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sticks-and-stone · 4 years ago

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Potts Preserve

September 21, 2019 - September 22, 2019

This was my first time camping since February when I went with my roommate and the dog we had at the time. Before that it was just camping with my father as a kid or drunk with my friends in high school (trips I almost don’t remember at all). So this trip was a pretty big deal with very few expectations or preparedness. I wanted to find a hobby that would not cost much, but would require significant planning and time out of my life before, during, and after. So camping seemed like a good fit. I decided to start planning monthly trips. So this was the first one!

When I first decided to go on this trip, I had next to no supplies. I wanted to go with whatever I had or could improvise as a way to get started on a list of things I wanted to add to my kit. What better way to figure out what I needed than to realize it in the moment!

This trip was only going to be a quick overnight so that in the event that we realized we had too little, we wouldn’t be stuck out there for days. I found a site that was owned by the Southwest Florida Water Management District and was free to use with a reservation. So I booked the site and called up an old friend, Jenna. Jenna and I did a lot of drunk camping together in high school and she had a foundation of camping with her own father as a child, so I knew she would be right for the job. She and I had also gone a long period of time without hanging out, so it was a good opportunity for us to catch up!

When we began planning this trip, I had a tent, and some other small stuff, but not a whole lot of anything else. We borrowed a cooler from my roommate, a chair from my parents, and just bought beer on our way out to the campsite.

I wanted to get a good night’s sleep before getting up midmorning on Saturday to meet Jenna and go, but I ended up staying up late. Like a child before her first trip to Disney World, I was restless, excited, and hyperactive. When I woke up (too early) the next day, all that excitement was squashed when I realized I had started my period. I was worried this would happen, but I was hoping my Day One would be on Sunday, but alas, I was going to have to go camping on my period. And not just any camping trip, a camping trip that I wasn’t totally sure I was prepared for. As it turned out, the portable toilets were close and clean enough for me. YAY!

Jenna showed up exactly on time - I really have to give her props for that. She helped me load up the car and then we took off! We stopped at my parents' house (they were out of town) for a little firewood and one of their camping chairs (Jenna did not have one) and also at a gas station for beer and snacks. Then we were on the road for real; it was about midday.

The drive down was quicker and easier than we expected. After not seeing each other for a few years, we had PLENTY to talk about and catch up on. She told me about all of her drama, I told her about all of mine. It was lovely. We arrived at the campground without getting lost or even a little turned around at all. There were about 4 other groups there already set up and as it was late afternoon on a Saturday, everyone seemed to be pretty settled in.

We found our spot. Unlike the other spots that people had set up around us, we did not have a fire pit, a picnic table, or a grill. Everyone else seemed to have all three. We didn’t mind and we found a nice flat place to lay our tent out. We found out later that what we chose was not a spot at all and that we were not even supposed to be back there.

We got the tent set up and I began to work on the air pump that I had borrowed from my roommate. I needed to strip the wire so that I could split it and plug it into the car battery that dad gave me to run the fan. We had no other form of electricity and no other way to pump the air mattresses up. I broke it. I ended up strippping the wires too much and the whole contraption became non-functional. We were only there for one night, though, and what’s sleeping on the ground other than the authenticity of a camping trip?

From the time of arrival until just before dusk (about 3 hours) we thought it would be nice to open up the tent to allow the breeze and light to enter it. Well, neither did and what did enter our tent was about 10,000 love bugs. So I went in there with our one bottle of bug spray and closed myself in. I held my breath and sprayed the shit out of the aerosol canister until I was sure everyone was dead and I could not hold my breath any longer.

To give the homemade bug bomb a chance to work, we decided to explore the area and go on a hike. We made it about a mile away from camp and it started raining. The trail seemed to come to a dead end so we just turned around and went back. I have a terrible sense of direction and would have honestly gotten completely lost if it hadn’t been for Jenna to guide us.

We got back to camp after our hike and I checked on our tent - no more living love bugs, but piles of dead ones on the ground. It was gross. I got Jenna and the broom and we got rid of as many of the dead bodies as we could. We would shake the rest out the next day when we packed up to leave.

We sat around the fire and played the guitar for a bit when suddenly I realized that we were going to get bored. We had been drinking beer since we arrived and we'd been going through it pretty fast. I never really thought about how to pass the time.

I went walking around looking for firewood. I had nothing to chop it with or nothing to cut the large limbs, but I could use leverage and my body weight for most of the work I needed to do.

The entire time we were there, I made sure to keep a list of all the things I thought about having that we didn’t have. The first being string, the next, an air pump that plugged into the car. Then a sponge. I started to realize that we had enough to survive in the woods, but we did not have enough to THRIVE. This trip was rough supplies-wise, but we made do. Thankfully we brought enough beer to ward off TOO much boredom.

As the sun went down and the alcohol made its way further into our bloodstreams, we decided we were hungry and wanted to eat the food I had brought for us. What I had brought was really simple. It was two pre-made PB&J sandwiches, pre-made mac and cheese, and PB&J crackers.

Dinner was a disaster. The sandwiches I made got soggy from the ice melting and the container failing to do its job in the cooler. The mac and cheese was attempted cold, but then it was decided that we would put it in the pot in the fire and see if we could heat it up. That actually worked out pretty well - but was all we had. Luckily, Jenna came armed with hummus and crackers and had bought some beef jerky at the gas station.

We went to sleep soon after dinner and made sure we got nice and drunk first because we had forgotten that we were sleeping on the ground that night. After all the alcohol, I was ready to crash. My body temp was high though so I put on the fan and slept on top of my blankets.

