At 0.4 mile, you come to the first of many long boardwalks on this trail. Most have slip control built in—a fine mesh of hardware cloth provides traction. Over the next 0.25-mile, a series of boardwalks keep you out of the dark, mucky soil as they bridge together tiny islands in the floodplain. Look for the slender orange fingers of coral fungi, and the many ferns, including royal fern, netted chain, and spleenworts, which swarm across the forest floor. This humid environment encourages riotous growth. Tawny milkcap and violet cort mushrooms rise from the muck. Wild pine and other bromeliads grow in the trees. Shoelace fern drips down the trunk of a tall cabbage palm. Sunlight streams through a cluster of opaque goldfoot fern. Wherever the trail leaves the boardwalk for dry land, the reflective leaves of shiny lyonia dominate the understory.
Leaving the boardwalks behind, the trail rises in elevation slightly, offering views down towards a hydric hammock closer to the river. Cabbage palms and live oaks reach for the sky. The dark earth is damp underfoot. After a mile, you cross a bridge over a small tributary flowing down toward the hidden St. Francis Dead River. As the forest canopy gets higher, it’s possible to see the open sky over the river—but only in winter. This is a dense forest, shady and humid, the tree trunks covered with deep, furry coats of sphagnum moss. After you pass a curve in a stream, the water transparent to a sandy bottom but tea-stained with the tannic residue of hickory and oak leaves, you cross another boardwalk.
A prominent trail sign marks the first junction at 1.1 miles. The shorter Yellow Loop leading to Rattlesnake Well turns left. You’ll come back that way on the return route. Continue straight ahead along the white blazes of the St. Francis Trail, crossing a bridge over the spring run that flows out of Rattlesnake Well. A grove of southern magnolia and its smaller cousin, the bay magnolia, surrounds the trail, reflecting sunlight off large glossy leaves. The trail rises, the footpath needle-strewn under slash pines. You reach the next trail junction at 1.4 miles, where the sign says ST. FRANCIS 2 MI. Continue straight ahead. Check out the tall pine right behind the sign—an unusual double-trunked slash pine, rising more than 100 feet over the forest floor.
The footpath turns down a corridor of saw palmetto under large live oaks, then drops into a hydric hammock of tall cabbage palms. As it rises again, it skirts the edge of a pine forest, continuing under a low canopy of oaks. As the trail jogs right, it enters a narrow corridor between saw palmettos, re-entering the hydric hammock. You cross a bridge over a murky side stream and walk along dark, rich earth, where hopping over and around puddles is part of the fun of this hike. Veering left, the trail returns to the oak hammock, within sight of a forest of slash pine. Before this land became a national forest, citrus groves and vegetable fields once blossomed where most of these younger pine forests stand. As you wander through the pines, notice the slender stalks of native bamboo growing along the trail.
The trail crosses a sand road in a deep ditch, then clambers up a bluff onto a levee. Built to allow farmers to flood the fields to grow rice, this levee now provides high ground for the trail. Cross a high pole bridge at 2.4 miles, where guy wires help you maintain your balance. Beyond it, the trail continues almost straight as an arrow under the oaks and palms. A water-filled ditch parallels the levee.
At the next double blaze, take the trail to the right. It’s an old railroad tramway that leads to the St. Francis Dead River. When the virgin pines and cypresses in these woods were logged, logging companies built these slightly elevated grades to allow their railcars—first pulled by mules or oxen, then powered by steam—to reach the inner depths of the forest. This side channel of the St. Johns River is quite beautiful, and the dead-end of the tramway at the river affords views both upstream and downstream. Return to the trail junction and continue straight ahead. You’ve hiked 3 miles. The tramway leads right to a guardrail and an established forest road; the white blazes guide you to the right just before you meet it. Continue through a dense understory of bluestem palmetto in the palm and oak hammock, skirting more big puddles in the footpath as you walk past several live oaks.
