St. Augustine, FL

  St. Augustine promotes tourism with the slogan "Forty Miles of Beach and the Rest is History." The beach part is self-explanatory but you may not be familiar with the outline of history. The city was founded in 1565 by the Spanish to protect their claims to New World colonies and the sea routes taken by their treasure fleets being carried north on the Gulf Stream. (Just for perspective, the British colony at Jamestown was founded in 1607.) Pedro Menendez sighted land at what is now St. Augustine on Aug. 28, the feast day of the saint. It is the oldest continuously occupied city in the continental US and served as the Spanish capital of Florida for more than 200 years. Still, it was primarily a military outpost. In 1562, French Huguenots had tried to establish a colony but it was destroyed by the Spanish. The on-going European struggle for dominance in America included the burning of St. Augustine in 1586 by Sir Francis Drake during the Anglo-Spanish War. Two years later, the huge Spanish Armada was destroyed trying to invade Britain.

   European conflicts continued to have a great impact on the history of Florida. In 1763 the Treaty of Paris ended the Seven Years War (known as the French and Indians War in North America) giving Florida to the English in exchange for leaving occupied Havana. The British garrisoned Castillo San Marcos for the same reasons the Spanish wanted to be there and Anglicized the name to Fort St. Mark. The Second Treaty of Paris in 1783 concluded the American Revolution and returned Florida to Spain in recognition of their efforts on our behalf. The Castillo got its Spanish name restored. During the Napoleonic Wars, Spain was too busy at home to develop any settlements in Florida. In 1821 the Adams-Onis Treaty produced the peaceful transfer of Florida to the US. 

   Touring Old Town and the Spanish fort Castillo San Marcos should be part of any visit to St. Augustine. The Colonial Spanish Quarter is quite modest in size considering the strategic importance of the Castillo. Near the Quarter are the historic landing site of Menendez and the Fountain of Youth associated with Ponce de Leon. Shirley took a sip even those she did not really need it. There is the usual assortment of touristy trinket and T-shirt stores, bars and restaurants. As you move away from the original Spanish settlement, St. Augustine has all the amenities and facilities of any modern American city of its size. 

   Before retirement, St. Augustine was about as far south as we could get in the limited time available. Everglades National Park ultimately became our primary Florida destination but that added two days on the road (going and coming) that we thought was better spent at St. Augustine. Anastasia State Park is just across the Bridge of Lion and offers miles of uncrowded beach. We continue to stay there when we are in the area. We also highly recommend the Alligator Farm--a lot less cheesy than it sounds--with extensive zoological exhibits and demonstrations. You can also climb the picturesque lighthouse.

Castillo San Marcos helped protect Spanish galleons laden with gold.

When we visit St. Augustine, we stay at Anastasia 

State Park on the island just across the Bridge of Lions.

Flagler College is named for Henry Flagler who built the railroad all the

way to Key West. He is largely responsible for creating the possibility of

Florida tourism. His 1888 luxury hotel, the Ponce de Leon, is now the core

building of the attractive campus.

It is hard to find a Florida beach with so little crowding.

The historic city gate was built in 1730

Easy does it

    Shirley and I were hiking back into Alamo Canyon in southern Arizona on a trail the National Park Service describes as “Easy.”

    “I wonder how they rate these trails,” she said. Not that she disagreed but was just curious about the criteria used.  The Alamo Canyon Trail runs almost straight and level back into the increasingly narrow, dead-end canyon. There is no elevation gain or loss of more than a few feet. Hikers associate elevation gain with difficulty because climbing always requires more energy and means more stress on the heart, lungs, and thighs. Non-hikers may assume that descending is easier but many of us find that it just challenges a different set of muscles and joints.

   The Alamo Canyon Trail ends at the remains of an abandoned ranch building, a small, dilapidated corral, and an old cistern that had collected water for livestock. The trail follows the course of a dry wash that in spring is lined with brittle bush and creosote covered in golden blossoms. We passed through a forest of saguaro, palo verde, and chain fruit cholla that dangled clumps of green, grape-like fruits left from past seasons. Multi-columnar organ pipe cacti climb the cliffs, somehow taking root in what appears to be solid rock.   