About halfway through the night I was woken up by the feeling of my bones turning to ice and cracking. I was violently shivering in my bed and wasn’t sure my toes were still attached to my body. I had to pee too. So I stood up clumsily in our little tent and put on my shoes. I looked over and Jenna was fast asleep but now wearing more clothes than she went to bed in - I guess she woke up the same way I did.

I walked to the bathroom and peed. I took comfort in the smelly plastic bin as it seemed to have held on to the day’s heat and trapped it inside. I was suddenly disgusted with myself for enjoying a port a potty, so I walked back to the tent.

When I got inside I turned off the fan. I looked through my suitcase - nothing but more short sleeved shirts and shorts. I took my shoes off but left my socks on and covered them with a second pair. I took the folded king-sized sheet off of my deflated twin size mattress and used that as extra cover in addition to the small throw blanket I had. I was able to make it a few more hours like that until the urge to pee woke me up again.

This time, it seemed warmer outside the tent so I took my double pair of socks off and slipped on flip flops. Jenna was still asleep so I stumbled out of the tent toward the bathroom. I handled my business and came back to the tent - this time, no lingering in the port-a-potty for warmth.

As I approached the site, I saw Jenna moving around outside the tent with her flashlight. I assumed she was doing the same thing I was - taking a midnight pee - but as I got closer I could see that she was in fact setting up the fire. As I got close enough I asked if she was trying to warm up so she could sleep, and she looked at me confused and said “No, this is today’s fire, it’s 6:30”. I was shocked and confused, but proud that we had made it to morning.

We had no breakfast. So we drank more beer. We were out of water, so I decided it was time to leave. We packed up quickly and cleaned the tent and tarps and then we were on our way out.

As we tried to exit the gate, our code wouldn’t work and we had to wait for a forest cop to show up and let us out. We probably waited an hour or so, but when he finally did arrive, he was super nice and as it turns out, from Jacksonville! We chatted with him for a while until a car pulled up behind us. We were finally on our way home!

The ride home was a bit different than the ride there. We double and triple checked my list and talked about all of the things we HAD to get for next time, which things I already had at home, and which things needed to be purchased. Overall the trip was fine, we decided, but we could do WAY better.

Observations:

SO MANY LOVE BUGS - they literally covered everything

We needed to pack the car more strategically - we had to pull everything out to get to the tent and table that we needed to set up first

We needed rope/string

More stakes for the tarp and the tent would not be a bad idea

A table or some platform to unpack on would be handy

Our air pump broke - we needed one that plugged into the car.

It's super important to keep the tent closed completely.

We needed a shovel to dig out the fire pit

We needed more lights around the site - the fire was not enough

Citronella candles would not be a bad idea either

Should have brought extra bug spray

We didn’t have much to do beyond sitting and drinking beer. We vowed to bring at least some books and crafts for next time. I want to learn to whittle.

I needed to stay more organized with the supplies as we unpacked. Things got messy.

Get Outside,

Stone.

#camping #outdoors #tent camping #tent #adventure #Potts Preserve #SWFWMD #Florida

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thismightbeaterribleidea · 4 years ago

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Accidental Snowbirding

So I went to Florida and accidentally became a snowbird. I drove south in September with no real timeframe for anything in mind, and I ended up staying on the Gulf coast north of Tampa (Pasco County) for almost three months, minus a couple of weeks I was in Georgia.

Some friends have asked me how the new, nomadic life is going, and I tell them that it hasn’t really felt that nomadic. I’ve enjoyed being close to my friend Ron — I had a regular rotation of several campgrounds, none of them more than half an hour from his place. It reminded me of the decade-plus ago when we both lived in Denver, in old, cheap apartments within walking distance of each other. A friend calls and says “do you want to come over?” and you just go over. It’s lovely. We both got into paddleboarding (more on that later) and explored some rivers. We even took an airbnb trip to the Smokies and northern Alabama before the pandemic escalated. So it’s been interesting and good, if different from the types of images that motivated me to buy this big-ass van (wilderness, solitude, aspen groves, desert mesas).

Here’s what I remember from the last few months:

A cotton-candy-pink bird forages on a shoreline and it is so quiet that you can hear its three-clawed feet pattering in the mud. Ninety minutes later we are scarfing down fried chicken in the car in a crowded parking lot.

In the trailer park, people drive golf carts around in loops: maybe this passes for exercise, or maybe they are hoping to run into someone to talk to.

Until November, I sweat and sweat and sweat, and then it cools off enough for me to run in the morning and it’s glorious.

During the day, there is constant traffic and the lights are always red. There are a lot of billboards, all promising different things, but the one that makes us angry is the one that says “Jesus promises stability.”

I spend the night at a trailer park and the ladies in the office are sweet and efficient and wearing masks. But the spot I’m assigned is across from a mobile home with one of those flags that is half the U.S. flag and half the Confederate flag, and although my privilege probably keeps me safe here, I keep running through the equations with slightly different variables: who would be safe in this spot, in this trailer park/this county/this state/this country, and under what circumstances? What could make all of us safer? And the people who chose to pay for and display that absurdity of a flag, why is that flag the story they tell themselves? And what is the topography of the shared responsibility for all of this bullshit?

We paddle the Hillsborough River and see no other boaters but two alligators. One is basking on a log, and when I turn my head for a second it drops into the water with a massive splash: one moment there was a six-foot alligator; the next moment there was nothing but ripples. It was that fast. My friend decides he will not paddle here alone.

I see live oaks that have Spanish moss hanging from their branches, sure — but they’re also covered in lichens, and on the horizontal branches there are carpets of multiple kinds of moss and clusters of foot-tall ferns. It’s a whole ecosystem in one tree.

