Outdoors
Published: Jan 8, 2007
FREEPORT - The map doesn't do justice to this meandering ribbon of orange that inches its way across the water-resistant paper of the trail map. The orange ink denoting the path of the Florida Trail flows in unshakeable parallel with another, more finely drawn line. That line is blue and it bears the italicized legend of Econfina Creek.
The Econfina (pronounced EE-cun-FINE-uh) Creek section of the Florida Trail appears as a backpacker's version of El Dorado. The small, forest-encompassed parking lot is a very welcome conclusion to the 16 miles of road walk. State Road 20 is the main east-west traffic corridor in this part of the Panhandle, whether by car or boot leather. It is amazing how quickly the shade of the trailhead washes that lengthy roadside transit from memory. Such are the restorative powers of natural surroundings.
From the S.R. 20 trailhead, the orange blazes of the trail lead through the regimented lines of a former pine plantation. The pines are sand pines, a small, fast-growing variety of pine cultivated for use as pulpwood. For ease of harvest, they are planted in tight rows, and as they grow, their branches weave into a thick, sunlight-occluding canopy. With the exception of shade-loving moss and fungi, nothing much grows beneath these ramrod-straight pine crops. Good for industry, not all that great for the creatures of the forest.
And that's why the Northwest Florida Water Management District, the agency responsible for the land through which Econfina Creek makes its way south, is harvesting these trees and other remaining pine plantations within the Econfina Creek Water Management Area. They will be replaced with plantings of longleaf pine, a species that once grew in abundance here.
The trail passes through the plantation pines in a perpendicular fashion, providing a unique perspective of the line-straight rows of slash pine. They are soldierly in their unerring columns and as such impart to the hiker the feeling of a general who is watching his troops pass in review one last time.
The short walk to the plantation opens upon a rolling meadow representative of what will follow the harvest. Soaring longleaf pines are scattered across a carpet of wiregrass and gall berry shrubs. It is a textbook study in contrasts as to how man and nature use the land. Where the land beneath the slash pines was barren, the sand soils holding the roots of the longleaf were flush with the small black berries that serve as winter rations for many species that inhabit the forest.
The evidence of this is not only visual, but also audible. The chirps and calls of birds come from all directions. Game trails weave through the tufts of needle-like grass and gall berry bushes like aisles in a grocery store. Beneath the barrel-thick trunks of the longleaf, there exists a full measure of life.
The Econfina Creek trail extends its northeast tread across the pines and for just a couple of miles before pushing its way into a water-cooled forest of live oak and magnolia. There is a gentle rise and fall to the trail here as it skirts the back side of the topography that gives the creek its form. The keen eye of a hiker upon this trail will pick out sinkholes of such great age that they support groves of mature trees. Their bowl-like basins add a unique visual touch to the landscape.
And then there are the lakes. Broad and shallow, they are the hiker's source of drinking water for the first six miles of the Econfina Creek trek. The lakes appear to depend greatly on rainfall for their contents, and for this reason a rain-deprived winter trek calls for the hiker to conserve water.
There lies a primitive campsite on the western edge of Rattlesnake Lake that begs to be camped upon. It sits atop a strip of land which separates this expansive lake from a smaller almost perfectly round sink-borne lake. The campsite is found by following a mile-long blue-blazed trail.
It was clear these lakes, too, are rain dependant. Across the expanse of Rattlesnake Lake is a forlorn floating dock derelict on dry white sand. Abandoned by the shoreline, it gave mute testimony to the lake's summer boundaries in days of plenty. The tracks of raccoon, deer and birds imprinted along the now-dry shoreline provided a useful census of the creatures that live around the lake and depend on it for water.
The trail connects with Econfina Creek two miles north of Rattlesnake Lake. The source of the creek is the Econfina Creek watershed, a latticework of lakes, spring seeps and streams that festoon over 100 square miles of Bay, Washington and Jackson counties.
For the hiker, the Econfina Creek section of the Florida Trail is as good as hiking gets. The trail traces along the bluffs overlooking the creek with fidelity. Very rarely are the creek's waters out of view, and when they are, the hydraulic symphony of its flow can be heard over its sluice of limestone bedrock. In several places, fractures in the bedrock conduct water up from the aquifer to add to the creek's flow. One such spring is Devils Hole, which is located midway of the trail's 18-mile length. A popular local swimming hole for years, the NWFWMD has closed it to vehicle traffic. The Devil's Hole campsite features a designated fire pit, a welcome amenity for those hiking the trail in the winter months.
No discussion of the trail's amenities is complete without a mention of the numerous bridges that add great ease and visual appeal to a trek on the Econfina Creek trail section. Two of the most diverse bridge designs cross the Econfina. One is a suspension bridge that stretches 40 feet above the creek. It's a bit long in the tooth, to say the least, a feature that adds a dose of excitement to the crossing. Trail officials have slated it for replacement, and that's probably a good thing.
The other bridge is one that can only be described as a destination bridge. It is a stout tree which had the good manners to fall across the creek in a way that speaks to what this trail is all about. Less than a mile north of the incredibly scenic Sweetwater Creek waterfall - one of the few natural waterfalls in the state - hikers must cross this sun-bleached, natural span known as the Two-Penny Bridge before reaching the northern trailhead.
Mike DeWitt can be reached at mikedewitt@tampabay.rr.com
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