I have been camping at the Huckleberry Island area on and off for 10 years or so. It occurred to me I have never done a trip report on it though.
This trip was the week after Spring Turkey season ended in the Lake Marion Management Area (of which Hucklberry Island is a part). Hunting seasons on Lake Marion are not continous. They are a series of distinct weekends. I went after the last weekend in April of 2008.
When I called for my camping permit, I was told that they had just automated their permit process, and I should apply on-line. I would be their first 'guinea pig'.
Their process needs some fine tuning. The folks at the Water Management District had to still process the permit manually. The automated process 'dropped the ball'.
Still, I got an email copy of the permit a day before my trip, and was able to print it out.
This would be the first time I camped here in April. I wasn't sure if it would be 'crowded' or not, but the man I talked to on the phone about the permit told me no one else had applied for a permit (and the gate is closed and locked outside of hunting season).
When I arrived at the parking area, there were no other vehicles. Perfect.
I have a weighted cloth I can tuck in my hipstrap in the front, which then hangs down giving the appearance of a breechcloth. (My sleeping bag extends low enough on the bottom of the backpack to make a rear breechcloth flap unnecessary.)
This arrangement allows me to leave my clothes in the truck, yet still be covered from passing vehicles until I have hiked out of sight from the parking area and road. Then, I can pull out the cloth and tuck it behind my back, and just like that, I am hiking in my 'human suit'.
Thus naturalized, I began the 2 mile hike to the designated campiing area. It was still early enough in the morning (8:30) that a few stray mosquitos accompanied me along the trail for a while, making me realize I had forgotten insect repellent.
I met a turkey and a racoon on my hike. Neither stayed around to chat though.
Just before the campsite, I stopped to put up a sign to advise any possible visitors that a nudist was in the area. (This was one of the same signs I've used on other backpacking trips like Green Swamp West and Hidden Pond.) I have never seen people here in warmer weather, but I had never camped here in April before.
The camping area looked much the same as I remembered from the last time I'd camped there, with maybe a little more moss growing on the picnic table.
I set up camp right away, but put all the food in a small day pack, along with a water bottle. I then set out hiking.
I found a really intriguing little clearing at GPS coordinates [N28 xx.xxx W81 yy.yyy]. It's rectangular shape was clearly not natural. The huge thistle and dandelion plants added to it's strangeness.
Before I started this side hike, I found I had left my sunscreen home with the insect repellent. Since I planned to hike two days, I knew I needed to limit my sun exposure. It takes a lot for me to burn, but I try to keep it less than 2 hours in the sun if I have no sunscreen.
During this hike, I made it up to the northernmost of the Hucklberry Islands (these 'islands' are high, open areas surrounded by hardwood swamps - when water levels are high they literally become islands).
Just before reaching this northern island, I startled a coyote in the path. (Coyotes are not exactly plentiful in Central Florida, but they're here.) He took off like well, a scared coyote. Once I entered the clearing of the northern island, another wild turkey wowed me with a flyby.
There are occasional signs posted in the Hucklberry Island area advising to watch for alligators. These signs are not for amusement. I saw half a dozen of the scaly critters on or by the trail on this hike. Gators are normally shy, but if you startle one and are between them and a path of retreat, or you disturb an active nest, they may well attack.
By the time I returned to camp, I had hiked about 4.5 miles. Before I retired to the hammock for a day of 'power lounging', I decided to make a water run to refill one of my now-empty water bottle. The nearest flowing water to the campsite is .3 miles back on the entrance trail. (You hike over it to reach the campsite.) I tied the small pack in a tree to keep it from the critters, and carried just the water bottle. It's really nice hiking with nothing but hiking shoes and a water bottle. (I wish I could hike barefoot as well, but I have numbness in my toes and wouldn't be able to feel if I got cut. The nerve damage causing the numbness would also contribute to slow healing and possible infection, so I've resigned myself to at least sandals when walking in the woods.)
Back in camp, I added purification tablets to the water bottle and started changing my hiking shoes for more comfortable moccasins.
As I was putting on the moccasins, a hiker with full pack, including tent and sleeping bag, came walking into the campsite. He'd had to walk past my nudist sign, so I wasn't worried about offending him. I just continued putting on the moccasins and said good morning.
The first words he spoke were "Do you have water?" I said yes, then he suddenly seemed surprised that I was camping there. The next thing he said was "Not many people camp here anymore".
"That's why I camp here," I answered.
"You must not come here often," he replied.
"A couple of times a year," I said.
Then, as if he'd just thought of it, he asked again "Do you have any water?"
I answered yes again. I wondered if he needed some.
He said nothing else. The whole time we'd spoken he hadn't broken stride, and he continued through the campsite, disappearing on the trail to the North. I later found his tracks where he'd looped back East and returned on the entrance trail. I suspect he was planning to camp there without a permit, and changed his mind when he'd found I was already camped there. He seemed unfazed by my nudity, and certainly knew to expect it after passing my sign coming in.
There were no more visitors, and I spent the rest of the day in camp reading and doing some American Indian craftwork at the convenient picnic table.
Well actually I didn't spend the whole rest of the day in camp. On a previous trip, I had found an old well casing near the campsite. I had thought about bringing in a pump to see if I could bring up water and not have to hike 2/3 mile round-trip for water.
I went looking for the well casing, and found this:
Suddenly, the hiker's repeated question whether I had water made sense. He was probably going to tell me about the well. The water had an iron taste, but it was tolerable, especially if mixed with instant tea.
The next day, I hiked west from camp, hoping to find a trail connection through the swamp to the parking area and trails accessible from Horseshoe Creek Rd on the East side of Davenport. I didn't find a connecting trail.
After the hike, I took down camp and packed up to hike out. On the way out, as I passed the 'watering hole' a family of four otters and I studied each other before the otters took off to find something more interesting.
The next fauna I encountered was near the parking area. A young human couple were hiking in without packs. Before they were in full view I had my 'breechcloth' in place, and we passed on the trail with no more than 'howdy' being said. (They may have wondered who the nut in the breechcloth was, but didn't seem overly concerned.)
Shortly thereafter, I waa back at the truck and silly-visation. Not a bad campout.
