Second Annual ATB Across Florida Route and Photos

ATB Across Florida 2010 Route GPX file

Ken and Gazelle had a sudden urge to hurt themselves and therefore decided to ride across the state of Florida on their mountain bikes.  Gazelle had heard stories of the heroic deeds done by Ken and Craig on last year’s ATB Across Florida and he too wished to glorify himself.  Always up for a stupid adventure and even though it was July in Florida, I joined their little bicycle party.

Once again we stayed the the Ocean Crest Motel in Ormond-by-the-Sea.  The motel is nothing special but its rustic 1960’s charm is special in its own way.

Our plan was to copy the route from last year but with some minor route changes around Dunnellon and some major route changes through the Ocala National Forest.  In keeping with our tradition of trespassing and ignoring all public warnings to “stay out”, we still rode through the Relay Tract of Plum Creek Lumber.

DAY 1

The ride started with the usual breakfast at Alfie’s and then the ride up A1A until we cut to the west through North Peninsula State Park.

Once at US1 and with just a bit of reconnaissance, we discovered a better way into the Relay Tract that did not require bushwhacking.  Of course we had to ride through a farmer’s yard and jump a gate.   We worked hard in Relay since the dirt roads were very soft from all the rain Florida has had this summer.  Wet sand is tough to ride but it is vastly superior to dry sand.

By the time we got to the junction of SR40 and SR11, which is the start of the Heart Island Conservation Area, we were already out of water.  I still had half a bottle but the blazing summer sun had made it too hot to drink without getting sick to my stomach.  Oh well, only ten more miles until Barberville.  We rested at the Heart Island entrance, ate a snack, and picked ticks off our legs.  Fun, Fun!

We made it to Barberville without trouble and bought plenty of water, gatorade, snacks, etc. from a convenience store.  Setting in the sand at the edge of the parking lot in the only piece of shade to be found, we watched the local trailer trash, touristic yankees, and smug cyclists go about their respective preparations for a weekend in the sun.  We also debated whether trashy women with mostly uncovered and extremely large breasts where preferable to the stoic, uptight, and I would argue, very passionate type-A professional “angry-elf” women.  I lost in a narrow 2-1 decision.

From Barberville we headed into the Lake George State Forest which we crossed easily and without much effort.  Popping out at the St. John’s River Rd. we headed first to the south to visit the park at the end of the road that has a nice nature trail and a floating dock on the river.  Then cycling back to the north we made our way into Astor where I had reserved a trailer at The Blackwater Inn.  The trailer for fantastic.  Well maintained and very comfortable, the Blackwater Inn and its adjacent restaurants are worth a stop.

DAY 2

As we rode out of town on the next morning we found a little restaurant open and decided to have a good breakfast before braving the sandy hell that is the Ocala National Forest.  This year we changed the route so we could explore some of the forest to the north of SR40 and visit the area around Juniper Spring Run.

Our first exploration was done on Blue Creek Lodge Rd.  We took this nice clay road to the north off of SR40 and then hooked up with NFS 571.  Unfortunately, NFS 571 was impassable.  It was nothing but soft, dry, fluffy sand.  I walked a half mile up the road but it never got any better and we had to abandon that route.

Next, we tried to ride the powerline that parallels SR40 and SR19 but after wasting lots of time and energy I had to admit the effort was not worth the result.  The powerline was just too sandy.  So we mostly stayed on SR40 and SR19.

When we reached Juniper Run on SR19, we had to take a break and enjoy this spring fed creek.  Stripping down to our shorts we jumped in and revelled in the stream’s amazing coolness.  Even though weekends turn this place into a crowded nightmare, we had the place to ourselves.

Just north of the Juniper Run is NFS 76A Which takes you back to Sweetwater spring where there is a nice family sized cabin that can be rented, if you are lucky enough to win the lottery that is used to select its next inhabitants.  We road in to check out a possible route into the Juniper Wilderness Area that might be accessible from the end of the road.  However, we did not find a clear path and decided to not bother with a bushwhack this early in the morning.

Instead we took NFS76 to the west and entered the Juniper Wilderness Area at a spot that reflected its “burned to the ground” best.  Oh, it was hot.  The sun beaming on my head, the sun reflected from the white sand, no shade, and the Hiroshima-like husks of blackened tree trunks were sprawled out to the horizon.  Ken and Gazelle seemed to manage the sandy hills without problem, but I was already starting to feel the heat and lagged behind, struggling over every hill.

Ken was being nice and came back to get me.  He then noticed that the Juniper Run was only about a 1/4 mile to our south and that a quick dip in its cool waters might be nice.  We called to Gazelle but he did not respond.  He would later report that he heard us but was not about to ride back through sand and heat to see what we wanted.  So, Ken and I hiked to the river and found a little spot with clean sand and laid out in the refreshing stream.  Thankfully no alligators intruded on us and after about twenty minutes we headed back to the bikes and white hot sand box that is the Juniper Wilderness Area.

Once we hit the ponds that dot the Juniper Prairie, the plan was to continue west until we hit the next north/south road and take it to the north.  However, NFS76 petered out at the ponds.  It was still visible but was made impassable by fallen logs and brush.  I’m sure it was destroyed in the big fire of ’96.  The backup plan was to follow the pond edges to the north until we ran across the Florida Trail.  We did not have a map with the recent trail route and only guessed as to where we might find it.

The going was very tough at first as we had to push our bikes through palmettos, brush, and the wet reeds around the pond edges.  But, even though we managed to parallel the ponds, we never found the trail.  Gazelle refused to walk with Ken and I because he did not want to hear us talking about how screwed we were.   As we approached the north side of the last pond, I could see that the low area in which these ponds are located was rising back up to the level of the sand scrub.  If we hit this scrub and did not find the trail then we would be forced to turn around because the thick underbrush was eight feet tall and completely impenetrable for the next four miles.

Fortunately, the Florida Trail was waiting for us at the north end of this last pond.  We grimly road the trail to the north and after jumping over countless blown down trees we broke out onto FR10.  Gazelle and I were totally beat down by the heat and tough trail.  Ken was just worried that he was going to have to rescue us.

Gazelle took a short break; I continued to stagger down FR10.  We regrouped after eating a snack and drinking some of our disgustingly hot water and then continued down this good clay road until it hit FR65.  At this point the plan was to continue on FR10 through Hayes Island, which contains the champion Loblolly Bay tree.  But FR10 did not look very good to the west of FR65 and I was hot and worried that I was not going to make it to a resupply point before dropping from a heat stroke.  I suggested that we bail out and hit the easiest way out of this mess and find some cool water and gatorade.

So we headed north on FR65 to FR86 (The Hopkin’s Prairie Road) and headed west to CR314.  CR314 was still six mile away and we didn’t know where a store might be located once on it.  Ken and Gazelle seemed to be riding fine but I was dead and could barely turn the pedals up some of the hills.

Once on CR314 we headed to the southwest with our eyes looking for a store.  Ken stopped to ask some fisherman where the next store might be and they said a few miles down the road.  But no sooner than we started going again, we saw what at first looked like a mirage or an antique gas station sign in someone’s yard.  But once we got close it was obvious that it was a real, if not very run down, convenience store.

