Croom: Hog Island

I knew I had chosen the right place for a hike when the following scene greeted me through my windshield:

I had just driven into Hog Island Recreation Area, which is located in the northern reaches of the Croom Tract of Withlacoochee State Forest. Hog Island itself is created by the Withlacoochee River forking as it flows north, with the two forks rejoining downstream.

Because the Withlacoochee ain’t exactly the Mississippi when it comes to width – and Hog Island is long enough that you can not see either of its ends unless you are right next to one – it does not appear to be an island when you look at it from one of the river’s “mainland banks.” Instead it seems like you are simply looking across an ordinary Florida stream, as you can tell from this picture that was taken at the canoe launch:

There are two hiking trails, both of which traverse the forestlands east of the river. Marked by orange blazes, the River Trail is part of the Florida National Scenic Trail and parallels the Withlacoochee for seven miles from north to south. The Hog Island Nature Trail is a two-mile loop marked by yellow blazes. After parking my car, I strapped my 20-month-old hiking partner in place before hoisting him onto my back to start our little adventure:

I was soon reminded that walking parallel to a river does not automatically equate to walking beside a river, for at no point did the River Trail offer us a view of the Withlacoochee. It did, however, take us beside a few wetlands:

At the outset, the trails share the same path that is buried beneath a carpet of leaves, making it especially important to pay attention to the blazes. Shortly after starting out, we came to a spot where the River Trail branches off to the right and the Hog Island Nature Trail branches off to the left. While I have no doubt that the latter is good, seeing as how it passes by large sinkholes and is part of the State Forest Trailwalker Program, I opted to save it for a later date since it was already afternoon.

Our hike took place last Saturday, and featured everything that makes Florida a wonderful place to be in late February: The temperature was a warm 82 degrees, but due to the lack of humidity I did not break a sweat even though I had a load on my back…Many of the trees, especially the maples, were erupting with new leaves bright and green...A hawk flew chest-high across the path no more than 15 feet in front me, followed moments later by a pileated woodpecker who did the same…If not for the calendar, you would have sworn it was Spring:

In a few places I had to navigate over or around fallen trees that presented barriers worthy of being mentioned. Here is the final and most cumbersome one we encountered:

Soon after clearing that barrier and following the trail past a boggy lowland, I discovered that this place comes by its name honestly. Spread out in front of us across a low hillside was a group of wild boars, including youths as well as adults and no doubt males as well as females. The young ones began running around, their hooves creating a noisy ruckus in the leaf carpet. The adults moved more slowly and warily, with the biggest of the bunch standing still and staring directly at me.

Deciding without a moment’s hesitation to cut our trip short, I took a few steps backward then turned on my heels and started moving swiftly in the direction whence we came. In the process, a hair trigger expletive escaped my mouth and I told Parker not to repeat it. Glancing back to make sure the boars were staying on the hill, I thought of how this was the second time in less than a year that a porcine presence hastened the end of one of my hikes. But oh well…there was plenty of woodland scenery to keep us happy on our return to the car, and that was an undoubtedly good thing:

Hog Island Recreation Area is located in the northernmost reaches of what can fairly be called the Tampa Bay Area. To get here, take I-75 to exit 309 (48 miles north of the I-4 junction) and turn west on County Road 476. When that road reaches a T intersection, turn left and continue 2.3 miles to County Road 635, where you will turn left and continue one mile before seeing the recreation area’s entrance on the right. After traveling a fairly short distance on the recreation area’s dirt road, you will see the trailhead’s parking area on the left, signed as the “Florida Trail.”

Interestingly enough, the seven-mile section of path on which we hiked last Saturday is not the only one in Croom that goes by the name River Trail. The other, which I have written about here and here, is in Croom’s far south where the preserve ends at the river instead of straddling it like it does up here.

The sprawling wilderness of this recreation area is not one you want to miss. Happy Trails!

Note: One paragraph has been removed from this post since it was originally published, because contrary to what I believed at the time, the Iron Bridge Day Use Area does not provide access to the Hog Island Nature Trail.  - JDS, 3/5/13

Croom: The Windmill/River Loop

My after-Thanksgiving post described my aborted attempt to hike the River Trail while pushing Parker in our jogging stroller. I mentioned seeing a blue-blazed side trail called the Windmill Loop, and wrote that according to the map it is “a straight-line short-cut rather than an actual loop. From the spot where it and the River Trail diverge, it tracks east-northeast while the River Trail tracks south before curving east to meet the river. At some point after the River Trail begins its northward route, the Windmill comes to an end by emptying back onto it, and therefore the two paths can be used to create a loop I estimate would be about 3½ miles long.”

