Day 52- Ochlockonee State Park

 Rain delay this morning so it’s been hurry up to get breakfast out at 0dark 30 just to sit and wait for it to clear. Precious little sleep last night and I wish we could just get going but we’re expecting a downpour.

That downpour never came and we headed out around 930 for our short 30 mile route. It was warm, almost 70, so the light rain that occasionally spit at us didn’t bother me. Under sunny conditions this ride would have been stunning, but even so seeing the water 10 feet away was pretty good.

I stopped to take a look at the Crooked River Lighthouse. It’s been in its spot since sometime in the 1800s, but had to be rebuilt every time a hurricane blew through. In 1895 they decided to go with an open skeleton structure around what looks like a thin silo. It hasn’t had a problem since.

The docent from the lighthouse museum came over to speak with me, saying she had several riders in today. She offered the use of the facilities inside the museum even though it was closed, and I took full advantage as I knew I’d prefer those to the Porta potty outside. She made a point to show me the fresnel lens that is now back in the museum after being sent out for repairs in 1976. Her story was that an admiral commandeered the fresnel lens for his office and passed it onto his successors until it finally was released and sent to Michigan where it was restored. They got it back three years ago. 

We had lunch in Carrabelle and made sure we took a look at the worlds smallest police station located there. Its origin was as a police phone call box that was used illegally by people wanting to make free long distance phone calls. (Just knowing what a long distance phone call is will date you.) Policemen would take calls on it similar to our 911 system and get soaked when it was raining. This caused them some angst. A solution was found when the phone booth next-door at the pharmacy was replaced. The chief of police put the call box inside the new phone booth and the smallest police station in the world was born.

Anyone who’s read this blog knows that I have a favorite place names. And as I rode on to Sopchoppy (which is a new contender for first place), I saw many references to something called Tate’s Hell. It appeared on trail heads and recreation areas and the occasional business. I had to find out where it came from.

The story went like this: Cebe Tate, a farmer, was distressed that a panther was picking off his livestock. One night he decided he’d had enough and headed out to the swamp to take care of business.(Note to self- hard no on both panther hunting and the swamp at night. But I digress). He was not able to find the panther and became hopelessly lost. He stayed out there for a week, drinking murky water and being munched on mercilessly by mosquitoes. When he finally he stumbled out, he was weak and near death. His last words were “ I’m Cebe Tate and I’ve been through hell.” Hence the name. I love local legends.

The sun came out after lunch which made for a very comfortable ride into Ochlocknee River State Park. It’s lovely. It’s very quiet with no artificial noise or lights, and not too many people this late in the year. I took a stroll on the walking trails and was quite amused by the sign by the swimming area. I think it gives the alligators quite an advantage.

Here are some other photos from that walk:

Things I learned today:

• When the day gets stormy, find a way to lessen the resistance. You’re still make forward progress and you won’t wear yourself out. Works in life too.
• Panthers and swamps. Nope.