It's not an adventure until somebody screws up...

Torreya State Park - December 8-9, 2007

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I took my son back to Torreya this past weekend. The original plan was to start at the picnic area, go down towards Rock Creek to the loop trail, take a left, hike to Rock Bluff, camp there for the night, and then hike out to the front entrance the next morning. That would have completed the hike that we aborted on our previous trip. My sister was going to go with us, and we'd have an extra car for shuttling. She backed out, though, so I had to revise the plan to a simple in and out from the front entrance.

We got to the park around 11am, and went to the Gregory House to register. I thought the ranger would recognize me, since she had recognized my name on the phone. Nope. It wasn't until she saw DS behind me that the light went on. What can I say. He's a celebrity. She gave us the night for free, because of us leaving early last time. I really didn't think that was necessary, but she insisted. After taking care of the paperwork, we drove back up to the parking lot by the entrance and got our packs on.

When we were getting ready for the trip, I decided to test out his sister's Deuter Fox 30 on him to see if it would fit. It was just a tad too big, but he insisted he wanted to wear it. Seeing that he had all that room to fill up, I decided to give him my down bag, since I was carrying his. It's small and only weighs 1.5lbs. Big mistake. He started complaining about the weight twenty yards up the trail. I didn't believe he was anywhere near being overloaded, but I didn't want to risk him having a rotten time over 1.5 lbs of stupid weight. I stopped and rather grumpily took the sleeping bag back. He gave me his stuffed dog for good measure. Lesson learned.

We stopped on the red cliffs and took some pictures, and a short movie. He was making me nervous with his attempts to flout the laws of gravity. We ended up in a conversation about people dying in the Grand Canyon, but the morbidity of it seemed to roll off his back.

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The rest of the hike in was uneventful. We reached the campsites to find two other hikers packing up for the day. They had the site closest to the firewood, so I waited for them to vacate so we could have their spot. In the meantime we went exploring.

The Rock Bluff campsites are situated along a bluff overlooking the Apalachicola River. The bluff is cut by a creek bed on its southern end that runs down from the east. I say "creek bed," because it was completely dry. The last time I camped here, back in 2004, it had plenty of water in it. I wasn't about to drink water out of the river, so we would have to go in search of water later. On either side of the mouth of the creek is a flat, limestone ledge that runs along the base of the bluff. We took a trail down to that spot and played on the rocks for a little while.

When we went back up, the other hikers were just about ready to leave. I talked to them for a few minutes. They were from Panama City, both looked to be in their mid to late 40s. One of them, John, has a lot of experience hiking with the scouts. The other was on his first backpacking trip. He had a thrift store backpack loaded down with 41 lbs of stuff, and was wearing the inevitable cotton t-shirt and jeans. He seemed to be having a pretty good time though. It was after noon, though, and they still had over five miles to hike. I told him he was in luck, because it didn't get hilly until near the end--except for that first big hill.

The first big hill is Logan's Hill, and it's the highest spot in the park. After they had gone and we had our camp set up, we ate a quick lunch, and then set off for Logan's Hill ourselves. We had to hike over it to find water. I put our two empties in my son's pack, along with the filter and one bottle to drink on the way, and loosened the straps so I could wear it as a daypack. We went back down to the loop, and followed it through a cut in the bluff.

On the other side, it opens out into a wide floodplain, with high bluffs along the eastern edge. The trail cuts back away from the plain to climb Logan's Hill. Going up it, DS was sounding like "The Little Engine That Could, But Not Without a Lot of Huffing and Puffing." We rested a few minutes at the top before heading down the other side where the trail meanders across the floodplain for a ways.

I was worried about being able to find a creek with water in it, but the first one we came to was flowing strong. We sat on the bridge and let the intake filter dangle in the water. I let him have a turn working the pump. We filled up the two empties, drank all the water we had brought with us, refilled that bottle, drained it, and then refilled it again. I wanted to make sure we didn't have to do this again in the morning.

The walk back was a little easier. The trail goes up in switchbacks instead of straight up the slope. When we got back, I fixed us a dinner of shells and cheese, and made up some hot chocolate that was too hot to drink. We left it cooling, and went back down to the rocks to play and watch the sunset.

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When we came back, we got a fire going and brought out a small bag of marshmallows. DS ate about four, and we threw the other three into the fire for amusemment. I don't know what they put in those things, but it sure does react weird to heat. First it turns black and starts to glow like something from a sci-fi movie. Then it breaks open, and spews out fumes that catch fire and burn with a green light. Finally, it becomes a dry, blackened husk. It's pretty good entertainment for a kid who loves Dr Who. After the last of the marshmallows, I read him a few chapters of [i]Norby Through Time and Space[/i] by Janet and Isaac Asimov, and then we went to bed.

I didn't sleep well. Sometime that evening a boat (or boats) had pulled up on a sandbar down by the floodplain, and several people set up a camp there. They proceeded to party like it was 1999. Loud music with heavy bass, drunken laughter, loud whoops, and the occasional gunshot floated across the still night air to my tent. DS dropped off and slept like a rock for the entire night. I drifted in and out of sleep. Once I woke up to what sounded like someone emptying the clip of a semi-automatic pistol. I waited to see if perhaps a homicidal car camper had gone down from Weeping Ridge and massacred the partyers, but the music and laughter continued. That was at about 2am. Sometime after 4am the music finally stopped, and the laughter and whooping faded away. When I rolled out of my sleeping bag at 7am, the camp down below was quiet. I longed to yell down to them, "HEY MORONS!!!! WAKE UP!!!! IT'S MORNING!!!!" I couldn't be sure they were out of ammunition though.

I say it was 7am, and it was, but I thought it was 8am. I never wear my watch except to go hiking, and I hadn't reset it for the time change. I had to be somewhere around lunchtime, so I prodded my sleepy boy until he finally got up. We had granola bars for breakfast, and I broke down the camp as fast as I could. Ds wanted to say goodbye to the rocks, so we went down and I got a few shots of the morning light on the water. I even got a shot of the partyers campsite, although not with the sniper rifle I was wishing I had.

I took a shortcut on the way out, staying on an access road that goes directly to the parking lot, instead of taking the detour around the cliffs. DS got a little nervous about not having any blazes, but at about the point where he wanted to insist on that being a serious problem, I was able to tell him I could see the parking lot already. We were back at the house by 10am, and that's when I discovered that I was an hour ahead of schedule.

It was a really fun trip. DS had a great time, and we're already planning our next one. I'll know next time not to try to load him up at all. Bringing the marshmallows was a good idea, and so was the book. I brought a book last time, but it wasn't one that interested him as much. He loves science fiction, and the Norby books have been a big hit with him.

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