I’m driving “home” (most frequent campground) late one night and I am alone on a very dark road. In my headlights, I see a human figure in the middle of my lane, facing directly at me. I think: goblin! But it is a human person. I swerve into the other lane in case he moves. But he doesn’t move a muscle. He is in a half-crouch with his hands on his knees. I catch a glimpse of him in profile as I pass: his face is set in a rictus, jaw clenched. He is still staring straight ahead, unblinking, as if he hasn’t even seen me.

I call Ron just to reassure myself that I haven’t slipped out of the real human world and into someplace else.

“Oh my God,” he says. “But no, you’re still in the real world. There’s a lot of meth around here. He’s not a demon or anything. It’s just Florida.” He is wearing a dark sweatshirt and standing in the dark on a dark road; what if he gets hit? I call the police and I hate that to this day I still wonder if that was the right decision.

We get into paddleboarding. Ron already has an inflatable paddleboard, and I buy one with money I should be saving for things like van insulation or the loose crown on my lower left molar that is already living on borrowed time. But the paddleboard is amazing. Previously, I hadn’t gotten it: why stand when you could sit? I’m lazy and I have crappy feet; I hate standing. But this isn’t regular standing. It’s walking-on-water standing. In our favorite river, the Weeki Wachee, you can see all kinds of things from a paddleboard that it’s harder to see in a kayak, just because of the angle. On a paddleboard, you look straight down and there’s a fish striped like a zebra, an old pine log submerged ten feet down in the clear water, a scurrying blue crab, a bed of rippled sand.

We start at the public park and paddle up against a stiff current. Twice, we get to the three-mile mark and there is the same black-and-white cormorant in the same tree both times. We are familiar with the fact that if you time it right, so that you get back to the park as late as possible without actually paddling in the dark, and the crowds taper off so you have the river to yourself, the deepest pools are turquoise on our way upriver and viridian on our way down.

There are sometimes manatees on the river. In this part of the world, manatees are THE charismatic megafauna. And they are charismatic as hell. Once we are out late, a couple miles up the river with no one else around, and we see a mother and baby grazing on eelgrass in shallow water. We watch for minutes, mesmerized. The baby is tiny for a manatee: about the size of a Corgi. It must be very, very new. There is another manatee that I’m pretty sure I see several times on different days: it is very plump, with three pink slash marks across its back. We get to the point where, if there is a throng of other boaters stopped near where manatees are feeding, we don’t try to stop and see the manatees. We’ve seen them before, and we’ll see them again, when we don’t have to worry about the people and their kayaks and canoes in the current.

The last time I went to the Weeki Wachee, I went alone. The leaves were turning, because the calendar’s close-to-Christmas is Florida’s fall. I hadn’t ever planned on seeing a blazing orange maple next to tropical blue water, but it happened. Close-knit formations of big, soft gray, doe-eyed fish darted under my feet, and at the appointed time the water started turning dark green. In one of the final bends just upriver from the park, there is a deep spot called Hospital Hole. As I paddled down towards it, I saw one manatee, then another break the surface to breathe. I drifted over the hole, away from the manatees near the surface, and I saw the outline of another one eight or ten feet down against the very dark blue of very deep water.

The Weeki Wachee is a very narrow river, usually not more than thirty feet across and often only twenty. It’s also shallow, four or five feet on average, twelve where the current has carved a deep groove or pocket. Hospital Hole is at one of the river’s widest points, I’d guess maybe 150 feet from bank to bank. The hole itself — technically a sinkhole, but with a couple of small springs feeding into it — is only about 30 or 40 feet wide, but 140 feet deep. It goes down so far that there are different layers of water: freshwater, saltwater, a layer that is anoxic, another layer that is so full of hydrogen sulfide that divers can smell the rotten-egg odor even though they’re breathing compressed air. I read online that the manatees often go to Hospital Hole to sleep at night. The sinkhole-spring, like a big deep pocket, gives them space to stay together and still spread out. They can sink down below where they have to worry about boat engines or curious paddle boarders or whatever else manatees worry about. Every so often, they come up to breathe, then sink down again. Respire, rest, repeat.

It’s 7:17 p.m. as I am writing this, so they’re probably there right now.

***

So that’s Florida! Other, more nuts-and-bolts things that have happened include...

I installed lights and outlets. This was a big project and a big deal, since it means that I can have things like a fan (to keep me from sweating to death in the summer), an electric cooler (a.k.a. mini-mini-fridge) for things like vegetables and hummus and cheese and cold boozy beverages, and, well, lights at night that aren’t a harsh blue-white solar lantern, which is what I was using before October, when I made these improvements. Anything electrical is always a little scary; I’m nervous every time I have to go into the breaker box and always surprised when I’m able to touch it without shocking myself. I also had an extremely minimal understanding of how to splice wires together and how to connect all these lights to each other, to the dimmer switch, and to the breaker box. This involved a lot of googling, and even though the DIY van blogs seemed to say that installing lights would take half a day, it took me the better part of two days. But it’s done, and I’m very happy with it. Fiat lux, motherf***er!

My new favorite public agency is the Southwest Florida Water Management District. Occasionally, if I’d had a few drinks at Ron’s house, I spent the night parked in his driveway. Sometimes I stayed in private RV parks. (This was mostly driven by the need to empty the van’s port-a-pot once a week or so — public dump stations are not easy to find in this area of Florida; the closest was about an hour away.) But mostly, I stayed at campground operated by the SWFWMD. These campgrounds are in big tracts of forested, marshy, watery land, and they are great primitive campgrounds that cost $0. There’s no water, no showers, no other fancy campground amenities, but there is usually one outhouse, and each campsite has a picnic table and a fire pit. They’re basic and beautiful.

