Oh what a morning! Have another bike ride planned out for today. Well, not really planned, but one could say, "will be planned in the process of the trip". Stretched good for 30 mins. Rolled all over the bed, wanting to go back to sleep. Laid in bed thinking what needs to get done before I load the bikes into the truck to head northwest for the day. Shower, dress and up to the market for food. It's so warm that the only good shower is a cool shower. Turn on the coffee maker, beans already grounded the night before and note that I have no time to cook anything as the vehicle ride is going to be a good hour and half before I make it to the trail. I am already running late. Publix opens at 7:00 a.m. and I quickly dress, fix hair in a decent fashion, brush teeth and grab my coffee. Can already feel the heat from the morning sun coming through the kitchen window. Gonna be another scorcher for certs. Finishing the coffee, I open the kitchen door and note that I forgot to put the convertible top up from yesterday. Oh well. Hope no creepy crawlies get on me. I really dislike when that happens. Can see me going down the road screaming. LOL So much for doing my hair. Grab my keys and purse and hurry to the market for edibles for today's bike excursion.
At Publix I quickly grab some Cuban bread, order some salami, black forest ham and honey maple glazed turkey. While they are cutting my order I go grab 3 peaches, a bag of dried strawberries and some drinks for the day. We have plenty of water, so not worried about that. Grab a pack of muenster cheese, Alexander's favorite and hurry to checkout. Goes without a glitch and I am back home in exactly 25 mins after I left. Not bad.
Bikes loaded, backpack filled with necessities, cleats in truck and ice chest to keep foods cold; I am ready to leave. Get on Turnpike heading north to SR 50. I am headed to the Withlacoochee State Trail, the longest in Florida. Maybe not for long as they are extending the Van Fleet Trail, but as it is right now, it is the longest. I have to go through 5 counties to get there: Osceola, Orange, Lake, Sumter and Pasco. On the bike trail itself I will be going from Pasco into Hernando County. 6 counties in one day.
Getting off the Turnpike at Clermont, I head west on SR 50. I'll be on this for about 30 miles or so. The GPS doesn't recognize either the State Park, nor CR 575 which I am looking for. Sometimes I want to ditch this thing. Of course it has the listing for every restaurant you can think of. Finally after an hour and 15 mins of driving I reach CR 575 and head south and then eventually west to the small town of Trilby, where one of the trailheads await. As I pass this small, rural area, I make myself a note to stop and take a few pics and vids of this area. Once you leave Lake County and enter Sumter County, you almost feel like you are back in North Florida. If you had led me there blindfolded and then took off the blindfold and asked where I was, I would not have said Tallahassee, but definitely someplace around the Taylor-Dixie County area. The change in elevation and fauna is startling just between these two Central Florida counties.
Finally crossing over 301 and then 98, I reach the trailhead and park the truck. I note that it isn't too busy, probably because it's way too hot. Plus, it's in the middle of nowhere. I'll take this any day over the West Orange Trail where I have to constantly be on guard and rarely ever get to "relax" and enjoy my surroundings. Get the bike out of the truck and take the bottles out of the cooler to place on my bike and in the backpack. Gonna need more than 2 bottles today. Plus, I am not familiar with this trail yet, so just want to be extra prepared. Grab the loaf of bread and the sandwich meat and snacks, shove them in the backpack and go over to the park box to grab a map. Alas, I note that the nearest bathroom is about 6 miles north. For some reason, certain trails don't have any restrooms at the start or finish of their trails, only somewhere in between. Since I have a 7 years old with me, I won't be able to ride fast. We put our helmets on and off down the road we go.
First thing I note is that there are thousands, and I mean literally, thousands of locusts out here. Nice, big, fat, juicy locusts. Ugh. You go through a shady area and they disappear. You go through a sunny area with a lot of grass and they are jumping everywhere. They are all over the concrete. I really don't like grasshoppers, especially these big ones. They sure are pretty with all their different colors, but ick. They are flying out in front of me, landing on my chest, on my clothes, hitting my arms and legs and I am riding with cleats in my clips, so this is not fun at all. I finally get through a mess of them with just a little trouble and my son and I spot our first wildlife not even half a mile into the ride. One of the numerous Florida Gophers that love to hang out in the sandy areas. This one doesn't hide too far down in his shell and Alexander and I check him out. I made a note to bring the camera this time. Further down the road I notice these really pretty blue-purple flowers that I have not seen before. Almost like a cross between a wild violet and a periwinkle. I have no idea what it is, but there are plenty of them in the shady wooded areas. I note an "information plaque" and go over to read it. It turns out to be one on the Eastern Diamondback Rattler. Hmm. Perhaps not a good idea to walk around in the woods too much for flowers? After snapping a picture or two of the flowers I get back on the bike. A little further up the road I note the markings for crossing the county lines from Pasco into Hernanado. I snap a shot although I note that it's in dire need of a new paint job.