Once stopped, my abdomen and calf muscles immediately cramped up.  I couldn’t even get up off the ground without major cramping and lots of pain.  As I was flopped onto the dirty cracked pavement of the store, Ken and Gazelle heroically bought beverages and snacks, filled all the water bladders with ice water, and tended to my needs like the finest of nurses.   Finally, as the skies grew dark and the lightening started to flash,  I was able to get off the ground and pick up my shoes, backpack , and bike.  At this very moment the rain started to come in a torrential down pour.  It felt marvellous!

Across the street we noticed a Baptist church with a covered porch and rocking chairs and headed over there to clean up, rehydrate, and enjoy the cool summer storm.

He could have fooled me but Gazelle claimed this ride through Ocala National Forest was one of the hardest physical challenges he has ever completed.  I agreed.  Ken was not even fazed.  He is just too strong for us.

After cooling off, rehydrating, and eating everything in sight, we got back on the road and headed for the nearest motel.  The original plan was to go to Ocala and find a motel but Gazelle was adamant that we get to a place to sleep immediately.  So we headed to Silver Springs and booked a couple of rooms and life was good again.

DAY 3

After a good breakfast, we headed toward Ocala via the Marshall Swamp Trail.

Here are a few photos from the event.  This year we had a 33% increase in the number of participants.  In 2011 we may have to close registration early.

Birthday Party Century

Ken seems to be starting a new tradition. Last year, on his birthday, he soloed 100+ miles on his road bike. It must have been painful because this year, on his birthday, I was lucky enough to get invited to his second annual “Birthday Party Century.”

There is nothing special about 100 miles on your road bike but neither of us has ridden 100 miles in over a year and the air temperature was going to be 96 degrees. We decided to minimize the potential trauma to our bodies by staying off the roads and doing the ride almost entirely on the Withlacoochee State Trail (A wonderful rails-to-trails project).

108 Miles on Withlacoochee State Trail

We met at the southern end of the trail at the Owensboro Junction Trailhead at 6:20 AM and were heading north by 6:35 AM.   The air temperature actually seemed a bit chilly and we both commented on how nice it felt.  Ken tried to work the pace to 20 MPH but I resisted and dragged back at 18.  We had a long way to go.

It seemed that in no time at all we were at the end of the trail, 46 miles from our cars.  At this point we needed to add a few miles in order to get 100+ for the day.  So we did a ten mile loop through the Citrus Springs subdivision.  Citrus Springs does not have any citrus or any springs but is the typical Florida real estate bubble neighborhood from the 70’s.  There are more houses than trees and more abandoned roads than usable ones.

At mile 55 we ran out of water and asked a nice man for a fill up from his hose.  At mile 60 we found a convenience store and stopped for a picnic.  I bought a large bottle of gatorade, a gallon of water, a bag of Fritos, a Payday bar, and a granola bar.  I consumed it all except the granola bar and half the water.  Ken had a similar level of over consumption but we where starting to get hot and dehydrated and had to work hard to prevent it.

Uncle Don’s farm is only a mile from the corner of US41 and SR491 so we stopped by to say hello and got lucky enough to catch him just as he came out to get his mail.  This saved us from having to navigate his sugar sand entrance road.  I never felt great during the entire ride but by this time I was mentally preparing for some suffering and stopping at Don’s helped me to gain some mental strength.

After our socializing was complete we hit the road and tried to keep an 18-20 pace going.  The heat was making me suffer even at this pace but luckily Ken did not seem affected.  He pulled me, when I could even hold on to his wheel, for 80% of the ride.

We stopped in Floral City for a quick break and water bottle fill-up and then I girded sternly for war.  With only 23 mile to go I should, even with this heat, be able to maintain 20 MPH for that long.  But it did not work out that way.  At mile 97 I broke.

Soft pedaling at 16 MPH for the next 5 miles did not help much as we entered the dreaded hot zone of Croom’s Silver Lake.  For some reason unknown to science or tired cyclists, the Withlacoochee Trail is hot, dry, and exposed in this area.  Why can’t they plant a tree!

At the Ridge Manor trail head I collapsed on a picnic table and Ken didn’t complain much when I forced him to stop.  We stretched our backs, splashed water on our faces, and went out to finish this ride.

I tried again to go hard and finish strong but was denied with only a mile to go.  Hot and tired we limped back to the Southern terminus and I welcomed my car’s cold air-conditioner.

Ken looked strong all day and he had just finished whipping my ass at last weekend’s Urban Crit in Lakeland.  I’m going to have to start riding if I plan to take him at the Trail-To-Trail or at Fool’s Gold.

The Withlacoochee Trail is a great ride if you do not wish to bother with the traffic and heat of normal roads.  There are very few road crossings so even serious cyclists can hammer away without being annoyed.  Approximately half of the trail is well shaded and there are several road crossings that provide bike service and refreshment opportunities.  Don’t miss this trail; it is a must-ride location.

Next year I’ll be more prepared for Ken’s birthday party.

Withlacoochee State Trail

Here are some interesting facts

The Withlacoochee State Trail is the longest (to date) paved rail trail in Florida. It occupies approximately 46 miles of an abandoned railroad right-of-way, passing through three counties (Citrus, Hernando and Pasco) en route from Citrus Springs in Citrus County to Trilby in Pasco County. The Withlacoochee Trail State Park starts just north of Dade City on U.S. 301, a mile south of Trilby and continues through the Croom Tract of the Withlacoochee State Forest, runs close to the Withlacoochee River, past the Silver Lake Campground, then continues north through Nobleton, Istachatta, Floral City, Inverness, Hernando, Holder, Citrus Springs, and ends at Gulf Junction just south of Dunnellon. The rail bed traverses six distinct natural communities, and provides visitors access to the central Florida landscape in both developed and natural conditions. The most prominent natural feature within the Withlacoochee Trail corridor is the flood plain of the Withlacoochee River. The trail intersects this flood plain in several locations, allowing visitors to observe flood plain habitats and lakes.  A unique natural vista occurs along the trail corridor, south of the Withlacoochee State Forest/Croom Tract. Other important natural features of the trail corridor include scenic Lake Henderson and the Tsala-Apopka chain of lakes. These productive water bodies attract many bird species that may be observed by trail users.

Hans

There must be
Moments when we see right through.
Although we say we can’t.  I knew
A fisher who could lean and look
Blind into dazzle on the sea
And strike into that fire his hook,
Far under, and lean back and laugh
And let the line run out, and reel
What rod could weigh nor line could feel
The heavy silver of his wish,
And when the reel-spool faltered, kneel
And with a fumbling hand that shook
Boat, all bloody from the gaff,
A shivering fish.
— Archibald McLeish

Hans

He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff on the grass flats of the Homosassa and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish.  In the last ten days a dog had been with him. (Hemingway)  To an unlucky fisherman, a dog is a great comfort.  The dog had always lived with him but the man had not thought there was room for two in an unlucky skiff.  Now that luck had abandoned him, the dog was invited along.

The dog took the early morning life seriously and each morning woke the man before daylight so as not to miss the sensations of the sunrise:  the scent of dark waters lightly covered with rising mist, the sight of orange flame contained in gray cumulus low over the cedars, and the touch of wind and spray in his gaping mouth and wide open eyes.

