Conner Preserve: Searing Eyes Peer Through Shaded Pillows

On Thursday July 7th around noon I started the task of Conner preserve, all of it. What I figured would take me two days, only took about 8 hours of actual hike, 12 hours on trail total, the weather made sure of that. It was fucking exhilarating...just like ice fishing.

The constant threat of downpour loomed overhead, pervading its dread along the paths. The sun peered through the clouds and it's radiant light singed my skin after so many hours, I hoped the clouds would once again overshadow the suns gaze.

The dead, dried bushes overlapping the lush green palmettos, natural contrasts flaunted by their own demeanor.

The Great Egret combs the tall grass from high above...

... but always forgoes its humble perch for the hunt of certain prey.

Life's circle fully eclipsed, one day the fate of us all.

Water, water, and more water; the unlikelihood of crossing 20 miles in 8 hours and the encroaching cloud storm encourages the idea of camp craft.

Crossing an seemingly endless horizon with the sun and the teasing droplets of rain on my back, nevermore than a few...

...Vultures menace the skies above my head, as if I were to be the next of their pickings. They perched atop their lost mooseman, who desisted his excursion, to be left a lonely dying tree...

Is that a samsquanch?

The thick brush overgrown among the once treaded tire tracks along the trail; now knee-high I whistle, stomp heavily, and walk only along the the center high ridge between what used to be low channel left by tires in hopes of avoiding any territorial serpents, keeping my eyes sifting through my future path. The thorns prove my obvious regret of my short ankled socks: lesson learned.

The steady long strides between hoofed tracks lead the presumption of deer (above any other ungulates), almost corralled in this sanctuary leaves them not very far; however, they are difficult to catch off guard, they know this land more than us. To successfully surprise these deer intentionally, you would have to take arduous, devious implementations to do so; they are far from hunting grounds. 

As I trot past she leers at me, tirelessly holding her pose, the first instinct is camouflage. I neglectfully stare through her rusted golden fur simply seeing browning leaves and pine needles, distracted by my music. As I pass the one mere snap of twig catches my ear, the music could not be muted faster along with my own heartbeat. Examining my own surroundings in silence to anything but the birds and bugs conducting their business through the trees, the warm soft sand along the path, rusting barbed wire fence on the right, and small marsh land to the far left. I spot what looks like a molding leaf off a golden brown tree (I should wear my glasses) behind a bushel of palmetto brush not 15 feet from me... and it wags! My eyes instantly change to the other side the bushel and there is a golden doe with ears to the sky and eyes as big as golf balls scrutinizing my body language, deciding the run or to stay and hide. At that instant we were in a stand off staring contest; what felt like hours could not have been more than seconds, and with a blink she was gone in a gallop through the marsh.

The king of the monarchs!

Can you spot the dragonfly? Me neither!

This is what people know as "bad country," waist high brush leaving a mystery of what lies below with every step, giving any ambush cover up to your very boot.

What seems to be a field of grass is actually a water basin about a foot deeper than what you see, perfect for snakes. Don't play ball on this field.

Couldn't really tell exactly what this was, much less how it died, picked clean.

The rain was an inevitability, it was only a question of when.

This game doesn't get rained out... you get rained in. 

The torrential downpour patters and rumbles on the fly, like a thousand horses galloping across the plains. Moisture in the air wrinkles the page's edge. Stuck in an endless story on a ride I could not predict what happens next. The comic stylings of the zune list keeps morale high.

Even after the soaking of the ground some hard work, luck, and ingenuity made a campfire possible, it took over 30 minutes and I gave up on fire, leaving the smoking remnants to my back, then five minutes later a surprising flame sprouts out!

At about midnight long after hitting all trails, about 18.4 miles total; some well earned R&R; and the rain ceased to torture me with its rhythmic beating, I packed up and headed for home.