After a week of hiking under the canopy in the Swampy Green and Richloam Land Conservation area’s I was ready to see the sky, and confirm that more than 10 people still existed on the planet. I pushed hard for 9 1/2 hours until the woods finally spit me out, footsore and exhausted.

The next portion of the ‘trail’ was a long road walk but at that point I was only a three-day walk to another good friend who was wintering in Florida with her husband and had also invited me to visit. So again, I went off trail. About five hours later my friend, Glenda, texted me – “Where are you? I feel like a drive?” She picked me up walking along the road. Such a kind and lovely surprise!

There is nothing quite like sleeping on hard ground, eating trail gruel and immersion into solitude to feel intense gratitude for a comfy bed, delicious food and good friends. I sure appreciated the three nights of generous hospitality visiting Glenda and Mark in their lovely motor home on a horse ranch close to Ocala. I went to church with them and afterwards we enjoyed a variety southern dishes at the church lunch. Anna Marie (a super fun lady we met there) invited us to Rainbow Springs the following day where sat by the water and picnicked on brisket sandwiches. It was a beautiful day! So many thanks to Glenda and Mark!

I set up my tent at Glenda and Mark’s place planning to sleep in it, but instead, just kept my gear there. It was a shock when I went to pack up and found fire ants swarming the inside. I couldn’t believe it! I don’t know how they got in! Even after shaking and shaking my clothes, inside and out, I didn’t get them all. I repaired 17 small holes in my tent floor where they had chewed through. My poor old tent is increasingly held together with duck tape, bandades, a wish and a prayer. Good thing I went to church!

With single digit nights continuing as far as my weather app can see I have changed course yet again in my quest for warmer nights. I took a Greyhound red eye milk run to Miami. The Miami bus terminal is full of interesting characters and is a unique slice of life at 3am. But it was still too cold, so I booked a 4am bus to Key West.

So here I am. Literally as far south as I can go without getting on a boat. I have started walking back. I am still gimpy as one of my feet still hasn’t recovered from the push in the woods but I will follow the Florida Keys Overseas Heritage Trail as far as I can make it and see what I see. A lot of water I think. With all this bouncing around, if it seems like I have ants in my pants, it’s because I still do. As far as the ants go, I may not be out of the woods just yet!

When I left Ann and Scott’s place they kindly drove me to the road intersecting with the trail so I could continue on my way. Since then I have been in the interior of Florida’s land reserve and wetlands hiking through swamp, ancient oaks dripping with Spanish moss and grassland. I am enjoying the wildlife. Cranes and ibises of all kinds fly against the golden grass in the morning light and deer frolic. I saw a bear with two cubs (far ahead), a couple of iguana’s, ripples from alligators, vultures pecking away at carcasses (happily not mine) and a multitude of creatures that scurry out of my way and nothing has paid me any mind at all. These are peaceful places that seem far more removed from civilization than I think they actually are.

This section of the trail is also a designated hunting area. Funny, I wouldn’t have thought that hunting and hiking would be a great mix. But here in Florida I guess it’s ok. When I entered into the actual reserve area, the lady at the gate gave me a hunters orange vest and said to wear it all the time and to be careful. So I have been wearing it and I have been careful. So far it’s good, I haven’t been shot. But I did get a funny little scare. I was walking along humming away to myself when a large, fit man in full combat gear with a blackened face and a very big crossbow emerged from the trees directly in front of me. I hadn’t seen a soul in three days and hunters don’t scare me, but I just about peed myself. He nodded to me and I nodded to him and he melted back into the forest. No harm at all, but it was a little spooky. Afterwards I conjured up a whole screen play in my mind.

That night I stayed at my first actual designated camp spot on the trail called Gator Hole campsite (right beside Gator Hole Pond). I was resting in my tent when out of nowhere I heard, “Is that you Blueberry?” I poked my head out and it was two hikers (Calf and Feltspar) that I met at the breakfast with Freshground and a couple of their friends. I asked them how they knew it was me and they said, your Big Agnes tent. Holy! We visited for ten minutes or so and, knowing I’m not on social media, they invited me to Florida trail hikers party a couple of towns away in a few days time. Imagine! I thanked them but said I probably wouldn’t. See you up the trail they said, and merrily kept on their way.

