87 & 88: Florida Prairies & Blowing Rocks

F L O R I D A    

Kissimmee Prairie (87)

Okeechobee, Florida

Vast & Humbling

 

I exit Florida’s Turnpike at Yeehaw Junction and drive into a dense darkness.  I’m a lone traveler on a now-thinner road no longer surrounded by the highway’s luminance.  Suddenly my headlights seem quite feeble.  The feebleness though, is a good sign.  I’m deliberately headed toward the state’s darkest place – Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park (KPPSP).

 

When I arrive, two hours before sunrise, the gate is closed.  An expected obstacle.  The park doesn’t open until 8:00 but surmised that even at its gate the stars would be magnificent.  The early arrival was just the first of three things to have lined up perfectly.  Today is also a new moon, meaning it’s just a sliver of distracting light in the sky, plus there is not a single cloud to be found, awarding ideal stargazing conditions.

 

I hop onto the trunk of my rental car, lean back, and there it is – the Milky Way.  Something unseen in over a decade.   Like staring into the ocean, I fall into a trance gazing humbly outward into an endless sea of twinkles.  As my eyes adjust, the starlight becomes even more pronounced.  In the stillness, a gentle, rhythmic lullaby of crickets is occasionally broken by a coyote howl.  My breathing slows and falls into cadence with the environment.  That some of those twinkles have been travelling at light-speed for millennia is nearly incomprehensible.

 

But falling into a trance is not the main reason I’ve come to Kissimmee Prairie.  It represents the 87^th Nature Conservancy-related property visited in a quest to see one hundred.  In the 1990’s, when this park was forming, much of the flora and fauna were inventoried using Nature Conservancy processes.  Those processes have now morphed into the state’s primary tool for gathering, interpreting, and disseminating information critical to Florida's biological diversity.  Additionally, The Nature Conservancy helps manage the health of this park’s amazing prairie by engaging in prescribed burns, including March of 2021 when the largest such burn in state history was ablaze here. 

 

When the sun rises, the vastness of the open land is as humbling as the stars.  KPPSP is in Florida’s cattle ranch territory – where cracker cowmen and pickups roam.  The ranches here are shockingly large.  It’s easy to imagine cattle ranches in Texas, but they exist in the sunshine state too.  Fenced fields peppered with cows and cabbage palm trees stretch on endlessly… as does this park.  Fifty thousand acres of humbling protected vastness.  The Kissimmee Prairie is where Floridians came come to breathe.

 

Laced atop this park’s expansiveness are one-hundred miles of trails.  Unlike the twinkles which have traveled an incomprehensibly long time, my travel time at KPPSP is limited.  Later today, I’m off to see yet another Nature Conservancy property – number 88.  It’ll require a two-hour drive, much of which will be past those enormous ranches.  With only the morning hours to explore this prairie, I meander a mere four miles of trails.  What’s not mere though is the openness.  Off to the horizon in any direction, nothing but wild prairie dotted with palm-laced hammock islands.

 

 

I set out on the Military Trail heading west – a favored direction of travel.  My shadow leads the way.  The prairie is abuzz with sweet songs of the meadowlark; their bright yellow breasts and desire to sing as the sun rises make them easy to spot.  Back in Virginia, sightings are rare, but here at KPPSP meadowlarks have ganged up. 

 

As the trail narrows, the adrenaline of arriving at this amazing place settles and I slow down.  My senses are now more focused, and I spot a young gator in the remnants of a drying pond.  Though still officially listed as endangered, spotting gators in Florida and other southeastern states has become commonplace.  Even spotted one at the airport between runways when flying in yesterday.  The Endangered Species Act of 1973 has made a difference to this keystone species.

 

 

I next turn onto the Prairie Loop Trail which starts out following the contours of a sizable hammock island.  It weaves between large palms along the edge of a field which I suspect was recently burned; perhaps part of the 2021 record burn.  The groundcover in this area is much younger than other parts of the prairie, and tree trunks are blackened.  

 

On a map, the hammock I’m walking through seems relatively short.  I figured I’d pass through it with ease to where it pokes out the other side at a spot truly highlighting the vastness of the prairie.  But the trail through the hammock is so lovely and chock full of distractions that my pace slows much lower than planned.  I spend way too much time chasing a Pileated Woodpecker.  Every time I get close enough to frame up a picture, he flies off to the next tree.  He’s Lucy and I’m Charlie Brown. 

