Outdoors
Published: Jan 22, 2007
ST. MARKS - One does not simply walk onto the Florida Trail at St. Marks. There's the small matter of a river - the St. Marks River - that must be crossed before any meaningful backpacking can commence.
There is no bridge here and there hasn't been one since a hurricane obliterated the town of Port Leon - just three miles south of the crossing, in 1842. It was the southernmost bridge of the Tallahassee-St. Marks Railroad, the steel wheeled conveyance of Southern-grown cotton to this once bustling Southern port. From here the raw materials of our agrarian society would be shipped to the textile mills in England.
The city of St. Marks hasn't heard the blow of a locomotive whistle since 1983 and the 18-mile path that once held rail and crosstie has been paved smooth. Now bicycles - and the occasional backpacker, not boxcars, roll in to St. Marks. The Tallahassee-St. Marks Historic Railroad Trail was the first of its kind in the state, and judging by the traffic of hikers, horses and peddlers, one of the most appreciated.
The crossing is not as daunting as it first appears. Boaters of all kinds keep a keen eye out for beached backpackers and are quick to place their craft in the service of the Florida Trail navy. I hardly had time to pack my camera in my dry bag before my Good Samaritan - an angler out for redfish - offered to ferry me and my gear across.
The trail from here south to the ghostly remains of Port Leon runs along the old railroad grade. It's impossible not to think of the mules that pulled the heavily laden carts of cotton across this bumpy old trail. Backpackers, like mules, are beasts of burden. We can relate.
Although all of the St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge was originally set aside as a migratory waterfowl refuge 75 years ago, it is the eastern third of the refuge that contains the habitat that would bring a smile to the bill of any duck.
Wide expanses of grassy marshland lie in every direction. Before the most recent spate of hurricanes, the trail led south along the tops of the levees that the refuge employs to seasonally impound the refuge's surface water. These, along with miles of salt marshes and tidal flats, provide habitat for hundreds of birds, amphibians and reptiles.
The trail relocation is temporary. Refuge officials have begun the process of rebuilding the breaches in the levee system, and when this work is completed, hikers along the Florida trail will once again be allowed to traverse some of the most sensitive and valuable wildlife habitat in the state.
The refuge hosts 15 known pairs of nesting Southern bald eagles, one of more than 300 species of birds that have been recorded on this 68,000-acre conservation area. When nesting eagles are discovered, a substantial area surrounding the nest is closed to all traffic. The do-not-disturb sign applies even to those who work on the refuge.
The bald eagle isn't the only rare species that may be spotted on a trail hike through St. Marks NWR. Wood storks and swallow-tailed kites make their homes here, as does the occasional Kemp's ridley sea turtle and Florida black bear.
The current trail route follows remote forest Jeep trails across this endless expanse of nature. Mostly high and dry, it is an easy hike, on even terrain. As I hiked along, I wondered what this trail must be like in the summer, when squadrons of deer flies and mosquitoes patrol the skies above this trail in search of soft, fleshy targets of opportunity. I kept walking, thankful for the January cold.
Round trip, it's a 10-mile detour off of the trail to the St. Marks lighthouse. It's worth the walk. Construction of this picturesque lighthouse began in the 1820s. Soon after construction began, shore erosion threatened its limestone foundation. The builders relocated it to more solid ground and completed it in 1841. But the story doesn't end there.
Two years later the hurricane that obliterated Port Leon and heavily damaged St. Marks blew into town. The lighthouse survived with only minor damage. But the beacon's luck was short-lived.
The lighthouse became a strategic prize during the Civil War. Union raiders and confederate soldiers traded shots over who would ultimately possess its limestone heights, desirable to both sides as a lookout tower. The exchange inflicted serious damage to the structure. It was rebuilt for the second time shortly after the war concluded.
Now on the Register of Historic Places, the picturesque St. Marks lighthouse is still in full service as a beacon to the mariners of Apalachee Bay.
Hikers jump back on the trail and follow the Aucilla Tram Road east. Before its sale to the United States government, most of the refuge land was logged and the timber carted out along these wooden-planked tram roads under mule-power. Although the planks and mules have faded in to history, it is easy to imagine how this deep, wet forest must have looked before the immense cypress trees that once populated these wetlands fell to the cross-cut saw of one of Florida's earliest industries.
The current trees have had 75 years to grow. Scattered among these soaring pines are trees that appear to have escaped the board-foot fate of their long-logged friends. They are majestic to behold, reminders of how big and broad-shouldered nature can be when she's left to her own devices.
Soon the hiker finds his orange-blazed path bordered by saw palmettos that part like a biblical Red Sea to allow passage. As the trail turns north toward the eastern St. Marks NWR trailhead on U.S. 98, one begins to long for one more walk through the teeming wetlands that seemed to pass so quickly. The eye scans the sky for one last glimpse of the effortless glide of an eagle on the hunt or the high-altitude reconnaissance flight of the kite.
For man and beast alike, a refuge indeed.
Mike DeWitt can be reached at mikedewitt@tampabay.rr.com.
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