This enthusiasm was contagious and the man was eager to share his experiences with someone so interested.  The man would not raise an eyelash to help himself but would move the river channel for a willing pupil.  With a new partner, the man was hopeful that his luck would change; but, if it didn’t, it did not matter.

But the dog did not know this and did not care as long as the man was near and continued to pat the dog’s head and talk to him in reassuring tones.  Many days had past since the man had spoken harshly and the dog, always eager to please but often unknowingly provoking anger, lowered his wagging tail, dropped his head and rubbed it against the man’s leg to make sure the hurtful voice did not return.  This always worked.

On this day, the tide was strong and fast and the man had only an hour of prime fishing time on his favorite flat before the water was so skinny that even his skiff would not be able to float above the sand.  The full moon had just set and had pulled the water off the flat in a torrent that left the grass tips stranded on the surface, bent and twisted and brown and green.  The falling tide also left the fish looking for water in which to feed and in which to hide.

A skiff is a small boat with low sides and an open cockpit that is used by flats fishing guides everywhere.  The flat bottom and light weight of the boat’s hull allows the fisherman to push the boat with a long pole while standing in the stern while floating in four inches of water.  This slow, quiet movement is needed when the tail of a bull redfish has been sighted flagging above the water from within a twelve-inch deep pothole in the middle of a thousand acre field of rocks, sea grass, sand, and gin clear gulf water.

The man never used bait and held in low esteem all who did.  Not that using live or cut bait was really bad it was just easier.  Casting a shrimp or pinfish to a tailing redfish was an art in itself but was less an art than throwing a plastic jerk bait or a Clouser minnow pattern and all agree that the sight and sound of a redfish boiling on a top water plug is only surpassed by the exploding chaos created by a snook on the same lure. This was the technique of the old man and it had not worked for a long time.  With the sun in his face, a redfish tail in the air, and the push pole gently propelling the boat, the man moved within casting distance to try his luck, again.

Sensing the man’s excitement the dog worried that the harsh tones would return.  To prevent this the dog slowly walked, nails clicking on the hard deck, back to the stern where the man had taken a knee and was pushing the boat with one hand and holding his fishing rod in the other.  Licking his lips, a soft whine escaped, and the dog pressed his flank to the man’s thigh.  Tender words where spoken but the dog did not dare leave as the man’s tension was still high.

The old man knew the fish was feeding and would not see him; but, fish have senses humans can not fathom.  Very sensitive to sound and water pressure, the fish does not rely on its eyes for defense.  Instead, the fish knows that the dull clunk of a heavy foot fall on the deck of a boat, or the sharp clank of a push pole on a rock, or the crisp slap of small waves on the side of a boat’s hull means predators are near.  Sometimes even the silent, hulking, presence of the boat displacing water is somehow detected by wary fish – no shadow, no sound, just fish plowing the surface into furrows as they bolt in panic from an unseen, but definitely sensed, menace.

Almost within casting distance, the man calculated the wind and water movement, stopped pushing, and let the skiff drift the final few feet to within casting distance of the big fish.  Clipping the push pole onto its bungee leash, it trailed silently in the boat’s wake; the man dropped down to both knees and quickly loaded his rod tip and fired his lure toward the tailing fish.

Not yet experienced in catching fish, the dog had only known the man to make these casts and then utter harsh tones and then slowly relax and then rapidly get tense again.  The dog was confused as this behavior only happened on the boat and not when in the house where they lived in quiet and comfort and peace.  Why the man was tense when on the boat, the dog did not know.  But this time something happened even more frightening than the harsh tones.

The lure landed six feet beyond the fish and three feet to the right.  The man saw the fish stop feeding and drop his tail back into the water but it did not run.  Instead, the fish darted at the floating plug and smacked it with the side of its head.  The plug bounced into the air a few inches and settled back down.  The man did not panic nor did he even move until the ripples the fish and plug had made settled down.  With a steady set of quick snaps of the rod tip, the man worked the plug toward the boat.  The fish again noticed the plug and cruised rapidly toward the lure, water flowed over its back pushing a bulge of water that forced the man to focus more on his rod tip and less on the actions of the fish in order to maintain the rhythm needed to correctly walk the lure.

Pacing the deck in confusion, the dog whined and rubbed the man’s leg and hoped that the tension would end without anger.  Not knowing how to help the man, the dog started to slobber and whimper and shake his head while bouncing on this front feet and staring intently at the disturbance in the water that so consumed the man’s attention.

Striking the lure the fish caused the water to boil and foam before turning and swimming away with its new prize only to be surprised that the morsel was not what was expected.  Panicked, the fish stroked its powerful tail driving forward to the deep water and safety.  But the hooks had done their job and were deeply imbedded into the fish’s jaw.

Reeling as fast as possible the man rose from the deck and removed the slack from the line.  The feeling of pressure from the fish through the line, into the rod and into the man’s hands, was wonderful.  Line began to scream from the reel and further attempts to reel in more line were impossible as the fish muscled its way toward safe water.  Redfish are not fast but they are strong.  The man did not pressure the fish but knew if he could keep the line tight the fish was his.

Seeing the water boil, the man stand, and the rod bend, the dog was confused and concerned.  He knew that the disturbance in the water was causing his master pain.  The dog felt it necessary to end the man’s pain and return them both to their normal quiet existence.  Finally, the dog could see the problem.  In the water, a creature was slowly moving toward the boat. Action was required and the dog leaped into the water and loped  through the sea grass to within striking distance of the horrible creature.  The dog lunged keeping his head underwater for several seconds.  When his head reemerged, the dog had clamped in his powerful teeth the shivering, dripping, bulk of a twelve-pound redfish.

The man slowly lowered his rod. Laughing until his side hurt, he watched as the dog calmly walked back to the boat and dropped the now dead fish onto the deck.  Eighty-four days of bad luck had purchased, for the man, a little luck.  Good fishing partners are hard to find and the man would not let this one get away.

Salt River (Homosassa to St. Martin’s) Boat Trail

Disclaimer

Each BoatTrail is thoroughly tested by Wetsocks team members and the route is selected to provide the boater with the safest and fastest path to the selected destination.  However, safe use of any BoatTrail in this guide requires practice and good sense.   Rocks are everywhere!

Salt River (Homosassa River to St. Martin River) Map

homosassajohnbrown

Salt River (Homosassa River to St. Martin River) Data Files

Salt River (Homosassa River to St. Martin River) Google Earth KML file
Load this file to Google Earth to view the best boat position while on your computer.

Salt River (Homosassa River to St. Martin River) GPX file
Load this file to your GPS receiver to help correctly position your boat while on the water.

Salt River (Homosassa River to St. Martin River) Description

The Salt River runs from the Homosassa River to the Crystal River.  The section between the Homosassa River and the St. Martins River is easy to travel and only has a single dangerous spot (see map note #2).

This section of the Salt River is an excellent route choice when putting a boat in at the Homosassa but wanting to enjoy the excellent rivers to the north such as the Little Homosassa, St. Martin’s, and Fish Creek.

Salt River (Homosassa River to St. Martin River) Map Notes

Match the note number to the number on the map for navigation warnings on a particular area.

1.  This is the entrance to the Salt River.  Watch for the island
on the east side of the entrance.  It is sometimes submerged
and could cause a navigation hazard.