A mile or so down the road I begin to notice this awful smell. It only gets worst. The sort where you want to gag? I swear, the smell was pretty much between manure and burnt hamburgers. If I didn't have a 7 years old with me I would have gone a lot faster, but at this rate all I can do is suffer and listen to him complaining too. At last I reach the area from which this despicable smell is originating. To my left I notice a farm. I am assuming the smell is manure and not just from the stench, but also from the hundreds of cattle egrets surrounding the area. They are in the trees, on the roof, in the fields and one is even on the back of a rather large cow that is standing in the middle of a dried up water bed. As disgusting as the smell is, I have to take a picture of this. Especially the one with the cow with the egret on it's back. Hope the picture comes out. As soon as this is done we head out as quickly as possible. I note to myself that we have to come back the same way. Oh joy. Nature.
About 5.5 miles into the ride I see a bridge up ahead. Assuming from the map, this must be the one that crosses over Highway 98. As we get closer I realize that the road leading up to the bridge is not paved, but rather covered in limerock and shell gravel. I thought the entire trail was paved? With my road bike and just getting back to the clips, I'm not too sure I want to ride up it, so I dismount and let Alexander have fun climbing the "hill" as I walk. It's bloody hot by now. At least while riding you get a breeze of sorts. Walking the bike makes me realize just how very warm it really is. As I reach the top, I stop to take a few pictures of the highway and become aware that the sea breeze has just begun to kick in. Grateful for the nice breeze, I take a few moments to enjoy a respite from the hot weather of Central Florida. The sun hides behind the clouds for a few minutes and Alexander and I take the time to watch the cars zooming by both from the east and west. As we descend we note that the Ridge Manor Trailhead awaits us at the bottom. I stay on the bike the way down and we decide to pull over and eat our lunch.
I won't be going all the way to Citrus Springs this time. Not with a 7 years old in tow. Might go another 5 miles as he is getting tired now. Figure the sandwich will give him a little energy boost. As we approach the table, there are 3 guys sitting there eating too. Two have road bikes and the other a recumbent. As my son approached the table, one of the guys starts off on a tirade about Alexander not coming near or touching the recumbent. As my son was no where near the bike, I was not amused. The other two guys just sit watching. I put our lunch stuff out on the table and the recumbent guy then proceeds to ask questions about our ride. I begin to answer and then he goes into a long conversation about how great he was and everything that he has done before I could get more than a sentence out of my mouth. Alexander and I sit there listening, eating and not saying another word. I have no idea at that point whether the 3 guys were all together or separate. The older man gets up to throw his lunch remains out and use the bathroom. The recumbent guy, still going on about how great he was, gets up and puts his stuff together and gets on his bike. Apparently the young man with him is his son. I never hear a word from him. They leave. The older man comes out of the bathroom and first thing from him is "I couldn't believe how rude he was, yelling at your son". Yeah. Some folks. Not much you can do about it. The older man sits there talking with Alexander and I for a bit and then gets on his bike to head north. Nice man, and for his age, which I am assuming had to be around 65 or so, very fit and looked in excellent condition. Wish we saw more of this. What better way to spend your weekend but with nature and your real surroundings while taking care of yourself too. After we finish up our lunch we walk around a little to snap some shots of the hiking trail and the horse trail. It's really serene out here. Can hear some birds, but can't identify them. You can tell the air quality is excellent just by looking at the amount of Spanish Moss hanging from the oaks. Spanish Moss is actually a bromeliad, being in the Pineapple family. We get the name from the French who called it "Barbe Espagnol" in mockery of the Spanish. It's an "air plant" and gets it's nourishment from the air. Not a real moss at all. Thus, the theory now goes that when you have an abundant amount of Spanish Moss it's because the air quality is good. Whether this is true or not, I have no idea but it would make sense since you rarely see it growing in polluted or congested areas.
