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

Upper Tampa Bay

Having already written one post about a place on Tampa Bay’s eastern shore and another about a place on its western shore, I have had it in mind to write about one on its northern shore, so recently I made my way to Upper Tampa Bay Park. Located a couple miles east of Oldsmar, it is just on the Hillsborough side of the Hillsborough-Pinellas county line.

I arrived on a cool morning with the sky alternating between gray and blue, and the breeze whipping up ripples on the water -- which is notable because northern parts of the bay tend to be smooth even when whitecaps are brewing elsewhere on its surface. This picture was taken at the end of the Eagle Trail:

Upper Tampa Bay Park has three trails, all named after animals you might encounter here. And while, yes, you should look up to see if any bald eagles are wheeling overhead, you should not forget to look down as well, for you are almost guaranteed to see fiddler crabs wherever it gets damp. In the first photo below you can see holes made by the crabs; in the second you can make out some of them swimming in the tidal creek, looking like scattered specks. Both photos were taken on the Bobcat Trail.

Meanwhile, the Otter Trail begins by using a short boardwalk to cross a saltwater marsh where cordgrass and needlerush grow. Then it takes you along a wide leisurely path beneath palm trees and stunted oaks, next to the shore. Though you can not tell from the next picture, sea water is nearby on your right and  meadows sit just beyond the palmettos on your left.

The Eagle Trail is the first one you will come to after entering the park, with the Bobcat and Otter Trails both beginning at the end of the mile-long park road. The Bobcat is the only one of the three that is a loop, and when I was there, part of it was closed for repairs due to having gotten washed out.

None of the trails are particularly long, but if you walk them all you will spend a substantial amount of time in the outdoors. You will have a good chance to see wildlife such as corn snakes and diamondback terrapins; and in addition to seeing coastal sights like those above, you will walk through inland forests like this one:

While Upper Tampa Bay Park is a fine place for adults, it is an excellent one for introducing kids to the outdoors. In addition to walking the paths, you can paddle a canoe over the bay’s open water, and among its mangroves, and inland by going upstream on Double Branch Creek. The park has a handful of smallish picnic shelters, plus a beach volleyball court and playground. And finally, it has a nature center where native fish reside in aquariums and bees reside in a glass-sided observational hive. Here is a picture of the center’s tin roof in the distance, taken from the Otter Trail:

Because this is a county park, there is a $2 entry free that you are expected to pay at the unmanned “iron ranger” when you arrive. Canoes may be rented near the nature center at a rate of $25 for four hours. To get here, turn south onto Double Branch Road from Hillsborough Avenue, east of (and within sight of) Race Track Road. Then follow the signs. Happy Trails!

Hillsborough River State Park

After 35 posts, I figure it’s about time to write one about the place that most often comes to mind when people are asked to name a wild destination in the Tampa Bay Area.

Set aside in 1938, Hillsborough River State Park is one of the oldest state parks in Florida and remains one of the most popular, due mostly to its large campground and excellent paddling opportunities:

Unbeknownst to most people, its hiking trails are fine enough to have been mentioned in Backpacker magazine, which chose to go succinct by summing them up in three sentences: “Walk beneath a crown of live oaks, palms, and magnolias so thick they can block the sun. Best time for wildlife: March through May. Look riverside for fallen trees and rotting logs -- they make ideal gator-sunning spots.”

I can personally attest that the Hillsborough River is teeming with alligators, for although my visits have always been in autumn rather than the March-to-May period cited by the magazine, I have never left without seeing some of the prehistoric-looking reptiles. And I’m talkin’ bout big ’uns:

The park contains a variety of habitats that are all accessible on foot. There are moist areas with riverine forests and cypress heads, plus dry areas where longleaf pines rise above fields of palmetto. There are spacious oak hammocks that look beautiful when dappled by the morning sun -- for an example, check out the photo just above the “About Me” section at the top of this blog, which I took during a visit here in 2008.

While trails reach most sections of the park’s 4,000 acres, it seems they all lead back to the river, and that is probably as it should be. The Hillsborough is a fine waterway that flows steadily yet seems laconic, perhaps because many of the things you see along it lend a tropical feel -- things like wading ibis, basking turtles, and a handful of overhanging palms:

However, there is one spot where the river courses over limestone outcrops to create something rarely seen in Florida -- rapids! -- and in that spot it definitely does not seem laconic. The following sight awaits you at the end of the 1.2-mile Rapids Trail:

Because this is a state park, there is an entry fee of $4 for single-occupant cars and $6 for multiple-occupant cars. In my opinion, a better option is to book a campsite for a night or two, which will run you $24 per night and ensure that you have more than enough time to to hike every mile of trail without feeling the least bit rushed, and then go canoeing as well. Every one of the campground’s 112 sites has electricity, running water, a picnic table, and a fire ring with a foldover grate that allows it to double as a grill.