2.  This is a tricky, shallow, and narrow spot.  The channel is
mostly located along the east bank of the river.  However
a couple tight turns are required to skirt between two oyster
bars.  Look for the private channel markers.

3.  The Salt River meets the St. Martins River and the channel
is a bit twisty.  Slow down and follow the private navigation
aids.

4.  This is the John Brown Park boat ramp.

Perfect Year Outside 2010

All,

The Wetsocks team once again presents the list of events that should be on everyone’s training schedule. Pick a few that interest you, train hard, don’t bail, and let us know your results.

January 9, 2010
FLO Orienteering at Croom! This is an excellent event that should not be missed. www.floridaorienteering.org

January 24, 2010
6 Hours of El Lagarto in Lakeland where one can ride the famous Loyce Harpe (Carter Road) single track as either a solo or in relay teams on either a “red” or a “corporate” course.  Another “don’t miss” event.
www.redtrailracing.com

January 31, 2010
Florida Challenge Half-Marathon at Alafia State Park. This year there is no conflict with El Lagarto so everyone should be doing both.  This is a great trail run as the course covers all the fun single track bike trails including Roller Coaster, Gatorback, and Moonscape.
www.tamparaces.com

February 13-14, 2010
Swamp Stomp is back! 30 hour adventure race presented by WeCeFar.  This year the course is somewhere 45 minutes north of Tampa.  Approximately 10 hours each of trekking, paddling, and mountain biking.
www.wecefar.com

February 20, 2010
12 Hours of Santos in Ocala, can anyone ride these trails without crashing every lap?
www.goneriding.com

March 14, 2010
Squiggy Classic 6 hour Adventure Race at the Wilderness parks in Tampa. Someone needs to step up and try to defeat Craig and Dianne!
www.wecefar.com

April 3, 2010
Croom Fool’s Run 50M/50K/15M in Croom of course. This is a wonderful course that is mostly a great single track running trail that winds through outstanding Florida terrain and most of the trail even has tree canopy to keep off the sun (Don’t believe it!). This is a race course you don’t want to miss.
www.tamparaces.com

April 10, 2010
Croom Quest Multisport Challenge
Kayak, Mountain Bike, Run at Croom. An off-road triathlon for those that love the mixture of dirt and sweat. Both a long and short version are provided.
www.wecefar.com

April 17-18, 2010
Classic TOSRV South is back!
For 2010 Capital City Cyclists have the same rural vistas, same great road food, and new and improved venues for start/finish in Havana and overnight in Albany. Mark your calendar.
www.cccyclists.org

May 1, 2010
Talon Adventure Race at Alafia State Park. Our old nemesis is back and after beating everyone at Talon09, I might like to do it again at the Talon10.
www.talonrace.com

May 1, 2010
3nd Annual Georgia 12/6 hour mountain bike race – Endurance Point Series. Ft. Yargo State Park, Winder, Georgia.
www.dirtyspokes.com

May 8, 2010
HammerHead 100 Solo only.  25 mile, 50 mile and 100 Mile options.  Ocala, FL (Santos Trails – Land bridge Trailhead) www.goneriding.com
HammerHead Course Map > trail.motionbased.com

May 29, 2010
The Urban Mountain Bike Criterium and 2x Speed Trials.
When: 6:00pm
Where: Downtown Lakeland, FL (East Iowa & Lemon)
www.redtrailracing.com

June 20, 2010
The SCAR Adventure Race This is a father’s day event so bring your Dad and your cooler.  It will be hot!
www.pangeaadventureracing.com

August 14-15, 2010
Fool’s Gold 100/50 Mile Mountain Bike Race & Festival. The 2009 event was the highlight of the year so don’t miss this edition
www.55nineperformance.com

October 9-10, 2010
24 hours of Moab Mountain Bike Race.   24 hour National Championships
www.grannygear.com

October 18-20, 2010
Second Annual Florida Coast to Coast XC Mountain Bike Challenge
Three days of riding the bike of your choice through the last remaining fragments of undeveloped land between Flagler Beach and YankeeTown. Traveling through state parks, wildlife management areas, the Carr Greenway, and possibly jumping fences onto private land. Each night will be spent in the best room available at the nearest Super8 motel. In room alcoholic beverages are provided. No support, bring your headlamp, you rain jacket, your sense of humor, and your appetite for adventure.

November 17-20, 2010
La Ruta de los Conquistadores in San Jose, Costa Rica. Yeah, right!
www.adventurerace.com

Craig

Petty Creek Boat Trail

Disclaimer

Each BoatTrail is thoroughly tested by Wetsocks team members and the route is selected to provide the boater with the safest and fastest path to the selected destination.  However, safe use of any BoatTrail in this guide requires practice and good sense.   Rocks are everywhere!

Petty Creek Map

pettycreek

Petty Creek Data Files

Petty Creek Google Earth KML file
Load this file to Google Earth to view the best boat position while on your computer.

Petty Creek GPX file
Load this file to your GPS receiver to help correctly position your boat while on the water.

Petty Creek Description

Petty Creek is the best route for traveling between the Homosassa River and Mason Creek.  This creek is easily traveled by small boats during most tide levels but does have several shallow bars and rocks that can cause navigation problems during low tides.

Read the map notes to locate these areas

Petty Creek Map Notes

Match the note number to the number on the map for navigation warnings on a particular area.

1.  Breakwater entrance is on the north side of the creek.
2.  Shallow bar before the Chass NWR sign.  Channel on south side.
3.  Dangerous bars across creek.  Look for private markers.
Stay centered between island and markers.
4.  North Channel is rocky and narrow but deeper than Mason Creek.
Look for the many bars that dot this area.
5.  Parallel bars run mostly north and south and have narrow cuts that allow boats to pass.
6.  Big rock directly in the channel.  It is flat topped and is only a problem at low tide.
7.  The south side of Porpoise Bay seems to have some rocks scattered about.
8.  The west end of Blue Bay is shallow and rocky.
9.  The entrance to Petty Creek has a long bar across 2/3rd of the creek.  Stay to the southwest next to the dock.
10. A bar completely crosses the creek.  Private markers show the channel but the deepest part seems to be on the east side of the channel within 8 feet of the marker.  The best channel is extremely shallow and may be impassable during a low tide.
11. A big and nasty rock sets in the middle of the creek.  Stay to the west side and do not go east of the creek’s centerline.
12. The entrance to Seven Cabbage Creek is shallow, rocky, narrow, and should be traversed very slowly.
13. The cut that leads to Blue Bay and the pass to the north that leads back to Mason Creek is very shallow and can not be traveled during extremely low tide.
14. This is the entrance to the Salt River.  Watch out for the small island on the east side of the entrance.  It is usually just barely above the water and has some grass growing on it.

Mason Creek Boat Trail

Disclaimer

Each BoatTrail is thoroughly tested by Wetsocks team members and the route is selected to provide the boater with the safest and fastest path to the selected destination.  However, safe use of any BoatTrail in this guide requires practice and good sense.   Rocks are everywhere!

Mason Creek Map

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Mason Creek Data Files

Mason Creek Google Earth KML file
Load this file to Google Earth to view the best boat position while on your computer.

