I had been planning to hike Florida’s 1200 mile trail for about 4 years. The idea was to bike South Carolina, kayak the coast of Georgia and walk Florida. I chose this route because I was born in Charleston, South Carolina and my great great grandfather died in Miami in a motorcycle accident. Some sort of metaphorical symbolical reincarnated trek - an homage to vagabound political cartoonist he was. However taking time off work and getting the funds for the expedition proved to be difficult so I decided to plan it in three parts into something more realistic.
For my 30th birthday I kayaked parts of the intracoastal highway in Georgia. (different chapter...) But three years later I finally had the time and funds for the Florida trail.
The summer leading up to the Florida trail I spent in a box truck converted into a camper. It was along the Platte River in the Denver, Colorado area. The land probably has a different name so I’ll only refer to it as along the South Platte River.
I hiked two 14ers and many other trails throughout Colorado wearing my pack with all my gear to train for the Florida Trek. My pack was red and that is important to know.
This was before the renaming of Mount Evans to Mount Blue Sky seems like a compromised name. But we can all agree we love blue skies.
Oh yeah before I got to the Denfur.. Denver area I did stop at many camp grounds along the state. I’ll have to draw a map of it later. But one of my favorite spots was in Buena Vista - along a mountain bike trail - I painted a Carlos Castenada book cover. I had just read the book. Dreams are powerful and his exploration of Yaqui knowledge included transpeople and importance of looking at your own hands in your dreams. Hands can do a lot just as much as eyes. It is a climbing town they say. I didn’t have a bike at the time so I just hiked the trail.
[ FIND PHOTOS FROM BUENA VISTA ]
[ IN PROCESS PAINTING of CARLOS ]
While in the Denver, I’d work media production jobs throughout the state to earn money and learn more skills. I was there for around 4 months feeling free, active and motivated. I’d eat mushrooms and go to different clubs by myself often sitting next to the speakers. Some afternoons I’d dig through Goodwill bins find clothes to resell at local vintage and buy/sell stores. Occasionally hang out with friends drink too much say stupid stuff but overall felt free and secure.
[ insert chasm lake... pumpkin sculpture ... ]
Most of my time I was working with crews then driving out to a new spot to explore in the mountains. I’d watch hiking and climbing videos. Jump rope for heart and health. It is what I want so choosing to drink alcohol while training was stupid.
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I found a call for an artist residency which worked out perfectly timing wise. I proposed that I would loosely teach how something grassroots builds into a non-profit and how that changes work culture, dynamics and our relationship to money. And I’d host an open life drawing in charcoal. They accepted me so I made my way to the goat farm in Texas.
[ INSERT GOAT PHOTOS - & art & drawing ]
[ UTOPIA SCHOOL FLYER & CREDIT ]
[ GROUP PHOTO OF RESIDENTS ]
The residency was on a goat farm between San Antonio and Austin on land with a layer of Croatian history. It was a signifcant week cooking and connecting with people engaging in conversations around what utopia means. We hung out with firefighters, doomsday preppers, cheesemongers, fashionistas, music and film scholars. Got so drunk one night woke up in my vomit. Was embarrassed and had to have a fast goodbye.
[ insert painting - of CRAZY BLUE DOG THAT NEEDS TO BE PUT DOWN] /// I mean [ LAURA BERTLANT BOOK COVER PAINTING ]
After the residency, I drove to Georgia to see family and to prepare for the 2 month hike of Florida. Somewhere along the way on Interstate 10 I thought it would be a good idea to party for New Years in Miami and start the trail the next day. I googled different parties and saw that Doja Cat was performing on some rooftop of some hip hotel. I had the money so I bought a ticket. I don’t even listen to Doja Cat but I’ve been in the margins of Hollywood working on sets and making money so maybe it has gotten to my head and now I have to listen to everything Doja Cat says.
