Kissimmee Prairie Preserve, Vivid and Vibrant Earth

When I first approached Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park, I thought I would never arrive. There are miles of dirt road and acres of prairie out there. But the colors! I was in awe. The burned prairie was as stunning as the green grasses, and there were a million colors all intertwined without pause. The blue sky touched down to vibrant greens, yellows, browns, rust, and new tones of earth. I started to worry that I would run out of gas in the middle of this foreign grass country. There is almost nothing but prairie visible anywhere. Maybe a mailbox indicating some rural settlement, an odd sign, then a unexpected radio station grows out of the grassland. But the majority of the scene is prairie. Not grass or dirt or flowers, but a mix of it all- a symbiotic whirlwind of life.

I suddenly saw an amazing bird, which I later found out was a crested caracara, a falcon with colors and styled from an Alice in Wonderland scene. They sat on many of the transformer boxes, some of the only markers of humanity in this vast expanse. The wind buzzed along with grasshoppers and butterflies and smaller birds. Eventually there was a dirt parking lot with a sign and flags that proved I was getting somewhere. And then more miles of dirt road.

As I pulled into the campground, I was even further in love. There is a shady hammock of palm and live oaks, lovingly adorned with moss and ferns. I parked under one of the wise oaks and sighed happily. This would be my home for only ten days, but it would become one of my favorite camping trips.

Crows and hawks visited every morning. I viewed the sunrise from the window over my bed every day at dawn, and watched rabbits graze and deer wander by, sometimes in an ethereal mist with fawns. It was a dream.

My Biking Efforts

The first day I tried mountain biking was more work than fun. The bikes aren't that well maintained, which is forgivable of course because they are not expensive and they are used in a sandy and wet environment by a number of people. I had a good ride, but the bike was too small to start and the seat kept sinking down so that I was riding with my knees to my chin. This is hard enough, but through sugar sand and over rugged rooted paths? Next to impossible. Not to mention the 95 degree heat and hog rooting holes throughout. Still, I am persistent if nothing else, and I made it over 6 miles, trying to go out on the Military Trail further, but eventually bagging it and taking the Prairie Loop.

The loop is a perfect mix of sand, prairie and hammock for any hiking or biking and I would recommend it as the first choice if you can only do one. I had actually hiked it in the previous days and knew how much relief I'd feel when I reached the solitary picnic table in the primitive camping area.

The next day, persistent as always, I traded for a slightly larger bike and a steady seat. The riding was easier and I kept it to the packed trails on Peavine Road and more solid pasture trail at first. Even though the bike was clacking and in need of service, oiling and probably an overall tuneup, I went over to the Audubon Trail, which is flooded much of the season (and it had rained that week). The whole day was amazing though and I really had some treats.

On the pasture run, I saw a gator in typical cartoon stance- just the eyes, back and tail out of the water. There were turkey vultures very close to me and so many animal tracks. At a minimum, I saw opossum, raccoon, bobcat, coyote, turkey, gator, deer, and hog tracks. I'm still an amateur tracker, but I'd read a lot so that I could identify what to be aware of. I found feral hog hair, bird bones, and shed gator skin- thinking at first it was pieces of old thick plastic, but finding it to have scales, amazing.

On the main dirt road, I suddenly came to the crested caracaras. I stopped, stunned. There were two on a transformer, just 15 feet away or so. Then a juvenile came screeching over and sat with them, calling into their faces. Immediately, one parent jumped down to look for something to quiet their young, but it took its time walking around in the tall grass. Meanwhile, the baby kept screeching at the other parent. I heard more sounds in the grass and saw one or two other young and at least one more adult, barely visible. I stood for a very long time taking pictures at that spot.

Along the Audubon, I rode slowly, so slowly, through washouts and along the burned sides. It was arduous, but I wanted to keep going and going. There were hundreds of grasshoppers, all different sizes and styles; butterflies galore; turkey and bobwhite grouse wandering and calling. I saw herons flying stark white against the dazzling colors. The reflection of the sky in the still water on the trail was mesmerizing. It was a marvelous trek and the exhaustion and filth was well worth it. Finally, I had to turn around or I would not be able to pedal back through all of the flooded mud.

That night, I cooked on the fire and glowed inside with the results of my efforts. I had only glimpsed the splendor of this place, but it lit me up.