As you may have gathered from the park’s appearance in the aforementioned magazine, backpacking is also available here, at a primitive campsite located along a 3½-mile section of the Florida Trail. There is no cost to book this site, but unlike those at the full service campground, it will not get you out of paying the entry fee when you arrive at the park.

Camping, regardless of whether you choose to drive to your site or hike to it, allows you the priceless chance to sit beside a campfire under the stars while sipping your beverage of choice. Coyote sightings by campers have increased in recent years but are far from guaranteed -- contrary to sightings of raccoons and squirrels, which you are almost guaranteed to see around your site no matter if it’s day or night:

Hillsborough River State Park is located on U.S. 301 east of Thonotosassa. It is less than 25 miles from downtown Tampa, which is impressive given how much of a wilderness it is. Happy Trails!

Jefferson

The last thing I expected to see was a tall, steep-sided rise giving a Wyomingish appearance to a spot barely outside of Tampa. But there it was:

Later, when looking at it from the opposite direction on the return leg of our hike, I saw something that made the Western resemblance even stronger: A trio of riderless horses walking along its ridge. Although two of them promptly vanished down the other side when my sister called out to them, I managed to capture a photo of the third before he too walked out of sight. Unfortunately, given the distance from which I shot and the fact I was shooting with a cell phone camera, in the next view it’s not real easy to make him out (just to the left of the high point) and it’s hard to tell he’s an equine:

I am not naïve enough to believe I was looking at a natural feature created by tectonics. The rise is almost certainly the remains of an abandoned landfill that Nature has since beautified with growing grass -- which is fine by me, since it is now part of Nature’s canvas no matter how it came to exist.

At the end of the day, however, that rise is a microscopic cell compared to the total acreage of Lower Hillsborough Wilderness Preserve. We were walking on a 10-mile trail network located south of Cow House Creek in the preserve’s western reaches; for a point of reference, back in December 2011 I wrote about another trail network that is also in the western reaches but north of Cow House Creek.

The fact that these 10 miles of trail pass by the rise does not change the fact that they are, as a whole, just as level as the network I previously wrote about. For much of their distance they pass through lush oak hammocks like this one:

In many places the hammocks are draped by very old vines:

This network is best described as a single trail that happens to fork in a few places and circles back on itself so as to contain its own loops. It travels generally from west to east, or parallel to the preserve’s southern boundary, though its westernmost expanse consists of a loop that is elongated from south to north. The west flank of that loop travels atop a grassy berm overlooking the Tampa Bypass Canal, a 14-mile waterway which connects the Hillsborough River to McKay Bay and serves the defined purposes of diverting floodwaters from the river and providing drinking water to the city of Tampa. Incidentally, the canal has also proven to be a fine canoeing and fishing spot popular with humans and waterfowl alike.

I previously wrote that some sections of Lower Hillsborough Wilderness Preserve have their own names and signage. Well, this trail network counts as one of those sections because the sign at the trailhead identifies it as Jefferson Equestrian Area. The name does not mean that it is for horses only, however. Instead it means that horses are allowed on the trail as well as hikers, which is not the case in most of the preserve.

There is only one point from which to access Jefferson, and it is located off Fowler Avenue just east of I-75. Turn north from Fowler onto Jefferson Road, which passes between Terrace Community Middle School and the Big Top Flea Market and ends at the trailhead after a distance of about one block. You will be pleasantly surprised to find that this location has a gateway to such fine wilderness.

Go here for a printable copy of the trail map. Happy Trails!

Again to CCN

Christmas was bookended by a pair of cold snaps that dusted parts of the Bay Area with frost:

The low temps seemed to invigorate wild animals rather than discourage them, as evidenced by the cries of hawks that frequently pierced the air and the large numbers of sandhill cranes seen milling about:

With that kind of atmosphere greasing the skids into 2012’s final weekend, there was no way I could let the weekend pass without exploring some woods, even if our calendar showed things scheduled. So yesterday morning I made my way to the Cypress Creek North Trail Network for the first time in nine months.

In March I wrote two posts about this network that can be read here and here. The second post mentions a 1½-mile section of side trail that “is crossed by several other trails that lead to…well, right now I don’t know, but hey, that gives me a reason to come back!” Those other trails were my destination yesterday.

Because we are entering rather than exiting winter, the foliage is more scant right now than it was the last time I was here, a fact to which these bald cypress can testify:

To reach the trails I had in my mind, it was first necessary to head east for 1.3 miles on the paved path that serves as Cypress Creek North’s main artery. Almost immediately after using a culvert to pass over the creek itself, the paved path is crossed by an earthen trail onto which I turned right and trod into a forest of mixed hardwoods.