Two Saturdays ago I set out to explore that loop and see what it has to offer. The problem of Parker constantly wanting out of the stroller was solved by letting him ride in our kid carrier backpack. And he must have liked the view from up high, because not once did he agitate to get down and do his own walking:

I decided to do the loop clockwise by walking the Windmill from its beginning to end, not from its end to beginning, if that makes any sense. You will reach that beginning at a well-marked junction several minutes after starting out on the River Trail:

From there the Windmill travels 1.2 miles over often hilly terrain before meeting back up with the River. It takes you through upland woods whose canopies let through lots of sunshine. You will see quite a few red cedars, which many people think of as Florida’s native Christmas tree:

Although mostly an upland path, the Windmill drops to the edge of cypress swamps in a few spots:

Eventually you reemerge on the River Trail at a sand bluff overlooking the Withlacoochee River. From there, a right turn completes the loop by leading about 1¾ miles back to the trailhead, mostly under the shade of an oak canopy that is much denser than the canopy back on the Windmill. For almost a mile the trail travels along the top of the bluff offering fine views of the Withlacoochee:

Because the river marks the boundary of the state forest, the woods on its opposite bank are private property and a few homes are visible over there. However, you can rest assured that they are not of the cut-everything-down, subdivision variety, for they are owned by river lovers and most of them are well-hidden in the trees. The home in the following photo is practically invisible in the upper right hand quarter, while the dock shows that its owners prefer spending their time outside:

Since you must walk both the Windmill and the River Trail to complete this loop, you should know that there are qualitative differences between them, starting with the fact that the Windmill is not as well maintained as the River. Its route is incredibly circuitous and the woods through which it passes are more open than most Florida woods. This makes it especially important to keep your eyes out for its blue blazes, in order to keep from straying off course.

Unfortunately the blazing leaves a lot to be desired, because there are many places where you reach a blaze and find that the next one is not visible until you go a ways further. Even more concerning, there are many places where double blazes, the universally recognized signal that a trail’s route is about to turn, should be used but are not. Conversely, the River Trail’s orange blazes are always readily visible, and its double blazes are more numerous than the Windmill’s -- even though it is harder to lose sight of it in the first place since its pathway is wider, straighter, and better defined than the Windmill’s.

Having said all that, this loop is definitely worth the visit. You can complete the Windmill without incident simply by being aware and keeping your eyes out. Just be sure to use appropriate care when clearing obstacles like the following tree, which had fallen across the trail when I visited. It happened to do so in the middle of prime rattlesnake habitat, and a large portion of rattlesnake bites occur when people head across barriers without looking to see if serpents are on the other side.

Check out my after-Thanksgiving post for directions to the trailhead. Happy Trails!

Note: State forest literature is what told me the blue-blazed side trail is 1.2 miles. Because I did not bring my Garmin on this hike, all the other mileage mentioned in this post is estimated based on my walking pace and the time it took me to complete the side trail. On those same bases, I would now estimate this loop to be a total of 3.2 miles, rather than the 3½ I guessed before walking it.

Croom: The HighLow

Sunday morning had already turned up proof that in some places, those rectangular blazes painted on trees really are needed to help keep people from wandering off a trail:

Now it was turning up proof that there is no time of year you can truly count on avoiding standing water in one of Florida’s riverside forests. We know they are swampy during the wet season, but this is not the wet season, and that distant blue blaze on the left side of the next photo said I would need to slog to stay on course:

I looked left and right and noticed a spot where I might be able to keep my boots dry, for some broken logs were lying over the water at its narrowest point. After closely scrutinizing the area and becoming comfortable that there were no water moccasins lurking there, I headed across. Unlike logs that lie across mountain streams with each end sitting on solid ground, these relied unsuccessfully on mud to keep them steady. As they bobbed under my weight I hunched over and grabbed the tops of cypress knees for balance.