  For the most part, the trail is pebbly sand that makes a pleasant crunch under hiking boots. Occasionally it crosses a jumble of rocks and small boulders tilted at precarious angles so there is no flat, level surface on which to comfortably place your feet. Still, nothing that would in any way jeopardize the “Easy” rating.

   Trail ratings are exceptionally broad guidelines that include all kinds of assumptions. What is “Easy” for an 18-year-old athlete may be well past “Strenuous” for an 81-year-old with an aluminum walker. I am thinking now of our visit to Yosemite Falls, at 2,425 feet the tallest in North America. Simply spectacular. Some of the time. A short, level, paved trail winds under a canopy of trees to a clearing at the base of the falls. Easy-peasy. Tour buses stop right at the trailhead. They take quite a while to unload because the demographic for tour buses leans toward those who have been collecting Social Security since Kaiser Wilhelm invented it.   

   When tour companies put Yosemite Falls on the itinerary, certain expectations are created. We watched visitors unfold their walkers and set about the serious business of checking one more thing off the bucket list. Oh, I forgot to mention, it was September when Shirley and I were there. The little stream that feeds the great falls tends to dry up sometime in mid-to-late summer. From the base of the “falls” there was a grand view of 2,425 feet of bare rock with long, narrow, smudge marks where the falls would be if there had been any falls.

Bridal Veil was pretty good so we looked forward 

to something even more impressive.

The paved trail to Yosemite Falls was flat and easy.

But where were the falls?

   Now, the walk out to the falls really is easy for most of us, most of the time. But it seems to me that an ethical guide would not send his clientele on an “easy” walk without telling them that they are not actually going to see what they think they are going to see.    

   At the other end of the age spectrum, we were behind a mother and her adolescent son in Yellowstone. The sign said, “Tower Falls 100 yards.” The boy said, “How many miles is that?” Now, you might be inclined to blame the sorry state of public education for his question. Or, if you have been the parent of teenagers, you might conclude it was just rhetorical. What the kid was really asking was “Ah, jeeze, why do we gotta do dis?” A journey of 1,000 miles begins with a single step. A journey of 100 yards begins with continuous whining.

Clearly not worth walking a whole 100 yards for this.

    It is not always a kid doing the whining. In Big Bend National Park in Texas, we took the 4.4 mile roundtrip Window Trail out to a cleft in the rock wall for a panoramic view stretching past buttes and mesas to the far horizon. The trail leaves Chisos Basin and follows a streambed through Oak Creek Canyon descending 500 feet to the Window. It is rated “Easy” but, of course, you do have to climb those 500 feet on the way back. Still pretty easy. The streambed is usually dry but the place you stand to look through the Window becomes the top of a 200-foot waterfall after a rain. Flowing water has polished the rock surface clean and slippery so it is a good idea to stay well back from the cliff edge even when it is dry. Shirley and I find it a pleasant walk and worth the modest effort required.

   After our snack at the Window we started back up the canyon with Casa Grande and Emory Peak rising before us. In about 100 yards, we met two women heading for the Window. One of them wanted to know when the trail started climbing. We explained that the climb began when you turned around and headed back and that the Window was only a short distance away. The woman concerned about the climb told her companion that she did not want to go any farther. As Shirley and I continued on we could hear them debating whether nor not to walk that final 100 yards. Our position is that it would be a shame to get so very close and miss the experience. Which only proves that you don’t have to be an adolescent to think that 100 yards is way too far.

Still easy, even though you do have to climb 500

feet on the way back from the Window.

   In the Great Smoky Mountains we enjoyed several times the walk on the Appalachian Trail from Newfound Gap out to Charlies Bunion. It is an eight-mile roundtrip hike rated “Strenuous” because it climbs steadily along the spine of the mountain for the first two miles and has a total elevation gain of 1,640 feet. Many visitors park at the Gap to admire the view and then decide to start out on a casual stroll along the AT. (Lots of people like to brag that they have "hiked the Appalachian Trail.") After 10 or 15 minutes, most of them conclude that they have had enough and return to their vehicles. Those who persevere get spectacular views. Truth be told, though, the views are in no way superior to what is available back there at the overlook parking lot. The walk itself is the destination.

