Tag: Florida

Spring 2021-Part 3

Low Key Hideaway

Monday, April 12 at North Beach Resort, we walked the dawn beach above St. Augustine, headed north this time, and we covered about 2 miles.

Packed up and left North Beach about 11A headed for another place JB had recommended to us—the only place that did not refund our reservation $ last year when everything shut down because of Covid-19, forcing us to cancel our spring trip (2020). Instead, this place had given us a “good-fer” to use during 2021. It was the spot the farthest south on our itinerary, called The Low Key Hideaway just outside of Cedar Key, FL (near Gainesville on the Gulf side of the state).

I must say, due to all the Plague madness happening in early 2021 in Florida, we had our anxieties about going there at all. 

As it turned out, we were SO GLAD we did. This place was definitely unique.

Traffic was such that we had no where to pull off to have lunch, so we had arrived hungry and doubtful. The sites were chock-a-block, and full of BBBs (Big Beige Boxes). Also, the sites sat directly off the highway, which headed straight into the funky town of Cedar Key. Looking west, however, was a tidal marsh that was full of wintering birds and, once a day, pretty gorgeous sunsets.

The Tiki Bar part (full name of the place is Low Key Hideaway and Tiki Bar) did not serve food, so we plopped Roomba into site #4, unhooked the truck and went in search of lunch and some provisions. Cedar Key has a decent quick-stop grocery store, with a deli serving pizza (when open) and Boar’s Head meats and cheeses. 

Finished the set-up after eating a good Greek-style pasta salad, and hummus and crackers for lunch (all from the grocery). Low Key Hideaway also has 5 motel rooms, and the RV sites and motel guests all share two toilets and one shower. Of course the BBBs rarely used the facilities, having their own, and taking advantage of each site’s sewer hookup (which we didn’t use until departure).

One notable delight about the facilities (and the walkway to the Tiki Bar) was that the “entry” to the yard area of the motel proper was a trellis on which was blooming some beautiful, sweet-smelling white jasmine. I pause to inhale the aroma every time I walked through, and it was very special.

We decided to check out the Tiki Bar after our late lunch, but there were significant numbers of folks in there and unmasked. Jack, having had both of his Covid shots, fetched a couple of beers for us—good local IPA brews but not not on draft, unfortunately. So we got cans and plastic cups and enjoyed our beverages as the sun began to approach the tidal marsh.

Right behind our site was an elevated deck—intended to be shared by the RV users, so we weren’t supposed to leave our furniture on the one I’d hoped was “ours”—and this was a very nice place to enjoy the sunset. On this first night in FL, we were blessed with a good breeze from the gulf that kept the bugs at bay, but I stayed pretty much slathered in bug dope our entire time there. Mosquitoes were most definitely a plague at this spot.

There were also a pier-and-dock, plus a large yard adjacent to the Tiki Bar for the guests’ use, and seating everywhere for small gatherings, including on the dock, and a bench swing in the RV yard. The Tiki Bar filled up every evening and folks were milling everywhere as each night’s sunset approached.

Our first sunset (7:51P), at low tide over the marsh, at Low Key Hideaway:

After our two Tiki Bar Florida Ales, we had an urgent need for hot dogs, so Jack returned to the grocery for some Boars Head dogs and buns, and we had quite an enjoyable dinner on the deck closest to us, accompanying our dogs with a couple more beers from our own cooler At first uncertain having our own beverages would be allowed, Jack checked with Maureen (owner) and she said it was fine. We were allowed to wander around with our own beverages anywhere we wanted, except into the Tiki Bar itself.

The downside of this place, and what we had expected: No one wore masks—not in the grocery, not in the restaurants, not at the Tiki Bar—NO ONE wore masks in this part of FL. Having had only one of my two vaccinations, I wore mine nearly always, and stayed well away from strangers.

We had slept in with the windows wide open to enjoy the breeze—since the sites had little shade under sparse palm trees, we generally needed the AC during the day, but hoped the nights would be as nice (except for the swarms of mosquitoes) as our first night.

Early on Tuesday, April 13, I took my binoculars out to our tea/coffee spot on the deck and saw MANY very cool birds. As we drank our hot beverages, the tide receded and the daubing birds were having a field day.

