Light

J.B. Starkey Wilderness Preserve- Serenova Tract

Florida is renowned for its beaches and stunning sunsets, however, I believe the lesser-known sunrises from central Florida deserve equal recognition.  For me, it is the all-encompassing nature of the rays by the time it strikes the tops of the pines and then falls to the scrub.  Out on the trails, the sunrise is not merely watched, but experienced.  Even while running through the densest of cypress strands, shafts of brilliant light will still catch me. 



Starkey

After having been away from this part of the state for months, it is the light and the specific colors it produces that have struck me.  They vary slightly every morning, but I can always place my trust in their brilliance.

There is a sense of home in the warmth and overwhelming power of the color that I haven't found anywhere else.  Every time I return, I am even more struck by the beauty.  I hope that everyone is able to have a similar feeling about a treasured place of their own, and if not, I believe these sunrises can be even more beautiful when shared.

 


Serenova



Twenty-Two

Today was going to be, if things went generally well, another point-to-point run.  This time, it would be thirteen miles longer than the one from this summer, back when nine miles was a post-injury accomplishment.  I didn't want to think about the added distance, though.  It just made it seem even longer.  Today was going to be my birthday run, and I was going to enjoy it, I decided, even if I was a little apprehensive at the start.

Early this morning, I pulled into the vacant parking lot of the Serenova Tract entrance to J. B. Starkey Wilderness Preserve.  Twenty two miles to go.

It was dark for the first few miles, but I knew the route and plodded along trying to find a rhythm in the blackness.  The sun started to rise around mile four, which made it easier to relax.  I wasn't as worried about tripping or stepping on a snake.

Shortly thereafter, I made my way to the Serenova powerlines.  This time, the powerline stretch seemed shorter since it was familiar.  Once I hit the Starkey paved bike path, I headed further east instead of west, like normal.  Overall, I felt really good for eight and a half miles of trails.  I was eager to make it out to the Suncoast Trail.  It had been two years since I had seen that side of Starkey. 

On the bike path, I felt strong.  I was ready to fly on the pavement.  During the last few miles on the path, I could start to feel my hip.  Even though those were easily my fastest miles, I was ready for the soft ground again.



I found the path that jutted off near a water station without much trouble.  This is where the unfamiliar paths began.  Of course, I wanted to go off and explore, but I knew that by the end of this run, I wouldn't want to have gone farther than necessary.  So, I stuck to my planned route and didn't get creative.

What I did discover along the way, though, was water.  Lots and lots of water.  My big mistake on planning this route was assuming that the water levels would be low enough to not get soaked when running through the lowest paths.  Oh, how very wrong I was.  Flooded Path 1 wasn't bad because it was shallow, clear, and flowing.  Flooded Path 2 was essentially stagnant and black.  The third was moving slightly, deep, and dark because of the depth (about calf to knee).  I had no choice but to run directly through the third at about mile sixteen.  There was no going back at that point.  I was on my way back to the powelines and my mile nineteen marker.

My favorite miles were easily the few just over half way.  The land was unfamiliar and vast.  The path was extremely wide, with tall golden grasses swaying on either side.  I felt small, a strange feeling, as I was dwarfed by the grasses inches above my head.  These miles seemed peaceful and relaxed.

Once the path pointed me back west, I picked up the pace again.  I knew that I needed to get back as soon as I could.  At that moment my legs felt strong, something I planned to take full advantage of.  The paths were grassy and firm underfoot and I felt great.  I knew it wouldn't last for long.

I hit the powerlines by my landmark pump-house.  Three miles to go.  Because I was drained and the trails were predominately deep sand, these were the most challenging miles.  My hips had a hard time, but I pushed through it, knowing how close I was.  These last miles went by surprisingly quickly.  It helped that I knew the land well.  This was home.  I was back.

Right now, hours later, I feel great.  I've certainly felt worse after shorter runs.  My hips are sore, yes, but it's nothing to worry about.  The strange thing was when I finished my toes hurt.  Twenty two miles and it was my toes that concerned me.  No worries, they are fine now.  I think the softness of the trails will help greatly with my recovery.

Overall, this was a nice route (even with the water), and I can see myself repeating it for future long runs.  It is definitely a winter run, unless you plan to go swimming as well.

Tomorrow, I think I'll take the day off.

Point to Point

Let's face it: point to point runs can be quite inconvenient.  That is why I had never embarked on one, however, I discovered the Serenova entrance of J. B. Starkey Wilderness Preserve on 52 and knew I had to find a way to connect it to the gate just off of Starkey Blvd.  Unfortunately, I had to wait until late this summer because of the hip issue.  This run, marked in ink, had been on my summer running calendar for weeks:

Saturday: Point to Point.  Serenova- Starkey.  9mi.

