Thursday, May 12, 2016

Adventures Across the Border: Okefenokee Swamp from Kingfisher Landing

In honor of the fact that last Sunday was Mother's Day, this week's post is another one that skips just across the border into our neighboring state where my mother lives. Additionally, while the Okefenokee Swamp is located mainly in southeast Georgia, the southern edges of the swamp spill over the border into north Florida. The swamp is also the location of the headwaters of the Suwannee River, one of the largest - and arguably the most well known - river in the state of Florida. (You know, way down upon the Suwannee River.... There's your earworm for this post!) As such, I feel wholly justified in including it here on Desolation Florida.


The Okefenokee Swamp currently covers roughly 700 square miles (1127km), although it would have once been larger as development near its edges, logging, and attempts to drain it have caused it to shrink in size in the modern era. I learned as a child that okefenokee was a Seminole/Creek word meaning land of the trembling earth. In many ways this makes sense to speakers of English who have ever attempted to walk across or through a swampy area; however, it seems that explanation may actually be a folk etymology loosely based on the Creek words for water (oka) and shaking (fenoke). 

Both the swamp itself and the surrounding areas had once been thick with longleaf pines, slow-growing trees native to the area, which can take up to 150 years to reach maturity. In the 1880s, the swamp was essentially encircled on all sides by railway lines. This enabled loggers an easy way of transporting logs to market, and by the turn of the twentieth century the easily accessible (er, dry) lands bordering the swamp had been denuded of longleaf pine. Once the easy to access longleaf pines surrounding the swamp were gone, timber-profiteers looked for ways to access the cypress trees growing within the swamp. The first attempts were made by the Suwannee Canal Company in the 1890s, which tried first to drain the swamp and later tried to use steamboats to access and remove timber. Both attempts were unsuccessful.

In 1901, the bulk of the swampland itself was purchased by Charles Hebard and his sons, owners of the Hebard Lumber Company, and they approached cypress logging in the Okefenokee in a different way. They constructed a cypress mill on the northern edge of Waycross, GA (in an area which to this day is known as Hebardville), a rail line connecting the swamp to their mill, and a network of rails through the swamp. Rail lines would be constructed in order bring equipment in and lumber out, and would be removed/rerouted once an area of swampland had been logged. Logging continued in the swamp until the late 1920s, when the vast majority of the cypress had been culled. In 1937, the swampland owned by the Hebard Lumber Company was sold to the US Government in order to create what is now the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge.

Loading cypress timber from the Okefenokee Swamp for the Hebard Cypress Company (source)

One of the four public access points to the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge is Kingfisher Landing, little more than a parking lot and a boat ramp located at the end of a dirt road heading west from US 1 from an area known as Racepond, GA. It's a convenient place to put in a canoe, kayak, or shallow-bottomed motor boat, and my mom and I decided to take our kayaks there on Mother's Day. In the woods just west of the parking lot, if you know where to look, you can see the remains of some rail-mounted logging equipment and some rails running westward into the swamp.





While the previous pictures were taken last Sunday, I took this shot of the tracks back in 2006. The tracks are still there, but the area is much more overgrown now, and I was unable to get a photograph on Sunday in which they were clearly visible.

Much of the park is accessible only by canoe or kayak, and there are some lovely canoe/kayak trails. Mom and I put in our kayaks at Kingfisher Landing and did three miles out and three miles back. Oddly enough, this was the first time I'd been to the Okefenokee without seeing a single alligator. Usually they are all over the place, but I didn't spy a single one. Every time I thought I saw one, it just turned out to be a branch or a log, floating in the water. (Usually it's the other way around; you think it's just a branch or a log until it moves!) We saw some birds (although surprisingly not many) and an uncountable quantity of dragonflies. The weather was absolutely glorious and perfect for kayaking... and in true desolation form, there was hardly a soul in sight.


My mom!





More information:

Monday, May 2, 2016

Follow the old, worn, brick road...

Go on. Sing it to the tune of follow the yellow-brick road. You know you want to.

Now that you’ve got the earworm going, you might be wondering what old, worn, brick road it is that you’re singing about. To answer that question, you’ve got to go back in time just a little over a century to around 1914, when residents of what is now Flagler County (at the time it was part of St. Johns County) voted for the creation of a quality highway to connect local communities. As cars had started to become an ever more popular mode of transportation, residents – and tourists – desired better quality roads upon which to travel; sandy and swampy tracks passable by horse simply weren’t going to cut it for the average Model-T.