A pair of osprey nested nearby, and out in the marsh I spotted:

  • Roseate spoonbills
  • White ibis
  • Green heron
  • Pelicans galore
  • Egrets
  • Gulls

And many “confusing shorebirds” that I couldn’t ID because I didn’t have my guide with me. A special treat was the occasional call of a Bob White quail from the wild area of growth near the road and above the waters of the marsh. We heard it/them on several occasions during our stay at this strange, memorable, tacky place.

Out in the marsh in the center of our view from the deck is a large-ish island covered in scrubby trees that the pelicans have adopted as their roosting spot. I watched 4 of them sunning and a fifth, which had evidently decided it was sunned enough, dove into the water for an ungainly morning bathe, splashing and frolicking for a long time.

The wind died back to nothing by 9:30A and we carried our breakfast into the Clam to avoid the biting bugs. While eating, we watched an army of skinks or lizards (whatever) dancing and inflating their red balloon throats. Whether it’s mating or territorial, I didn’t have a clue, but it was fun to watch. Directly beside the Clam is a palm tree, and there were so many lizards in the trunk (where the fronds once grew and had been cut off) Jack decided it was a lizard condo, with each unit having a “balcony” on which the occupants stood to perform their displays.

We took a couple of local rides, straight out from the campsite and toward the airport, along roads weaving among neighborhoods. We saw an enormous tortoise walking along the road in front of a bungalow, and were able to use the long, straight (flat) drive into the airport for some cardio work. Our tootle reminded us of a trip to FL a few years ago, and made us miss Mark and Angela, fellow Alto trailer owners with whom we enjoy cycling.

After lunch, we took another local ride that took us to a long boardwalk across a finger of the marsh, leading out to a park called Cemetery Point. There weren’t too many people out on a Thursday, and we enjoyed poking about, and noting another osprey nest just off the point in an old snag.

On our return, we called in an order to a restaurant called Steamers, near the harbor in Cedar Key, and ate fried seafood for dinner, sitting on “our” wooden deck. The meal was extra-good and we would highly recommend Steamers—in fact, we ate take-out from there a couple of nights.

After dinner, we had an opportunity to see lots of birds in the marsh as the evening waned and the tide ebbed. 

Wednesday, April 14 (Happy Birthday, Mary!) was a morning high tide, so not too many birds to be seen, although it was pretty off “our” deck, as I tracked a hunting egret in the deepening waters.

We drove out from Low Key Hideaway to the Nature Coast State trail. This trail forms a T with several trails interlocking. The “vertical” runs from Chiefland north to slightly beyond Fanning Springs. It was time for us to do laundry and we googled something that looked promising in Fanning Springs. 

So we began at the FS trail head and rode ~9 miles to Chiefland, where the Rail Depot had been converted to a pretty park with picnic tables, trail head parking, and Chamber of Commerce/Visitor Info structure. Out back were public toilets to serve all uses.

We ate a snack in the welcome shade, turned around and rode back to Fanning Springs.

  • Stats:
  • Temp = 85
  • Ride Time = 1:15
  • Distance = 18.5 mi
  • Average speed = 14.88

Found the laundromat, and Jack got his clothes done, but my machine never filled up with water, even though it went through its cycle, so my clothes remained dry and dirty. Rather than invest an additional couple of hours, we left so we could catch the fresh seafood place next door to Low Key Hideaway before they closed.

Unfortunately, the only fresh seafood they had were clams and oysters, neither of which we had interested. Happily, he had some freshly-frozen salmon that we thawed and Jack grilled it to perfection! We had some leftover go-withs and (as usual) thoroughly enjoyed our meal.

The night in the trailer was quite uncomfortably hot, and some of the biters had managed to get indoors, so I didn’t sleep at all well. Thursday, April 15 dawned still, damp, and thick with humidity.

We drove back to the Nature Coast State trail, to undertake the horizontal part of the T—Cross City to Trenton, west-to-east. But before we got there, we drove through the Lower Suwanee River Reserve, off the main drag north from Cedar Key, thinking it might be a low-traffic cycle opportunity. Saw this tortoise along the roadway—possibly a gopher tortoise?

Indeed, it is a 9-ish mile (one way) “nature drive” of packed limestone through different ecosystems. And while it is shady due to the resident trees, we would bet the farm that it stays close and buggy year-round. Still, it might but a future cycling opportunity.

