December 2023

For my earlier articles on hiking the East and West Tram Trails, see: https://hooknfly.com/2023/01/26/hiking-the-fab-four-trails-of-the-fakahatchee-strand-preserve-state-park-2-the-east-main/and https://hooknfly.com/2022/11/30/hiking-the-fab-four-trails-of-the-fakahatachee-strand-preserve-state-park-1-the-west-main/

The Fakahatchee Strand Preserve, the largest state park in Florida that covers thousands of acres, features several popular trails like the East and West Main Trams that each require several hours to hike. But there are a few shorter trails, often overlooked but every bit as intriguing hikes, such as the South Main Tram. With the park closed for several weeks in late November 2023 due to torrential rains in the area and a deluge of water that flooded Janes Scenic Drive, I was itching to get out and explore some new territory in the park. The South Main Tram Trail had been on my radar screen for a year, so I figured it was time to explore.

When I arrive at the park at just after 8 a.m. on the last day of November, I am relieved that entry gate is open. Earlier in the month when I visited the park it was closed and locked because of flooding. In my excitement, I momentarily exceed the 10-mph posted speed limit on the normally smooth gravel road. I immediately received a jolting reminder as my SUV plunges into a giant pothole, a leftover from the swamping that closed Janes Scenic Drive and left long sections covered with assorted detritus.

But the pockmarked road makes me slow down and enjoy the vistas and wildflowers that line the route.

And the good news is a little further on around the bend is that the water still cascading down the strand from north to south towards the Ten Thousand Islands and Gulf and under the drive at every culvert is attracting graceful egrets and other wading birds and assorted critters for a feast. My camera is at the ready!

At one culvert as I snap photos, I hear a distinctive bird call coming from some tall trees back from the road—”wreep, wreep, wreep”—but can’t spot anything in the swamp maze.  I immediately open an app called Merlin on my cell phone, a free product of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, that has come to be a favorite of mine. It identifies birds by their calls.   I open the app and hold my phone up high to catch any sounds.  On cue the hidden bird calls out again.  Immediately the app identifies it as a Great Crested Flycatcher.

The app notes that the flycatcher is found throughout eastern North America and migrates to Florida and points south in the winter.  It resides mainly in treetops and is rarely seen on the ground.  It feasts on fruits and berries plus insects caught mid-flight.  I have witnessed them doing that—quite agile for a bird almost as big as a robin.

With all my lollygagging around the culverts, it takes me over an hour to cover the four miles from the park entry gate to the gate at the trailhead that the South Main shares with West Main Tram Trail. I park my SUV so as not to block the gate, pull on my hiking boots, grab my hiking staff, hoist my day pack with water bottles and sunscreen, then walk over to check out the big map display. There I am greeted by my friendly reptilian guide—a lilliputian anole.

Having learned my lesson on previous perambulations in the preserve, I am wearing my usual hiking duds—hat and light weight long-sleeved shirt with long pants.  The trail is easy to follow but has knee-high vegetation in spots including thorny vines.  Then there are the squadrons of mosquitoes and no-see-ums.  While usually not a problem during the winter dry months, they are particularly nasty this year because of all the rain and breeding spots. No matter the season, don’t leave home without some effective insect repellant.

It’s almost 10 a.m. as I slip by the locked gate at the trailhead. For about a mile until it spins off to the south, the South Main Tram Trail shares the route with West Main Trail.

The trail is an old railroad bed dug out of the swamp to allow trains to carry out big cypress logs during the 1940s and 50s.  It is flat and easy to navigate, but best traversed by ambling and sauntering, not speedwalking.  The numerous culverts that guide water flow under trail provide perfect spots to investigate the often hidden, but vibrant life of the fascinating and mysterious swamp on either side of the path. 

As I snap a photo of another egret, suddenly a large, beautiful orange butterfly swoops past and alights on a nearby tree.  I approach in stealth mode, and the butterfly accommodates by staying put and exhibiting his wings full spread, so I get a couple of good photos.   I then pull up my favorite nature app on my phone called PictureThis.  The version I have costs $30 annually but is well worth the small charge as it accurately identifies insects, plants, birds, and trees.  I run the photo through the app and soon learn the butterfly is a Ruddy Daggerwing that lives on the edge of forests with the adults feeding on the nectar of giant milkweed.  