The county took part in the Dixie Highway Association, a conglomeration of city, state, and private interests (and it was predominantly private) which oversaw the construction of a network of roads ranging from Miami to Montreal. Unlike the highway and interstate systems of today, in which one highway passes hundreds if not thousands of miles in one unbroken stretch, the Dixie Highway was truly more of a ‘network’ of roads, not all of which connected to each other, which were managed by the Association. (From what I have read, it would seem that the goal of the Association was to connect areas with modern roads where none at the time existed. As such, when the Dixie Highway reached a town or area with existing roadway infrastructure, the highway would connect to the existing infrastructure, but the Association would not manage or be involved with that infrastructure in any way. The Dixie Highway would then resume further along once locally maintained roads petered out, if that makes sense.)

Postcard featuring the Dixie Highway in Florida, mid 1920s (source)

Postcard featuring the Dixie Highway in Florida, mid 1920s (source)

Beginning with the Federal Road Act of 1916, the US Government began to become involved in the construction of long-distance highways. Funding and support for predominantly private highway associations such as the Dixie Highway Association began to dissipate as the federal government’s role in highway development and maintenance grew. In Florida, federal highway US 1, which runs from Key West northward through Jacksonville and on into Georgia (and which continues all the way to Maine), was constructed in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Much of US 1 paralleled segments of the Dixie Highway (albeit with some areas being farther from the old route than others), and with the Dixie Highway no longer needed or funded, it fell into disuse and disrepair, and nearly disappeared altogether. I periodically see signs here and there for turnoffs to the Old Dixie Highway when traveling along US 1 in both Florida and Georgia, but no longer is there a ‘Dixie Highway’ linking the towns of the southeast.

Much of the original network of the Dixie Highway had been paved in brick; however, few stretches of the original brick roadways of the Dixie Highway remain. When US 1 was constructed in Florida, it was built out of asphalt. In areas where US 1 followed the same path as the existing brick highway, the bricks were torn out to make way for the pavement. In other areas the bricks of the road were reclaimed for local use, and in others the roads were abandoned or unmaintained, the bricks left to sink into the sand and swamp of Florida. However, small stretches of the Old Dixie Highway in its brick-paved glory remain. A couple of weeks ago, JOM of Gravel Cyclist took me to a particularly fantastic stretch of the Old Dixie Highway, running north from the small town of Espanola approximately 11 miles before ending at its intersection with CR 204 in southern St. Johns County. As always at this point, pictures speak louder than words. Additionally, if you’d like to see a video of the Old Dixie Highway from a cyclist’s perspective, check out this excellent video put together by JOM of Gravel Cyclist.
In some stretches, the bricks were barely visible under the dirt, gravel, and limerock.

In other areas, the brickwork was clearly visible
There was little more than planted pine-forest along this route, all in varying degrees of the plant-grow-harvest cycle. Here the pines to the right had recently been logged.





In this stretch of the Old Dixie Highway, we spotted bricks from two different companies, the Southern Clay Manufacturing Company of Robbins, TN and the Graves Brick Company of Birmingham, AL.

Southern Clay Manufacturing Company Bricks

Graves Bricks

For more information:

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Rice Creek Railroad Trestle

If you’re a fan of Desolation Florida AND a fan of cycling, you should check out Gravel Cyclist – a Florida-based site about riding gravel and dirt roads through many of the beautifully desolate corners of our state, the US, and the world. JOM, the driving force behind Gravel Cyclist, has brought many of the locations featured on this site to our attention – including the location of this post. So click on over to GravelCyclist.com and check him out!

***

In the late 1880s, the Georgia Southern and Florida Railroad constructed a line which began in Macon, GA and ran south, passing through Valdosta, GA as well as Lake City and Lake Butler in Florida before reaching its final destination in Palatka, FL. Over the years the line changed ownership multiple times, initially carrying both freight and passengers, but later dropping to freight only. The line was abandoned in the late 1980s. The state of Florida began working to turn the abandoned rail line into part of the Florida Rails-to-Trails network in 2000, with the trail opening in 2007. Currently, much of the former line between Palatka and Lake Butler has been converted into a paved cycling and hiking trail, although the conversion of the complete stretch to paved trail has not yet been completed. Further plans to extend the trail to St. Augustine to the northeast and Lake City to the northwest are being considered, although as yet nothing is in the works.

