Split Rock Walk

A couple weekends ago my friend Lauren and I went on a hike in the woods. We checked out Split Rock Conservation Area, which is just west of town near I-75. It's a bit odd, because even though this is a city park that is open to the public, there are no signs indicating where it is, there's nowhere to really park, and there are no facilities or maps available. I guess they don't really want anyone going there. Too bad!

The park is 241 acres, and a trail loops around it for a couple of miles.

We went off-road to try to find the fabled split rock and the creek that runs through a marshy area.


We were unsuccessful, but we got to see some cool ecosystems.

I liked the bark on this tree.


The ground was very squishy. For some reason I wore my boots instead of old tennis shoes. Bad idea.

At another point we wandered into the woods.

Then we came back to the trail and lay in the sun to call a few people who might be able to tell us how to get to the rock and/or creek.

No one could help us, so we just walked on the trail some more. It was a very fine day, so I did not mind a bit.

Rainy Day Adventure

After we went swimming a couple of times in Manatee Springs, and ate lunch and read the paper, we decided to go canoeing. Right when we reached the car, though (to retrieve the canoe), the rain that had been sprinkling on us off and on since we had gotten to the park began pouring down in earnest. I've never really minded getting rained on (unless I'm stuck in an inner tube on the Ichetucknee River), but the thunder and lightning were not reassuring. I called off the canoe trip.

Rob, always laid-back, suggested an adventure. "Should we go to Cedar Key?" He asked. I acquiesced.

We drove away from the storm with the windows down, listening to Neil Young.


Believe it or not, although I grew up only an hour away from this old port town, I've only been to Cedar Key once, when I was twelve years old. I've been missing out.

It's located on an island on the Gulf of Mexico, surrounded by tidal flats.


Downtown is really -- and I want to emphasize that I normally avoid this word -- quaint. Cedar Key used to be a pretty bumpin' port back in the day. Some of the buildings are over one hundred years old -- old as heck for our humid, hurricane- and termite-infested state!


One old building didn't exist. Someone had simply left up the facade -- windows and all -- in front of an empty lot.


Granted, summer is actually the off-season in Florida -- all the Yankees and snow birds go back up to their native climes for the dog days -- but the pace in Cedar Key seemed relaxed even by slow season standards. Golf carts are an extremely common way to get around the island. This companion waited patiently outside a bank for his owner.


As in many beach towns, many artists seem to settle in Cedar Key. That makes for random art around town and art galleries run by artists.


This sculpture was in the yard next to the building that had the mosaic around its front door, pictured above.


I couldn't resist -- the resemblance was uncanny.


At one end of downtown is a little park with this view of the gulf. The pontoon boat was returning from a tour.


We went for a drive around the island. Next to an old cemetery was a reeeeeally long boardwalk out into the flats. We saw tons of birds.


Cedar Key is actually one in a chain of keys, or islands. The keys are federally protected sanctuaries and serve as nurseries for aquatic life and important stops for migrating wildlife. Much of the land in the area is also state preserves. This is why Cedar Key doesn't look like Daytona Beach! Conservation works, people.

A River Runs Through It

I've been absent because I've been busy, but not with all things sustainable.

But Wednesday I took the day off work and went kayaking with my friend Rayne and her friend Caimee, who was visiting from North Carolina. We went down the Santa Fe River. It was BEAUTIFUL!! It was cool and perfectly sunny, with a little breeze that was a wee bit chilly.


We saw:
--tons of turtles (of course)
--anhinga
--two red-shouldered hawks
--great blue herons
--little blue herons
--pileated woodpeckers
--white egrets
--limpkins
--kingfishers
--ducks
--a million vultures (creepy)
--one naked man

We even heard a few barred owls (around 4 o'clock)! I didn't see any algae, water lettuce, or water hyacinth to speak of, which is good. We saw two -- two!! -- canoes the entire time, two boats, and no swimmers -- just scuba divers in Ginnie Springs. The river was basically ours, for twelve entire miles!

I should explain the naked man.

There's a spring, called Lily Spring, that's privately owned. It's on a little side jaunt off the Santa Fe. You can see the kayaks we rented.


A nudist named Ed lives there.


He takes care of the property and hangs out with canoeists and kayakers. He's a nice guy.

Another person we met was Verniss (sp?), this very opinionated guy who runs Ichetucknee Canoe and Cabins. He cares a lot about the river.


They 'like' quotation marks "a lot" "there."

It was a perfect day. I'll post more photos as soon as Caimee e-mails me hers.

Emily's Farm

This weekend Emily had a holiday party at her house, which is on her in-laws' farm just south of town. It's such a special place. The family has been on the farm some ridiculously long period of time, from back when settlers were unironically named "Innocent" and "Charity." (Well, maybe it was just a pre-irony time altogether.)

Anyway, Em's husband, John, took me on an awesome extended tour of the farm, and I got to take some photos.

This is two huge live oaks that decided to live in peace and harmony by growing away from each other. How do trees know to do that? It amazes me.


When I see live oaks draped with Spanish moss like this, it makes me think of how North Florida must have looked in prehistoric times.


The sun was going down and the light was really beautiful on the cabbage palms as we looked out at the prairie.


Sadly, a lot of farms like this are quickly disappearing from the Florida landscape. Family agriculture is always pretty marginal, and developers pay a lot of money to get their hands on this pristine land. People move to places like this for the beautiful green spaces and "nature," but buy houses that preclude the existence of viable habitat.

Agriculture is important to the state because the green space it provides allows rainwater to soak back into the aquifer (from where we get almost all our drinking water), unlike paved areas. Green space also produces oxygen and helps cleanse our air, raises the value of our homes, and provides important wildlife habitat.

Besides a bunch of recalcitrant cattle, on our drive we saw alligators, several flocks of sandhill cranes flying in to roost for the night, and a large red-tailed hawk on the hunt. I'm sure there are also plenty of foxes, deer, and bald eagles around there--and even bobcats, panthers, bears, and whooping cranes.

What I Love about Florida, Pt. 454

I spent a long weekend with my friend Chris and her boyfriend, Eddie, this summer in the panhandle. We were on Blackwater Bay, just east (I think--I'm not so great with directions) of Pensacola. It was so beautiful.

We went kayaking one afternoon. Her two dogs rode with her (one got seasick and then fell into the bay). We watched a pod of dolphins feeding at sunset.


The house was off the grid, relying solely on solar energy and a well to function. There was a backup generator that ran on biodiesel. Pretty cool! It's hard to see in the below photo, but it's a beautiful house owned by a couple who are friends of Chris'.


For miles and miles around was conservation land, owned by the air force base and the water management district, among others. There was an estuarine stream (not sure of the exact terminology) right next to the house. It fed into the bay, really swiftly at high tide. If one was in the water trying not to think about sharks, one felt as though one would be swept away.


We also went on a boat ride (my favorite!) on the Yellow River.


Thanks, Chris!!