My favorite campground is called the Serenova Tract. It’s about 15 minutes from Ron’s house, and the campground is in a bunch of pines and live oaks. Horses are allowed, and on one of the last weekends I spent there, several people with horses stayed overnight and hung up Christmas lights. The next morning, they were joined by a dozen other horses and riders who all went for a morning trail ride through the woods. I was insanely jealous.

The other SWFWMD campground I stayed at was called Cypress Creek. It’s a little farther from Ron’s place than Serenova, so it was my second choice when Serenova was full but my van’s shitter wasn’t. It’s a beautiful spot, with tons of big pines. But right now I’m a little wary of it because the last time I stayed there I woke up from a dead sleep at 4:51 a.m. when I heard someone singing and talking to themselves. (The campground had been totally empty when I got there and still was as far as I could see.) It was probably just someone who had come in on foot and was drinking because it was cold (40 degrees) outside, but it was still a bit unnerving.

I also have a favorite RV park. I was thinking that my relationship with these places would be strictly utilitarian, and it still mostly is. But out of the three RV parks that I’ve stayed at, there’s one small one called Suncoast that I actually kind of enjoyed: even though I only went there occasionally, the three staff people remembered me when I called or came in, and they often gave me a discount on their regular rates because I don’t use any electricity. They (both staff and most guests) also seem to be taking pretty good pandemic precautions. (I actually saw someone get kicked out of the office when they tried to come in without a mask, something that I’ve never seen in any other business since March!) The place has nice big pine trees, and by the office there’s a table where people put free food that they aren’t using, or occasionally two-day-old bread that someone got from Publix for free. The last time I was there, some people had decorated their campers and RVs with lights and it was kind of charming. I still heavily prefer to be out in the woods by myself and not spending any money, but I’m glad I found someplace pleasant for my once-a-week-or-so sewer/water needs.

I figured out how to stay warm while sleeping. This is a bigger deal than it sounds because a) I haven’t insulated the van yet, so at night, it’s only a few degrees warmer than whatever the temperature is outside, and b) I’m a very cold sleeper. Florida is SUPER WARM compared to any other place I’ve ever lived, but in December, it started getting a little chilly at night: down into the fifties, then the forties, then, a few nights ago, 30 degrees. I’ve camped in near-freezing or slightly-below-freezing temperatures before, but sometimes it wasn’t very comfortable — even with good long underwear and socks and a hat and a zero-degree-rated sleeping bag. But I’ve figured out a system for my bed that uses four blankets, layered like a licorice allsort: a quilt, a heavy wool blanket, another quilt, and a faux-wool blanket. If it gets below 40, I can add my zero-degree down sleeping bag and be not just comfortable but actively toasty, like a baking croissant.

Unrelatedly, I’ve been having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning.

I’ve found that my life in a van is basically like my life has been anywhere else. I work. I sleep. I stay up late reading things on the internet when I should be sleeping. Sometimes I go running or do yoga (while trying not to bump into the cabinet or kick the front console or hit the ceiling). Sometimes I do fun things, like paddleboarding or talking to friends. I make goals and plans and don’t follow through on them, except when very very occasionally I do. But when I’m looking up van stuff online, I often run across photos of people who are #selfemployed #vanlife and the photos of them working are:

A woman is seated propped up on pillows in the bed in the back of her van. The doors are open, framing a view of the cerulean sea, so that you can practically smell the gentle breeze blowing over the dunes. She has a laptop on her lap and is looking thoughtfully out to sea while a cup of tea steeps on a tray that is on the white coverlet of her bed.

A man is seated at the dinette in the back of his van. He has a laptop, a French press, a mug of coffee, and a plate with two scones on it on the table. The table, and in fact the whole dinette with its two upholstered benches, would be at home on a small luxury yacht, and it’s the kind of dinette that you make into a bed at night. The astute, intent expression on the man’s face give the viewer to understand that he is competent and disciplined and never stays up two hours past his bedtime because he’s too lazy to lower the dinette table and rearrange the cushions and put on all his sheets and blankets. We are also given to understand that the electrical system in his van would have no problems handling the power drain of a bean grinder, even though he is clearly parked in the high Rockies — again, with the back doors open, the better to take in the late spring air and see the fresh green of the aspen trees — and it’s often cloudy. Lastly, we are given to understand that he baked those scones himself, because when he’s not working, hiking, lumberjacking, or otherwise living his best life, he enjoys unwinding by baking bread and pastries. (Not in the van; don’t be silly! He bakes outside, over a wood fire.)

(A tangent: Why do so many people have their van doors open in photos I see online? Do they only stay in places with no bugs? If I tried that in Florida, or even Maryland or Colorado half the year, I’d be awake half the night swatting at mosquitoes and/or flies.)

In contrast, a photo of me being self-employed in a van would look like:

A woman is sprawled in an ungainly fashion on her narrow bunk. Her laptop is braced by her lower ribs and propped up with a pillow placed over her gut. The pillow has a cat on it. The windows of the van are covered in silver bubble-wrap, so very little light gets in. Absolutely no doors are open, because the van is parked behind a Dunkin Donuts so the woman can get free wifi and not burn through all the data on her phone plan. She takes a break to heat up a can of Campbell’s soup on an alcohol stove, adding a handful of dehydrated mixed vegetables, to be healthy. As she stirs the soup, she gazes contemplatively out the windshield towards the adjacent parking lot, where there is an IHOP. #vanlife

A woman is sitting in the passenger seat of her van with her feet on the dashboard and her laptop on her lap. Beside her in the cupholder is a steaming Hydroflask full of the cheapest tea she could buy at Publix. The van is parked in a grove of live oaks. Spanish moss sways gently in the morning breeze. Behind the woman, in the dark recesses of the van, sets of clothes are hanging: leggings and a shirt, still sweaty, by the side doors, a bathing suit over the sink, a t-shirt and shorts for sleeping in by the rear cabinet. Several kitchen towels are draped on the driver’s seat and on the dashboard because the cab leaks above the sun visors when it rains, and even though she’s tried caulking it three times, she still can’t get it to stop. #vanlife

The good thing, though, is that I’m still getting work and making a living. I can do it someplace that’s safe, without having to risk my life to do it. And I’m getting paid a fair hourly wage. But then the very terrible thing is that everyone should be able to say what I just said, but so many people can’t: they’re not making a real living through their work, they have to risk their lives to do it, and they’re not getting paid a fair wage.