Just under a half-mile later, as that trail begins to emerge into a more open landscape, it encounters a pair of side trails marked by signposts 4 and 8. The first is on the right and plunges into moist-looking woods dominated by oaks. The trail itself consists of deep, lumpy dirt that has the appearance of never being dry anywhere there is shade:

Several steps beyond that, the second side trail turns left and heads into a pine flatwood that is slightly higher and considerably drier:

A quick glance at the two photos above shows just how abruptly one Florida ecosystem gives way to another. As far as beauty and adventure are concerned, the first trail looks more promising; however, I opted to walk the second one because I was wearing tennis shoes instead of my hiking boots and didn’t want to find myself sinking ankle-deep in mud.

The flatwood through which the second trail passes is thick with hip-high palmettos, but it has no canopy because the pines are so spread out. You will find two decision points soon after stepping onto this trail: first at an unsigned side trail branching off to the left, then at an intersection with another unsigned side trail, which goes off in both directions. I kept moving straight, wanting to see how long this particular trail is and hoping it would go far. I learned it does not, however, for it ends at a T intersection after little more than a third of a mile.

While you can choose to go either right or left at the T intersection, it was hard not to notice the barbed wire fence on the other side of the intersecting trail, which told me that any further travel in that direction was probably verboten. Although the intersecting trail is composed of the same sort of deep, lumpy dirt I skipped back at signpost 4, I chose not to skip it this time. Because these woods are sunnier than the ones at signpost 4, I figured the dirt here at least wouldn’t be wet from the prior morning’s rain -- plus there is a wooden observation tower to the left and I wanted to find out if it is accessible.

It turned out the dirt was dry like I hoped, and soft and deep like I expected. Covered with abnormally deep deer tracks, it gave under my weight with a sensation reminiscent of Rocky Mountain snow. Unfortunately, when I got to the tower I found that access to it is denied by the barbed wire, but at least it makes for a nice photo in its own right:

As for the earlier decision points I mentioned, I did go back and check them out, discovering that one-fifth of a mile is a recurring theme. At the first decision point, the unsigned trail on the left travels one-fifth of a mile before petering out at a spot where the flatwood gives way to a mixed forest that is thicker with trees. It was there that I saw these young maples holding on stubbornly to their autumnal leaves:

At the second decision point, you will walk approximately one-fifth of a mile regardless of whether you turn left or right. A left turn takes you to a T intersection with the same deep dirt trail that passes the observation tower, while a right turn empties you back onto the same side trail that brought you here from the main artery. Interestingly enough, the spot where you empty back onto that side trail is one-fifth of a mile past the spot where you left it!

I can not lie: I wish this network of side trails off a side trail would delve farther into the preserve than it does. Even if the barbed wire marks a property line, I could not detect any reason why the trail from “decision point one” has to stop at the maples instead of probing past them into the forest beyond. But it is still worth your time to come to these paths, especially when you consider that they are a decent ways into the preserve, and are but one piece of an extensive network of connected trails that you can explore while here.

For directions to the trailhead, please visit the first of the links I included earlier in this post. Happy Trails!

Back to Cypress Creek North

It was 58 degrees and clouds were few when I entered Cypress Creek Preserve on Sunday morning, eager to explore parts of its northern trail network that I skipped on my previous visit:

Birdsong filled the air from the very beginning. At one point, I could make out so many individual tunes within the cacophony that there had to be representatives from more than a half-dozen species singing at the same time.

If you read last week’s post, you may recall that on my previous visit I skipped the first side trail and took the second one -- and later consulted the trail map, at which time I noticed it portrays these not as separate trails but as a single one which “travels north from the paved path at milepost 0.7 and eventually curves back to the south, crossing the paved path again at milepost 1.3.”

Well, after Sunday morning’s visit I can confirm that the trail map is correct on this point. From 0.7, the trail’s horseshoe route totals about 1½ miles before its crossing at 1.3. For most of this route it travels through hardwood forests, parts of which are downright jungly. I will not claim that the girth of the following trunk equals the biggest ones I saw in the Northwest, but when I say it brings those trunks to mind, I absolutely mean it:

One word of warning: Be aware that you may have to slog through standing water if you hike this trail during the wet season, because a third of a mile from 0.7 it crosses the creekbed of Cypress Creek’s headwaters without benefit of a bridge. On Sunday the creekbed was dry, but it is sure to be flowing once the rains come; and as you know, you stand a strong chance of running into alligators and cottonmouths anywhere in this state you see water.

But anyway, continuing southward after the 1.3 crossing, the trail drops several feet downhill and enters a much drier habitat where fields of bluestem are backed by treelines of maple and pine:

This section of trail continues for its own 1½ miles before dead-ending at a fence, and along the way it is crossed by several other trails that lead to…well, right now I don’t know, but hey, that gives me a reason to come back!

