Thursday 2-13-20
Bike and hike St. John’s River
As always the isolation, solitude, beauty and seclusion, uncommon.
I’m a good 45 minutes out, on my way back from an old shelter overlooking Lake Winder about a quarter mile away. The sage grass is a dazzling gold in the sun. I’ve already encountered a Red Tail an American Kestrel a pair of Red Shoulder Hawks a few Western Meadowlarks and even a Jake Turkey along the way. The shadows are long now and I’m riding a low trail below the only ridge in the area when I spook a sounder of wild hogs. They’re not sure where to go or what to do as 4 or 5 run single file parallel to me along the ridge about 25 feet away. There are some scrub oaks, palms, saw palmettos and switch grass between us which is somewhat comforting. They’re trying to get ahead of me, so the faster I go their going right along just above me. They’re all black silhouettes as they race along with me; the first two are both boars by their size. After a while they figure it out and I lose them behind me. Although the whole romp seemed like forever it was probably no more than 30 seconds.
It could not have been a minute later as I turned a blind corner, and there 40 feet in front of me on a knoll was as big and as magnificent a bull as I’ve ever seen. He was solid black with his back to me as he was chomping some sage grass. I stopped and he turns towards me and stares. I know the most dangerous thing out here in this remote wilderness is not the gators, hogs, snakes or even the elusive swamp ape; it’s a rogue range bull. If he charges he’s only seconds away and the trail I’m on, alone, is low and wet. I didn’t want to give him any time to think so without making eye contact I walk my bike by him. The St. John’s as always a delightful uncertainty.