(Brief interlude as I stare at the ceiling angrily.)

***

Here’s what I’m doing next: I left Pasco County on the 16th. I’ll be in what I think of as “traveling quarantine” until the 30th, staying in a national forest near Jacksonville. (With a couple of stops at state parks to refill water, empty the port-a-pot, and maybe take a real shower.) I’ll be in Maryland on New Year’s Eve and will stay at my parents’ while I insulate the van, build interior walls, and do a bunch of other stuff so that I can call it (mostly) finished. Then I’m thinking of going to New Mexico and spending late winter/early spring there… parked on top of a mesa… sipping a cup of French-press coffee on my white coverlet while I thoughtfully gaze out the open doors of my van… (I really would like to park on top of a mesa though.)

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freeminimaps · 5 years ago

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civil-x engineering

Phone: 941-920-1456

Website: //civil-x.com/

Civil Engineer specializing in site plans for Manatee and Sarasota Counties, and SWFWMD permitting

Our Social Page: Facebook: //www.facebook.com/civilxfl

Linkedin: //www.linkedin.com/company/civil-x/

civil-x engineering was originally published on Business directory and remarkable travel blog!

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petercavalli · 6 years ago

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SWFWMD - High Water Update

SWFWMD – High Water Update

High Water Update

With all the rainfall we’ve had lately, and what is forecasted, I wanted to send you a quick update.

Please note that the current high water is not isolated to the Withlacoochee River system. The Peace, Myakka, Manatee, Alafia and Hillsborough Rivers (within our District) have already reached flood stage. Flooding is also occurring in numerous low-lying areas near…

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cityoflakelandfl · 8 years ago

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NEW BLOG: The City of Lakeland was recently awarded a grant of $466,990 from the Southwest Florida Water Management District (SWFWMD) as part of its annual Cooperative Funding Initiative (CFI) program for a stormwater treatment project at Lake Hunter. Read the full blog at http://bit.ly/SWFWMDgrantLKLD. http://ift.tt/2fQN7XU

#IFTTT #FacebookPages

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bigfootcampbsa · 8 years ago

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A Pause

On the twelfth of July. @SWFWMD torched 1400 acres on fifteen minutes notice. Almost all of our cameras were damaged of destroyed. We have since removed all of our gear from the GSWU. We are assessing what’s next. In light of the actions of what has become an utterly unreliable state agency, what would be considered normal risks have become unacceptable. Arbitrary actions by an unaccountable agencies simply can’t be considered normal.

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naturecoaster · 2 months ago