We parked at the Cross City trail head, out in the industrial section of the community. The paved path starts toward Old Town and for a good 4.5 miles, it is bumpy/lumpy pavement running directly beside Rt. 24/19 with little shade. Happily, the day we rode was slightly overcast, so we didn’t bake. The remainder of the 4.5 miles of the trail to Old Town was better, both pavement-wise and shade/location-wise. We found the OT trail head at about mile 9, hoping for a true rest stop (with toilet) but found none. Across the train trestle, and you have a full 10 miles, but nary a toilet along the entire “top” of the T (20 miles round trip). 

  • Stats:
  • Temp = 75
  • Ride Time = 1:30
  • Distance = 21 mi
  • Average speed = 14.3 mph 

Found another laundromat in Old Town to wash my clothes. This one was slightly nicer than the one in Cross City.

We decided that another Steamer’s dinner was required for our final night at the Low Key Hideaway. Not having to cook allowed us to partially break camp before the expected overnight rains arrived. 

And we thoroughly enjoyed our “World Famous” sunset over the tidal marsh of which we had become so fond.

Now, if you’re intrigued by what we experienced, and think managing a VERY! small campground and motel with a crazy bar, you have the opportunity!

Might be worth a call—at least it was available in April of 2021. I’d visit again if you were running Low Key Hideaway . . . .

Spring 2021-Part 2

Ft. McAlister SP, North Beach CG & Resort

Our departure from Skidaway SP was my birthday, Wednesday, April 7, which dawned with a noisy territorial (?) battle amongst four or five barred owls above and around the newest of the nearby bath houses. We listened and watched—the fight included great volumes of vocalization, and flapping and chasing of groups. It was fascinating!

Annie also departed, and we rolled out of the campground headed for Ft. McAlister State Park at about the same time. She recommended a BBQ place en route called the Smokin’ Pig—all of their outdoor seating was taken, so we grabbed a couple of pulled pork sandwiches and ate ours in the car. I can highly recommend their mustard sauce (mild or hot).

We arrived for our one-night stay at Ft. McAlister fairly early (1PM) but were able to check into our pull-through site (#46) under the scrutiny of an older couple across the road.

Our older neighbors seemed to be grandparents to at least part of a mob of loud, rambunctious kids running wild. Our site backs to a tents-only loop where a pack of Good Ole Boys are planted and spread over a large portion of the area, sharing cooking, fishing, and drinking options. 

While the showers at the bath house were individual rooms, the child mob harassed us both as we used the facilities. Unsure if they didn’t realize that a locked door meant the room was in use or not, I slapped the door and shouted “someone’s in here!” during an especially prolonged rattle of the doorknob. That seemed to quiet things down a bit and I was able to finish my shower in peace.

We wandered through the loops just to see what Ft. McAlister was like, and took a few photos for the record. Not much there except pretty live oaks adorned with Spanish moss, and a boat launch into a deep water channel.

Because the temps had risen to a still, humid 80+ degrees, we kept the AC running not only for comfort, but to help drown out the screeching and shouting of the child-mob. The cool AC indoors also eased my itchy bumps from yesterday’s mosquito feed.

My “birthday cake” after a dinner of leftovers (they don’t call me the Leftover Queen for nothing) consisted of hot biscuits with camembert cheese, dried figs, and almonds. Yum.

Managed to exit Ft. McAlister by about 8:30A on Thursday, April 8. Listened to the end of Carl Hiaasen’s Squeeze Me, and were delighted to re-visit one of the long-time characters of Hiaasen’s novels, Skink: Florida Ex-Governor, who’d gone off the rails.

Otherwise the drive to North Beach Campground and Resort, a private campground hard off the A1A near St. Augustine was uneventful. Choosing to drive down A1A (the Coastal Highway) we found traffic was not the problem we’d feared even with all the lights along the way.

Recommended to us by JB, North Beach Resort offered sites closely-packed, but there was always decent visual barriers between. Ours was #21, with lots of shade from lovely old live oaks. The bath house was up at the main structure, but not a horrible walk, and the toilet/shower areas were decently kept, although could be better in my estimation.

After setup, we tried to ride our bikes around the campground loops, but found the sand too fine, deep, and dry for our tires. We finally escaped through one of the back access points through the surrounding fences (near a restaurant adjacent to the CG called Aunt Kate’s) and into the neighborhood to the south. All of the east/west roads start at the A1A and stop/dead end at the Tolomato River, which one must cross, over a long, arched bridge near a harbor, to go anywhere except the beach. It was a good ride, totaling a bit over 7 miles that we enjoyed a couple of times while staying at North Beach.