I really didn’t want to leave the trail but getting a charge on my phone had become a top priority. My percentage of power was in single digits and still no sun. I didn’t even want to turn my phone on to check my trail app to find out how much further to a road intersection. I figured I’d just keep walking and take the first opportunity I could. A few hours later the trail intercepted with a small dirt road and I saw a white vehicle parked a couple of kilometres down. I beelined it and on arriving saw a group of women sitting around a campfire. They invited me to sit, brought me fresh water (to replace my pond water), snacks and a battery pack to charge my phone (so now I can write my post:)). Such a treat they were! A group of van lifers who had connected on Lulu’s you tube channel (called Lulu’s way). Lulu showed me her adorable van that she outfitted herself and I danced with them on her channel (it’s one of the things she does). It was a super cool and inspiring interlude. I love the sisterhood of women! And then I was on my way again.

The weather has been warm and blessedly without rain. And today there was actually a short period of sun. I am doing well. I have adjusted to the sounds of the forest and am sleeping peacefully at night. I walk for about 6-7 hours a day and with the exception of a slight twist of the ankle causing me to fall off a narrow pole into a fairly deep swamp, I have been injury free. And my slow shuffle is acquiring a hint of a stride! I like it!

For the last many days I’ve been resting my bones with my very good friends, Ann and Scott. Ann is a previous dental hygienist now glass artist and Scott is a renowned Mycologist (the study of fungi). It has been a time of laughs, delicious food, restful nights and a lovely outing to Bok Tower Gardens (a lush botanical garden) where we also enjoyed a concert with a seven person jazz band.

I succumbed to their urgings (I didn’t put up much of a fight) and have stayed longer than I planned. The darn weather has just been so spicy! It has flip flopped between heavy rain and unusual cold (sometimes both at the same time) and while I packed for cool weather, I’m not equipped for nighttime temperatures of two degrees! But with my dear departed dad’s voice ringing loud in my mind to “always leave when you are still welcome to stay”, it’s time to emerge from their warm and welcoming nest. The cold front is breaking and I am heading back on the trail refreshed. I feel like a baby bird stretching my wings for the first time. It’s crazy how quickly we sink back into comfort and embrace the feeling of being protected. My gratitude to them for giving me this respite from the (literal) storm is as boundless as their generous hospitality. They are awesome and we have had a blast together but it’s time to relearn how to fly solo again in the wide open air.

Out of eight days, so far the sunshine state has delivered one day of sun, one day of gale force wind, and six days with rain. It’s been a little rough. But a couple of days ago I met some lovely people who brightened my spirits.

A couple of hikers arrived and set up their tent beside mine. Their trail names were Morpheus and Fifty-cal. I’ve never had a trail name or gotten into the hiking culture but trail names are a thing (nobody knows anybody’s real name). Anyway, Morpheus told me that a famous Appalation Trail angel (a person who helps hikers) named ‘Freshground’ was in Florida and serving breakfast to hikers the next morning in a town about five kilometres from where we were. I couldn’t believe my luck!

As I approached town, I saw people waving at me from a gazebo across a wide expanse of parkland. That must be it, I thought with excitement. It felt like years since I had eaten anything but oatmeal and ramen noodles (it was barely a week).

“Come in come in,” Freshground boomed! “Wash your hands, would you like some coffee, how about eggs? There are home fries and blueberry pancakes ready and bacon is coming right up. Help yourself. How many eggs would you like? What’s your name?” And so on. About eight hikers were there eating breakfast. As I had barely seen or spoken to anybody for almost a week it was all very overwhelming. When I left, my belly was full of deep fried bacon, I was warmed with hot tea and kindness, and I was given a trail name …Blueberry. Of course.