Sunrise in Serenova

My route:  I meandered back on the Serenova paths for about two miles, making sure I hit all of my favorite spots.  Then, I hopped off the sandy trails and onto the powerlines path.  From there, I ran south and kept running south.   For a very long time.

The powerline path feels much more extensive than I thought it would.  Of course, I know that it cuts directly through the preserve from end to end, but I did not expect it to seem so long.  I am glad that even though much of my route was simply a gravel road following a stretch of  powerlines, it was still unbelievably scenic.  Deer (including a fawn!), rabbits, and many, many birds kept me occupied.

Looking back at where I had been

Despite all  of the beautiful paths that intersect the powerlines trail, I stayed true to my planned route.  I knew if I took a detour, I could easily add an extra few miles or more onto my total distance.   I really have no self-control when it comes to trail running.  Someone was waiting for me on the other end, so it was not the day to play.

By the time on my stopwatch, it had been about an hour, I knew that I would stumble upon the paved bike path within the next few minutes.  And then I saw it.  Or at least I saw something.  Even though I was a few hundred meters away, I  could tell that the forest opened up slightly on both sides of the powerlines.  Just then, a white shape moved across the open stretch between the trees.  A fellow runner!  I was there!

Getting there!

As I made my way up the slight incline, my pace quickened and a spring returned to my step.  Let me tell you, I have never been so happy to see the bike path.  I usually view the path as a way get in a road run without leaving the woods.  That day, it was the road home!

When I reached the bike path, the pavement felt strange to my legs.  I felt fast even though I was tired.  In need of water, I made use of the nearest water station and then found the connecting horse trails.  These were the trails I had run since the summer before I entered high school.  The next two miles felt so easy because of the familiarity of the woods.  I was home.  After nine miles, the longest run in my log since the injury, I was exhausted but exhilarated.

View for most of the run

It is a strange feeling knowing that I had no intention of going back to where I stated, at least on foot.  Usually, I am burdened by the ticking seconds of my watch.  There was no turn around point this time, just nine miles in one general direction.  When I drove back to the entrance on 52, I was surprised at how far it really was.  My kind friend who enabled  this crazy idea of mine agreed and said, "and you did it on trails!"

This isn't something I  could do every weekend because of the logistics, but it was definitely a good route and great experience.  If I do it again, I will be sure to stay on the Serenova paths for as long as possible so that I will have less time along the powerlines.  The hiking paths vary and are a nice change from the powelines, especially after that many miles of them.

After this run and passing all of those enticing trails, I now plan to fully explore all of the places I passed.  Even though I have literally run the distance of the park, there is still so much to experience!
 

Happiness




Serenova Tract

 
The parking lot is empty when I take to the trails.  The nearest people are in their vehicles on the opposite side of a fence flying by on the Suncoast Parkway, oblivious to the sole girl exploring the land on foot.  There is something so peaceful and yet exhilarating knowing that I and I alone occupy the surrounding few thousand acres.  Six thousand?  At least.  Eight thousand?  Probably.  It's hard to wrap my mind around sometimes. 

Today, I traveled further into Serenova's eastern portion than I ever have before.  Countless trails meandered through the scrub and the cypress trees.  Occasionally I wish I had a horse or faster mode of transportation so that I could see more, experience more in one outing.  Then, I remember that there is no better way to connect with the land than on foot.  In a way, it is like painting or drawing.  My hand makes the mark and has contact with the surface.  With running, every step I take makes that contact, and especially after being inured, I am thankful for each time my foot touches the earth.  For the first time in almost a year, I am not severely limited by my body.  I am able to push through the most overgrown paths, sprint through flowing waters, and stumble upon the remnants of a summertime prescribed fire. 

Just over an hour later, when I return to the parking lot, a car pulls up and two clean hikers hop out.  They look at me as if to say I hope I don't come back looking like that.  I smile and say good morning.  This dirt, sweat, and exhaustion is seven and a half miles of happiness.

"All that the sun shines on

is beautiful, so long as it is wild."

