He "slack packs" for a day (leaving his pack with a friend, with plans to hitchhike back to retrieve it later) and leaves his jacket behind in his pack.

It goes without saying that a hiker should never, ever hike without warm clothes - not even in the desert, and certainly not on a mountain. (Maybe in Fiji it might be ok?) Weather can change from bad to deadly in the blink of an eye. (I speak from experience after getting caught in a freak snowstorm on Mount Whitney several years ago.) Miller only gets chilled, but the situation could have been much more dire.

Miller also has a few run-ins with bears, but manages those all without incident.

I'm not going to tell you whether or not he completed the trek. Instead I'll leave you with this...

"I do think of how regrettable it would have been if I had ignored the pull that I felt to hike the trail. A wealth of memories could have been lost before they had even occurred if I had dismissed, as a whim, my inkling ot hike."

Rating: PR

Recommended for: Anyone contemplating a major life change - career change, major move, the beginning or end of a relationship, or anything that is not on the "accepted track" of school, work, partnership, house, kids.

The book would also be a good starting point for anyone contemplating a through-hike of the Appalachian Trail, Continental Divide Trail, Pacific Crest Trail, or any other many-months trekking adventure.

Rating system:
BQ = best quality (or Boston Qualifier)
PR = pleasant read (or Personal Record)
DNF = did not finish (or Did Not Finish)

For more book reviews and other recommended reading, see Book Reviews on the Run.