Mason Creek GPX file
Load this file to your GPS receiver to help correctly position your boat while on the water.

Mason Creek Description

Just to the south of the Homosassa River can be found the black waters of Mason Creek. This small creek flows out of a tidal swamp and quickly makes its way to the open Gulf of Mexico. Because the freshwater springs in this creek are of little note and because the salt marsh extends almost to the source, the waters near and upstream from the boat ramp are nearly black from mud and tannins. However, as the creek flows to the Gulf the waters quickly turn clear.

Fortunately, this creek is more lightly used than the better known rivers of the area and it is a favorite of birdwatchers and those seeking solace. Relatively easy to travel by small boat and with connecting creeks to the Homosassa and Chassahowitzka Rivers, Mason Creek provides access to the entire Chassahowitzka National Wildlife Refuge.

Mason Creek Map Notes

Match the note number to the number on the map for navigation warnings on a particular area.

1.  Breakwater entrance is on the north side of the creek.
2.  Shallow bar before the Chass NWR sign.  Channel on south side.
3.  Dangerous bars across creek.  Look for private markers.
Stay centered between island and markers.
4.  North Channel is rocky and narrow but deeper than Mason Creek.
Look for the many bars that dot this area.
5.  Parallel bars run mostly north and south and have narrow cuts that allow
boats to pass.
6.  Big rock directly in the channel.  It is flat topped and is only a problem at low tide.
7.  The south side of Porpoise Bay seems to have some rocks scattered about.
8.  The west end of Blue Bay is shallow and rocky.
9.  The entrance to Petty Creek has a long bar across 2/3rd of the creek.  Stay to
the southwest next to the dock.
10. A bar completely crosses the creek.  Private markers show the channel but the
deepest part seems to be on the east side of the channel within 8 feet of the
marker.  The best channel is extremely shallow and can be passed even during
a normal low tide.
11. A big and nasty rock sets in the middle of the creek.  Stay to the west side
and do not go east of the creek’s centerline.
12. The entrance to Seven Cabbage Creek is shallow, rocky, narrow, and should be
traversed very slowly.
13. The cut that leads to Blue Bay and the pass to the north that leads back to Mason
Creek is very shallow and can not be traveled during extremely low tide.

First Annual Cross Florida MTB Challenge

After years of planning, the “Cross Florida MTB Challenge” finally happened. This first edition of the “Challenge” went off without a hitch: the weather was fantastic, the route was about 85% correct (which left plenty of room for route finding fun), and we didn’t get arrested for trespassing!

The main goal of the “Challenge” is to cross Florida on as much dirt as possible. The route was selected so that travel could be on bike trails, horse trails, hiking trails, forest roads, the occasional bushwhack, and unfortunately some paved roads. I know that it is wrong to use single use horse and hiking trails for an offroad bike event but to prove or disprove the feasibility of this project, rules had to be broken.

In fact, a large portion of the first day was spent trespassing on private land. This is nothing to be proud of and the risk of being ticketed or even arrested was very real. But crossing Florida on as much dirt as possible is a difficult task these days. Florida has experienced uncontrolled growth for thirty years and finding a non-paved section of public forest is always difficult. Taking a risk to fulfill a dream is what life is all about and since we traveled as quickly as possible, stayed on the maintained roads, and did not loiter, litter, or vandalize, I don’t think anyone minded us being there.

Here are the links to the .gpx and .kml data files created during this event.

atb_across_florida_2009.kml

atb_across_florida_2009.gpx

Here is the link to the MapMyRide website that has the .gpx drawn on a map.

ATB_Across_Florida

Below please find the play-by-play action report with a few photos for emphasis.

October 18, 2009 Trip to the starting point.

Sunday morning all participants met at the “River House” and loaded themselves and their gear into the caravan vehicle. Yes, only one vehicle was needed. Only two Wetsocks team members, Ken and Craig, where available to make the inaugural event. All the rest failed to show siting such poor excuses as, “I have a full time job,” “My hip needs to be replaced,” and “I’m not comfortable trespassing on a hunting lease during hunting season.” Lame!

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Loading up the caravan vehicle

The caravan rolled out and after stopping for a large meal of Sonny’s BBQ, arrived at the Ocean Crest Motel , our host hotel, in plenty of time to unpack our gear and take a walk on the gorgeous Atlantic beach. The Ocean Crest is a ’50s style motel in Ormond-by-the-Sea on a bit of lightly developed Atlantic Beach front north of Ormond Beach on A1A that reminded me of childhood vacations with the family. Our stay was brief but enjoyable and I would recommend the Ocean Crest for future events.

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Vacation '50s style

In the early evening the pre-race party was kicked off when team Wetsocks was picked up at their hotel for a trip to an Ormond Beach sports bar. Several pitchers of beer, piles of chicken wings and good company made for a great time.

After being dropped back at our hotel we decided that the liquor store was only a couple miles away and that a bottle of wine would be nice as we sat on the porch and listened to the surf. Ken was getting romantic on this cool clear evening but I made sure he knew we could only ever be friends.

The chianti finished and the sun set. We decided to call it a night.

Day 1 – First Annual Cross Florida MTB Challenge

October 19, 2009 Day 1 – Ormond Beach to Astor

This says it all
This says it all

Not wanting to start such a long bike ride without a good breakfast we rode south on A1A to Alfie’s Restaurant. It is just a little breakfast place about three miles south of the Ocean Crest Motel. The food was the usual stuff but it filled us up.

Here is a picture of poor Alfie. Legend has it that he swam across Bulow Creek to get to the beach and the easy living found among the nesting sea turtles only to be run over by a vacationing Canadian! Hopefully this short allegory does not hold any predictions for our bike ride.

Poor Alfie
Poor Alfie

Now the challenge begins! We rode north on A1A until the entrance to North Peninsula State Park was located. Turning west we traveled through the park and into Bulow Creek State Park. Bulow Park has beautiful scenery along its only paved road. This road is often included in the route of this area’s bike rides.

Bulow Park was quickly behind us and we began to get into the dreaded and gated “Rich Yankee” communities. I am still wondering which is worse: poor trailer trash with the requisite broken-truck lawn ornaments, leaking septic tank, and bad attitude or the rich golf club member with the boring over-fertilized over-watered lawn, sense of entitlement, and bad attitude.

Happy in Bulow Creek State Park
Happy in Bulow Creek State Park
North Peninsula State Park
North Peninsula State Park

We connected to the Old Dixie Hwy., merged with US1, and briefly headed north until my GPS let me know that it was time to get off the pavement and enter the Relay WMA. Relay is a Florida wildlife management area but is privately owned by Plum Creek, Inc. Formally Georgia/Pacific Timber Company, they must have figured that polluting Florida’s rivers with dioxins from their paper manufacturing was too much for their good name and decided that a moniker as sweet as Plum Creek would be unassailable. It is ironic that almost all the recently acquired open patches of land in Florida are preserved not because of forward looking and persuasive environmental and recreational leaders but because private land owners, donated large tracks of land to the state in order to prevent inherited estates from being wiped out by taxes.

I had sought permission to legally cross the Relay tract from both Plum Creek and from the Florida Fish and Wildlife department. Plum Creek said it was okay with them if Fish and Wildlife agreed. However, Fish and Wildlife refused my request for a special use permit.