John Muir

Atlantic Monthly, January 1869

My Serenova findings:

The other side of the lake

Two structures that I first found on an aerial map- about 2.5mi out

They are (were?) wired for electricity

Lovely open land

Through the cypress trees

 Secret river

Serenova Adventures

Somewhere in the 6,533 acres that comprises the Serenova Tract o f J. B. Starkey Wilderness Preserve is a lake.  Okay, there are many lakes, but I am looking for a specific one.  I had seen pictures of it- sprawling, lily pads covering the periphery, and a pier jutting in on one side.  From aerial maps, I knew that is was on the eastern side of the trail and about two and a half miles out, without any wrong turns.  Today, my goal was to find it during my five mile run.

The morning was foggy.  The usual yellow-green of the summer was heavily clouded in grey.  The fog was so dense that I could not see but a few meters ahead at times, so finding a body of water was going to be difficult.  I kept running southwest, feeling myself going lower and lower.  All of those environmental science classes were going to come in handy.  I know my Florida ecosystems.  It had to be around there somewhere. 

Then, out of nowhere, I found something completely unexpected in a wilderness park.

A chimney.

Surrounded by a wire fence with signs warning park visitors not to trespass, the stone chimney was a marked change against the natural elements of the park.  The preservationist in me had many questions and a few miles to think about them.

How old is the chimney?  When was the structure destroyed?  How was it destroyed?  Who owned the building?  What is currently being done to preserve the chimney?  Are any archaeological digs planned?

As I did my own little survey of the site around the edge of the fence, I caught a glassy reflection through the trees in the distance.  The lake!  My trail sleuthing had paid off.

Sometimes even extensive Google research does not produce answers, and this is one of those cases.  All I know is that this would have been quite a beautiful place to live.

Maybe one day I will find the answers to my questions.  I should contact the West Pasco Historical Society.  Someone has to know something.

Serenova Tract Thunderstorm

Driving through the lightning and thunder with ominous black clouds above, I started to think that maybe I was a bit crazy.  As much as I love to watch the lights dance in the clouds before the sun rises, I questioned my sanity, and not to mention safety.  How safe is running in a forest alone, rambling around various bodies of water in a central Florida thunderstorm stretching as far as the eye can see?  I'll be fine, I convinced myself.  This is worth it.

Pulling into the small parking area, I was glad to see that multiple people were already in the park. 

"Ya got bug dope on ya?"  A middle aged hiker with a walking stick asked me as we entered the trailhead at about the same time.  I did, and we agreed that the deer flies can be a pain.  Although I would not come upon many pesky insects because they well aware of the storm on its way.

Down the shaded path, I passed two birders in canvas hats, fishermen contently sitting on their coolers, and the man with the walking stick.  J. B. Starkey Wilderness Park would be deserted in this sort of weather.  Well, I'm glad to be in the company of other crazy people, I thought. 

I made my way down a few dead end trails, stumbled upon an old anachronic parking lot like surface, and discovered a hidden little lake blanketed in lily pads that I long to paint.   Following a crushed shell road deeper into the park, the rain beating down heavier, and Serenova opened up.  I could see the silhouette of cypress domes against the sky as it grew progressively darker.  Knowing Starkey, I assumed the paths were a series of loops, so when I trail crossed the road, I took it.  It directed me east, further away from the road and then south, further from the trailhead.  I kept my eye on the power lines, my key to judging distance at Starkey, and continued on.  About a mile later, I crossed the road again.  Thunder boomed over me.  The storm was no longer close, it was here.  I picked up the pace and headed down the road, back to the lot the shortest way I knew.

When I returned, the fishermen were packing up and the birders were long gone.  If they were going in, I guessed I should follow.  As I unlaced my sand caked Brooks and changed out of my soaked shirt, I decided that I had to come back another day soon.  Clearly the lightning gods wanted me around for a bit longer.

Now, I was curious about storms and Florida.  I knew that in Florida, the Sunshine State and also the Lightning Capital of the United States, most lightning strikes occur in June, July, and August, our rainy season.  Despite listening to Dennis Philips clad in his trademark suspenders every so often, that was about the extent of my knowledge of Florida lightning statistics.  I decided to do some research for myself:

West central Florida has around 90-100 thunderstorm days in a year, higher than any other area of Florida.   Lightning accounts for well over 50 percent of weather related deaths in Florida.  You would think that hurricanes may top the list of dangers, but our thunderstorms prove to be most deadly.  "Lightning Alley" was new term for me.  This corridor from Tampa Bay to Titusville receives the most lightning strikes in the United States on an annual basis. 

"Past history has shown that many people struck by lightning in Florida were near water, in an exposed location, or under/near trees."  Three for three?  Okay, maybe I was a bit crazy.

Statistics from NOAA.

To learn more about this great park, I recommend a short YouTube video and the SWFWMD Serenova Tract webpage.