1000 miles

I am crossing 1000 miles right now. That should be pretty exciting. I've been counting down the miles for a few days. 

But I'm not feeling much. It's just an arbitrary number as I walk past country clubs on a busy four lane boulevard. Connecting the footsteps between kayaking and the Appalachian Trail is important to me, but I never expected much of it. It connects, and got me into hiking condition, which is all I asked. I am in shape and just 50 miles from the AT.

The memorable moments were the stops along the way.

• Seeing an oldtimer's eyes light up as he talked about growing up with Jackie Robinson.
• Hearing stories at small town shops, cafes, and city halls.
• Feeling images at the Civil Rights museum in Albany GA pierce my heart while also inspiring me. H
• earing the origin story of Habitat for Humanity and recognizing the different building styles that they have adapted to around the world.  
• Listening to Jimmy Carter teach Sunday school in Plains GA on Palm Sunday, a humble man guided by his faith giving some of clearest interpretations I have heard of familiar scriptures. 
• Devouring a sumptuous sweet potato pie.
• Seeing the laser light show at Stone Mountain, and getting a glimpse of a proud Southern heritage.
• Exploring the Carter Center and marvelling that a couple can do so much to benefit so many people, including the likely eradication of the wretched guinea worm disease.
• Experiencing the Martin Luther King center, reading every word, watching every video, studying every photo.
• Sitting in MLK's Ebenezer Baptist Church on Easter Sunday.

Absorbing. Learning.

That's what the connector hike has been about. And the number 1000 doesn't mean much in comparison.

Cairo, Georgia

The beauty of traveling at a walking pace down Georgia country roads is that you get plenty of time to enjoy the small towns that you pass through. If you draw a straight line on the map between St. Marks and Springer Mountain, you pass through quite a number of them. Cairo, Camilla, Leesburg, Baconville, and Americus are directly on the route. Others are just to the east or west : Macon, Colquitt, Thomasville. Cairo, the "Hospitality City" is a real gem on the route and lives up to the slogan.

My experience in Cairo (pronounced Kay-ro) started when I was walking down the main street. There was a group of people gathered around the historical museum and they were all excited about something.

Southern Christian compassion

The body is responding. I've been averaging 20 miles a day for the past week, and no more ice packs. 

Part of any trip like this is meeting people. I know so little about the South. We seek out the storytellers in the little towns, visit museums and shops, and chat by the roadside. But we are outsiders struggling to read the tapestry, and we can only glimpse a few threads.

I stop in a parking lot to rest my feet, and a woman drives up. "God told me I should buy you a meal", and she hands me a McDonalds meal. I start to mutter that I am not homeless, and then remember a lesson my friend Loren taught me. Sometimes it is best to just graciously accept the kindness offered by others.

Another time I am lying by the roadside to rest the feet and a passing motorist calls 911 to report an old man passed out on the roadside. 

Geez, do I look that pathetic? No, I think I am just experiencing good Southern Christian compassion. 

Conditioning on the connector

It's more challenging getting the body ready this time. There are more aches that matter. The sore muscles and tender foot soles are not a problem; but ankles, shins and knees; tendons and ligaments? I rotate the two elastic bandages where most needed, usually the right ankle and either the left knee or shin. In the evening comes the ice, compression and elevation.

I am not sure what that means, but I am nine years older than when I hiked the Pacific Crest Trail at age 50.

Lying alongside the road

I'm horizontal. The left foot has been screaming "no mas" for an hour and then finally toppled me.

For two days, I have been on and off roads with no shoulders. Traffic dictates that I hike in the weeds on the left side, which slopes sideways. Knees, ankles and feet aren't made for constant walking on a side slope.

I walk with one elastic bandage on the left knee and another on the right ankle. The left foot has no bandage and hurts across the top of the forefoot.

Listening

I tell myself I'll start slow and let the body condition itself, strengthening muscles, stretching ligaments, and building callouses. Maybe a couple of days with 5-8 miles, then some tens, then fifteens, on the way to twenties. After all, the legs have been locked in a box for a couple of months, and constant wetness leaves my feet with as much callous as a baby's behind. 

But I don't listen very well.