In the meantime, I can tell you that another thing I learned on Sunday’s visit is that if you take the right fork where the paved trail splits (I took the left one last time) you will only go about a third of a mile before reaching its end and having to turn around.

And, I can let you know that this trail network is a primo place for viewing wildlife. After seeing lots of creatures the weekend before, Sunday’s visit turned up two pileated woodpeckers, a pair of storks, and five whitetail deer -- four of whom darted across the path no more than 30 feet in front of me.

I will leave you with a photo of a tree that my last post described as “the tallest live oak I have ever seen.” While last week’s dim light resulted in a photo that was little more than a silhouette, Sunday’s brightness did a better job revealing contrast and showing Spanish moss hanging from the branches:

Happy Trails!

Cypress Creek North

Back in January I wrote about a trail network in the west central portion of Cypress Creek Preserve. Temperatures in the low sixties drew me back to Cypress Creek on Saturday, but this time I decided to check out the trail network in its northern section -- which, amazingly, I had yet to hike despite living only 20 minutes away.

The network’s main artery is a paved trail that cuts across the property from west to east and is wide enough to be considered a road. It connects with a number of dirt trails that, needless to say, have a more “wildernessy” appearance:

However, the paved one was more productive for wildlife viewing when I was there, turning up nine deer and a big alligator. Although its size does not fully translate in this picture, judging by the distance between the gator’s forehead and nose as compared to the plant life, I would estimate him to be about eight feet long:

I travelled more than three miles on the paved trail, passing four dirt trails that were signed and a few more that were not signed, before opting to turn around and try some of those side paths. Right before doing my about face I heard the loud rattling call of a sandhill crane and glanced up to see it flying in my direction. It landed nearby and I thought of how fascinating it is that this species, which I see almost every day in Florida, lives as far away as Siberia:

From the preserve’s entrance it is 0.7 miles to the first signed side trail, which travels north from the paved path; and 1.3 miles to the second, which crosses the paved path just after a culvert through which Cypress Creek flows underfoot. Because those trails enter woods that appeared more lush than the woods entered by the more easterly trails, I skipped the easterly ones and backtracked all the way to the trail at the 1.3-mile mark.

Going north, the first ¾ mile on this trail travels alternately through hardwood forests and pine-ringed palmetto fields before the former finally prevails in a kind of battle of the ecosystems. At first the canopy is open but soon it closes up:

At one point I gazed up at the tallest live oak I have ever seen, and it made me understand why Hollywood executives chose Florida as the place to film those old Tarzan movies starring Johnny Weissmuller:

A little more than a mile after turning onto this trail, I had my most heart-stopping wildlife encounter in over two years. I was minding my own business when a large mammal stepped onto the trail no more than 20 feet in front me, travelling right to left and totally oblivious to my presence. Its jet black fur made me wonder if I was looking at a bear, but then I noticed its snout and realized I was sharing space with a wild hog.

Aware of their not-so-friendly reputation, I stopped in my tracks and apparently was not quiet in doing so. The hog glanced in my direction and saw me, then he jumped sideways and hustled off into the underbrush, providing a glimpse of his side profile that looked impeccably like the Arkansas Razorback of football helmet fame. Not knowing whether hogs travel solo or in groups, I interpreted his presence as a message to get the hell out of there.

I felt a few raindrops, and, knowing I was already on pace to log more than eight miles by the time I got back to the car, decided to wait until next weekend to try the first side trail. I can not wait to see what awaits me then, given how much new, here-comes-spring foliage I saw on Saturday:

There are a few things about the “Cypress Creek North” trail network you should know. For one, I am not convinced of how reliable the trail map is. Assuming you hike west to east like I did, the map shows the paved trail forking near the preserve’s eastern boundary, with the left fork turning north and continuing to go north; however, I took the left fork and found that it soon shifted to an east-southeasterly direction. Where I turned around, it was heading in that direction in a straight line and I could not see the end, so until I explore more and write about what I find, take that for what you will.

Also, after consulting the trail map when I returned home, I noticed it shows that the first and second side trails are one and the same. According to the map, it travels north from the paved path at milepost 0.7 and eventually curves back to the south, crossing the paved path again at milepost 1.3. As soon as I confirm whether that is true or false, I will let you know.

And lastly, you should know that accessing this network is not as easy as accessing the one I wrote about before. From Ehren Cutoff, turn onto Pump Station Road and drive to its end, where you will be stopped by a security gate beyond which buildings can be seen. There are warning signs about needing to register before entering, but they are intended for visitors to the well houses, not visitors to the preserve, so feel free to park on the shoulder and use the walk-through opening in the fence. Then, continue walking 0.3 miles to the actual preserve entrance, which is visible the whole way:

If you don’t like the idea of hiking on pavement, a good idea would be to bring your bike and pedal to the various trailheads. That would save a lot of time getting from one trail to the next, and give you more time to explore each one. Happy Trails!