Central Florida, without The Mouse

My previous forays into this part of the Sunshine State have been limited to the red giant of commerce that is the Orlando metroplex, drawing tourists from around the world into the gravity well of cartoon mice and airbrushed reality. Of course this flow of foreign aid is one of the primary drivers of the economy of half the state, and the locals are suitably accommodating of the army of pasty families who invade Central Florida during the cooler months, putting up with us as long as we demonstrate a modicum of respect for the residents and show the proper paperwork. (Your passport is not required, your Visa will do nicely, sir.)

I purposefully avoided the Big O and planned for a week’s stay about an hour and a half south of Disney World near the small town of Sebring, most well known for a famous Formula 1 race run on a track carved out of an old B-17 bomber training airfield. The official pronunciation is “See bring”, although about a quarter of the locals I’ve encountered say “Seb bring” so I guess you can take your pick. Most significant to me was that one of Florida’s oldest nature preserves is here, Highlands Hammock State Park, established in 1931. The drive in was interesting as well, as I moved cross country though fields of cattle and orange groves sprinkled with the occasional turf farm. The ground here is more sand than soil, so any crops that require deep roots to resist hurricane winds have a tough time of it.

The town of Sebring itself seems focused mostly on retirees, with many trailer parks, medical providers, golf courses, etc. A flotilla of Hoveround scooters roams the aisles at the local Walmart, and the billboards advertise liquor stores and cataract clinics. I haven’t spent much time in town other than to pick up supplies.

The Park

Highlands Hammock on the other hand, is large, quiet and highly educational for someone like me previously ignorant of the natural landscape of the state of Florida. Within the boundaries of this park you find sand pine scrub, cypress swamps and hardwood hammock forests, all preserved in their natural state since this land became a park during the depression. All sorts of wildlife live here from the omnipresent small lizards to predators like alligators and bobcats. There are many well cleared and marked trails through the various habitats, most less than a mile of easy, level walking. There are dedicated bike trails with rentals available too.

Facilities are older, but generally in decent condition – the shower house in the back of the campground is a recent build and quite nice, including laundry machines which I made use of. During the week, less than a dozen of the campsites were occupied, but as of Thursday night I now have a Giagantabus neighbor twenty feet away.

There is also a CCC museum and “Music Under the Stars” program on select weekends in the high season, both of which I intend to check out before a depart on Sunday. In summation, this has been a restful location to learn more about Florida ecology with great opportunities for hiking. A great contrast to my next destination, a beachfront campground on Tampa Bay.

Attacked by a very small “bear”

On entering the Ancient Hammock Trail, I was advised by another visitor coming out to be careful as they had just spotted a black bear on the trail. I wasn’t carrying a bell or bear spray, but the Florida Black Bear is not generally territorial or particularly aggressive so I wasn’t overly concerned. I just adopted bear country hiking protocol: making more noise than necessary, talking out loud and cautiously approaching blind corners, etc. All was quiet and my trek uneventful until I rounded a large live oak –  and was instantly greeted by a heavy thud and scrambling in the undergrowth. Yikes! I involuntarily jumped back, scanning quickly for the bear and assessing my options for retreat…

After a moment, I discovered the truth. I had encountered a squirrel eating fruit in a wild orange tree. When I startled him, he dropped his heavy half-eaten prize with a crash and tore off through the palm fronds. Well played Mother Nature, well played!