Last stop that evening, we rode a small distance along A1A toward the entrance gate to North Beach Resort but paused on the beach-side of the road at a restaurant called The Reef. We got a menu and asked if they fixed take-out (yes) and headed back to #21 to shower and decide on dinner. 

Jack called our order in, and drove across the road to bring it back and it was yummy: Jack had the seafood pasta and I ate fried shrimp, enjoying the evening in the Clam.

Friday, April 9 was the first of several days away, riding rail-trails we’d read about. But first, we arose a bit before dawn and took a long stroll along the public beach to catch the sunrise and some shore birds, as well as a couple of fliers.

The first trail went east/west, and had been adopted from the Rails to Trails Conservancy by the locality of Palatka. We parked at a trailhead in a dodgy neighborhood off Armstrong Rd, but there was a toilet and some potable water with which to fill water bottles. This trailhead was closer to St. Augustine than Palatka, but it was a nice ~13 mile stretch to the outskirts of Palatka, where we turned around. It is possible to ride all the way from St. Augustine, but we elected to avoid as much urban cycling as possible.

En route back to site 21, we got a nice birthday steak, mushies to sauté, and zucchini to grill beside the steak. I made some hassle back potatoes in the 8” DO, and Jack whipped together some roquefort butter to melt on the steaks, done perfectly.

  • Stats:
  • Temp = 77
  • Ride Time = 2 hr
  • Distance = 26 mi
  • Average speed = 13.35 mph 

The next day (Ap. 10) we drove to Palatka and rode to the Lake Butler State Trail. This was a 40-odd mile multi-use trail, of which we rode ~10 miles (one way). Our trailhead was on the west side of Palatka near the municipal airport. This time, we’d remembered to bring snacks, and had a nice break at our turn-around point. 

Rain was forecast, so we buttoned down the hatches in prep, and ate a nice, easy egg salad on greens dinner.

  • Stats:
  • Temp = 80
  • Ride Time = 1.5 hr
  • Distance = 21 mi
  • Average speed = 14.3 mph

The rain came on Sunday, April 11, and we drove into Jacksonville to see if REI had any “flip clip” pedals for my bike (clip-ins on one side and flat surface on the other). But like all bicycle components during this Time of Plague, they were out and didn’t expect them to be available anytime soon.

But since it was REI, we prowled around a bit and bought a few things that we couldn’t live without.

Got a Domino’s pizza to eat in the car for lunch, and the rain had stopped by the time we got back to the campsite. Tried to close our rings (Apple Watch exercise) by walking around the loops and the next-door neighborhood, exiting through the fence near Aunt Kate’s Restaurant. Saw some pelicans, and fisher-people.

Ordered from The Reef again: Jack tried their shrimp imperial and I ate shrimp & grits and it was another delicious meal.

Mutual Mines Wildlife Refuge Campground, Inverness, FL

I’m afraid I misspoke in my prior post (Pt. 1) about Mutual Mines Wildlife Refuge—there are plenty of sites there, although they are unserviced, boondocking sites (water available on the grounds, however). 

I was conflating our interim campground when we head north again (in South Carolina) and Mutual Mines—the interim one has two serviced sites with the remainder being tent/unserviced sites. My bad and apologies. 

Mutual Mines, just outside of Inverness, FL was a lovely spot—although it did, as previously recorded, have a tricky, always-locked gate to which we’d been given the numerical code to the padlock on a chain for April. Evidently, “bad behavior” forced the state to close public/walk-up access to the area with a padlocked gate. 

Maybe it was an April Fool’s joke on us, but the number we’d been given for the padlock had not been “engaged” by the time we arrived on April 1. With a phone call to the headquarters, however, we managed to get the March number and finally got through the gate. Later, a ranger came by to let us know that she’d changed the padlock to April’s number.

In any case, there’s some history to the Mutual Mines location and name, and it was really quite a lovely and quiet spot. For those who want to read more of the history part, I’ve placed that at the end of the blog.

Meanwhile, back at camp, Mark and Angela had an issue with a part of their awning structure and had to head to Orlando for a replacement, where Mark had called and the part was available. They had just enough time to make it there before closing time. 

After the rains quelled, I took quite a nice stroll around the quarry/mine that is today a lovely lake with walking paths here and there. Here are a few pix from my stroll.

If we ever return, it looks like Site #1 would be private & tucked away, it’s large, and would have more sunshine directed to our solar panels than site 5.