I’m surprised at this point. I can’t pinpoint when it actually starts but at some point I start slipping away. Possibly the best pressure. Someone from my hometown’s mom passed and was having a memorial - I planned on going but got lost along the way. I ended up at what looked like a frat party. It looked like the guys at the frat had the corpse of my brother. They were throwing him around. I’m more than confused at this point and frustrated so I take an Uber back to town. I arrive back & my ma is mad and freaked out by me but something tells me it was something else. She says she doesn’t want to see me again. So I leave and head to Miami for the Doja Cat concert and to start the Florida trail.
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I fly out of Jacksonville, Florida. I am scheduled to land in Miami at 11:37pm on New Years Eve - so I am hoping I can make the count down on the rooftop but it is not likely. There are three other people on the flight maybe five plus the flight attendants. I’m in a naturally altered state on the flight. I see someone who looks like a mix of a friend of mine and Shakira. I start getting alarmed because her energy is powerful. She is communicating with me telepathically by letting me know that the plane is going to go down in the ocean for some sort of soul exchange but will come back up and land in Miami.
Shark tank, dolphin dive, octopus can find perhaps a squid and its ink, those were not thoughts I had at that time but are thoughts that I am having now... fly flishing? Is this how ramen is made? How deep can we get? All night. Sand dollars and starfish are found at the shore... but I wouldn’t doubt they have traveled deeper and into uncharted territories. Or trenches if you will...
Back on the plane... the woman who looks like Shakira asks if I have ever masturbated thinking about her. I haven’t. I swear to her I haven’t. And it is true I’ve never masturbated thinking about her even though I’ve been attracted to her for awhile. The flight attendant notices I am experiencing some anxiety. Assuming its just from flying - not because I’m being questioned about my fantasies. She hands me a cup of ice water. I down it and start to rub the ice cubes on my neck and all over my body to cool down. I stick an ice cube up my ass. I am visibily shaking. The flight attendant didn’t see the ice cube slip into my ass - she slipped something else in that I don’t want to talk about because what it is for...? the plot or the prop? I know she fucked up - I know that. She sits down next to me grabs my hand and tells me we are landing soon.
Is she praying for me? I ask myself.
Now I know she definitely was not. This is Callie Jane’s mom Martha was sneaking cocaine on the plane.
I loved Shakira but she needs to know I masturbated to Angelina Jolie from a magazine when I was 12.
I am so fucking anxious for being interrogated so we clasp hands - I am out of it. I feel certain they are going to call a medic. But they don’t. I just walk off the plane like nothing happened. At this point I am gone. I can’t call a cab. I order one but it doesn’t show up. And I see this noodley head boy getting picked up instead.
I’m having a hard time figuring out where I am. I unpack my bag pulling out my tent, sleeping bag and sleeping pad. I set it up in the airport. I have about 30 hand warmers that I perfectly space around the tent. I can’t remember what my logic was for this. I keep thinking I see people I know. Celebrities, stars and people from my past. I call them soul exchanges like different souls entering new bodies. As if we have 7 lives on earth in lived form. Or 7 lives in different realms. Soul traffick. I mean this in the way of have you ever known someone that has died inside from heartbreak and grief - their self is somewhere else and they are in the same shell. Partly same shell. It is the human flesh suit but even their shell has shifted a bit. As if they have been posessed by something of their self or something has been pulled out of them.
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Cats have 9 lives is that a saying?
I believe in modalties, mobilities and malleability of mind and matter.
Motivation is important. Merit. Mysticism & magic. Like mud.
I haven’t been able to fully articulate what this is...
It is connected to Bardo and Samsara connected to tibetan buddhist ideas.
I think it is a muslim thought with the 7 realms.
Prince’s song and music video “seven” is about that.
Shiva/shiva/chiva.
Chives & green onions.
Saint Anthony and Musicophilia. oliver Sachs in Manhattan.
Saxophone on 16th?
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What is hard to ariculate is best left unsaid?
I don’t believe in that anymore. This a difficult part of my biography or memoir whatever they want to call it these days. At the airport I did touch a mans silver hair. Can you believe? A white man with silver gray hair. I touched it and well the police found me. I have a thing for silver/gray hair. I’m growing some myself along with my red, black and brown.
