S’quatch and I knocked out 30 miles of Santosian singletrack on Saturday after confronting the reality that every single campground for 50 miles had been booked for months. Without too much struggle, we abandoned the area in favor of finding cold water before dark.
We settled in at Blue Springs, and it was every bit the refugee camp I expected it to be, but it was also kind of nice. No campers right on top of us, and an apparent lawless attitude towards safety. There are four springs on the property and they are accessible all night long. We were swimming at midnight, egged on by an ever-present gang of zit-faced adolescents.
Although S’quatch wanted to resettle at Blue Springs and live out his years, I was over it by lunchtime on Sunday and with a combination of standard deadeye and persistent sighing I had us on the move again by 1:00 P:M.
We picked off Troy Springs, which is a popular scuba diving spot, and then I found Telford Springs (pictured above). The scene at this place was Florida underbelly all the way. Here is a list of things I expected to see: A teenager having a baby, a head injury, someone falling out of a tree, a Mexican being attacked, a Mexican attacking someone else, crystal methamphetamine, a truck buried to its axles, pork rinds.
Look at that swimming hole though, beautiful don’t you think?
So what did you get into?
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