May trip - Gator Hook to Roberts Lakes Strand
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Permalink Reply by Swamp Hunter on
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Photos from the beautiful 3rd leg of the Gator Hook Trail after Holey Rock...
If you dont sit too long on the cypress knee bench admiring the Dingy Orchids, the gator should let you pass to follow the ribbons and railroad ties down into the shady jungle of Cocoplums and deep swamp Popash. If you look around you may spot old turtle shells.
The 1st photo is the large oak you see as you first climb up onto a cool natural semi-tropical ridge covered in ferns and vines. I have this marked as waypoint "Oak Hi Ground" on my MapSource above..
Following the trail to the 2nd photo marked waypoint "Gumboos" is a grouping of tropical Gumbo Limbo trees also on the ridge with Bald Cypress swamp on each side..
The last photo is one of numerous jagged solution holes scattered throughout the area so be careful if you leave the trail. These holes may be a source of water for hikers with a filter. Underground caves attract otters. Follow the ribbons to the "Breakout" to see the sun again but be careful of your step!
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Anyone been out on the trail?
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Take a close look at another of my my photos of the oak tree on the rock ridge and you will see Keith standing behind the ferns. The pic was taken from an angle and I was standing on lower ground but it does give an idea of how lush the fernage is under the oak tree.
Lightning has busted the tree up pretty bad but its still a good size swamp oak.
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Permalink Reply by yakmaster on
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Last night watching 60 minutes with the Green Berets looking for folks in the Congo, they kept talking about how easy it was to disappear in the bush, I kept on thinking of you folks.
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James D. Elderkin, 4th U.S. Infantry describes the swamp:
'I am inclined to think if our boys who were engaged in the recent little affair with Spain could taste a bit of our Florida experience they would think their recent war experience was quite a pleasant picnic in comparison. Let it be remembered, at that early day, Florida was, for the most part, a howling wilderness, and indescribable in its wild yet horrible and beautiful grandure. For the most part, it was a succession of swamps, ridges, lagoons and low hills, called hummocks. The timber land, except for a trail here and there, was an impenetrable jungle. Especially was this the case in the swamps, where the mighty cypress often from four to five feet in diameter, raised its giant head high above the dense and tangled thorn-clad vine and shrubbery beneath, as if its mighty foliage was not enough to shut out the sunlight, each limb being hung heavy with Spanish moss, shutting out every ray of light, bringing the gloom of night over a trail beset with thorns, rattlesnakes and deadly moccasins gliding over your feet and ready to strike if trod upon.
Not only this, but every leaf seemed to bear some poisonous insect as dangerous as the serpents under foot, and still more dangerous than all the rest, the cunning redskins had slowly retreated before the United States army; for this war had been going on for years, and they had penetrated the jungles deep, and here and there cleared the hummocks of timber and built themselves comfortable homes from the bark of the cypress tree; and they defended those homes with that fury that only men driven to desperation can do. Concealing themselves under the dense foliage, covered with Spanish moss, they were undiscernable until they revealed their position by a rifle shot. This, of course, was often too late for some poor comrade who was pushing his way determindly through the tangle, and with death lurking on every hand. Wherever there had chanced to be a clearing of some daring settler's once happy home, now nothing remained but blackened ruins, a standing chimney or, perchance, here and there an orange grove, laden with fruit, as it peeped above the tangled underbrush, seemingly arising to strangle every relic of civilized man.
The night was made hideous by the howl of wolves, the scream of the panther, the bull-like bellow of the alligator and the dismal cry of the loon, interspersed here and there by the sweet notes of the whippoorwill, or the song of the American nightingale, that most beautiful of all songsters, the mocking bird. (The mocking bird often sings in the night.)
All of these sounds, whether dismal or sweet, were heeded with the greatest precaution, as it might be real or might be the signal of a wily savage to his cohorts to join in an onslaught that would end in a massacre or death-struggle of extermination for one side or the other.
Wherever clearings were found, or the higher ground lessened the density of the foliage, the graceful magnolia spread her beautiful branches of velvet leaves and magnificent blossoms, which ladened the air with perfume so sweet and heavy that it could be scented miles away; and high among the branches carroled the sweetest songsters man ever heard as they flitted from limb to limb under the glorious sunlight overhead, as if to emphasize to man that a glowing picture of hell and heaven might exist on earth before his very eyes.
The above is a weak attempt to describe the awful grandeur of Florida in those terrible times of savage warfare.
It was in 1841 we went to Florida, where we remained for one year. Of all my experience of hardships in three wars that which I experienced in Florida was the worst.' http://fcit.usf.edu/florida/docs/s/semwar02.htm
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If the weather gets under 80 in the daytime before the end of this month, Im going out for one last trip of the season. I may try to find that old pump island. We never had to worry about carrying water when hiking the old logging tram.
Re-post of my photos from my old Kodak 120 cartridge camera..
These are dated on the backsides as developed Oct 1990.
Photo top left is immediately before reaching the island. Notice the opening in the vegetation. The only clue is to look for a dried up Pond Apple slough, ferns and alligator flags.. We may have to cross some water even in April to reach the island.
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Permalink Reply by Chris H on
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I was out there with my brother a couple weeks ago. He really enjoyed the trail. I think he may be hooked on hiking Big Cypress now! I am hoping to get out there again too before it gets too hot. If you decide to go and want some company I would be glad to help you search for it.
The picture on the top left... was the photographer standing on the island when that pic was taken?
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No. I took the picture just as we were approaching the island. There were 3 of us that day and I guess my buddies kinda got excited after a long walk and rushed to the water pump to fill our canteens as I paused to take the picture. Its very thick in the area but they are walking through an opening or clearing thats open because its usually underwater. The island is surrounded by water and alligator flags. The small island itself is high and dry with pots and pans scattered about that are not apparent in the photos.
None of us owned a GPS and one day we just couldnt find it.
Chris H said:
The picture on the top left... was the photographer standing on the island when that pic was taken?
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I have wanted to go out but man its hot! ...and getting hotter. I was hoping for one last cool front.
Im checking the 10 day forecast and it appears to be hotter in Ochopee than in Miami but the nights are cooler.
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It was a decent day today in Miami. I'm not waiting for it to get any hotter so I'm going out to Gator Hook in the morning to find that pump..
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I'm sure you will find it tomorrow. Post some pictures when you get back!
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Meet me at the trailhead if you can get off work.
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