Other than the weather, I’m doing ok. There have been no more nightmares, the wildlife has been no problem and I’ve got my trail legs. I generally get an early start, hike around 25 kilometres and set up my tent around 4ish to beat the bugs (give or take depending on the rain).

I spent one night in a cabin to dry out my gear but the next day, within two hours of being back on the trail, I was soaked again.

This afternoon a couple of hikers passed me and told me that two storm fronts were meeting and that we would be getting slammed with even more rain. It was at the start of a 100 plus kilometre backcountry trail that would be tricky to get off. This morning I started walking before daylight trying to get warm and had already covered 27 kilometres. My tent is still leaking and a cold front is moving in. I sat down. Continuing felt like no fun, not to mention, potentially unwise. And that was it. I decided to change course.

I texted my friend Ann. She and her partner Scott have a place here in Florida and had already generously invited me to spend time with them. So that’s the new plan. I’m heading there tomorrow by train. I will let the storms pass, get my tent sorted and spend time with wonderful friends.

I’m three days in and the first word out of my mouth in the mornings is still oof!! My hiking legs (feet, shoulders, hips) haven’t arrived yet but I’m trying to do it smart and listen to my body. On day one my planned camping spot (just a covered picnic table) was still about five kilometres away when my body called it quits for the day. The ‘trail’ so far is a concrete path on a levy with a slope down to Okeechobee Lake on my right, and a slope down to a canal on my left. There was nowhere to camp so I made my way back to a canal crossing and a plantation house that I had seen in the distance.

A very stern elderly woman answered the door, with a slightly off-kilter looking (and even more stern) elderly man peering over her shoulder. A pitch fork in her hand would have completed the picture. With the brightest smile I could manage (I was invested) I complimented their outdoor Christmas decorations, introduced myself, said I was from Canada and travelling through Florida by foot and was there a corner in one of their fields where I could pitch my tent for the night. Without a hint of a smile she said in a thick southern accent, “over ba the barn”. Four words. Effusive thanks from me; she nodded, still no facial reaction, and closed the door. And that was that. But I had a place to sleep.

In the night something sticky dropped down onto my face. I started slapping and thrashing for all I was worth and didn’t stop until I realized it was the bandade I had patched a small hole in the roof with (a failed quick fix). Thank goodness I have a repair kit because each night I’m repairing a new hole. I think after this trip I will need to retire my cherished little one-man tent.

The next morning I was on my way out at first light. The groundskeeper, already outside, asked me if I knew about the coming storm. Violent winds and thunderstorms, she said. Schools were closed and everyone was advised to stay indoors and that I needed to find shelter for that night.

I found shelter in a clearing in a groove of trees outside of Cleweston. By the end of the day it was so windy I was having trouble walking.

That night I was woken by torrential rain and raindrops falling on my face. Oh man – more repairs. I shifted over and went back to sleep. I woke again sometime later screaming!! It was still pitch back. I sat bolt upright, grabbed my light to find my tent intact. There was no enormous thing bashing in through the side. My heart was pounding like a jack hammer and it took intense listening and repeated checks to convince me all was well. And it was. The rain had stopped and everything was calm. I guess when, even the subconscious, dreaming mind has experienced that degree of trauma, reality is a piece of cake. Because after that, I let the soft choo-chooing of a distant train lull me back to sleep and didn’t fret at all.

It’s been raining on and off since arriving in Florida. I saw my first sun today and it was great, not only to feel it on my face, but to charge my phone. I also saw my first alligators and a snake. I saw my first hikers; a group of three. Otherwise, so far, it’s just been me and the cranes. Here’s to a good sleep tonight.

My day yesterday started at 2:30am and finished when I finally stumbled into my small airbnb room in South Bay, Florida around 9pm and fell face first onto the bed. It was a day full of planes, trains and automobiles and many, many buses.