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Weeki Wachee was a city located in Hernando County, Florida, United States. It became a city in 1966, with five cabins on the property of what is now the Weeki Wachee Springs State Park, located at the intersection of US 19 (Commercial Way) and SR 50 (Cortez Blvd.) The 12,000-acre Weeki Wachee Preserve, the Weeki Wachee River, and the Weeki Wachee Springs State Park are located in the area. The City of Weeki Wachee was dissolved June 10, 2020, when Governor Ron DeSantis signed a bill created by State Rep. Blaise Ingoglia of Spring Hill to disband the City’s municipal status. Weeki Wachee Springs The name, Weeki Wachee, comes from the Seminole Indian words meaning “little spring” or “winding river.” However, the Weeki Wachee spring where the iconic mermaids swim is so deep that the bottom has never been found. The Weeki Wachee spring where the mermaids perform leads to the deepest known freshwater cave system in the United States! Image by John Athanason courtesy of Weeki Wachee Springs State Park. This is a first magnitude Florida spring, with more than 117 million gallons of crystal clear 74-degree water rushing out of underground caverns. It is also the beginning of twelve miles of magic called the Weeki Wachee River that visitors from around the world flock to for a unique kayak, SUP, or canoe paddle to the Gulf of Mexico. In fact, the Weeki Wachee River paddle experience has become so popular that the Southwest Water Management District (SWFWMD) has created an educational program to help the river’s users protect this valuable natural resource. You can find out more here. Weeki Wachee River is one of Florida's most beautiful and popular kayaking destinations. Florida's Adventure Coast has several magical rivers for boating enthusiasts. Image by Diane Bedard. Developing the Original Weeki Wachee Attraction Weeki Wachee began as a tourist attraction October 13, 1947. The attraction was developed by Ocala resident and US Navy diver, Newton Perry. Newton Perry, an amazing swimmer who taught visitors to swim at Silver Springs State Park in the 1930s. “Newt” was Ocala High School’s swim coach and star swimmer at age 16. After graduating from UF, where he was named to the All-American team, he returned to Silver Springs, performing for many television and movie producers. He worked with actors such as Cary Grant, Gary Cooper, W.C. Fields, Gregory Peck, Jayne Mansfield, Ann Blyth, Lloyd Bridges. and Johnny Weissmuller for underwater scenes. This success led him to develop the Weeki Wachee Springs Attraction. Newton Perry developed a system that delivered air through a hose to performers, allowing them to take breaths while underwater and with several investors, built 18-seat theatre six feet into the side of the Weeki Wachee spring, allowing visitors to see the underwater synchronized ballets without getting wet. In 1950, Mr. Perry sold his interest in Weeki Wachee. The attraction added an orchid garden, an abandoned Seminole village exhibit, a jungle cruise, a petting zoo and a gift shop. It became one of the most popular tourist attractions throughout the 1950s, with movies being filmed there and some big money came calling. American Broadcast Corporation (ABC) Adds Show Biz to the Park Mozert, Bruce, 1916-2015. Group portrait of underwater "Wizard of Oz" performers on land at Weeki Wachee Spring. 1966 (circa). State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory. The American Broadcast Corporation (ABC) purchased the Weeki Wachee attraction in 1959 and began using its theatres and various entertainment businesses to promote the City of Live Mermaids. The entrance to the park was remodeled. The underwater theatre was expanded and improved, and the mermaid shows were expanded to themed stories with costumes and props, such as Peter Pan, Snow White, and Alice in Wonderland. Magical Weeki Wachee Mermaid Shows What began as underwater ballet, drinking sodas underwater, and diving to the depths of the spring to entertain American tourists in the 1940s and 50s was upgraded by the movie makers. In the heyday, as many as eight shows were performed daily in the underwater theatre, with women from around the world coming to Weeki Wachee to audition for the coveted position of mermaid. Movies were filmed in the Spring. Celebrities, including Elvis Presley, Don Knotts, Esther Williams, and Arthur Godfrey visited Weeki Wachee. In fact, more than half a million people came to watch a mermaid performance annually during this period. Weeki Wachee mermaids perform their graceful aquatic ballet several times daily. Image by Diane Bedard. The Weeki Wachee spring is approximately 100-feet wide with limestone sides. In the underwater theatre, the mermaid performers battle a 5-mph current, while acting out stories with apparent ease. It takes a lot of swimming skill and some real moxie. You can read about what it takes to be a Weeki Wachee mermaid here. There is also a saying among those who have attained the privilege of being a Weeki Wachee mermaid. “Once a mermaid, always a mermaid.” Thusly in 1997, former mermaids were invited back to the park to perform for crowds. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJadeG8RGHw A Historic Favorite comes Back from the Brink ABC sold the park in the 1970s to Florida Leisure Attractions, Inc. Over the next 30 years, the park became run down to the point that the land’s lease owner took the park’s owners to court for back lease payments. The “Save our Tails” campaign was born. The City of Weeki Wachee and surrounding areas began a fundraising campaign to try and save the park by making needed renovations. The attraction’s owner donated the attraction to the City of Weeki Wachee. There were a lot of talks and a lot of work, and in 2008, the State of Florida took over the attraction, making it a Florida State Park. A plaque on a lime rock in the park records the Southwest Water Management District's ownership of Weeki Wachee Springs for conservation and preservation. Image by Diane Bedard. John Athanason, the Park's Marketing Manager at the time, spoke to National Public Radio in an interview, "This management team did not want to see this part become extinct. So we took advantage of a loophole in the lease that allowed the owner of the attraction at that time to donate the lease to the city of Weeki Wachee. And we are an actual incorporated city. We are incorporated in 1966, we have a resident population of nine. We have a mayor who is a former mermaid herself, and she also serves as the general manager of the attraction." A Friends of Weeki Wachee State Park organization was formed and was instrumental in fundraising and improvements to bring the park back. They are still active today. You can find out more about what the Friends of Weeki Wachee Springs State Park organization does by clicking here. Weeki Wachee State Park and Buccaneer Bay The sunset over the Newton Perry Underwater Theatre and Buccanneer Bay. Image by Diane Bedard. In 1982, a white sand beach, water slides, and a tubing river run opened within the park as Buccaneer Bay. This, too, had become run down, but with the help of the Friends and State funds, the well-loved waterpark was brought back to life. With the clean, clear, cool water fueling its heartbeat, locals, and groups flock to enjoy a respite here from Florida’s hot summer days. Did you say beach? Summertime at Buccaneer Bay is popular. Image courtesy of Weeki Wachee Springs. Some come for the mermaid show and the Park’s other activities and some just come to float and dive for the day. Families enjoy the sandy beach. Kids enjoy jumping off the raft and swimming back to do it again. Adults enjoy the tiki bar. There are picnic tables and guests may bring a picnic to this part of the park. Buccaneer Bay is open seasonally, usually from Spring Break to Labor Day. Check with the Park for the most up-to-date information. Visit the Weekiwachee Preserve A crane flies overhead on the Weeki Wachee River. The river is the north boundary of the Weekiwachee Preserve. Image by Diane Bedard. The Weekiwachee Preserve is an 11,206-acre preserve owned and managed by SWFWMD. It is part of the conservation lands that extend to Crystal River (with the Chassahowitzka Wildlife Management Area to the north). This quiet preserve protects the coastal plain from flooding and provides wildlife habitat for black bears, numerous birds, and other protected species. It is bordered by the Weeki Wachee River to the north, Shoal Line Boulevard to the west, US 19 to the east, and Osowaw Boulevard to the south, with its entrance at 2345 Osowaw Blvd in Spring Hill. The Weekiwachee Preserve has several manmade lakes, hiking and biking trails, and wide open sandhill plains. Image by Theresa Weglarz, Friends of the Weekiwachee Preserve Facebook page. There are 5.5 miles of hiking and bike trails, some paved and some not. There are several manmade lakes, leftovers from limerock mining of years gone past, but swimming is prohibited. Fishing is welcome and non-motorized boats are welcome on the lakes. You can view a video of the preserve here. The Amazing Weeki Wachee Caverns In 2007, underwater explorers discovered new passages in the Weeki Wachee Spring’s cave system, connecting it with Twin Dees underwater caverns, confirming that Weeki Wachee is the deepest known freshwater cave system in the United States! https://vimeo.com/157080480 These amazing caves go right under US 19 next to the park, but access is not available to the public – and it is horribly dangerous. It is beautiful to watch, however, so check out a dive by Karst Underwater Research here. Weeki Wachee is a Magical Place to Explore Mermaids, first magnitude springs, a river so clear you can see the bottom for 12 miles, water slides, a conservation preserve, and a fun word all rolled into one. That’s Weeki Wachee. When it was a city, it had 15 human residents at its peak. As a place, it holds millions of hearts daily. Today, you can visit the park to meet a mermaid, paddle the river, hike, bike, or fish the preserve, and marvel at the beauty of this magical place. Whatever activities you decide to do, please be certain to protect the environment as it is somewhat unique and fragile. Be sure to plan a visit to Weeki Wachee. There are so many things to do, you may want to plan several days. Story featured image courtesy of Southwest Water Management District (SWFWMD) Read the full article