As much of the former rail line between Palatka and Lake Butler has been converted to a paved trail, little remains of the actual rail line. Florida Trailblazer has a great post on an abandoned trestle along the line on the border of Bradford and Union counties, as the path of the old rail line approaches Lake Butler which you can check out here. Last week, JOM of GravelCyclist took me to several desolate sites in Putnam County (in which the town of Palatka is located) last week, including an undeveloped portion of the abandoned rail line just to the northwest of Palatka where it crosses Rice Creek on a rickety old trestle. There’s not much one can say about an abandoned and decaying trestle, but as ever, pictures are worth far more than words.






The rails themselves are long since gone, but some rail-spikes remain.

Crossing Rice Creek



Rice Creek

Crossing Rice Creek

Crossing Rice Creek




For more information on the Georgia Southern and Florida Railroad and the Palatka-Lake Butler State Trail, check out the following links:

Lake City to Palatka (abandonedrails.com)
Palatka-Lake Butler State Trail (Florida State Parks)

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Some Structures of Southern Bradford County

Bradford County is a small, rural north Florida county with a population of less than 27,000 county-wide. The county’s borders were defined in 1858, although at the time it was called New River County. In 1861 it was renamed Bradford County after Confederate General Richard Bradford. The few small communities of modern-day Bradford County are quite small: Brooker (pop. 338), Starke (pop. 5,500) and Lawtey (pop. 730), known mainly for being a speed-trap. (Seriously, here's a google image search for Lawtey speed trap!) On the one hand, a small, rural county such as Bradford should be ripe for Desolation Florida posts. On the other hand, much of the desolation revolves around farmland and the state prison, the former not being overly photogenic, and the latter, well, not something one can wander about taking photos of. I did, however, take a few photos of three interesting old structures in southern Bradford County last month. I do not know the history of any of these three properties; if any of you do, please share!

This first amazing old house is set rather a long way back from the road, and the following shots were taken with my zoom lens. (It is part of a property with a modern residence next to it. If I were a normal, social person, I would go ask about the history of this house, but as I am not, I simply stood on the side of the road and took photographs.)



The following house is of a much more recent vintage than the previous one, (decades newer than my own home, even), although it is most definitely abandoned at the moment, and looks to have been that way for some time. I am in love with the large oak tree!



The following empty house is in the tiny community of Brooker, right along the main road. It is plastered with no trespassing signs, so I did not venture off the road/sidewalk. That being said, the owners of the house located next to it (not pictured) do not take kindly to their property being photographed, so if you're in the area, be forewarned.


Friday, April 15, 2016

Mayo, Florida

When I was about ten or eleven years old, a friend of mine invited me to accompany her to 'the festival in Mayo' where her family's church was going to have a booth that year. Even though I had grown up less than 40 miles from Mayo, I'd never heard of the town before that invitation. I don't remember much about the festival; my friend and I spent the day trying on and buying various items of costume jewelry from vendors while her parents fried elephant ears in a food truck. All I noticed about the town was that it was small. I did, however, immediately assume that it was the location of the Mayo Clinic. This says a lot about me as a child that the Mayo Clinic was my first thought, and not mayonnaise! It wasn't until I was in high school that I realized that the town was affiliated with neither.

There's not much to the town of Mayo, Florida. It's the county seat of Lafayette County, and has a population of around 1300. It's located along highway 27, which connects High Springs (where I live) to towns further to the west. I've certainly driven through Mayo quite a few times as an adult, although I've only stopped once - and that was in order to take pictures for this blog. Modern day Mayo consists of a decaying old downtown, paralleling highway 27. While many of the older buildings are home to local businesses, many others sit empty in various states of decay. Finding information online about the history of Mayo is.... challenging, to say the least. Seriously, google it; there's not much out there. (This of course means that if you have Mayo related information, I would love to receive it!) What I've been able to learn about the town boils down to this: Lafayette County was created in 1856, and Mayo was named its county seat in 1893. While I don't know when the town was founded, its oldest surviving building dates to 1883. And that's all I've got. Yeah.

Main Street, Mayo, approx. 1910 (source)


The 'House of the Seven Gables' was inspired by the Nathaniel Hawthorne novel of the same name. It was designed by James Mitchell and built by Mack Koon in the 1880s. This photo was taken in the 1960s. (source)

I do, of course, have some modern day photographs for you as well:


The House of the Seven Gables today, sans porch.


Original Lafayette County Courthouse, built in 1893
Currently a B&B and apartments.


Current Lafayette County Courthouse, built in 1908


Unidentified building


This building was most recently the Precious Memories Flower Shop


Center: Mayo Fire Department
Right: Former Dees Drug Store

Doorway: Dees Drug Store 1916


Unidentified building