Pole bridge along the St. Francis Trail
Near one large live oak, you hear the splash of water. An artesian well is piped out of the ground, where it flows into a washtub and overflows into the hammock, encouraging the growth of lizard-tail and water spangles. It has a hint of sulfur but provides a water source for backpackers. If it’s not damp, the clearing under the live oak is suitable for setting up camp.
At a T intersection with a graded forest road at 3.6 miles, the double-blaze directs you left. Turn right instead. This is the wagon road that once connected Paisley to the St. Johns River, and it’s the main street of the ghost town of St. Francis. There are no foundations left, no ruins to explore—the buildings, constructed of cypress boards, were recycled for their prize lumber, the remainders plundered by vandals. Imagine the old hotel over there in the opening between the trees, and the livery stable close to the road. A wagon stops at the general store to deliver dry goods. The post office opened in March 1888. Homes and cottages were scattered along the road and throughout the woods.
The road ends at the St. Johns River. If you follow the narrow path at the end of the road, it leads to a point where you can see one piling of the old steamboat dock jutting out of the river. Steamboats would arrive here from Palatka with supplies and head back loaded with fresh fruit and vegetables. In 1886, the new railroad line from Jacksonville opened, coming down the opposite side of the river, missing St. Francis entirely. When Deland, Orange City, Enterprise, and Sanford started shipping their fruits and vegetables by rail, steamboat traffic ended. St. Francis was doomed. By 1894, deep freezes damaged the citrus groves. A hurricane in the 1920s dealt the final blow. Most of the town suffered considerable damage from flooding.
The last resident of St. Francis left the woods in the 1940s. The land became part of the Ocala National Forest, so you may encounter the hunters and fishermen that use this road to access the river. Walk up the road, passing the incoming trail blazes. This is the southern boundary of the Alexander Springs Wilderness Area, an unbroken forest stretching more than 20 miles to the north. You pass one clearing that might make a suitable campsite, but keep in mind that vehicles drive back here after dark.
At 4.1 miles, a HIKING ONLY marker and a TRAILHEAD 4 MILES sign indicates where the St. Francis Trail leaves the historic road and returns to the woods through a cabbage palm hammock. The landscape yields to tall, straight rows of slash pines, planted many decades ago to reclaim the land from groves and farms. Pine needles form a soft blanket underfoot. Blueberries and cinnamon ferns flourish in the acidic soil, as do scattered loblolly bay trees. Crossing a plank over a murky waterway, the trail meanders into a more open expanse of pine flatwoods, where saw palmettos form a solid understory beneath the pond pines. These flourish throughout the St. Johns River basin. Crooked growth and needles sprouting from the trunks are the telltale features of the pond pine.
Where the St. Francis wharf once stood along the St. Johns River
Once you cross an old track, the saw palmetto yields to dense thickets of gallberry as the habitat transitions to scrubby flatwoods. You’ll cross several more old tracks before paralleling a bayhead, where plank boardwalks keep you off the soggy ground where water is draining away from the swamp. With a slight change in elevation, the habitat becomes scrub. At 5.3 miles, the trail jogs left to join another logging tramway. A murky duckweed-choked ditch parallels, and thick sphagnum moss carpets the edge of the trail. Ducking under low branches, you must jump over several damp spots. At 5.9 miles, turn left off the tramway as the trail leads you through the pine forest. It crosses several boardwalks through a bayhead.
Pine flatwoods dense with pond pines
After 6.3 miles, a familiar sign is at a different location: YELLOW LOOP. You’ve walked the long loop of the St. Francis Trail, and now it’s time to finish the short one. A bench sits at the junction. Bear right at the fork to follow the yellow-blazed trail t
owards Rattlesnake Well. Cross a long boardwalk through a low area. You’re back in the lush floodplain of the St. Johns River, ducking beneath low-hanging palm fronds and hopscotching around puddles in the footpath.
After a transition into a drier oak hammock, the trail goes down a slope to cross a bridge over a steeply eroded channel. The trail turns left to follow this small creek under a stand of southern magnolia. It crosses several bridges beneath the oaks and palms before it reaches another sharp left turn at the main point of interest on this loop, the spring known as Rattlesnake Well. It bubbles out of the bottom of a small stream, a swirling hole with yellow streamers. A faint aroma of sulfur, like the tips of matches, wafts across the water. After crossing the bridge over the spring run, walk a little closer to the spring on the other side.
