LASH Day 1: The poop filter network is missing

Mile 339.6 – Joshua Creek Campground 349.7

I’m sure I didn’t sleep. As a night shifter, that’s never been my strong suit. The alarm went off at 6am, I got out of bed and quickly checked my backpack before heading to the kitchen to refill my bottles. Tink (Stacia Bennett) entered the dining room from her trailer where she slept overnight. We chatted while I confirmed plans with our shuttle driver. My dad, who shows his love for eggs, made us ham and cheese omelettes and served them with a brick of French fries. A hug from my mother and we crossed Florida to Oviedo, where my friends the Stevens lived. Chris and his wife Chelsey sit with me on the FT Thru Hike board, we’ve known each other for years and I’m grateful that Chris offered to drive us to the trailhead and let Tink park his camper and car there for a few days.

in the forest

The minivan turned onto a dirt road, with a retirement trailer park on the right and a herd of Braham cows and bison on the left. Typical Florida. We said goodbye to Chris and Tink and I began the trip. Despite the drought and colder than average winter temperatures, we are quickly greeted by a lush subtropical chapel. Palm trees and ferns stood out and the smell of damp earth filled the air. I babbled explaining that we will pass through the Orlando wetlands like a blue flare. Orlando Wetlands is a man-made reclaimed wastewater treatment system. The water flows through a series of canals that remove nitrogen and phosphorus before being discharged into the St. Johns River. This network of canals is known to be a popular spot for bird and wildlife watching and I was very excited to show it to my friend. Until we reached the main door. Which was closed. Because it was Monday. I had missed bird watching in the sewage treatment network. With the ridge down, we traveled back roads to reach the trail.

Why is it wet?

Back on the trail, the humidity hit us in the face as soon as we returned to the forest. The ground sank around us, submerging in wet sponges of green hair. We weaved and negotiated sinkholes in the earth with wooden boards and tree trunks. Cypress knees came out of nowhere creating small tripping hazards. I took a precarious step to the left and sank knee-deep into the black mud, clutching the dirt. I lifted my leg feeling the mud and slime suck at my ankle and I slipped into the shoe. To get my left leg out I had to lean on my right leg, pushing that further down. This left-right-left-right process continued for several minutes with Tink Cry laughing several steps ahead and me muttering profanities under my breath. I finally gave up and crawled out with my hands hugging the dirt.

Throw it like you mean it

What was supposed to be a 10 mile day turned into a 13 mile day with our failed blue blaze. We approached Joshua Creek Campground around 5 pm With sunset and a bitter, wet cold we quickly settled in. We brightened our first day of travel with boxed wine and chocolate. Forever Grateful Me: Tink is a big believer in eating well on the road. I nibbled on Chamoy peach rings while trying to toss us a bag full of rocks to hang the night’s meal. In what Tink called an “exercise in frustration tolerance,” I finally wrapped it around the towering branch. This is a testament to my lack of athleticism. Overnight low temperatures quickly dropped beyond the expected 35 degrees into the 20s. We huddled under our duvets and cloaks, shivering. My first few nights on the road usually meant minimal sleep for me. I am very aware of every noise that surrounds the camp. The slow, careful steps of something very intentional outside my tent shoved my heart into my throat. I tossed and turned trying to disengage from the steps. Tinkerbell’s words earlier that day, when we lost the orange glow, echoed in my head: «I may not be where I meant to be, but I’m not lost.»

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