On the opposite side, the trail made its way to the western bank of the Withlacoochee River and continued southward. It reached a bench land several feet above the water’s surface, which is where I saw a pair of vultures take flight from the ground. As I approached where they had been, I was struck by the smell of death and found myself looking at the still-uneaten carcass of one very large fish. I think it was an alligator gar based on its snout, teeth, and lack of spots, no matter what FWC says about that species not living this far south in the state. Because of the way the fish was turned, its head was reminiscent of a predatory bird from prehistory:

I was in Croom, walking on a 3½-mile loop where it is obvious that Nature’s wildness can not be stymied. Although the trail is one continuous loop, the powers-that-be have given a different name and differently colored blazes to the 2.4-mile segment which comprises its eastern and northern flanks. That segment is marked by blue blazes and known as the Low Water Trail, while for most of the trail’s western flank it is marked by orange blazes and known as the High Water Trail.

Those segment names do little for clarity because the words “high” and “low” refer to the level of the land, not the level of the water. Therefore, the Low Water Trail is the one where you are more likely to encounter high water, while the High Water Trail comes close to lacking any water whatsoever.

All of the woods through which you pass on this hike are pretty, but it is the ones right beside the river whose sights are most fantastical, for lack of a better phrase. One of the cypress trees is literally gigantic, as you can tell from its girth at the bottom of the trunk:

After snapping the above photo, I decided to give context by taking another one with my backpack hanging:

Not only does the Withlacoochee’s methodic flow create low bluffs by scouring sand away from its banks -- it also exposes the gnarled roots of trees like this oak:

Away from the river, the trail passes through a classic mixed hardwood forest typical of the lower South. I encountered a woodpecker-riddled tree while walking through this forest on Sunday, and if the trunk itself does not convince you that the woodpecker’s visit had just occurred, the shavings at its base will:

There are two trailheads from which the loop may be accessed. One is near its southernmost point and the other along its northern curve, and at first glance, neither of them appears to be a gateway to such a fine trail.

The southern trailhead is at Silver Lake Recreation Area, which has a $2 entry fee and is known for its canoe launch and trio of campgrounds. Take I-75 to exit 301, drive east for a mile, then turn left on Croom Rital Road and continue for almost four miles until you see the entrance on your right. After parking your car, simply walk down to the canoe launch, turn left and follow the orange blazes, which lead under the interstate at the spot where it crosses the river. The trail begins in earnest after entering the woods on the other side, when the orange- and blue-blazed sections fork to commence the loop.

To reach the northern trailhead, skip the entrance to Silver Lake and keep driving on Croom Rital until you reach the point where it is crossed by the paved Withlacoochee State Trail. There is parking for a few vehicles on each side of the crossing, and a picnic table and clean outhouse right beside the paved trail make it obvious that biking is meant to be had from here. However, if you look you will also see the hiking trail departing in both directions; and if you head out going west from the paved trail, be sure to follow the rectangular blazes because the circular ones denote a path that is specifically for mountain bikes.

I figure that after mentioning the Withlacoochee River so many times, it’s only fair I show you what it looked like when I hiked the loop on Sunday:

The loop’s western flank connects with a well-marked side path, which leads westward for a half-mile before depositing hikers on the 14.7-mile loop I wrote about last month. Since that one has two primitive, hike-in campsites…while this one (the one I’m writing about today) passes right through a primitive, paddle-in campsite on the Withlacoochee…and Silver Lake has those three developed campgrounds alluded to above…this is a place where you can not only get away from the crowd, but stay away for quite some time. Happy Trails!

Croom: The Loop(s)

With Tucker Hill Fire Tower looming behind me, the sign at the trailhead presented two options: Turn right to head south or left, across the limestone road, to head north. I chose the former, and saw a rabbit sitting in the middle of the trail as soon as I turned onto it. A couple minutes later I encountered two deer who were also in the middle of the trail, and after eyeing me for a few seconds, they sauntered away without displaying any distress about my presence.

My southward course was chosen only because I wanted to be alone and had seen a group of people start walking north when I parked my car. However, I was inexplicably more curious about what lie to the north than what lie to the south, so after 30 minutes or so I turned around and backtracked -- and found myself on topographically appealing terrain immediately after crossing the road. The trail descended through hardwood forest and passed through dense undergrowth before emerging in a relatively open forest of pine:

So went my introduction, in April 2006, to the interwoven A-B-C loop trails in the Croom Tract of Withlacoochee State Forest. I have returned many times in the years since, and trust me when I say that whatever they lack in the way of imaginative naming, they more than make up for by leading into some of the wildest backcountry in Central Florida.