There were really neat old trees everywhere, near the water as well as right next to Mark and Angela’s site (#4). I called their the “fern tree” because it was fuzzy on all the top surfaces of the limbs because small ferns grew all along the bark. I’d never seen anything like it and found it to be a delightful anomaly.

Later, Mark called—they were at the Cycle Florida Headquarters site in Inverness, headed into the shower trucks. By the time we got there, they were showered and we headed to dinner. It was a seafood place, and I ate some super fried catfish. But the neat thing about the restaurant was all the artwork. Here’s a sample.

History of Mutual Mine Campground

This camp is located on the site of an abandoned phosphate mine. (When you see and walk on the well-packed, white, chalky roads in the area, that fact becomes obvious.)

Just before the turn of the twentieth century, freezing temperatures destroyed the citrus groves in this area. Fired with the loss of their income, the residents turned to phosphate mining. Dunnellon had already become a major producer of the mineral on the world market. Locals observed this success and soon had their own phosphate book in full swing. Named for the Mutual Mining Co. of Savannah, GA, the operation here was supervised by W. H. Dunn, who earned $65/month. 

Laborers were paid 50 cents a day and mined the ore with picks and shovels until huge steam shovels (on large platform barges) were developed. 

Quarrying phosphate, Platform Steam Shovel, Camp’s Globe Mine (Hernandez),

The ore was sent by train to the Florida gulf port of Yankeetown, in Levy County, for export to Europe. The remnants of the elevated trams that were created here in the forest for the tracks are still much in evidence, along Forest Road #9. 

With Germany and Belgium as the main buyers of phosphate, the mine closed in 1914 at the onset of World War I. Soon, other FL counties began yielding a higher grade of phosphate. Today, Polk County, as well as Hillsborough, Hardee, and Hamilton Counties produce 80% of the world’s phosphate.

How Phosphate Was Formed

Florida is blessed with a bountiful supply of phosphate that primeval seas deposited here millions of years ago. The phosphate comes from sediment that was deposited in layers on the seafloor. The phosphate-rich sediments are believed to have formed from the precipitation of phosphate from seawater along with skeletons and waste products of creatures living in the seas.

In the early 1800s, scientists discovered that phosphorus promotes growth in plants and animals. Before this discovery, bones, which contain the element phosphorus, were used as an agricultural fertilizer. Today, phosphate rock provides fertilizer’s phosphorus.

Phosphate rock was first mined in England in 1847. It was in 1881 that Captain J. Francis LeBaron, of the Army Corps of Engineers, discovered Florida’s treasure in black phosphate pebbles in the Peace River. A “hard rock” phosphate reserve in North Central Florida was discovered next. Thus began Florida’s phosphate mining industry, which now accounts for about 80% of the phosphate used in the US, as well as about 25% of that used around the world.

The FL we know today and the phosphate buried in its earth is a relatively recent product of geologic processes that have been at work for a long time. Most of what is now FL was once underwater. Marine creatures in the form of coral, shellfish, and marine skeletons deposited the limestone that makes up the sedimentary layers. As time passed, sea levels dropped and the limestone became exposed. In central FL, the Bone Valley Formation is found on top of the Hawthorn Formation and is under about 20-40 feet of sand.

Fossils from the sedimentary deposits of the Bone Valley Formation—the heart of FL’s phosphate mining industry—are often uncovered in the process of phosphate mining and give us a glimpse of Florida’s prehistoric past. Among the abundant fossils found are those from the sea creatures that lived in the shallow waters that covered FL in the distant past. These fossils include the teeth of giant sharks and the bones of huge whales. The remains of hundreds of species of land animals, birds, and plants are also found in the layers of rock beneath the present-day surface. These fossils include many species the came to FL to escape the advancing glaciers of the Great Ice Ages. Some of these animals migrated to North America from other parts of the world, some of them crossing the Bering Strait land bridge from Asia when sea levels were lower. Others traveled around the rim of the Gulf of Mexico when areas now submerged were exposed.

Other evidence tells us that FL supported this great variety of creatures with abundant food supplies made possible by a temperate climate. Fossilized remains dug from the Earth during phosphate mining tell us a great deal about the life of the past and about early geological developments in FL.

Overall, I feel there is much of Mutual Mines, and one wildlife refuge (part of the same system) closer to Inverness, that would be fun to explore and learn about. Maybe our next FL adventure?