Highlands Hammock State Park

In our quest to visit as many Florida's state parks as possible, Tim and I, along with our friends Doug and Chris, spent a Saturday in Highlands Hammock State Park.

Created in part by a sizable donation from Margaret Shippen Roebling, the park opened in 1931 four years before the Florida state park system was founded.  Just as an aside, Margaret was the wife of John Augustus Roebling II whose grandfather John Augustus Roebling and father Washington Augustus Roebling built the Brooklyn Bridge, the iconic bridge that links New York City to Brooklyn.

In the park, we found another bridge not quite so tall but with an interesting history told by the park's small museum devoted to the Civilian Conservation Corps.  The CCC, as it was known, took over the park's works in 1933, constructing bridges as well as dams to control the water levels.

Exhibits told the story of the hundreds of young men who answered President Franklin Delano Roosevelt's call to work for the good of the country.  "Through you the nation will graduate a fine group of strong young men...willing and proud to work for the joy of working."

Walter Matthau (left) and Robert Mitchum (right)

Interestingly enough, among the men who joined the Corp in their youth later became famous celebrities Walter Matthau, Robert Mitchum and Raymond Burr.

Alvin C. York (left upper corner) and Raymond Burr (right)

The World War I hero, Alvin C. York whose feat of singlehandedly capturing 132 German prisoners vividly portrayed by Gary Cooper in the movie Sargent York, served as a CCC superintendant in Crossville, Tennessee.

But nature beckoned so we quit the museum and headed to the park's hiking trails for an up close and personal view of the hammock, a term unfamiliar to me in this context.

A hammock is defined as a forest whose large trees filter out much of the sunlight, making the inside of the forest dark, shady and cool.

We investigated the bark of the slash pine trees

and sat on knobby trunk of a bald cypress tree.

Reaching high I tried to compare my height with the span of the roots of a toppled tree.

Then I bent low to view these tiny purple blossoms nestled among the abundant ferns.

We stayed a respectful distance away from this alligator who was basking in the sun.  He brought to mind this anonymous poem as he made me want to run.

Alligators Are Unfriendly
Alligators are unfriendly,
they are easily upset.
I suspect that I would never
care to have one for a pet.
Oh, I know they do not bellow,
and I think they do not shed,
but I'd probably be nervous
if I had one in my bed. 

Alligators are not clever,
they are something of a bore.
they can't heel or catch a Frisbee,
they don't greet you at the door,
for their courtesy is lacking,
and their tempers are not sweet,
they won't even fetch your slippers
...though they just might eat your feet.

See you later, alligator!

Helping Hurricane Irma's Victims

Sebring, FL was particularly hard hit by the effects of Hurricane Irma last September.  Gathering strength as the storm swirled across the Caribbean, its winds clocked near 185 mph, the storm's heavy rains and high winds blew debris, toppled trees and wrecked havoc with power lines leaving 98 percent of the Highlands County without electricity for a week or more.  Governor Rick Scott declared Sebring the second hardest hit in the state.  Five months later blue tarps still cover roofs where the storm ripped shingles off.

That was the situation when Tim and I arrived on Feb. 11, 2018 to join a Habitat for Humanity disaster recovery team.

Tim

Although we weren't directly involved in contacting affected residents and assessing their needs, Tim and I worked to finish a pair of homes by the end of February for two families displaced by the storm.

The Powells

The Powells with their baby and toddler have been living in a motel since their house was destroyed.  The other family of six is also eagerly awaiting their move-in date.

Mike and Cory

To meet that deadline, our zany site manager Mike and his cool assistant Cory ordered our tasks.

Rick

We set up ladders,

Linda

painted,

Doug

laid flooring

Tim and I

which even Tim and I learned to do,

Fran

painted,

Sandy

set tile,

Tom

painted,

Dave

installed baseboard

Leon

and frames around the doors,

Nanci

painted,

Paula

caulked seams,

Chris

painted,

Bucky

hung doors inside, outside and

over the garage entrance,

Diane

painted,

and poured concrete driveways and sidewalks in the final stages of construction.

Oh, and did I mention?  We painted.

Ed

We also took well-deserved breaks as needed.

Along the way to our deadline, we forged friendships with members of our team and did our best to ensure that this cute little guy has a safe and secure home.

The Sponge Docks of Tarpon Springs

The city of Tarpon Springs, FL where Tim and I have camped these last two weeks has the highest percentage of Greek Americans of any city in the United States.

Many of these immigrants were drawn here in the 1905, recruited by John Cocrois to work in the sponge industry.

In fact, the Sponges Docks, situated near the point where the Anclote River empties into the Gulf of Mexico, are still a place where one can watch the sponge boats return to harbor at the end of the day.  Greek restaurants, established to feed hungry crews, now cater to curious tourists eager to sample dolmades (grapevine leaves stuffed with rice and vegetables; meat is often included), spanakopita (a spinach and feta cheese pie stuffed between top and bottom layers of phyllo), or moussaka (a casserole featuring eggplant and other vegetables layered with meat sauce and topped with custard).  I chose the spanakopita for my lunch while Tim, never a gastronome, settled for gyros.

For dessert, neither of us could say no to a serving of baklava, a pastry created from layers of flaky phyllo with rivers of crushed nuts (walnuts, pistachios or pecans) and honey oozing out the sides.  Delicious!

Stuffed just like dolmades, we wandering in and out of tourist shops stocked with sponges, curios and Greek foods until we came to the visitors center.  There a knowledgeable docent related some of the history of Tarpon Springs.

St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Church
Tarpon Springs, FL

St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Cathedral is a historic church building and the center of Greek-American life in Tarpon Springs.  Its gold-gilded sanctuary is a sight to see, but even more mesmerizing is the story of its weeping St. Nicholas icon which I've quoted from the church's web site here.

"Beginning December 5, 1970, observers noticed the image was weeping watery tears, but no one can explain why this phenomenon occurred.  Finally, when Archbishop Iakovos arrived from New York City, he examined the icon and instructed the local priest to have qualified professionals study it and state their findings so that "belief may be strengthened or disbelief established."  None could explain it.  The icon continued to weep during the Christmas season for three more years.  December 8, 1973 was the last time the weeping was seen."

The church hosts an annual epiphany celebration on January 6 in which Greek Orthodox boys aged 16 to 18 dive into Spring Bayou to retrieve a cross, using the same free-diving techniques their Greek forefathers brought to America.

Before the Greek immigrants arrived at Tarpon Springs in the early 1900s, black and white fishermen from Key West and the Bahamas wielded hooks to harvest sponges from the Gulf of Mexico.  The Greeks, however, were accustomed to diving for the sedentary aquatic invertebrates with the soft porous bodies.  According to Wikipedia, Greek seamen "went out into the Mediterranean Sea in a small boat and used a cylindrical object with a glass bottom to search the sea floor for sponges.  When one was found, a diver went overboard to get it.  Free diving, he was usually naked and carried a 15 kilograms (33 lb) skandalopetra, a rounded stone tied on a rope to the boat, to take him down to the bottom quickly.  The diver then cut the sponge loose from the bottom and put a special net around it.  Depth and bottom time depended on the diver's lung capacity.  They often went down about 30 meters (100 ft) for up to 5 minutes."

I would love to see that.  Indeed, there are chartered boats today that will take you out to the Gulf to watch the divers (nowadays no longer naked) work.  But we settled instead into our beach chairs back at the campground where we had a ringside seat for watching the boats, trailed by opportunistic pelicans, return to the docks.