Totaling 14.7 miles, the Exterior Loop resembles an immense cookie whose edges are irregular and southeastern quarter is bitten off. Roughly one-third of the way “up the cookie,” at is narrowest point, a 1¼-mile trail called the B-C Connector bisects it from one end to the other. At another relatively narrow point, roughly two-thirds of the way up, it is bisected once more by a 2¾-mile path called the A-B Connector. These trails subdivide the Exterior Loop into three interior ones, and you can get a sense of the layout by looking at the trail map:

The so-called A Loop encompasses the entire A-B Connector, plus the northern arc of the Exterior Loop above it, for a total of seven miles not including the 0.2-mile approach hike…Meanwhile, the C Loop encompasses the B-C Connector plus the southern arc below, for a total of six miles not including the mile-long approach…And lastly, across the middle of it all is the 9.9-mile B Loop. It incorporates the A-B Connector as its northern border and B-C as its southern, linked together by part of the Exterior Loop’s western flank and a goodly chunk of its eastern one.

With mileage that allows you to log many hours on the trail and geology that allows you to see many habitats, it is hard to imagine a better trail existing in the Tampa Bay Area. Spend time here and you will witness the gamut from tall hills to low bogs, like the one pictured below. There are even a few modest ravines and reforested quarries.

Trees include everything from water-loving cypress to dryland pines, from long-boughed oaks to cone-shaped cedars. A few orange trees grow in scattered places throughout the woods, so if you hike here when they are bearing fruit (usually from November to February) you might be able to pluck a snack right from their limbs.

The understory teems as if refusing to be overshadowed by the canopy. One Labor Day weekend I walked into a thicket filled with blossoms that resembled wild orchids. Lantana blooms almost all year and is a favorite food source of the hummingbirds that reside here in spring and summer. And it seems like every songbird on earth enjoys feasting on the forest’s endless bounty of beautyberries:

Though there are rises and falls all throughout the loop, there is no denying that its northern half is the hilliest and its southern half provides the longest stretches of level land. You will find the tallest hills along the Exterior Loop’s northernmost stretch, and while hiking there you are sure to notice that the hills on the approach are continuous even if they’re not very high or steep. Spending time on this half of the loop, whether on the exterior or the A-B Connector, means you are always on or surrounded by some level of vertical relief:

The exterior route is marked by rectangular orange blazes and the connectors by rectangular blue blazes. These serve as important navigational aids since the loop is intersected multiple times by slender bike trails and also by dirt roads, a.k.a. “forest roads,” which I assume are there so rangers can access the backwoods without having to do so on foot. It is tempting to use the forest roads as alternate hiking trails, but if you do so, be aware that they are not quite as straight as they appear on the trail map, and therefore it is easier than you might think to become marginally lost.

There are two trailheads from which the loop can be accessed directly, both of which are on Croom Road. The western one, Tucker Hill Trailhead, is also the most conspicuous because of its large parking area, picnic tables, full-service restrooms, and fire tower:

To reach Tucker Hill from Brooksville, drive north on U.S. 41, turn right on Croom Road and continue for two miles. To reach it from practically everywhere else in the Bay Area, drive north on I-75 to exit 301, go east on State Road 50 for approximately one mile, then turn left on Croom Rital Road; four miles later you will pass the entrance to Silver Lake Recreation Area on your right, and eventually you will come to the trailhead several miles beyond that, after the road has turned west and changed from pavement to limestone and switched its name to just Croom. There is an unmanned pay station where you are expected to deposit a $2 day use fee, or $10 overnight fee if you plan on going backpacking and staying at one of the trail’s two primitive camping zones.

On the other hand, the eastern trailhead is located shortly after Croom Rital Road turns west and changes its name. There are no facilities there, but then again, there is also no pay station. Because this trailhead is not specifically marked, be sure to keep an eye out for the small Florida Trail signs that appear on each side of the road where the path crosses.

I have enjoyed these loops many times by myself, and twice in the past few months have brought Sarah out to introduce her to them as well -- so obviously, I encourage everyone to do the same whether alone or with friends and family. Go here for a downloadable copy of the map. Happy Trails!