Crossing Relay illegally would just add to the excitement of the day. Many is the time I have crossed private property without permission but this is the first time that my trespass was premeditated.

We entered Relay as inconspicuously as is possible from the side of US1 at rush hour while wearing blaze orange and flouresent yellow jackets and breaking down enough branches to allow room for our bikes to be lifted over a five strand barbed-wire fence. Once over the fence a railroad track was crossed and then another fence had to be handled before we finally stood on our first dirt road.

At this point I realized that the two fence crossings had broken the strap on the ball cap I had tied to my backpack and dislodged the red lens from my spare flashing light. This was my favorite running hat and it should never have been packed as it was never needed. The flashing light was a spare but still it was annoying to lose it.

I don’t think we had been on the dirt for thirty seconds when Ken says, “Stop! Its a truck.” With fresh guilt from just breaking into Relay and with months to let our premeditated gall hollow out our pride, we did what had to be done and quickly scampered into the bushes and hid like the delinquent children we wished we could still be. But we quickly decided that hiding was not going to get us to Astor and since the truck “must be gone by now” we continued on down the road. Probably a mile later another truck appears in front of us but this time we play it cool and wave at the guy as he drives by and he smiles and waves back and we pedal just that much faster.

The planned route had us take a road that went through a fenced off cattle pasture. The gate was locked and slightly smashed down so we jumped it and continued on only to run into a heard of cattle guarding the one open gate into the pasture that contained our road. Not wishing to disturb the cattle or the gun toting cowboy that was potentially around the next corner, we did what Ken and I usually do in this situation and took the most obvious route around the obstruction. Below is a picture of our alternate path.

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The Ditch

So we had already jumped three fences why not crawl through a ditch. The forth fence was waiting for us on the other side.

Once over the ditch the road continued as planned but then suddenly petered-out into a swampy area. Before the ride I would have sworn that the road continued through the swamp but do acknowledge that planning a route via Google Earth photos is not completely safe.

Here is the beginning of our first “disappointment.”

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First Disappointment

We, actually Ken immediately sensed that this road was doomed, bushwhacked around looking for the road to pick back up but the swamp just got deeper and the brush just got thicker. This road looked so good on the satellite photo that no alternate was proposed but Ken pulled out his Florida Gazetteer cutouts and I scoffed at their huge scale and laughed at his confidence in their portrayal of roads on private land in the middle of no-where. But he quickly found a way around and I had to eat crow and admit that his maps actually had more roads on them than the 7.5 minute topos on my GPS.

At this point we finally started to move at a good pace and I was able to relax a bit until a giant spider that had been hiding on the top of my helmet decided to move onto my face. I slapped and swatted and cursed but never saw a dead spider; however, my sunglasses where completely destroyed and had to be abandoned in the woods.

Once we got out of the northeastern section of Relay the roads got better and the forest was less dense and had pockets of clear-cuts, bridges over ditches, power-line roads, some sand, a little mud. One powerline had such a large cleared area around it that the clearing looked like a wet prarie with fantastic flowers, tall grass, a cool breeze. It was worth a few pictures.

Powerline Prairie
Powerline Prairie
Powerline Prairie
Powerline Prairie

As we approached the Relay watchtower area, we feared that hunters and possibly game wardens would be there laying in wait for evil trespassers. But we pedaled past the camp, saw lots of cabins, trucks, and even a few people setting around enjoying the beautiful weather. A very cool old wooden bridge crosses Haw Creek at the Relay hunt camp.

Ken crossing Haw Creek
Ken crossing Haw Creek

After the hunt camp, we blasted down the good dirt roads and quickly found ourselves at SR40 and at the end of the great trespass of ’09. At the corner of SR40 and SR11 we expected to resupply and have a nice lunch but we were disappointed to find that no infrastructure existed at this intersection. Ken was promised a pork sandwich after we exited Relay but he was denied and is still bitter.

But getting off private land and onto the legal bike trails and dirt roads of Heart Island Conservation Area was its own reward and we took a much deserved snack break and looked forward to riding in areas both new and guilt free.

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Heart Island Entrance
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Heart Island Entrance

Nothing much happened in Heart Island Conservation Area except the usual wrong turns, back tracks, and explanations of why poor decisions were not stupid but actually the most obvious choice based on the information at hand. We cruised through this area with nothing to complain about but the tall trees, the soaring hawks, and the grass waving in the cool breeze. If Ken would just drop the pork sandwich miscalculation, all would be right with the world.

The trail dropped us back into civilization just south of Barberville on the intersection of SR17 and SR40. Seeing a convenience store at the corner we bolted to it and purchased food and water, both of which I was without. Gatorade, snickers bars, potato chip! Yum! Junk food is so good when tired, thirsty, dirty, and looking forward to many more miles of biking.

From this store we checked the maps to find the easiest way back onto the proposed route. When the route crossed SR17, it suggested a bushwhack that did not look fun and was completely unnecessary. As we explored the available options, Ken discovered “The Pioneer Settlement for the Creative Arts” (www.pioneersettlement.org). It had lots of recreated 19th and early 20th century buildings and some modern classroom facilities. It would make a great place for a school field trip or a vacation one-day stop over.

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Country Store

dscn2693Once we found our way back onto the route, we entered Lake George State Forest. This area supposedly suffered heavily from the wild fires of 1998 but the last decade has been good to the forest and everything looked great. Our route took us down Fawn Road until it intersected with Truck Trail 7 and we stayed on this well maintained limerock road across the entire forest. Many inviting and grassy trails and roads tempted us to stray but the sun was starting to get low and we forced ourselves to take the easy way.

Truck Trail 7 passes by Jenkins Pond where a covered picnic pavillion just begs to be used. Too close to the St. John’s river to stop, we completed the last bit of forest road and found ourselves on River Rd. To the north would be Astor, our day’s destination. To the south would be Bluffton Recreation Area. As is usual when Ken and Craig do anything, the original route and goal is just a suggestion. So we headed south to Bluffton to see what there was to see.

The Bluffton Recreation Area is small but nice. A floating dock sets in a channel of the St. Johns River that flows behind an island once used as a steamboat launch. Ruins of this launch are supposed to remain but none could be seen from our vantage point. A nature trail was available for hikers or for mountain bikers that do not mind breaking the rules. Since it was late in the day and no cars were in the parking lot, I did not think we would bother anyone.

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Bluffton Recreation Area
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Bluffton Recreation Area

The nature trail was okay and certainly worth a trip if visiting this area. There used to be a giant shell midden at Bluffton but it has been completely removed and used as road building base. I wonder for what purpose future generations will use our trash dumps?

Hungry and a bit leg sore we got back onto River Rd. and headed for Astor. Astor was funny in that it had plenty of motels, marinas, restaurants, and gift shops but none of them were open. I’m not sure when their “high season” might be but we definitely hit town at the lowest. Our host motel in Astor was “The Astor Bridge Marina and Hotel at the Port of Call Yacht Club.” I kid you not! With a name like that wouldn’t you expect a giant neon sign with some famous headliner’s name across the marquee? No, we rode over the Astor Bridge and searched the most likely looking places. We could not ask anyone since the town was empty and the stores were closed. The place could have been in a slasher movie or even a “Twilight Zone” episode. Crossing back over the bridge we did notice a small broken and faded plastic sign that said, “Astor Marina and Hotel.” Fortunately, the manager had left our key in the restaurant as he had promised and the restaurant didn’t look too bad. However, the motel was basically a concrete block prison cell.