As we get back on our bikes and head for another 5 miles north, we suddenly come up on some wild young turkeys! Quickly and quietly we stop so not to frighten them away, although I will admit, frightened, running turkeys always look funny to me. I grab the camera not a second too late to snap a couple of pics and take a quick video before they go back into the woods. Back on the bike and a little further down the ways, we note that the area is a little hilly, if even for a few feet, and take notice of a few large limerocks on the left side of the trail. It's not usual to see rocks of this size in these parts, so of course Alexander walks over and climbs up one of them. As he walks around, he picks up two "specimens" to take home with him. My son.
We are almost at the end of our ride and I decide to take a few snaps of the old railroad markers that have been lining the trail the whole way. Up close I look to see if there is any writing on them, and figure from the look of them that maybe there was a plaque of some sort once in the days, but now long gone. They sort of remind me of grave markers. Kinda fitting for the death of this old railroad line. After a drink for the little man, we go off for a few more miles.
Under the I-75 bridge there is an odd, little house on a long pole. I stop to see what it is. It's a "bat house". Good game plan. All along the trail I've seen bird houses and this is a bird sanctuary and protected area, but this is the first bat house I've seen. Wonder why they don't have more of them? The purple martins can only do so much work. Maybe the bats don't really need "houses". After all, at my house at dusk you can see them flying all over and there are no "bat houses". I still find the idea pretty amusing.
A couple of miles down we decide to turn around. We have only so much water and I can't remember if the trailhead had a water fountain. It's got to be at least 97 out here by now. Glad to have brought the hand towel, I wipe both my face and Alexander's face off. Put a little of that precious water on it and just enjoy the coolness of our wet faces with the light wind blowing on it. The simple things that bring so much pleasure. As we are heading back I decide to stop and ask Alexander what he thinks about the ranch that we are passing. He's not sure about the gate; they have what appears to be either a pair of Great Danes or a rather large pair of Pointers designed into the ironwork. I also make a mental note to find out what sort of cows they have. I have no idea what "barzona cattle" is.
At the end of the trail, and back to the truck, I want to snap a picture of this old house I saw on the way in. It's a big house with a tin roof and an odd colored paint, but that isn't the only thing. For the love of me, I can't figure out if I am looking at the entrance or the back end of the house. It looks like it was put together at different times; a piece added here, another there. It's so abstract looking to me that I can't help but feel inclined to take a picture. At one time I am sure that the porch was the most highly used area of the house. Now with a/c, the porch, like most porches, is probably used more in the fall, winter and spring than now.
Packing the truck up, I remind myself that I want to take a picture of an old farmhouse that I saw on SR 50 as I came in. In the small, rural town of Linden, which probably has seen better days, I pull over to the side of the road, get out with the camera and walk over to the front of the house, now abandoned and boarded up for the most part. I have no history of this house, but wonder, as I often do with old houses, "who lived there?", "what was life like for them?", "is this heart of pine?" and "wonder how many canes it's seen?" When I get home I'll need to research it online. I really wish the counties would do more with their historical monuments and points of interests than they do. The house I lived in while residing in Taylor County was built in 1923. An upscale Cracker home. Home to the Byron Butler family, a judge and lawyer in Taylor County. They even named the major road through town (Hwy 98) in honor of him, but maybe someday they will take over the house on Plantation Rd. and turn it into a historic place of value. I now wonder about this house too. Florida history is fading away so quickly. Too quickly.
I snap a few more pictures, especially ones off CR 711, which is a pretty, short country road and then head back to the Turnpike. How to rate this trail? Well, aside from the manure smell and overkill of locusts, it wasn't bad at all. In this hot July Florida sun, I am happy for the flatness of the terrain. I haven't done the entire trail yet, and will more than likely wait until October to do so, but as far as trails go, it was a pleasant ride, especially with a 7 years old. While there were many more people on this trail than I see on the Van Fleet, that may simply be due to the close proximity to the Tampa area or the fact that it was a Saturday ride. Maybe I am more partial to the Van Fleet with it's wetlands than I am to this area, but it was a good ride all in all. Wish I had the time to ride the entire trail, but a child and the weather prevented that today. Home 45 mins later, I shower, as I am now dirty, gritty and worn out. Lie down, put my head back and out like a light within 5 mins. The sun in July will do that to you.
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