As you leave the spring, the trail passes a cleared area under the palms, an ideal place for primitive camping with a group. Continuing beneath the live oak and cabbage palm canopy, the Yellow Loop is a showy corridor between the bluestem palmettos. You reach the end of the loop at 6.8 miles at a familiar T intersection. Turn right to retrace the trail you came in on. Winding through the oak and palm hammock, you start the 0.25-mile series of boardwalks again through the floodplain forest, finishing the last one after 7.5 miles. After one last bridge, notice the size of the pines in this part of the forest. You emerge at the trailhead kiosk and parking area, completing a 7.9-mile hike.
OTHER HIKING OPTIONS
1. Yellow Loop. This is the shorter option from the same trailhead. Follow the hike as described above, but pass the first sign for the Yellow Loop at 1.1 miles. Take a left at the next sign at 1.4 miles. It quickly leads you up to a trail junction with a bench. Turn right to follow the YELLOW LOOP sign here (and the last few paragraphs of the narrative above) for a 3-mile hike from the St. Francis trailhead.
2. Hontoon Island (28.9765, -81.3570). The Indian Mound Trail (28.974316,-81.357561) at Hontoon Island State Park, upriver from St. Francis (the St. Johns flows north) and 5.8 miles away by road, provides an immersion in similar floodplain and upland habitats, with the hike terminating at a midden. It’s a 3.3-mile round-trip hike, requiring a free ferryboat from the parking area to access the island.
CAMPING AND LODGING
Deland/St. Johns River KOA, 2999 SR 44 W Deland, FL 32720 (386-736-6601, koa.com)
Highland Park Fish Camp, 2640 W Highland Park Road, Deland, FL 32720 (386-734-2334, highlandparkfishcamp.com)
Deland Artisan Inn, 215 S Woodland Boulevard, Deland, FL 32720 (386-943-4410, artisandowntown.com)
Black Bear Wilderness Area
Total distance: 7.1-mile loop
Hiking time: 3.5–4.5 hours
Difficulty: Moderate to difficult
Usage: Free. Open dawn to dusk. Backpacking with free permit. Leashed pets welcome.
Trailhead GPS Coordinates: 28.833009, -81.353865
Contact Information: Black Bear Wilderness Area, 5298 Michigan Avenue, Sanford, FL 32771 (407-349-0769, seminolecountyfl.gov)
In a most improbable location—a low-lying floodplain forest along a series of languid bends in the St. Johns River, just south of the Wekiva River floodplain—the 1,800-acre Black Bear Wilderness Area offers an extraordinarily wild 7.1-mile loop hike right on the edge of the Orlando metro. When we lived in Sanford and this trail opened, we said, “How?” It seems that in the past, a series of levees had been built along the floodplain for drainage for farming. Add in an major investment in infrastructure—14 sturdy, flood-resistant boardwalks—and the Seminole County Natural Lands Program created what has become one of the most popular hikes in the region.
While it’s an easy walk to the river on the most direct route, taking on the full loop is not for the timid. There is no bailout option other than retracing your steps. Wildlife is abundant, and that includes black bears. We’ve seen four here already. This is by no means a walk in the park: some of the levees are very narrow and sloped, others are rooty or mucky. Bring a hiking stick or two with you—you’ll need it for balance. Insect repellent is a must since most of the hike is in deep shade. Most importantly, check on river levels before you take on this hike. Parts of it sit very low and will be inundated if the river rises. If you plan to camp here, call 407-665-2180 in advance to obtain your free permit.
GETTING THERE
From I-4 exit 101C at Sanford, take FL 46 west for 1.5 miles to Orange Boulevard. Turn right. Continue 1.3 miles to New York St on your left. Turn left. Drive 0.5 mile to where New York Street and Michigan Avenue meet. The trailhead is straight ahead of you.
