Photo- Mosaic Peace River County Park in Polk County Florida
The book "Boardwalks and Long Walks: Rediscovering Florida" started out as a photo essay on Boardwalks. Having
studied building construction, the nuts and bolts, or rather, the screws and
planks of elevated walkways intrigued me. Boardwalks take great expense and
effort to build and maintain. This makes them relatively rare. Less than 1% of
all hiking trails are elevated boardwalks.
Boardwalks raise the user up above
local vegetation allowing better views of the surrounding habitat. Boardwalks
limit unplanned side trails and prevent trail-braiding from developing. Wooden
elevated walkways limit damage to soft or shallow soil, delicate vegetation,
and help prevent erosion to side slopes. They also allow sight and mobility
challenged people to explore the natural world on a safer, firmer, platform.
"I go out into the woods each weekend, not because I can, but because
I must. I view the bright blue sky filled with mashed potato clouds from deep
within the emerald hug of a subtropical forest. I savor the sharp aroma of pine
needles and sand as I crest the hilltop. I linger in the musk of the breezeless
swamp. I close my eyes and listen to the scurry of unseen companions in the
bush against the background babble and splash of a
tiny stream. As I stand motionless against the railing, I feel a trickle of
sweat run down between my shoulder blades. I welcome the cooling canopy delayed
raindrops moments before the daily downpour begins. There is no place I would
rather be, so it is not simply that I can, but I must." - Will Holcomb
The long walks began as an outing to find a promised
boardwalk. Many of my short excursions were done alone. I had a ham radio, a
cell phone, a GPS, and a compass with me, but I was by myself. My long walks
were to experience nature and discover whatever the grand adventure laid before
me.
As I wandered, I stumbled into wildlife, and wildlife stumbled into me. In
most cases, that would not have been the case even if I talked in hushed tones
to an experienced adult companion. The black bear in Chassahowitzka, the
panther at the Peace River Mosaic Park, the wood stork and the deer at John
Chestnut Park, or the Red Cockaded Woodpecker in the Corkscrew Swamp would have
avoided us. Neither the wildlife nor I were looking for the encounters, and
that is what made them special.
My grandfather William Greenfield was an Illinois farmer.
He raised 13 children through the dark days of the depression. After being
widowed and the children were grown, he wandered. Long before backpacks, he
carried $300 and some oatmeal cookies in an old potato bag. Long before the
Interstate Highway System, he hiked and hitched rides to visit his adult
daughters on the west coast. He would talk to anyone, but didn’t mind being
alone. I got those itchy feet and that personality from him, even though he
passed before I was born.
Photo- Germain Tourist Family on holiday at the Big Cypress Boardwalk, Fakahatchee Stand State Preserve State Park on Tamiami Trail.
After watching others in the parks, it is no wonder to me
that they say there is no wildlife. Their city habits of talking loud, moving
fast, and never looking behind them or lingering in one spot only serve to
deprive them. I wonder how someone can travel to the southern tip of Florida to
experience nature, then plug in ear buds and deprive themselves of not only one
of their senses, but a key clue to finding wildlife. Sound is second only to
movement in finding living things, but yet they technologically deafen
themselves. Then they hinder their quest by using their own sound and movement
to alert and startle away the target of their quest.
I also expanded my horizons. I was not a “bird watcher”.
When I went to the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary, I saw that these bird people from the Audubon Society
were tree huggers too. In their noble quest to save birds from feather
poachers, they protected alligators, old growth trees, mammals, snakes, and an
entire watershed. Being a tree hugger, I appreciated the fact that bird people
saved the trees, by accidental inclusion.
Photo- Boardwalk at Audubon's Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary.
In Florida there are watersheds that save wildlife, and
trees. The Regional Water Management districts own vast expanses of area. Most
of these are called “WMA’s”. It could be called a water management area based
on who owns the land. These vast expanses of acreage protect water from its
source, along its course, and where it is naturally stored. Springs, creeks,
sloughs (pronounced “slew”), rivers, swamps, and bays are included. But so are
hundreds of thousands of acres of riparian forests, bottomland forests, swamps,
ridgelines, and grassy plains. The water in the “WMA’s” is managed; stored
during wet season, released during dry season, and in some areas pumped down
into the aquifer. But the duality of this public land is that they are Wildlife
Management Areas. Trees, birds, mammals, and reptiles, are living above and in
the water that was their original purpose for existing. And most of them are
open to the public most of the time for general outdoor recreation. The Florida
Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) manages the wildlife by
allowing hunting, and by monitoring the health and diversity of the wildlife.
It was the diversity in the origin and owners of these
great natural areas, not all of them public, that morphed my Boardwalk Photo
Essay into “Boardwalks and Long Walks”.
State Parks are listed in one place; State Forests were listed in
another. The Water Management Districts divided along watershed boundaries, not
any existing political borders. Not all the WMA’s are open to the public, for
the same reasons that many county preserves are closed, mainly because man
cannot be entirely trusted in delicate areas.
The National Forests could span
parts of half a dozen counties. The private preserves were each listed in their
proprietary books and websites. There was not one way to subdivide the state
into sections, but six. There was not one place to find them all listed. In
fact, there might be a WMA, a State Forest, a State Park, and a private
preserve all with the same name. They might be nested one inside the other,
side by side, or miles apart in different regions. You could easily hike from a
WMA into a State Park by the same name, and not know you crossed over the
boundary. Although nature does not care about a human drawn line on a map, the
difference in rules between two different facilities can vary greatly. That
could cost you a fine, or time in jail depending on what you were doing and if
you were where you thought you were or not. Keep a map, compass, GPS, and the
rules for both of them with you if you are going to be doing something permitted
in one area but prohibited in the other!
My quest is to find the natural areas, classify them as
simply as possible, and list them by county. The regions in use are similar to
the Florida State Park Administrative regions. For the Parks/facilities that
span more than one county, they are listed in all of the counties where they
are located. If you want to look for a park in Pinellas County, look under that
county on the list and every public access area that I have found will be
there.
Photo- Okaloacooche Slough Wildlife Management Area
is next to the Okaloacooche Slough State Forest.
This makes planning a road trip more productive. I was frustrated by
visiting a State Park out of town, only to find out after the fact that five
miles away there was a WMA and a State Forest. City Parks, County Parks and
preserves, WMA’s, State Parks, State Forests, Nature Centers, and private
facilities are listed. There are several Tourist facilities listed as well.
The Content of this Blog, as well as "Boardwalks and Long Walks: Rediscovering Florida"
You can contact the author at boardwalkbook@live.com
Pictures are by the author unless otherwise noted.
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