Withlacoochee State Trail

For those who love spending time outside, the rails-to-trails movement is one of the most positive developments of the last quarter century. And fortunately for us, our region is home to one of that movement’s crowning achievements.

The Withlacoochee State Trail starts in Pasco County and runs north all the way through Hernando County, continuing into Citrus County before coming to an end after 46 miles. Bicyclists are its most common users, seeing as how it is twelve feet wide and paved with a mixture of asphalt and recycled tire rubber, but hikers should also make a point to get out and enjoy it. One of the trail’s main assets is that it takes you through every aspect of rural Florida -- not just deep woods, but also the open, rolling countryside that is home to cattle ranches and small towns:

The beginning is in Trilby, a Faulkneresque dot on the map (population 419) where the trail passes beside this quaint post office:

After about five miles the Withlacoochee utilizes the bridge pictured below to cross over State Road 50. On the opposite side sits the extremely popular Ridge Manor Trailhead.

Three miles further north, the trail passes the entrance to Silver Lake Recreation Area and proceeds to enter the Croom Tract of Withlacoochee State Forest. Many users consider Croom to be the prettiest and most tranquil section of the entire trail. Here are a couple pictures I took while walking there last Sunday:

Wildlife viewing can be very productive on the Withlacoochee. In the morning, late afternoon, and evening it is common to see deer munching on trailside grass, and in spring and summer it is almost impossible to spend any time here without seeing swallow-tailed kites soaring overhead. Back in 2003, I incorporated Withlacoochee walks into my recovery from surgery, and on almost every visit during that time, I saw the same barred owl perched in one tree or another just north of the Ridge Manor Trailhead.

Trailside amenities, which include covered picnic tables and clean restroom facilities, are another positive feature of the Withlacoochee. Most people will agree that relieving one’s self in the brush is much less ideal than doing so in here:

I have not walked the trail’s farthest miles north of Hernando, i.e., the ones that extend beyond what most people would consider the Tampa Bay area. Those miles are surely worth experiencing, but from what I understand, some of them run fairly close to U.S. 41 and therefore might not seem as wild as the Pasco and Hernando sections. It is also worth noting that the northernmost miles pass through the towns of Istachatta, Floral City, Inverness, and Citrus Springs. An alluring sign in the woods just south of Floral City states: “Shamrock Inn – Good Food – Cold Beer – Next Left.”

To reach the Withlacoochee’s southernmost access points, take exit 293 from I-75 and drive east for 2.6 miles. Then, turn left onto Pasco County Road 575 and continue six miles to Trilby. This route is so winding and hilly you might find yourself wondering if you got transported to Northern Georgia or Western Maryland or some other non-Florida locale.

In Trilby, there is parking for a few vehicles at the spot where the trail crosses the road next to the post office pictured above, about a mile north of the trail’s actual beginning. If you want to start from the actual beginning, keep driving past the post office, turn right at the flashing light, and continue until you see the trailhead on your right.

To reach the Ridge Manor Trailhead, take exit 301 from I-75, drive east for a mile on State Road 50, and turn left onto Croom Rital Road. The trailhead will be on your right and is very obvious because of its ample parking lot. FYI, its facilities are considerably more immaculate than those at the first two trailheads.

For what it’s worth, however, my personal favorite place to hop on the Withlacoochee is at a spot on Croom Rital Road several miles north of the Ridge Manor Trailhead. If you just keep driving, you will enter the borders of the state forest and come to my preferred trailhead at a spot where the road turns left and is crossed by the trail. There is parking for a few cars both before and after the crossing.

Happy Trails!

Update, 11/19/12: Less than two weeks ago the "facilities" at the trailhead by the Trilby post office consisted of a port-a-let. But yesterday, when I walked from there to the Ridge Manor Trailhead, the port-a-let was gone...so while Ridge Manor continues to be kind of a lap of luxury with flush toilets, hot water sinks, and multiple picnic tables, the Trilby post office trailhead has gone from being one of modest facilities to one of no facilities. I will let you know if that ever changes.

