When it rains hard in Jacksonville, where do you usually find yourself?
A few months ago, I found myself near Bulls Bay Preserve, a small park that features hiking & biking trails and is most famously known for a waterfall on one of the trails. (Duval’s only waterfall)
On the way to the park, a large storm filled the sky. “Maybe I should just go home,” I thought. But I was so close; I thought I should drive to it anyways. So I did.
Inside my parked car, I could see the trailhead entry point. Slender trees and brush swayed to the storm’s momentum. Wiper-blades blazing from my car and a few cars next to mine, I got the idea that they, too, must have hoped the rain would stop. But unfortunately, the rain wasn’t taking any favors that day.
Sitting in my car, I wondered what to do next. “Should I drive home? Or should I grab my umbrella and hike the trail in the storm?”
A few seconds later, I grabbed my umbrella and headed into the dripping forest of swishing green.
Two steps in, I realized I had made the right choice. Instantly I was taken away from the ordinary world and into a dream-like forest scene. Because of the thick tree canopy and grey skies, the setting was dim with a blue haze. I could see deep colors of green dripping with water. Everywhere I looked, there was constant rhythm and movement. Small streams trickled over the rooted pathway, puddles so deep I had to walk around them.
When the trail seemed to end, I would pause, then realize it continued over yonder. This time, the trail ended at a small creek with large stones peeking out of the water’s flow. The rain was coming down consistently, creating a thin vertical blanket of droplets, much like blessings on that one friend who seems to do everything right and always gets what they want or need.
I saw the trail start up again across the creek, so I quickly crossed it, getting more wet, but what is wetter when you’re already wet?
Several strides later, I was at the waterfall. I finally made it. The downfall was a short distance to the basin, but the waterfalls flow was heavy. Everything was brighter, much like a skylight in a rather dark home. I also could see the top of the trees and the rain falling from a higher distance.
I had a hard time getting a frontal view of the waterfall, so I climbed into the basin and scrambled my way on the side of the embankment to a better vantage point. This wasn’t my best idea, but I knew I could do it. I was agile enough to balance my feet on thick floating brush and logs on the pool’s edge to hoist myself from one spot to the next.
I saw what I needed to, got my shots, and decided it was time to head back. With the rain still coming down, I slowly walked back and texted a friend a few pictures from my new adventure. Almost back to the creek, I put down my phone. Then, with my eyes back on the trail, something happened within seconds.
A short and fat-bodied snake slithers two yards in front of me across the trail and goes towards the creek. I instantly felt alarmed, and my body knew this was not a friendly snake like a black racer, corn snake, or garden snake. No, this was a mortal snake, and I felt it in my gut. I got the heebie-jeebies and shook my hands in the air, and did a little freakout dance. There was no way I would follow the snake into the creek; I looked up and saw a trail that seemed to go along the creek. The rain seemed to lighten up enough for me to take down my cumbersome umbrella. I put it away and grabbed a stick; all I could think of was that snake and how there could be more in this jungle-like forest.
I just wanted to get back to my car. I believed the park was small and that any of these trails must end at the parking lot. I continued, simply following the most worn path. Then, I found myself at the edge of a swamp. It wasn’t welcoming. The trail seemed to stop. I saw a large berm; it looked like something an off-road biker would appreciate. I realized there was somewhat of a trail beyond the berm, so I continued. I walked fast through tall grasses, puddles, and a dense forest. And about 10-minutes later, I found myself back in the swamp. My heart sank…I was confused. I thought I went down a new path, but it took me right back. I got a little worried. But I figured that if I tried a new path this next time, I should find my way back. So from my memory, I tried to take any new-looking way. Halfway in, I saw my feet cross the same tall grass section with water inches deep. I started to get worried. Every new path I take seems to bring me back to where I desperately don’t want to be in “the swamp.” Sure enough, I ended up back at the swamp.
Now I was perturbed. I started to wonder if I needed to call for help. I knew no one else was on the trail. I wondered how I would explain to 911 where I was. How long would it take for the local police to find me? Would I have to spend the night out here with the snakes? How would I sleep? I had already tried looking at google maps to see how far away I was; I was simply in the middle of a forest with no clear route. I could see the direction I was facing, but that didn’t help. I felt like this was a simple task and that it was beating me. I thought I had more wits about me than getting lost on an easy trail.
Each time I made a loop, the more my anxiety grew. But I stopped myself with the fear. I knew that if I wanted to get out of the forest, I couldn’t continue to be afraid. I knew I couldn’t be afraid of the snakes. So I said out loud, “Not all snakes are bad; there are good snakes too,” and “I will get out of here. I just need to find a new way”. Then I prayed to god, asking him to help me find a way out of the loop I got stuck in.
Then, away I went for the fourth time. I saw a way that didn’t seem that obvious; it did feel new, and it was. Up ahead, I could see signs of a creek. I followed the creek back to where I saw the snake. The water was a few inches higher than when I first crossed it. The stones didn’t stick out as they did before. I knew this was the way back home; even if there was possibly a water moccasin in the water, I had no choice.
I was almost happy to cross it. I knew that if the snake came into the water, enough time passed that it might not be right in the pathway. I ran as fast as possible through the small creek. All was well. I walked back through the correct trail to the car with the biggest smile. I knew I would be sleeping in my bed that night. It felt good that the forest didn’t outsmart me and that I survived a possible grim situation.
This experience reminded me that you could find yourself in a survival situation in a matter of minutes or one wrong turn in nature. Even if it doesn’t seem that threat worthy, I realized how unprepared I was for something to go wrong. I realized there could have been snakes in the waterfall basin area. I realized I probably should only explore new trails when I have someone with me, especially when no one else is on the trail.
Tips for Staying Safe at Bulls Bay Preserve:
- Don’t go alone
- Please pay attention to the trail, and don’t go off of it
- Keep an eye out for snakes (Water moccasins)
Address:
8017 Old Plank Rd
Jacksonville, FL 32220
STAY SAFE; good luck, and keep exploring!
– Esther