   Charlies Bunion (the Park Service never uses an apostrophe to show the difference between possessive and plural) is a rock outcropping reached from the AT via a short spur trail that includes a narrow ledge with a sheer drop off. A trail guide cautions hikers that “You’ll definitely want to watch your footing in this area.”  

   Watching her footing is exactly what one woman refused to do. She edged sideways along the ledge, facing inward, both hands pressed firmly against the cliff face--and her eyes squeezed tightly shut. After her companions said, “It’s OK now!” she opened her eyes and confessed that she was afraid of heights. Really? You head to the mountains because you are afraid of heights? But you’re not afraid of walking a narrow ledge with your eyes shut? We develop courage by confronting our challenges instead of running from them so, at some level, you have to admire what she did. Still....

The Bunion is a rock outcropping where we had our lunch.

The ledge "trail" to Charlies Bunion is a spur from the AT.

If you are looking for "easy," the view from the parking area at

Newfound Gap is just as good and requires no effort at all.

   Sometimes you have to confront your own youthful stupidity. I made my first backpacking trip to the Smokies with my friend Jack in 1975. Looking back, some of my expectations were totally irrational even though they seemed mathematically certain at the time.

   We used a park trail map to plan our trip. Jack and I were both trim and athletically fit. Relatively speaking, anyway. Jack was a tennis coach and I was a distance runner. I knew I could walk four miles an hour so I set out to plot an easy circular route that would take us to several backcountry campsites and, four days later, back to where we parked the car. 

   At this point I had already made several egregious errors. First, four miles an hour on level ground is not the same as four miles in the mountains. Second, even if you can walk four miles in one hour you probably can’t walk 20 miles in five hours--especially carrying a pack weighing more than 50 pounds. As it turned out, over the next several days we averaged about 1.5 mph. Third, a simple line map, in contrast to the topographical map we should have used, does not show the changes in elevation out there in the real world. 

   It was already 7 p.m. on June 20 when we hoisted our packs and headed off, counting on a couple more hours of daylight on the summer solstice. Plenty of time to reach backcountry campsite #15 only 4.7 miles away. Plenty of time to pitch the tent, make a camp fire and have a nice supper before settling in for the night. After wading across Abrams Creek, we quickly got those first three errors out of the way and began adding to the list. 

   The map showed the trail running west for 4.7 miles but it actually ran straight up for 4.7 miles. Then it started to rain. We had ponchos but that didn’t matter. Ponchos keep the rain out but they also keep the sweat in. (There was no Gore-Tex back then.) You’re soaked if you do and soaked if you don’t. Then it got dark long before we reached campsite #15. (On that trip, we never arrived in camp anywhere near as early as we had planned.) It is harder than you might think to follow a trail in the dark. In the woods. In the rain. Also not so easy to pitch a tent in the dark, in the rain. Not easy to keep sleeping bags dry either. And forget that part about having a nice campfire dinner. Couldn’t even have a cold snack in the tent. In bear country, you never, ever take food of any kind into your tent. 

Note damp sleeping bags hanging out to dry the next morning.

Are we having fun yet?

OK, so it stopped raining. Now it's time to wade that stream.

Shirley and the girls became experts at hanging

food out of the reach of bears.

   Side note: Later that same trip, other backpackers awakened us in the middle of the night all excited about marauding bears. They had camped in a beautiful mountain meadow that, of course, had no trees from which to suspend their packs and food. In the morning, we went to see a lot of mangled, ripped up gear. Fortunately, no one was hurt. We were all sharing a wonderful learning experience. Stupid is as stupid does. 

   Whenever I am tempted to scoff at the foolishness of others, I call to mind occasions of my own muddle headedness. Oh, sure, I go ahead and scoff anyway. Humility has its limits after all. Bottom line, even when the trail is not as easy as you expected, after a few decades you may be able to smile and remember it as just a walk in the park.