Weedon Island

Everyone raised in St. Petersburg has heard of this 3,700-acre expanse of green along the western shore of Tampa Bay, and has seen at least that part of its shoreline which is visible from Gandy Bridge. But most people are not aware you can hike on it, and who can blame them? Since Weedon Island’s recreational reputation is built mostly on sea kayking and shallow-water fishing -- and mangroves make up all of its plant life you can see from afar -- it would be logical to wonder if it even has any dry land.

For any non-Floridian readers out there, mangroves are estuary trees which grow in areas that are, more often than not, submerged in salt water anywhere from several inches to several feet deep. They sit atop above-ground roots, as you can tell from this picture that was taken when the water level was lower than normal:

The shallow aquatic world around mangrove roots is home to crabs and crayfish and provides a steady food supply for droves of raccoons. Herons also come here to feed:

There is much more to Weedon Island than mangroves, however, for its interior is home to upland fields and woods:

That interior is teeming with a variety of wildlife, including endangered species like the gopher tortoise. 4½ miles of hiking trails thread through Weedon Island, leading to two inland ponds, three viewing platforms, and a 45-foot tall observation tower. They are dirt in some areas, paved in others, and where necessary (i.e., mostly around the perimeter) they use boardwalks to ensure you stay dry while slipping through the mangroves:

Although it is called an island, Weedon is actually a peninsula, tethered to Pinellas County’s mainland by a small isthmus of land south of Gandy Boulevard. A two-lane road across that isthmus is what takes you there. When I was a child, the road was dirt and dead-ended near a dock. The bulk of Weedon was known as Weedon Island State Preserve, but unless you had a kayak in tow, there was really nothing to do here.

These days the land is leased to Pinellas County and known simply as Weedon Island Preserve -- and man oh man, has the county ever upgraded things! In addition to blazing the trails and paving the road, it has built a cultural and natural history center to honor Weedon’s rich human history. Archaeological excavations on the island have unearthed a plethora of tools and pottery, plus a canoe that has been carbon-dated to be more than 1,000 years old. Many of these artifacts are now on display in the center.

To reach the preserve, turn south onto San Martin Boulevard from Gandy Boulevard, or east onto 83rd Avenue from 4th Street, and follow the signs. Admission is free. Whether you live in the Tampa Bay area or are simply visiting, you will be doing yourself a disservice if you fail to visit this wild spot in the midst of a metropolis.

Happy Trails!

O’Leno

O’Leno State Park is 25 miles north of Gainesville, so it might seem strange to include it on this blog, but it would be a disservice if I failed to do so this week. It is one of my favorite places in Florida and we just celebrated my 41st birthday by camping there for the fifth time in seven years:

O’Leno borders River Rise State Park, and for all intents and purposes they are a single preserve whose preeminent feature is the Santa Fe River. While the Santa Fe’s tea-colored water and lazy current make for a classic Florida waterway, it also has a couple features not normally associated with Florida -- a population of beavers and section of rapids. Right now, however, its water level is so low that the rapids are kaput:

The Santa Fe does something unusual by dropping below the earth in O’Leno, then flowing underground before re-emerging in River Rise. Although you can hike to both the sink and the rise from the end of O’Leno’s park road, the only way to really experience the preserve is by staying overnight. This allows you to lie under the stars and listen to the wind in the trees. It also allows you to walk the 13+ miles of trails on your own schedule, rather than having to leave home hours before daybreak just so you can arrive early enough to finish hiking before the gates close.

O’Leno’s most popular route is the River Trail, a 1.4-mile loop that begins at a suspension bridge near road’s end. If you want to walk it clockwise, cross the bridge and turn left, but if you want to go counter-clockwise, turn right before crossing. The trail is marked by yellow blazes and is very easy to follow. Here are Sarah and Erika on the bridge during a prior visit:

Across the bridge, the River Trail’s clockwise course begins by travelling along a bluff over the Sante Fe. This is a good place to keep an eye out for gators and waterfowl in the water below. Eventually it turns away from the river and passes through a transitional zone with pine/palmetto woods on the left and an oak forest on the right.