Mama bear and cubs at the entrance to Black Bear Wilderness
THE HIKE
Sign in at the trailhead kiosk and grab a map brochure or take a photo of the map. While it’s impossible to lose the route along your hike, being able to pinpoint your location by boardwalk number is helpful for gauging your pace. Mile markers also provide a sense of your progress around the loop. Follow the gravel path beneath enormous live oaks. You quickly reach Boardwalk 1, meandering as it leads you into an oak and palm hammock characteristic of the St. Johns River floodplain. If you are committed to hiking the full loop, keep left when you reach the Y intersection in the boardwalk at the Loop Trail sign. Although following the loop clockwise means you’re counting down the numbers on both the boardwalks and mileage markers, it’s the best way to end your hike with the best views and a cool breeze at your back.
When the boardwalk ends, it drops you onto the first levee. Lined with cabbage palms, some of which grow right out of the middle of the berm, it offers views into the floodplain and across a paralleling canal before the palm fronds swallow you up. Welcome to Florida’s jungle habitat. You pass a double-trunked pine. As more pines rise from the levee, the footpath becomes carpeted in pine needles. Crossing a bridge over a dark floodplain channel after 0.6 mile, you see a mile marker sign. These signs are on all Seminole County Natural Lands, with latitude and longitude coordinates to share in case of an emergency. Along this loop, they pop up every 0.5 mile.
This levee is more narrow and sloped than the last and requires dropping down through a drainage area, hopefully dry. Cabbage palms and bluestem palmetto are thick throughout the understory. It’s a surprise when you see someone’s backyard as you walk up to Boardwalk 14, which crosses a flowing stream. It’s the first and final time you’ll be near a subdivision on this hike. The trail now follows a forest road, and it’s here, near the human interface, that bear sightings are most likely. You’ll make your best time along the hike while following this old road, which is still deeply shaded. Peer into the leaf litter, and you might notice jelly-leaf, as the perpetual humidity here is perfect for fungi growth. Very old barbed wire adjoins the forest road, blocking access to the canal.
Narrow footpath down the narrow levee as you approach the river floodplains
Just past a lichen-dotted and fading NO TRESPASSING sign, the trail breaks into the open at 1.2 miles and crosses a gated access road topped with power lines, used by the water authority to access a riverfront facility you’ll encounter closer to the end of the hike. From the looks of the floodgates and walls on the other side of the canal in this next stretch of forest, the water facilities are much older than the Natural Lands Program in Seminole County. The trail continues along the broad forest road, with more sun dappling through the oaks and pines until you reach a bench at 2 miles. The road ends at a grassy clearing. Look for the well-hidden opening onto the next levee, back into the palm hammock.
Here’s where the hike gets interesting. Trees crowd the narrow levee. Palm fronds obscure the view ahead. When we stopped for a photo, we stirred up a wasp nest in the footpath. The forest around you is young, speaking to more recent land uses here, but older trees cling to the levee, with massive roots you must pick your way across. Then the footpath starts slipping sideways. Since it’s so narrow, you must watch your step or end up sliding off into the swamp. The horizon opens into a marsh. It’s filled with the nodding pink blossoms
of largeflower hibiscus in late summer and early fall. You’ve reached the zone between floodplains, the Wekiva River winding its way into the St. Johns to the north. The footpath cants even more, sometimes at a 45-degree angle.
When the levee goes around a slippery curve just past Boardwalk 13, you’ve reached the St. Johns River, 3.2 miles into your hike. For the next few miles, the trail stays next to the river and its marshes, which is why this is one of the most scenic hikes in the region. The sun sparkles on open water, with marshes to the right. The footpath is still at a challenging angle, and it drops to river level as it approaches Boardwalk 12, leading to a tunnel of vegetation. The primitive campsite is at 4 miles. It’s a clearing in a level area under cabbage palms and live oaks, with a rain shelter with benches, picnic tables, and a fire ring. Carry enough drinking water in with you, and carry out your trash. We strongly encourage you to bear bag or use a bear canister to protect your food.
50 Hikes in Central Florida Page 14