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sticks-and-stone · 3 years ago

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Seranova Tract

November 19, 2021 through November 21, 2021

Not a whole lot to report from this trip. I didn’t take great notes or photos and of course I’m writing about it several months later, so my memory is a bit off. The major significance of this trip was trying out the new tent. I don’t think I retired any old gear or had anything new beyond the tent. This trip was a good example of leaving Friday after work, prepping very little, and having a very relaxing time in the woods for a couple of days regardless.

Since the temperatures this time of year are mild, we stayed at yet another free site through the SWFWMD (Southwest Florida Water Management District). This time, we tried a completely new location: Seranova Tract. We hadn’t stayed here before so we really didn’t have any clue what to expect. We just packed the car and gave it a go. We didn’t arrive on site until 9:30pm on Friday night. We both had to work during the day, so we didn’t hit the road until after 5pm.

Despite a late arrival, we got our tents set up and a fire started within an hour, which I’m pretty sure is a record for us. Jenna was setting up the same hiking tent that she has been using for a few trips. I just purchased a hiking tent of my own just the week prior. My job had a Halloween costume contest and I won an Academy Sports gift card. The tent is small; just large enough for me to lay down, but it packs so small and I can fit a tarp in the bag with it. Coupled with the new tent was the new gear from last trip: the sleeping bag and the sleeping pad and I found myself with the perfect sleep system.

Jenna and I stayed up until just past midnight. We made tea, had a few snacks (meat sticks, dried fruit - we didn’t pack any coolers this time). We played cards for a bit as we always do. Once it was time for bed, I decided to leave my hiking backpack hung up on a tree nearby so that I wouldn’t attract bugs or animals toward where I was sleeping (had food in the hiking kit). Overnight, I stayed clothed. It wasn’t unbearably cold, but it was chillier than it had been for previous trips and though the sleeping bag provided some insulation, it wasn’t perfect, so i kept my layers on.

I slept hard like always on the first night and woke up around 730 the next morning; before Jenna. I used the single burner stove to boil water for coffee and grits and cleaned up a trash bag that a raccoon ransacked overnight. Once Jenna emerged from her tent, she got the fire started for us. We hung out by the fire for a long while just discussing our packing strategies. Eventually, it began to warm up and we began to start peeling off the night’s layers. These late fall trips are slow moving while we let our old bones adjust to the temperatures.

Once warm, I decided to take down my tent and sleep system for the day (as we would on a backpacking trip) and see how difficult it would be to repack my pack and do it all again. Of course, while I was doing this, it began to rain a little so I used my liftgate and trunk as a work space. Unpacking and repacking my hiking backpack is one of my favorite things to do. I have yet to find consistency, so every time I do it, it's different than the last time. I am still playing around with what gear to bring, what to leave behind, and in what order to pack it all. Though a tedious task, it can be done at camp or at home, so it has become a favorite pastime of mine.

This time, I placed my tent down inside my pack instead of on the bottom or top of the back. My sleeping bag was attached to the bottom of the pack with rope. So it acted as a storage location for the rope too. This proved to be a bad idea because the rope didn’t stay tied correctly during transport home, and my sleeping bag detached from the pack. I’ll be playing around with how this is packed for many many trips to come. But It’s fun to look back and see how things have evolved.

The hiking backpack that I was using for this trip was still that camo hand-me-down from Jenna. It was probably older than me. The inside lining was peeling and getting all over my stuff, and a bunch of the zippers didn’t even work anymore. During this trip, I broke a very important zipper; rendering the entire pack useless. Luckily, Jenna was about to upgrade her own pack, so I would simply take yet another hand-me-down from her for the next trip. For the remainder of this trip, I would just continue to use the broken one.

Once the pack was repacked and secured to the best of my ability, I set my tent back up. This time, I moved to the other side of the campsite so that I could get the corners staked into the ground better. I positioned myself between the tree that held my pack and Jenna’s tent.

I also hung a clothes line behind my tent. We did this during the last trip too, but I think it should become a regular part of our site set up. It's very handy for so many different reasons:

Clothes line - obvious - drying out wet clothes

Can drape a tarp/sheet for added privacy on site

Works as a net for yard games - great for when we have kids with us

Base for an A frame tarp for rain coverage.

Jenna and I really wanted to get a hike in on this trip. She had purchased a compact day pack that she wanted to try out and I was just getting a little bored of camping trips where we just sit at camp the entire time. So we mapped out a great little hike to a nearby lake and waited out the rain.