A few minutes later, an obvious (but unofficial) path on the right leads down into a low-lying area where you will find a spot densely filled with cypress knees. On a visit in 2008, we dubbed this “the field of knees”:

The same day we did the dubbing, Sarah clutched one of the knees and posed for this mock shock photo:

And now, three days ago, she reenacted the scene. I have to admit it chokes me up to see how much she has gown in what seems so scant a period of time:

Anyway, as the River Trail continues to make its way to the river sink, it travels across a rumpled landscape with quite a few ups and downs -- more than enough to keep you interested even though the heights are not soaring. You will also pass a couple of slender lakes, including Ogden Lake, which is pictured below:

These are not oxbow lakes, but as you can see, they have that riverine look that brings oxbow lakes to mind. And there is a good reason for this: They are parts of the Santa Fe’s underground passage that have been exposed by the earth above them collapsing. One clue of this fact is that the lakes all have a slow, but perceptible, current; another is that they are all located at the bottom of depressions.

When you arrive at the sink, don’t expect it to look anything like a river flowing into a cave. Rather, it is a spot where the undercurrent drops slowly and imperceptibly into a hole in the river bed, and it looks like the Santa Fe has simply come to an end. The sink resembles a putting green because of how much algae coats its surface, as you can tell from this picture of my friend Jason standing beside it with his kids, Carson and Lexie, during that 2008 visit I mentioned earlier:

Branching off from the River Trail is Paraner’s Branch, a 3.7-mile trail which heads out onto the “natural bridge” (as the land above the river’s subterranean route is called) and passes several lakes that are the result of sinkholes filling with water. At its southernmost point Paraner’s Branch turns back at a roughly 45-degree angle, and from this apex the Sweetwater Trail stakes off on its own, leading 1.9 miles to a backcountry campsite complete with a fire ring and privy. This is a good destination if you want to try backpacking in the Sunshine State.

Beyond the campsite, the Sweetwater transitions to the River Rise Trail, which travels 4¼ miles to, of course, the place where the river emerges from underground. I have never hiked all the way there, mostly because it’s too long of a dayhike to work into a family camping trip with young kids. I do take no-kids-allowed backpacking trips, however, and one of these days I would like to take one to the rise.

O’Leno has two developed campgrounds accessible by car from the main road. One is called the Dogwood Loop, the other the Magnolia Loop, and I have stayed at both.

The Dogwood is closest to the park entrance and circles through an old, large sinkhole that the forest has reclaimed. This lends actual topography as the road gains a bit of elevation from beginning to end. All the campsites are on the inside of the loop.

Conversely, the Magnolia is level with all its sites on the outside; and it is located near the end of the park road, not far from the parking lot which marks the park’s day use area. There is a playground in the Magnolia, which makes it a better option for families, and don’t let yourself think that a playground automatically detracts from “the natural experience.” When Sarah and I were standing in it on Friday , an owl flew right over our heads, and during a trip in 2009 she found this lizard on the playground and named him “Fun”:

As a father, I prefer the Magnolia because of the playground. As a hiker, I prefer it because it is within walking distance of the trailhead which grants access to all the paths described above. And based simply on my personality, I like that the Magnolia’s sites are, for the most part, more spacious and more private than those on the Dogwood.

But back to hiking. O’Leno has a geologically interesting trail called the Limestone Trail, which departs from the park road roughly halfway between the two campgrounds. It is a 0.6-mile loop that passes a pond and leads to yet another big, old, since-reforested sinkhole (come to think of it, there are so many of these here that it’s amazing the whole park hasn’t caved in!). When you get to the hole, you will find a limestone outcrop hanging over its edge, imparting a feeling of elevation and making it seem like you are standing somewhere further north:

You will also see signs for the Dogwood Trail, which totals almost 1¼ miles and comes close to connecting the campgrounds. It is not a bad trail, but if you have to choose one to skip, this is the one because it parallels the park road so closely that you could walk its entire distance and feel like you never really went anywhere. (Although, having said that, I did once walk it as night fell, and that did feel adventurous because every darkening tree suddenly looked mysterious and every noise in the brush suddenly sounded scary).

O’Leno is a place you should definitely visit, and I recommend staying a few days so you can mix your active time with your down time. Here is an example of the latter from this past Sunday, taken from my camp chair while Erika read a book in the hammock:

Happy Trails!