The name comes from the imposing dagger-like tail. I notice prominent notches on his wings, but on further investigation of images of other Daggerwings online, see that most have similar cuts.  Another distinctive feature is that the intimidating tail end of the butterfly could pass for a head, reputedly an illusion to fool or scare would-be predators.

At the next culvert a few hundred yards down the trail, I spy one of my favorite swamp flowers, a Florida  swamp lily, hiding among the branches, vines, and air plants.  It is a beauty that has long purple stamens and a sweet fragrance. 

As I move closer to get more photos, I hear the distinctive meowing of a cat!  But I am not fooled—it’s a gray catbird, a large shy dark gray songbird with a jaunty black cap that is of the mockingbird family.

It loves to winter in Florida like us northern human snowbirds and is often seen in the preserve.  I have a little fun with him, doing my best cat meowing imitation.  Soon we are carrying on quite a conversation as he replies to my entreaties.  Who knows what I was saying in catbird language?!?

The jungle opens up at the next culvert, and I can see further into the swamp.  I spot a stand of aptly named Bull-Tongue Arrowhead.  It is a flowering perennial native to the southeastern United that acts, the guidebook says, as a vital link in swampland ecosystems. Its dainty white flowers add a touch of color to the winter landscape. 

Next my eyes fix on some striking orange underwater vegetation called Marsh Seedbox or Water Primrose.  It is an aquatic perennial herb commonly used as an aquarium plant.  

As my eyes wander further into the jungle, something moves!  Maybe an alligator?  I can’t tell until I focus my 10X camera lens on it, and YES it is a gator!  He is coyly hiding his head and tail under some giant sword ferns.  Even though it is cool, and alligators are typically less active in these conditions, it is a reminder to be careful—one might be lurking much closer to the trail. 

I move on and in a few minutes get another surprise.  Protruding from the watery muck close to the trail is what appears to be the remains of an old rail car, perhaps one that was used to haul logs almost a century ago.  Oddly, I never noticed it before on a half-dozen treks up this trail.

Fortunately the park has recovered nicely from being heavily logged from 1944 into the 1950s for cypress and pine. Cypress wood is highly water resistant and was in demand during World War II for making aircraft carrier decks and PT boats among other vessels. Today it is used for more peaceful products like decking and coffins. The tiny communities of Jerome and Copeland (near the park entrance) are reminders of those days, having served as home to loggers of the era.

A minute later I pass by a clearing in the bushes and ferns where an inviting picnic table has been placed.  It’s a good point to stop and rest, especially if you have little kids in tow.  

As I relax for a minute and tighten up my shoe laces while ambidextrously shooing away a gathering cloud of pesky, blood-thirsty mosquitoes, I hear something squeaking just ahead. I creep forward cautiously and find what I thought might be the source—several tiny baby alligators swimming in the waters around a culvert looking for their next meal. My granddaughter Aly thinks they are the cutest! I advise the little ones to be careful—they would make a tasty meal for the egrets and other wading birds that abound.

I continue on and soon come to an impressive stand of wild Seville or bitter oranges that tell an interesting story of early Spanish settlers in Florida. 

They were reportedly brought to Florida in the 1700s by the first Spaniards to land in St. Augustine.  By 1800 they had become widely planted by early settlers and local Native Americans and have now spread throughout southern Florida.  Today, they are primarily grown commercially for rootstock for grafting budwood for sweet oranges.  Believe me, they are bitter, but can be used for making marmalade or certain liqueurs or for making marmalade or certain liqueurs or as a substitute for lemons in cooking.  Just don’t sample any in the park!

It’s 10:45 by now, and I have covered about a mile when I come to where the South Main Train turns left off to the south.  I can see it is not as heavily trod as the West Main Trail which carries on for a couple of more miles west.A park ranger whom I spoke with earlier tells me while the South Main is in the process of having vegetation pruned back or cleared, it is open for hikers.  He advised me not to worry about the sign on the gate a couple of hundred feet further down the trail that says park staff only—it applies only to ATVs, not hikers. 

Like the West and East Main Tram Trails, the South is edged by striking rows of giant sword ferns.  Because it runs north to south, there are far fewer culverts to allow water already flowing in the same direction to pass under.  There are boggy slow-moving sloughs on both sides of the trail where the swamp was dug out to provide fill to elevate the tram railroad bed above the marsh.  Without the culverts to provide views into the swamp, now I stop anytime there is an opening in the thick trailside vegetation. 