After landing in Fort Lauderdale, I needed to find an outdoor store to buy a knife, fuel for my stove, get a U.S. phone plan, and make my way to South Bay, the last small outpost about 100 miles away before heading onto the trail. Somewhere between buses, a kind stranger to whom I asked directions (a super cool professional fire walker and juggler/manager of Toys in Motion) offered to give me a lift to an outdoor store, helped me navigate and gave me a toy. Random acts of kindness still abound and while the day was full of tiring and tricky logistics, the help received helped soothe my nerves.

As it turns out, I’ve had more nerves than usual preceding this trip. It’s a good thing I think. Leaving the warm, safe comfort of home and heading solo into the unknown shouldn’t be taken too casually. While driving me to the airport in the small hours of the morning, my son Colin asked why I was doing this if I was nervous. I told him that I loved feeling strong and fit but getting there wasn’t generally fun or easy. And it’s is also the adventure fix that I need and love. It’s a paradox.

It’s not the out of shape part, or even the traipsing through the interior of gun-slinging, Trump-loving Florida part that concerns me the most; it’s what the little devil on my shoulder has been whispering in my ear – this is the first time in five years you will be rough camping totally alone where the wild things live, it says. You are 62 years old; you still got the horses for this!?? My answer is, I don’t know. I hope I do. When my daughter Sabrina was helping me fine-tune the trail app and my new e-reader the night before leaving we decided I shouldn’t read books called The Swamp Murderer. Makes good sense.

Judging from past experience, once I’m on the trail I love everything about it as my body and mind settle in with the solitude and flow. I’m not expecting it to happen tomorrow for sure but I’ll know soon enough. I had a good sleep last night (full of wild dreams) and am heading out shortly from here to start walking with two weeks supply of dehydrated food. As usual, I’ll keep you posted when I can with the nitty and the gritty.

Here we are with Christmas and 2024 nipping at our heels! The blueberry season, our best ever, was a whirlwind of people, picking, baking and bounty. For the first time I had enough blueberries for the roadside stand and everybody who came to the farm. It was awesome! Now the blueberries are settled in for the winter, the Christmas markets are finished and I am surely ready for some downtime. Fortunately my winter adventure is only a few weeks away.

This year I’m sticking close to home and dividing the trip into two legs. On January 7th I leave to hike the Florida trail, a 1500 mile through-hike that meanders through grassland, swamp, city and forest from the Everglades in the south to the Gulf Islands National Seashore in the north. I land in Fort Lauderdale, will hook up to the trail from there and hike as far as I can in the time that I have. It may be a little more urban than I’d rather but Florida certainly has a lot of wildlife. Between the alligators, snakes, panthers, bobcats and bears some of my friends are concerned, but I will be vigilant and careful. Especially since I’m flying solo again (Gord and I split up last spring but remain friends). Rest assured my story will not end with me being mauled by a bear or with my legs sticking out of a crocs mouth. At least I hope it won’t.

I’m looking forward to being fit again, but the thought of clawing my way back to fitness and detoxing from the cocaine of sugar is literally giving me hives. Even though I know I’ll feel so much better at the other end, getting there is going to be tough. I just keep reminding myself that it will get better every day as my body adjusts, I’ve done it before and I can do it again. Living outside, sleeping only in my tent, combined with the rhythm of walking all day, every day has always rebalanced my mind and body. I am counting on that reset! I’m looking forward to the simplicity of just putting one foot in front of the other and walking.

I will return home mid-February to see my granddaughter, Cadia, and work for a week or two. Then I will either return to hiking the Florida trail, start hiking the Arizona trail, or try out the van life. My son Colin built the infrastructure to transform my van into a cool camper so I may just drive south until the sun warms my toes and take it from there. Whichever way my travel legs shake out, I am packed and primed for the adventure.

Next post from the Florida trail!

After finishing university my son Max moved home and decided to become a registered Falconer. In September, after three years of slowly and steadily learning the craft and taking courses, he got his first bird – a Harris Hawk he has named Equinox. But we call her Quin.