While we waited, we decided to make an A-frame canopy over our picnic table so that we could have a covered area to hangout. We tied one end of the paracord to a tree, the other end to another tree, and moved the picnic table in between the two trees. Next, we draped the tarp over the paracord and started anchoring the sides down by pulling the paracord from opposite corners until it was taught and then staked the paracord into the ground. It turned out pretty good considering this was our first time doing it.

The A frame was up, the skies were still gloomy, and we made some tea to calm our restlessness. By the time we were done with our tea, the sky seemed clear enough to head out. So we did. We walked a total of a mile and half (not too long) and it took us about 30 minutes (a lifetime). We had to climb over some downed limbs, around some puddled mud, and under some low hanging trees. At one point, the path was so washed out from the rain, we decided to take a shortcut through the loosely packed forest. We got a little lost, but it wasn’t bad. I definitely need to improve some backcountry hiking skills like navigation, but as far as baby hikes go, this one was good.

We arrived back at the site and the rain seemed to be done, so we made some rice for dinner and sat up drinking by the fire for a bit. We played our fair share of cards (gin probably) and then got sleepy and ready for bed early like we always do on night 2. Jenna got a wild hair and decided to sleep in her hammock. Which is braver than I would have been. She figured that since it wasn’t unbearably hot or buggy, why not? Needless to day, when I awoke the next day to find her still in the hammock, I was impressed.

The next morning we got up early, made a light breakfast, some coffee, and made our departure. We drove around the campground a little bit first to scope out what we missed coming in at dark on Friday. This campground, nearly 4 hours away, was really nice. For a free site, it was well worth the drive down. I can’t wait to stay here again and explore this part of the state so much more.

Stay Dirty,

Stone

#camping #tent camping #adventure #primitive camping #hammock #hammock camping

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green-flymedia · 8 years ago

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FWC Division of Law Enforcement Weekly Report January 13, 2017 through January 19, 2017

Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission

Division of Law Enforcement

Weekly Report

January 13, 2017 through January 19, 2017

HERNANDO COUNTY

Lieutenant Grover, Investigator Tsongranis, Officers Pettifer and Balfour responded to Southwest Florida Water Management District Property (SWFWMD), north of Aripeka and discovered a vehicle parked near an undesignated entrance point to the SWFWMD…

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jkmhoffman · 8 years ago

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HistoryIn 1922, the young Jay Starkey resigned his Post Office job to pursue his dream of being a cattle rancher.

He bought 10 acres south of Largo in Pinellas County for $50 down plus one horse and one cow. In 1927 his friend Dave Cunningham became his partner and over time the two men grew the ranch to more than 650 acres. The property became known as Ulmerton Ranch.

As the Great Depression waned, it became evident to Starkey and Cunningham that rising land prices and encroaching development would hinder opportunities to expand in Pinellas, so they looked farther north for opportunities. In 1937, they drove their 300-head herd to the grassy expanses of southwest Pasco County and turned the cattle loose on 16,000 acres of unfenced pasture and forest cut by the Pithlachascotee and Anclote rivers.

Jay Starkey, Dave Cunningham, and Dave’s brothers Howard and Ernest formed a partnership to buy the land, creating the CS Ranch. They got much of the property cheap, in some cases from tax sales on land abandoned by logging companies. The ranch remained open rangeland until 1940, when Starkey and his partners painstakingly barb-wired the perimeter. They raised purebred Brahma cattle, and had timber and citrus operations. By 1956, Jay Starkey was the sole owner of what by then was known as the Anclote River Ranch, having survived all three Cunningham brothers.

In 1965, he sold the cattle on the ranch to his son, Jay B, Jr. The elder Starkey retained a 75-acre orange grove and the timber operation. Having seen development in Florida consume so much land, Starkey set out to preserve much of the Ranch as wilderness, so that future generations would be able to see what the land looked like when he was young. He sold a vast tract of the Ranch to the Southwest Florida Water Management District (SWFWMD) to ensure that it would not be developed. This was the start of the Jay B Starkey Wilderness Preserve, which is a Pasco County park. After his death in 1989, his heirs sold more land to the State to expand the Preserve.

Jay B Starkey, Jr., his wife Marsha and their children continued to live and work on the Ranch. Their collective goal was to ensure that the development that would happen on the remainder of the Ranch didn’t follow the sprawl patterns of tract housing and strip shopping centers. Starting in the late 1990s, they developed several hundred acres on the western edge of the Ranch into Longleaf, a neighborhood with traditional development patterns, walkable streets, homes with front porches, and a small town center.

The cattle herd was sold in 2003 to a rancher who leased back pasture on the ranch. Jay B, Jr., then devoted his time to running an ecotourism venture on the Ranch.

In early 2013, Wheelock Communities announced the purchase of the remaining 2,500 acres of Starkey Ranch from the family, with plans to create a vibrant master-planned community with 800 acres of parks and open space and more than 20 miles of trails connecting the community with the adjacent Jay B Starkey Wilderness Park.

Outside the former Starkey family ranch house, northwest of State Road 54 and Gunn Highway, stood a large wooden plaque made of weathered gray boards, erected by Jay Starkey as a tribute to his friends. He listed their names, names such as Odis Cowart, Whitfield Bryan, and Ham Beckett. "In appreciation of my former partners and old friends who, in the early days of the ranch, camped, rode and hunted here and whose friendship I will always cherish," the plaque read.

Many of the names on the boards will find a place in the new Starkey Ranch community—as street names, park names and neighborhood names. Their legacy will live on as new generations put down roots on this storied land.

#History of Starkey Ranch | Pasco County FL

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