I was detained? If you want to call it that. Seemed like they just wanted me to do this fucked up tour of their rehab. So I was put into this “treatment center” for substance abuse. I would call it body and information abuse. Sure. Or maybe they know I work undercover and need to figure out that there were way too many people walking in a caged fence. Like a pen. Like a pin.
I’m sure all those men - large tatted men were hoping for what? I don’t know. Combat sports? It is honestly not something I care to remember but I have a brain so yeah I remember it.
It is interesting that it is called a treatment center. Treatment, remedies, care and order look different to many people.
So I ate my cereal and made the phone calls I needed to. get myself out of there.
In reality I was walking around for my life in this cage of some gnarly men. Not gnarly in the sense of cool I‘m talking about drug dealers and gang members.
For a few days. Why? Is it because DIA reports to MIA? Or JAX reports to Long Island sound? I think everyone should report to JAX these days.
The doctor tells me I have a sleep disorder and I agree. Insomnia okay. I was a fishmonger! Not a cheerleader. I understand how trades work. Even within dreams.
I believe we should pray for good dreams, good health and good food.
Humor and play.
Too much intense energy there so I am thankful I got out.
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Fortunately
MIA held my luggage.
I picked up my bag.
A teal and gray Osprey pack.
Found someone off of the Facebook Florida Trail Angels group to pick me up from the airport to take me to the Trail Head.
And remember that my dreams are crazy and lucid.
FEBRUARY 2, 2022
Day 1
A man with the trail name “9 toes” picks me up from the Miami airport yesterday and drove me to Midway camp 2 miles outside of Big Cypress National Park. He lost a toe years ago from an infection. He was stranded on the trail but a trail angel (people who actively help out hikers on trails) found him in desperate need. That’s when he decided to become a trail angel. He works for the Miami Dade fire department and took a day off to pick me up from the airport. I don’t believe him. He doesn’t hike much anymore. But tries when he can.
I get dropped off a Midway camp. Dump my pack again to make sure I have everything I need for the next 35 miles. My phone is losing charge and there are no outlets at the campsite. My portable charger is already out of charge. I set up my tent get in at 6pm sundown and stay up most of night worrying about the next few days.
It’s not until about 3am that I start slipping into sleep. I’m in an old wooden house with lots of dirty paint brushes that I am trying to clean. They are floating in the air and falling. Oil paint is all over the floor and a man is telling me I need to pay to have everything cleaned up.
I wake up groggy and even more anxious from what just happened in my dream. I pack up camp and head towards Big Cypress National Park. Because my phone has no charge I hang out at the visitor center and watch the video about the park at least 5 times while my phone is plugged in. It’s only me in there. My charger is going slow and I’m worried. The ranger comes in every now and again joking that he’s going to quiz me on the film. He comes into to ask me as a joke “if I’ve heard that there’s going to be a film playing in this room.”
By 1pm I’m ready to go. My goal is to make it to 7 mile camp before sundown. And I do. 9 miles total for the day. Easy. I set up my tent. Heat up my water for my dehydrated meal. Eat. Then sit in my tent. I brought one book but my mind is racing too much to read. And I don’t want use to up phone battery so I’ve turned it off for the night. It’s 6:45pm. I am up all night again.
I get dropped off a Midway camp. Dump my pack again to make sure I have everything I need for the next 35 miles. My phone is losing charge and there are no outlets at the campsite. My portable charger is already out of charge. I set up my tent get in at 6pm sundown and stay up most of night worrying about the next few days.
It’s not until about 3am that I start slipping into sleep. I’m in an old wooden house with lots of dirty paint brushes that I am trying to clean. They are floating in the air and falling. Oil paint is all over the floor and a man is telling me I need to pay to have everything cleaned up.