While I am walking, I scan both sides of the trail for signs of birds or other wildlife as well as interesting plants and flowers.  In doing so I almost walk smack dab into a bristly tent caterpillar that is crawling on a chest-high vine across the trail.  I take a quick photo and duck under the aerialist then almost bump my head into some dangling Seville Oranges.  This trek is getting dangerous!! 

Further along I see something glistening in the sun in the middle of the trail.  I can’t figure out what it is until I am only about 20 feet away and a seven-foot gator that had been sunning on the pathway erupts from her nap and goes crashing through the sword ferns into the swamp. I move forward cautiously, hoping for a good photo, and find where she bulldozed through the ferns.

But try as I may, I can’t see any the slippery critter anywhere even though the water is clear!  She has somehow disappeared into the shallow pond along the trail. I think to myself maybe I’ll see her on my return route. 

I continue on, admiring the marshy scene on either side of the trail.  It’s very shady so I don’t see many flowering plants except a couple of Lilliputians hugging the ground called Redflower Ragweed and Caesar’s Weed, the first an invasive from Africa and the other from Asia. 

Then a bright flash temporarily blinds me.  I jump back and see it’s a covey of cameras that apparently have been installed by the park rangers to monitor activity on the trail.  Orchid poachers beware!

Just a few minutes later I hear the whine of some ATVs and the sound of vegetation being cut, probably the trail clearing crew that the ranger mentioned to me.  I decide to turn back.

When I make my way back to the junction with the West Main Tram trail, I have a decision to make.  It’s only noon, and the day is still young.  I have time to hike up to one of my favorite spots in the park just a few minutes up the trail and have a leisurely lunch.  So, I turn left and head west on the West Tram Trail. 

On the short 15-minute side trip I come across a wild coffee plant with its bright red berries.  I also have to chuckle at the descriptive scientific name of the plant—Psychotria nervosa.  Then I see a vine with some intriguing geometry—it’s a Vietnamese vanilla plant, that wonderful tasting extract we all love.  It’s an invader from the far east, but who’s complaining?

Soon I am at the lunch spot.  I have a choice between a rustic park bench and some plastic chairs someone has apparently rustled out of the picturesque “haunted” house that has fallen further into disrepair since my hike last spring.

I chose the chairs which are situated on a narrow bridge leading to the house which provide a peaceful view into the cypress forest and allows the breeze to keep the pesky bugs at bay for a while.

This is a great spot to bring your children and grandkids to explore and regale them with tales of the ghosts in the haunted house!  A half hour later I have finished my lunch and downed the last of my magic energy drink, an RC Cola. Rejuvenated, I load up my day pack, grab my walking staff and start the hike back to the trailhead.

I keep my eyes wide open for any critters that might be emerging now that the sun is up high and warming the swamp.  The first thing I notice is the fungus among us—an interesting one called Arthoniaceae that coats many tree trunks in the preserve. Some the fungi form lichen colonies with algae and bacteria while others live on top of lichens. 

Next, I see a tiny bird fleeing into the jungle.  It’s a secretive little white-eyed vireo that makes it home throughout Florida.

 As I walk further, I recross a culvert from this morning and get a surprise when I see a big gator hiding under some floating vegetation just a few feet from the trail.  He can see me but doesn’t move a muscle.  Tricky devil.   Another object lesson about approaching the culverts with caution. 

As I continue, a flighty, striking Zebra Longwing butterfly flits by me, circling and sliding this way and that, he comes back and alights on a nearby flower.  This beautiful butterfly feasts on pollen and nectar which it uses to produce toxins that poison predators if eaten, which keeps the predators at bay! Sadly, the zebra is reportedly being decimated outside the park by sprays meant to control mosquitoes.  I snap a quick shot before he lifts off and continues his peregrinations. 

As I watch him disappear, I see one of my favorite swamp flowers, a lovely purple pickerelweed.  This striking plant is an important food source for deer, ducks, muskrats, and fish. The plant grows up to 3.5 feet high and can tolerate water up to six feet.   Its large leaves and stem clusters also provide great cover for smaller fish, birds, reptiles, and insects.  Seems like everything in the swamp has an important role to play in the ecosystem!

Soon I am in sight of the trailhead gate and my SUV.  The Fakahatchee Strand has delivered another wonderful day in the wilds, a chance to commune with and better understand Mother Nature.