The Hike Begins

Back to the beginning.  Back to St. Marks. 

The hiking segment began on the Historic Railway Trail, which claims to be the first rails-to-trails in the country. Perhaps that is fitting because the railway itself was also the first time Congress granted the company adjacent land to encourage development.

The hike begins very easily.

So what is Phase two?

The adventure has always been about getting from Key West to Halifax. The initial kayaking phase is now done, so it is time to figure out the hiking phase.

While planning the kayaking portion, we decided to go slowly and start the hike at the beginning of the Appalachian Trail, leaving a gap from St Marks to Springer Mountain. I agreed to forego having an unbroken path from Key West to Halifax in order for us to go slower and enjoy the kayaking more.

But now I want to connect all of the footsteps anyway, even though I am short about a month.

Maybe instead of basing the route on the Florida Trail and Pinhoti Trail, I can make up a shorter route, and then make up time on the Appalachian Trail. Wishful thinking?

Planning the hike really is just about determining the route and getting in shape.  I have the skills and will reuse the same gear and food plan as on previous long hikes. The prep for the Appalachian Trail segment is much simpler than for the Continental Divide Trail, and yes I do have my raingear.

I started walking today, with a brisk 7.5 mile flat stroll with no pack. My legs are protesting that it is unfair to be locked up in a boat for ten weeks and then have to hike. Too bad legs. We're doing this. At least as soon as I figure out the route.

Testimonial

I have not read or seen the news for a month.  I know nothing recent about football scores, fiscal cliffs or the Mayan apocalypse.  The wheels are still turning on Wall Street, Main Street and in chain store America.  I am far from the hustle and bustle on a sea journey through a timeless land.

Here I am in a place where life breathes in and out in a predictable pattern, in a slower rhythm.

Peaceful: The Narrows

Matt gave us a tip for a campsite in The Narrows, not too far away. That leaves us time for a leisurely launch and paddle to the manatee springs.

Morning finds us at AJ's restaurant, a great place in the vanishing tradition of Mom and Pop diners. Incredibly well run, the place is bustling. We liked it so much yesterday we're back again. We pound down another huge breakfast.

Kings Bays promotes itself as a destination to see manatees.

And on the seventh day, Fran rested: Crystal River

Okay, it hasn't been seven days without rest and paddling may not compare to creating the universe and everything in it, but Fran's arm and shoulder muscles are sore and her energy reserves declining. Let's do a zero day.

Manatees: Crystal River

Today is a day that we had some trepidation about. Very early in our planning we had seen the Florida nuclear power jetty extending three miles into the gulf, and noted cautions that crossing it can be hazardous in bad weather. We are familiar with the jetties in the Northwest and they are serious hazards to get around. Second only to the Tampa Bay crossing, we have been concerned about this day.

The tide could not be worse.

In a Fog: Crystal River spoil island

The forecast is for morning fog and moderate wind (10 mph).

The route follows the shore of Wacasassa Bay. But the bay is shallow and we want to make up miles, so we talk about plowing straight across seven miles. Fran twitches at the idea of not being able to see land for two hours, but it appears that water never gets more than a few feet deep. We have lots of ways to navigate including two deck compasses, two handheld compasses, a mapping GPS, and electronic NOAA charts with GPS on both the cell phone and tablet. We decide to go for it.

We are flying on instruments.

Paddling like madmen: Kelly Creek

We are now seven days behind the itinerary. We might not make that time up and may have to skip some miles down the road to get back on track at Cayo Costa.

While I acknowledge that possibility, I am hoping somehow we catch up.

Leroy's turn: Deer Island

As if the hospitality yesterday was not enough, this morning Leroy picked us up and took us to breakfast and shared lots of great stories from his times in Germany, Tennessee and Texas. He has made the most of every day of his 80 years. Delightful breakfast.

An expert kayaker, Leroy lives in the perfect place. With his house directly on the canal he can shove off from backyard and explore. One day he logged nearly 30 miles just meandering through the maze of little creeks within a few miles of his house.

Southern Hospitality: Suwannee

We faced a big open mud flat again this morning. We took many trips out to the water's edge, hauling one boat at a time to the water's edge, and then several trips with the IKEA bags stuffed with gear. Over an hour later, we were ready to launch (and already tired from the slog).  Have I mentioned that we have too much stuff?