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Outside the cell block
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Inside the cell block

At the restaurant we watched the sunset, stared at the “famous” Astor Bridge, ate a big pork-chop dinner, and drank several beers. Ken exchanged text messages with Ron and they both compared their day’s adventure: Ron shot a buck on his lease in Georgia and Ken risked being shot on a lease in Florida.

That night I fixed a tire that was beginning to deflate during the last few miles of the trip and then we dropped into bed at 8:30 PM.

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Astor Bridge

Day 2 – First Annual Cross Florida MTB Challenge

October 20, 2009 Day 2 – Astor to Ocala

This morning was again a perfect day for any outdoor activity. We had no compelling reason to stay in our cell block any longer than necessary and quickly packed our stuff, left the key on the table, and hit the road looking for an open store to get some food.

Astor had nothing to offer for breakfast so we stayed on SR40 for the short distance to the equally small town of Astor Park. Once there we found an open BP station that had a built-in Subway sandwich shop that also served breakfast. Ken and I ordered a surprisingly good breakfast of eggs, cheese, muffins, etc. and then loaded up with water, ice, Gatorade, and candy bars.

We met two old guys setting on a bench in the front of the store and they volunteered directional information that was very useful for anyone driving a car or truck but a bit scary for anyone on a bike. We explained that we wished to stay off paved roads and planned to cross the Ocala National Forest on the forest roads or on trails. They did not seem too hopeful and repeated their paved road route.

From the BP station the planned route lay just south of SR40 and followed an old railroad grade that has been converted to a powerline. We made several attempts to get onto the grade but we always found our way blocked by either a fenced yard full of junk and bulldogs or by tall brush and horrible trail conditions.

We decided to move on and stayed on SR40 to CR445A and from there were able to pick up the desired route as it entered the Ocala National Forest on FR528.

Ocala National Forest Entrance
Ocala National Forest Entrance

Travel on FR528 was excellent. It felt great to be off the hard road and into the forest.

After a few miles we crossed SR19 and then arrived at Camp Ocala, a 4-H center on the shores of Sellers Lake. The place looked abandoned except for a guy kicking the side of a full-sized van. He didn’t look like a car thief but maybe we should have been more suspicous.

At the back side of the 4-H center the road ended at a fence with no-trespassing signs. We could see that the road continued on the other side of the this property but we didn’t want to make a 400 meter dash without the cover of trees.

So we backtracked to the nearest southbound trail and started searching for a way around. It didn’t take long to find the west-bound FR595-2. This road had a good clay base and I was confident that we would now get across the forest without trouble. However, we saw an interesting sign and had to explore.

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Getting very comfortable jumping gates

The sign told us that Buck Lake campground was down this road and that a reservation was necessary to use it. We had to crawl under the gate but since we were on public land I didn’t think anyone would mind. The campground was beautiful, the lake was gorgeous, and I would like to come back and camp here someday. Maybe, if we can get a larger group of riders for next years Challenge, we can reserve the campground.

The map showed that Buck Lake had lots of hiking trails around it and we planned to take advantage of them. Now that we had taken the road to Buck Lake we could not possibly backtrack to the nice clay road that we had left. Instead the new plan was to take the trails until a secondary forest road could be found that headed west and was not hip deep in sugar sand.

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Buck Lake
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Ken waiting for Craig at Buck Lake

At Buck Lake I noticed that both of my tires were going flat! Ken was forced to wait for me as I changed one tube and then discovered that my second tube was defective. Actually, the second tube had been in my bike bag for so long that it had a hole worn through it. I took one of Ken’s, fixed the problem and we headed down the hiking trail to the west of the lake.

These trails were fun and had good traction, lots of shade, and an occasional view of the lake. Alas, these trails quickly stopped heading west and we had to make other plans.

Ken on the Buck Lake Trails
Ken on the Buck Lake Trails

We hopped on a secondary forest road but found that it was too sandy for us to make any real progress. My topo map showed a few trails in this area and we figured that a trail would have less travel and therefore be less sandy. We did find less sand but also found that the less traveled trail, although interesting and beautiful, had a few hurdles to negotiate.

Very tired of hurdling the fallen trees
Hurdling the fallen trees

We lifted our bikes over a thousand blown down sand pines while the living trees, blown by the wind, popped and moaned above our heads. Finally, we broke out onto a trail that, although a bit sandy, could be rolled. In the sandy spots we could see an array of animal tracks: raccoon, opossum, deer, fox, dog, human, and even bear! No other sign of bears was found but it was discovered that raccoons tend to poop in the middle of all roads and trails.

Bear Track
Bear Track

We were now officially in the Big Scrub of the Ocala National Forest. Although we were not more than five miles from a paved road, this area had a very wild feel to it. The signs of human impact were everywhere but the place was dry and unforgiving and did not make you feel welcome. Getting this feeling has to be the best reason to do a ride such as this one and I did not have it anywhere else during the entire ride.

Fighting through the sand we finally made it back to the planned route on FR584A. This road was the expected well maintained clay based road that traversed the southern border of the Navy’s Pinecastle Impact Range. This range is the only place on the East Coast that the Navy can do live bombing practice. The area is unfenced but the signs posting warnings such as “Unexploded Ordnance,” and “Active Laser Ranging” are enough to keep me out.

The planned route had us leave the nice forest road and start to cross the western side of the forest using secondary roads and trails. The first trail we hit was terribly sandy and we had to push our bikes for the entire half-mile. Once back out onto a real road, we swore to never do that again.

But the next secondary road looked like it had a solid clay base and its temptations were too much to resist. It lead us down into what the map called “The Volusia Bear Hole.” How can you resist a road that takes you to a place with that name? The “Bear Hole” indeed had many bear tracks but at its center there was nothing but a dried up mud hole and the remnants of several weekend parties: beer cans, bottles, burned wood, and trash. However, the worst sight was that to the west of the “Bear Hole” the road had been destroyed by logging equipment that had recently clear-cut about five square miles of forest. The road was still there but it was a plowed up mess of clean, dry, powdery sugar sand! One point five miles of the stuff. We trudged through the shadeless clear-cut pushing our bikes wishing for death. But death never came and the sand did end. And this time, when we finally hit the next good road, our “never do that again” oath stuck.

Miles and Miles of Sand
Miles and Miles of Sand
Recovering from "Bear Hole" Sand Pit
Recovering after "Bear Hole" Sand Pit

The sand had taken its toll on our energy stores so we took a break to eat, drink, shake the sand out of our clothes, and I had to fix another flat tire.

Swearing never to get stuck in sand again, we bailed on the proposed route through the lakes of the western forest and just hammered down the clay and lime rock forest roads until we made to our first paved road in many hours. 182nd Ave Rd is a paved forest road on the west side of the forest but it was our only way out. Fortunately, we only had to stay on it for the three miles to the Sunnyhill Restoration Area.