Quin was ‘chamber raised’ with her parents and had never seen a human when Max got her at four months old from Amy, a master Falconer who also raises birds of prey. After 3 1/2 months of training, Quin flys free when they go on hunts following along with Max, comes to his arm when he calls her, and sleeps on a perch in his tiny home on our property.

There are three ways falconers make money 1. Bird abatement – Falconers are hired by airports, farmers, whoever has a bird problem that needs to be sorted. 2. Events – giving demonstrations at fairs, parties, fancy hotels etc. 3. Personal experiences – people who want a one on one experience or to go on a hunt with a bird of prey.

For me here at Balderson Blueberries, I am thrilled to be Max’s first customer for bird abatement in our Blueberry field. Quin will start working in the spring and we will have no more bird pecked berries. Hallelujah!

Being a Falconer is a great fit for Max. Quin is everything he hoped she would be. It’s quite a learning curve to read the body language of a raptor and navigating the training when you are just starting out. It’s sometimes painful (as Max has experienced), sometimes a little nerve racking, but always exciting. Congrats to Max as he embarks on this new journey.

Between Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, and a tiny taste of Honduras, it has been a good adventure. It was interesting to hear from many El Salvadorans how much happier people are now, and how much safer their county is after last years massive cartel roundup (thousands of bad guys were put behind bars). We saw wondrous ruins, stunning scenery, ate tasty food, met kind people, and travelled many miles. We did not seek out enough solitude, hiking, or rough camping to suit me but the chicken buses have certainly been an adventure. As we careened around corners on steep mountain passes I convinced myself that space and time actually bend and it’s always ok … until we passed a horrific accident between a chicken bus and a transport. It was a sobering sight. And then we were evacuated off of one of our bus’s when it caught fire. But for the most part, the transportation system in Central America is user friendly and works.

The astounding hike up Acatenango and Fuego was, for me, the highlight of the trip. Seeing with my own eyes, molten lava erupt out of a volcano is a visual that I will never forget. And the fact that we had to work so hard to see it just added to the experience. I have come to the conclusion that there is a peculiar appeal in extreme challenges that seems to nourish me.

With the loss of my phone I have decided to go home early. I can’t manage my Airbnb listing, pay my bills or do my banking. I have no WhatsApp connecting me to family and friends, and if my busted up iPad suffers further damage my last lifeline of sporadic communication would be feathers in the wind. So, for many reasons, going home early is the right decision for me. Gord is staying on in Mexico and will return home as planned later in the month.

For the last 36 hours I have been biding my time at the Cancun airport. With my phone gone I am not reachable by email (couldn’t put my current account on my iPad as it required phone authentication) and I didn’t want to risk missing the plane if the flight time changed (which Flair has been known to do on occasion:)). So I wanted to be here in case. I have spent my time walking, reading, walking, writing, walking… you get the picture. I’ve been here so long it feels like I’m coming home when I get back to the airport after my long walks. But now I have checked in and departure time is almost here. In fact, I think our flight crew just walked past and the pilot doesn’t look old enough to shave. Oh well, god willing, my prepubescent looking pilot will shortly be winging me back home safe and sound. I am super excited to see everybody, but most especially my granddaughter, Cadia. I may be irreparably devastated if she doesn’t remember or makes strange with me. No pressure or anything.

As always, thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read and allowing me to share this adventure with you. It means a ton knowing that you, dear readers, are with me in spirit and along for the ride. However gritty it gets. See you on the flip side!

Arlene

Deep in the rainforest of northern Guatemalan lies Tikal, the ruins of one of the most powerful kingdoms of ancient Maya. Discovered in 1848, more than 3000 structures can be seen on the site. And thousands of mounds with tree roots winding through them are yet to be excavated. The thought of all the historical treasures right there waiting to be unearthed sent me spiraling down the rabbit hole of my imagination! Tikal is one of the largest archeological sites of the pre-Colombian Mayan civilization discovered to date. It was populated as early as the 4th century but reached its peak during the classic period (200 – 900 AD) at which point it was abandoned. Overpopulation, pollution, and drought are the prevalent theories as to why.