We set out and take forever to find deep water.  Check that; we do not find deep water. 

Sail Away, Sail Away, Sail Away: Shired County Park

The extreme low tides persist in the morning, and Horseshoe Bay is described as a maze of Oyster Bars in the Guidebook. Sure enough, looking out this morning we figured we could undo the gelcoat repairs I made in Steinhatchee in just a few minutes.

The marine weather forecast today is for a 20 knot tailwind. We chose to ride the wind across the bay rather than follow the perimeter.

Let's talk about food...

I'm really liking the way the food planning and prep is turning out.  Rod really freed me when he said..."don't make up individual meals, just cook the way that you do at home.  Just use ingredients."

So I took the one pot meal methods of the backpacking cookbook to an extreme.  I packed up rice, quinoa, red lentils and whatever grains, pastas and quick cooking beans that I had in the cupboards. Then I packed the mountain of dried food that I'd prepared.  Spices are in individual snack bags and packed into one quart freezer bag.  I also have salt & pepper, butter buds and oil (though I do need to find a better leak-proof container for the oil).  

When it comes time to cook dinner, I pull out the pot and start inventing.  I put a grain (or main ingredient) into the pan then add dried food and flavorings.  One favorite is 1/2 red lentil and 1/2 rice or quinoa.  The lentils cook fast and make a nice thick rice dish.  I like this method because I can be creative and I don't have to spend any time planning.

Its not a three course meal, but it fills the belly.  It's tasty and nutritious.

I have two food bags ...one for breakfast/lunch and one for dinner.  What's really sweet is that I can easily carry two weeks of food so that I don't have to stop for resupply so often.

Weight? Yes it's heavy, but I don't find that it makes much difference in maneuvering.  The boats are too heavy to carry when loaded, but that would still be true if you carried half of the food.

In search of Water: Butler Island

We've been doing very well so far timing our paddling with the tide. We usually had current with us on rivers, and haven't had any problems at campsites with low water.

Until today.

Neptune, Don't Take My Kodachrome Away: Sink Creek

We rose early in anticipation of meeting up with Liz.  It wasn't too difficult to break camp...climb out of the nice clean sheets and waddle over to the hot shower.  Ah, such luxury.

Liz and Melissa, her videographer, arrive at 9.  As we set up for the interview, I comment that with all of the wind and rain the water has been cloudy and we haven't seen much of the expected sea life.

"When is the best time to visit the Big Bend?" I ask.  "March, but then in October you get the large flocks of birds migrating through. I guess we are still waiting for the weather because the only two blue sky days were when we left St. Marks and the next.  As Tim the motel owner said, we must have lost some bet.

Liz and Melissa video as we packed the boats.  We made arrangements for meeting up at the end of the day at Sink Creek Campground.  They filmed from 2 locations as we paddled away, waving our goodbyes to the good people of Steinhatchee.

The paddling was mostly uneventful.  The weather was favorable and we made good time.  Since we had only 10 miles to cover we took more time to notice things along the way.  About three miles from camp we saw an island with a sign, that as we neared was indeed a stop sign.  Since I thought it rather humorous to see a stop sign on a deserted bit of land almost big enough to call an island, I stopped to take a picture.  Not heeding the sign, we also nosed onto shore for a brief pee break.

We reached the lovely treed camp at about 2:30 and saw that Liz and Melissa had not arrived yet. We paddled the extra distance to the boat ramp they would be launching from. As we were saying our greetings, I reached for the camera to photograph their departure.  The camera was not in my PFD, nor was it in the boat. Was it a gift to Neptune or was it on the island? Rod and I decide to paddle back to see if se can find it. Liz, bless her heart, says "Fine. We'll go on to camp, start a fire and have your dinner ready for you when you get back."

We didn't find the camera. But we did have an enjoyable evening with Liz & Melissa upon our return.  We watched the sunset over the gulf while the full moon was rising in the east.  Then we sat around the campfire enjoying the leftovers of Liz's Christmas dinner.  Yum.

Distance:  10 + 6 bonus miles