I wake up groggy and even more anxious from what just happened in my dream. I pack up camp and head towards Big Cypress National Park. Because my phone has no charge I hang out at the visitor center and watch the video about the park at least 5 times while my phone is plugged in. It’s only me in there. My charger is going slow and I’m worried. The ranger comes in every now and again joking that he’s going to quiz me on the film. He comes into to ask me as a joke “if I’ve heard that there’s going to be a film playing in this room.”
By 1pm I’m ready to go. My goal is to make it to 7 mile camp before sundown. And I do. 9 miles total for the day. Easy. I set up my tent. Heat up my water for my dehydrated meal. Eat. Then sit in my tent. I brought one book but my mind is racing too much to read. And I don’t want use to up phone battery so I’ve turned it off for the night. It’s 6:45pm. I am up all night again.
DAY 2
It’s not til about 3-4am I start to sleep and immediately jump into a REM state. Body jolting. In and out. Vivid dreams. I’m in a theater. And my friend Mandy is there.* She is on the stage. She invites me closer to her. She is naked showing off her body. Spread out & tracing her fingers up and down her legs. I’m into it until I realize it is a spirit using her body. I tell them to get out of her. The figure starts to change shape. Mutating into something non-human. I turn around and Doja Cat is behind me also naked. She jumps on me.
We fuck.
I wake up strangely pleased with what has just happened in my dream state.
I set out. The trail starts to become the swamp. I am walking through mud and the water traveling about 1.5 mph through the cypress domes. I have seen no one on the trail. Apparently it will be the coldest night in Florida in the past 10 years dropping to around 26 degrees.
I walk 15 miles for the day and set up camp. Tomorrow will be mostly walking through calf deep water.
DAY 3
I freeze through the night and again I don’t fall sleep until around 3am. This time I dream of a different friend Natasha*. We are on a date at some sort of huge banquet dinner in a treehouse. It’s whimsical. Like her. Everyone is festive. And not everyone is human. Like otters in suits. Natasha turns into a man and tells me I smell like shit. I excuse myself from the table and see a school bus full of tiny kittens. They want to get out. I open the door and a white peacock flutters out running out to a dirt road that is full of shape shifting animals in tweed attire.
I wake up. Pack up. And start my day. I plan on leaving Big Cypress park today but I have to get through 7 miles of calf deep swamp and it’s thick mud. It’s rough but I’m trudging along very slowly. There aren’t many dry places to rest to get a snack from bag or some water. I have to balance it on a cypress tree to get some snacks out. Eventually I find a dry piece of land to prepare some lunch.
The cypress trees are beautiful and haunting. And I feel empowered going through them alone. I see a copperhead snake in my path but manage to move around it. My adrenaline pumps up a bit more. But I’m mostly feeling tired from sleepless nights. I’m trying to connect with the landscape and thinking about the native tribes, gator handlers, moonshiners & skiffers that have navigated through these lands. But my thoughts are not that deep. I’m just thinking about sex and sleeping well.
I make it out of the National Park. I walk out the gate to highway 75 - alligator alley. Anti-climatic. It’s an empty parking lot and there is a sign the points hikers to a rest area on the other side of the highway. I take my mud covered shoes off and walk barefoot on the asphalt to the rest area. There is a bathroom, some vending machines and outlets to charge my phone. I plug in my phone and get some cheese itz.
A couple hours later another hiker comes through. He started in the Florida Keys. His pack is half the size of mine. His energy is hyped. I can barely understand what he is saying. He is from Virginia. He says the last 15 miles in the swamp were the hardest he has ever hiked in his life. He is tired and plans to set up at camp at the nearest site 1.5 miles away. I stay behind a bit longer because my phone still isn’t fully charged.
I decide to night hike to a camp 5 miles away because I have energy and I’m tired of tossing and turning in my tent for hours.
I’ve completed 12 miles today.
*protect this name..
DAY 4
I think I slept. I can’t remember my dreams. I have a slow morning and make breakfast. I don’t start hiking until 10:30. I enter the Seminole Reservation today. It’s mainly road walking and not much to see. The reservation has stopped allowing hikers to camp there so I have to complete the 22 miles to get to the other side. I’m hurting. Mainly because I haven’t treated my feet each night like I should.