I expected Sunnyhill to have water and at least a port-a-john but was sadly mistaken. Our water was getting low but since we knew that a store was probably only five miles away and that the route through Sunnyhill would only take twenty minutes, we stayed on the planned route. Or, we thought we were on the planned route. For some reason Ken and I were unable to reconcile the Sunnyhill trail map with our view of the world. We followed what was thought to be the Red trail and hoped something would start to look familiar.

At this point another of my tires went flat and I sat down in the grass and bitterly fixed the problem. It was now that my bitching and whining began and the flats were beginning to be not only a pain in my ass but also a legitimate impediment to the success of this ride. The sun was getting low and we had many miles until we reached Ocala. Getting a flat every three miles was not going to get us home in time for dinner!

Okay, flat fixed and we are off. Yes, off the trail! Why can’t we follow our own advice? And the irony is that Ken and I are the most conservative travelers of anyone in our little group of friends. No sooner did we give up looking for the trail shown on the map than we went off on another bushwhack to find it. Fortunately, this bushwhack ended quickly when our trail dead-ended into a nasty marsh on the edge of the Ocklawaha River. Once back on the main trail, we took it to its northern extreme and found we had the Ocklawaha Marsh to our left, a huge ditch in front, and a giant ditch to our right. Dude, we were screwed. But let me tell you that practicing the Golden Rule my entire life totally paid off on this day for just as I was about to call a retreat, Ken discovered a large oak tree conveniently growing over the giant ditch and it offered us its one big limb to use as a bridge.

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Ken uses the miracle tree to carry the bikes across the giant ditch

Once over the ditch, there was an easy trek out to 182 Ave. Rd. Still scratching our heads as to how we missed the trail that the Sunnyhill map so clearly showed, we rode to Moss Bluff and licked our wounds at Meador’s Corner Grocery. We topped up our Camelbacks with water and Gatorade, made sure we had enough energy bars, and ate a delicious bag of potato chips.

The only store in Moss Bluff
The only store in Moss Bluff

We took SR314A to the west but were quickly stopped by both of my tires going flat! I’m out of tubes so we pull off into the Moss Bluff Baptist Church parking lot and begin to patch all the tubes. Ken found a working water faucet and then two wonderful ladies came out of the church and gave us a bucket. With a bucket full of water, finding and patching the leaks was a breeze.

I finally realized that my flats were caused entirely by sand spurs and only appeared when I had been riding on a paved road. My theory is that the sand spurs stick into the tire while on the trail but do not puncture the tire and tube until the hard road hammers them home. My tire choice was obviously a poor one. Thinking that we would mainly be on well maintained dirt roads or pavement, I selected my best rolling but thinnest tires. Never ride offroad with mountain bike XC race tires!

After wasting about an hour between a food stop and fixing more flats, we finally got out of Moss Bluff and headed toward the Ocklawaha Prairie Restoration Area.

The original plan was to explore the extent of the dike road and determine if a future ride would be able to cross the small ditch to the north of the Prairie and then proceed across Heather Island and through Marshall Swamp. But it was about to get dark and we had to modify that plan. We did find time to explore the Prairie entrance on SE 137 Ave. Rd. and visit the boardwalk that takes you out into the Restoration Area. This boardwalk stretched a half mile out into the prairie (actually more like a wet marsh). Since no other person was seen, we rode our bikes to the end of the walk, snapped a few pictures, and continued on our way. This day was starting to get very long and we were still had ten tough miles before it was over.

Ocklawaha Prairie Entrance
Ocklawaha Prairie Entrance
Ocklawaha Prairie Boardwalk
Ocklawaha Prairie Boardwalk

SE 137 Ave. Rd. is a very nice dirt road that has unexpectedly fine scenery. Besides the Ocklawaha Prairie, this road also borders the National Forest and a wildlife management area. Whether by bike or car this road is worth the trip. We did not tarry on this road and hammered toward the Marshall Swamp with hopes of getting across it before darkness made it more difficult.

When we hit Hwy 314 the sun was just barely above the trees; we crossed the Ocklawaha River at Sharp’s Ferry and dashed into the Marshall Swamp via the excellent hiking trail found where the Carr Greenway crosses Hwy. 314. This hiking trail is another must-see section of the Greenway but because we would be battling the coming darkness and the fact that biking on this trail is not very polite, it was difficult to enjoy.

Bridge over Ocklawaha at Sharp's Ferry
Bridge over Ocklawaha at Sharp's Ferry
Craig in the Marshall Swamp
Craig in the Marshall Swamp

But the lime rock path through the Marshall Swamp was enjoyable and the dense, wet forest has a spooky-old-tree feeling that is hard to resist and I soon began to see and hear the ghosts that must be living in this small remnant of Florida wetland.

Once finished with the hiking trail we had a little trouble finding the entrance to the Baseline paved bike trail area of the Greenway. With our usual luck and guess work we finally stumbled upon the hiking trail heading west and followed it until the paved trails appeared. This paved trail area is surrounded by neighborhoods and I hope the residents appreciate the treasure they have in their back yards. Even with darkness closing in, we saw many groups of people enjoying the cool evening. This was the first time in two days that we had seen more than three humans at a time and it was nice to have them enjoying the outdoors with us.

Now our problem was to find a place to sleep. At the Baseline Trailhead darkness became complete and we stopped to use the facilities, put on our bike lights, and plan our route through the streets of Ocala. To be assured that we could find a motel, we planned to head west to US301 but did not want to travel on the major highways. From the maps we had, it appeared that none of the secondary roads went through to US301 and we were all done with jumping fences and crossing railroad tracks. Using his strips of Gazeeteer maps, Ken found a sure-fire route that took us halfway back up the Baseline trails and exited at the Banyan St. trailhead. From there we could zig-zag to the northwest until 17th street could carry us to US301 in the middle of Ocala. It was a bit out of our way but gave us a 100% chance of finding a motel.

Before we even got to the Banyan Trailhead, my bike light started to dim and my front tire started to go flat! At the corner of Baseline and 28th St. we stopped again so I could sort out my light problem and fix my flat tire. It turned out that in my rush to leave the Baseline Trailhead and the stress of not knowing which route we should take, I had put a battery in backward. Once it was flipped around, my light was going full strength. Fixing the tire had become a dull routine and I’m sure Ken was sick of riding with someone who not only whined about flat tires but also delayed our travels. I’m fairly certain that my flats not only prevented us from exploring many of the areas we planned to explore but also cost us two hours of travel time.

Finally on the move, we hammered down the hard roads and quickly find ourselves on US301 and directly across the street from the Ocala Inn. The lady at the desk was briefly startled when I walked in but once she saw my smile and small stature, the dried blood on my legs and arms no longer caused her concern. We booked a room and thanked our lucky stars that Ken’s route took us through some nice areas of Ocala and not through the ‘Hood. The Ocala Inn is a dump and probably typical of low end hotels in Ocala. However, had the air-conditioner been able to keep the air quality at a level slightly better than “damp armpit”, I would have been very comfortable. After a quick shower and a change of clothes we walked to the “Ocala Ale House” for a very pleasant meal and a few beers.

We did not arrive at our hotel until 9PM and did not get to bed until 11:30PM. This was a long adventurous day only slightly spoiled by the constant chorus of flat tires.

Ocala Inn
Ocala Inn