 

When the trail finally pokes into the openness it’s as amazing as anticipated.  I walk a hundred yards out into the prairie which is now ablaze in magnificent sunshine.  It feels as if I’ve taken the stage.  There’s nowhere for a six-foot man to hide in an expanse of newly sprouted ground cover.  I know instantly the imagery on this stage will burn a deep and long-lasting memory. 

 

Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park in conjunction with the work of The Nature Conservancy have afforded two amazing experiences this morning - gazing up at the vastness of the Milky Way, then later poking out into an unending prairie.  Rare and humbling experiences, especially so in the eastern United States.  An extreme early departure this morning to have captured both have already made this an incredibly memorable day… and its only half done. 

 

 

  

Blowing Rocks Preserve (88)

Hobe Sound, Florida

One Grain at a Time

 

Flying from DC to Orlando yesterday, our flightpath led out over the Atlantic for a bit.  It came back ashore over Daytona where the oval raceway clearly identified the location.  What was also clear from up high was the extensive development of Florida’s shore.  As far as could be seen, high risers poked up from oceanfront drives; their shadows in the late afternoon revealing their height. 

 

Further down the coast, far beyond sight, is the second of two Nature Conservancy (TNC) properties I’ve come to see on this trip.  It’s a place where no high risers exist.  What does exist though is something you don’t expect in Florida – a rocky shoreline. 

 

At Blowing Rocks Preserve on Jupiter Island, a strand of Anastasia limestone pokes above the surface and intersects the crashing waves.  At high tide, those waves pound the limestone and create blowing geysers.  Though this phenomenon occurs in a few other rare spots along Florida’s coast, Blowing Rocks harbors the most iconic intersection.

 

Driving to Blowing Rocks leads through congestion – a lot of stoplights, pedestrians, and rights of way to navigate.  Usually when traveling to TNC preserves, the drive is more pastorale.   Eventually though, I spot the preserve’s sign and the road continuing north up the barrier island leaves all development behind.  The ecological value and protection provided by this property is starkly apparent. 

 

At the parking lot, I nab the last available spot.  People milling about give the air being of here for some beach fun.  And when I emerge out onto the beach, it’s peppered with just that – people enjoying the beach. 

 

A child being buried in sand

A grandparent splashing in the waves with a grandchild.

Twentysomethings tanning in thongs. 

 

Not happenings you expect to see at TNC properties. 

 

 

A little further down the beach though, past the buried kids and sunbathers, the limestone meets the sea.  Seems only the nature-gawkers like me have walked this far down the beach.  As I get closer, sharp limestone edges hidden in the sand poke my bare feet.  Maybe this is what kept the beachgoers away. 

Stepping now more cautiously, I meander atop and below the limestone as the waves move in.  It’s not high tide so the rocks are not blowing, but low tide allows a more textural study of the limestone.  I angle my cameras to crop out distant buildings and other gawkers, concentrating the view on the cool namesake found at this preserve. 

 

It’s a battle ground of water and rock.  How long can this limestone withstand the unrelenting onslaught of waves?  Water always wins in these wars, especially so in an era of rising seas.  Victory comes one grain at a time.  The scale of time in this battle is disorientating to a lowly, tenuous human here for just a brief visit. 

 

 

I return north, past the throngs and thongs, to reach the trail back to the parking lot.  Here though, another trail continues to the other end of the property.  This less popular trail parallels the shore for a half mile under a Seagrape allée.  It’s a beautiful, shaded stroll through a tunnel of diverse subtropical plants unique to the preserve’s coastal ecology.  This property was once overrun by non-native plants, but the Seagrape and other native plants, some grown in an on-site nursery, have returned this habitat into what it was before high risers took over the coast. 

 

When the trail spills out onto the beach, I’m all alone.  No one to be seen in either direction.  It’s just me and a few staked off leatherback sea turtle nests.  This sandier, protected beach here attracts as many as 1,000 sea turtle nests in a season – a clear numeric measure of the importance of Blowing Rocks Preserve. 

 

The solitude suddenly brings a return to that familiar feeling attained at TNC preserves.  Being away from the crowds draws attention to the unique ecological character of a place.  And here at Blowing Rocks, that character is found not just in the spotlighted limestone, but also in its subtleties.  Like the Seagrape covered dune, the richness of other flora, the protected nesting sites, and the barren stretch of beach devoid of high riser shadows.  

 

Frankly, I guess, its character also does include offering beachy experiences like burying a child in the sand.  But maybe that buried girl will someday connect the dots when recalling her experience here.  Perhaps when she’s a grandparent splashing with her grandchild in the waves that are still at war with the limestone, she’ll more fully understand the power of preserved places like TNC’s Blowing Rocks.

DONATE TO TNC HERE.