By 4:40 I make it to the Sweet Tooth Cafe thinking that I can get a meal but they just closed the kitchen so I settle for a lemonade and a water. They need me to leave so they can lock up. I walk to the convenience store a couple miles away. They have hot food and some booths. I post up to charge my phone again and eat some chicken tenders. I wash off in bathroom and ice my feet. I don’t want to move. I have another 8 miles til getting off the reservation. It’s 9pm. Fuck.
I ask someone in the parking if I can get a ride. He asks me if I’m a man or a woman. Then says “ah never mind doesn’t matter - get in - just wear a mask”.
His daughter is in the backseat. During the 8 mile drive I learn that he was recently divorced, has 3 daughters and just lost his best friend to drunk driving. One of his daughters is a lesbian so he is cool with people like me he says. He doesn’t understand why he is dropping me off at the levee because it’s where he and his friends go hunting for hogs. They are really aggressive he says. He tells me that I should be very careful.
I appreciate his kindness. Thank him for the ride and begin my walk on the levee road. I had been doing research on this section prior to the hike. I have been dreading it. It’s just a straight shot with bad mosquitos and complete exposure to the sun. But this walk at night is perfect. The temperature cool and pleasant. The stars are bright. And the sounds of marsh are alive. I can relax and take everything in here. Unlike Big Cypress which had me pushing through to get through.
I get to a water pump station where I can set up my tent. It’s so peaceful that I consider cowboy camping - sleeping outside without a tent. But don’t. I want to call my friend who I said I’d call but I also want to have this to myself. I choose to listen to water of the levee and the hum of the marsh.
24 miles today.
DAY 5
I freeze through the night again and wake up late. No dreams. The industrial levee architecture with the marsh is beautiful. I love it. I stretch. Make some breakfast. A hawk or falcon lands nearby.
I’m relaxed until I start walking - my feet are shot. I’m dumb and still haven’t looked at or treated my feet which is hiking 101. Instead I keep pushing through. I tell myself to make it to picnic table on the map. My goal is 18 miles today. But I’m going slower than I was in the mud. I finally reach the picnic table take my shoes off and see my feet are bubbled up with many blisters. Fuck. I air them and out try to think. I don’t actually know how to care for blisters. I Google it and do my best. Drain them, clean them and wrap them. It’s still painful to walk. One looks like a blister under a callous that is getting a bit infected.
A guy drives by - one of the workers on the levee - I wave him down and ask him if he can give me a ride. He can’t he says. Not allowed. They been getting in trouble for it.
I have about 40% left on my phone. I hear some hogs in the marsh. I google to see what is around me. There is a gay retreat center 9 miles away. I call. I ask what the accommodations are and tell him my situation. He says it’s a 2 night minimum and they do have tent sites. I ask if there is any sort of car service. He hears the strain in my voice and tells me he’ll make an exception for me but that he is putting his job on the line. He leaves. I manage to walk to the gate about .4 miles away. He looks at me and says ok I trust you and let’s me into the car.
We get to retreat center and he tells me I can stay in one of the cabins instead of the tent site. He tells me he was a gay teen runaway who was homeless and a user and that he is living with AIDS. He says he had no choice but to help me. He’s sweet.
The retreat center is military themed. There are maybe 15 people staying there he says but I only see 2. The land is big. I am happy to have shelter and a place to properly treat my feet.
I’ve traveled 12.4 miles today.
DAY 6
GAY CAMP.
At this point I quit writng notes in my phone on the trail so this is just from memory.
I wake up and treat my feet again. The retreat center is beautiful and empty. I can’t remember what I did all day but the man who helped me gives me a ride to the town near Lake Ockeechobee - the southern part so I can get back on the trail again. He drops me off and I walk about 5 miles to a campsite to do laundry. Like most campites in Florida it is filled with people who live there full time or at least seasonally. Not campers in a leave no trace way but campers in a fighting society in their RVs in pretty questionable ways. Pahokee. Football players antique store. small towns.