I made this brief video of my nature adventure by mountain bike.

Much More Than a Walk

After a day of rest, which was greatly needed, I decided to take my longest trek. I did an 11 mile loop down through empty prairie in at least 94 degree heat, through much of the day. This trip expanded my new appreciation for grassland. I had overlooked its allure in the past, usually imagining mountains or rivers, beaches or forests, but the prairie is a spectacle to behold.

I couldn't stop listening. The sounds are unparalleled. There are buzzings and bird calls, ticking, frog sounds, gator croaks, wind rustles, hawk screeches, cicadas, and crickets. It is a literal cacophony of silence and nature. Never has the quiet been so loud. I kept drinking it in, waiting for the next lesson, as it was all new to me and instructional. Not a single human voice or a car motor. Heaven.

The variety of flowers, even in late July, which is not the peak in this environment, was dazzling. I had three different cameras going and spent as much time taking photos and videos as I did walking.

At the rest point, a little cardinal, molty from later summer parasites, starting chirping and tweeting at me in a most unusual way. I've never heard cardinals make so many singing sounds.

For hours I steadily plodded through sand and mud, tall grasses and flowers. I struggled through the heat and the hog holes and watched the activity and listened... and I never saw another soul. The experience just reinforced that this is what I want- nature and exertion and solitude (not all the time, but plenty of it to reflect). To simply be.

All Alone, Happily

On my last full day, everyone left. The host was gone. All of the overnight tenters were gone. The pop-up people beside me were gone. I was relieved. In fact, the pop-up people had used lights every night, which disrupted the dark skies view. And, while I knew that was their right as this wasn't the astronomy loop, I resented their talk and their glowing. I wanted solitude and darkness. And I got it for one night and day. It was glorious. I found extra firewood and watched the deer and the turkey. I listened to the crows sorting through the deserted sites, judging each one as productive or not and telling each other about the best morsels they found. I finished a wonderful book and reveled in the silence.

Skies of Pleasure and Warning

The sunrise every morning was different. Sometimes through a water droplet covered window, sometimes in a mist. There were the usual yellow and orange tones, but also pinks and grays and shades of purple. Sometimes it shone like a flashlight, and others it glowed like a firefly.

At night, the darkness was so completely that on my first night I felt like a child afraid of the dark. I stepped out, just a few feet from the camper, and realized I was out of my element. Next time, a flashlight (a red light please, so that you don't disturb the pure blackness). It was velvet and satin and clear and strong night. The stars had multiplied and shone the way to the Milky Way, a rare sight in civilization. It was pure poetry. I actually understood constellations for the first time. I could continually see Scorpio with its red heart and big claws. I saw several meteors from the Delta Aquariids shower and appreciatively watched the planets rise and set. Fortunately, it was a New Moon and I could see more stars and planets than anything else until the last night. The crescent moon was naturally gorgeous, but less of a revelation to me than the blanket of darkness.

Several evenings and one afternoon, we were treated to real storms. The first was quite educational. I learned that I might need to flee the camper in certain conditions, but that I had no tow vehicle and where would I go with Charlie? I found myself reconnected with pure primal fear. Not violent fear, but the awareness that something of nature could actually get me here. One evening, the clouds blew in a sharp line of the most beautiful gray and low, so low. The storms were impressive and awe inspiring. One night, more lightning than I've ever seen at one time lit the sky purple every twenty or so seconds for a couple of hours. I felt very lucky that this storm was not centered over us. The constant thunder delay let me know we were a safe mile or two away, but the light show was a display of power. I lay in bed taking video of the lightning strikes and listening to the tattering rain.

I couldn't get enough of the displays of nature at Kissimmee Prairie. There is no question that I will return to this fantastic place and I hope to visit in different seasons so that I can appreciate new facets of the place. I look forward to longer hikes in different areas and to getting past the gator gauntlet near the astronomy pad (which will require a drier season to avoid the danger).

As a first trip in my Harold, I couldn't have asked for better. I have been reinspired and reinvigorated. The only problem now is that I can't stand to be home in a house. I am just waiting and biding my time until I get out again and continue to pursue the freedom of movement that I have been craving.

#KissimmeePrairiePreserve #SoloTraveler #RVlife