Debbie Hazen and Tommie Gipson continued to shuttle me all the way through Eglin Air Force Base and onto Santa Rosa Island, which is where one version of the Florida trail ends. Hikers have a choice to end on the beach or to head north and end where Florida and Alabama meet. I was not walking north from Alabama to connect with the Appalachian Trail in Georgia and wanted to end on the beach.

Before I left the woods I was blessed to see a number of pitcher plants in bloom. These unusual flowers are carniverous and grow in swampy places in Florida. I was thrilled to finally see them in bloom.

The last time Deb and Tommie dropped me off, my walking began on yet another Florida Trail road walk. I had started a bit earlier than usual as I was trying to outrun an oncoming thunderstorm storm predicted to hit later that afternoon. Having been in a number of scary high elevation thunderstorms which caused my hair to stand on end from the electricity in the storm, I had no desire to experience a severe electical storm while walking along the exposed beach. I was aiming to go about 13 miles that day and hoped if I moved fast enough I could get to my car before the storm arrived.

After dodging cars while walking along and then crossing a busy road, I walked across the bridge connecting Santa Rosa Island to mainland Florida. It’s a 576 foot long bridge with a narrow sidewalk on each side. A sidewind with gusts strong enough to blow me sideways left me glad to finally reach the other side. It felt good to officially be on the island where I would end my journey. I still had three more days to hike, and was looking forward to walking the beach. But first I had more Florida pavement to pound.

Eventually the roads gave way to a paved bike path. I was relieved to be a little more removed from the cars though I still was walking in a very built up area with no view of the ocean. I could tell I was near the beach from the sand on everything, but I was walking through a solid line of upscale houses and beach rentals.

When I hit the transition between private land and public land, I sent a prayer of gratitude into the world for all the people who had the foresight to protect some of our natural lands. The line of demarcation between where the private homes ended and the national seashore began was instantaneous and a stark reminder of the importance of our national lands. Protecting these areas is critical if we want to continue to have semi unspoiled wilderness. National seashore and national park lands belong to all citizens of the United States. They provide access for all to some of the most beautiful natural areas in the world. I fear what would happen if these lands were privatized, built up for profits and drilled or mined for oil and other natural resources. Standing where the houses with no tresspassing signs abruptly ended and public acess on national seashore land began, I vowed to do what I could to raise awareness of the importance for all of us to do what we can to save and protect these national gems.

Where the national seashore land began, the trail turns abruptly, leaving the paved bike bath and directing me onto the beach.

Walking along this beautiful beach pulled me out of my fears for our environment and gave me another focus. The white sand beaches and turquoise water in this part of Florida are stunning even with a storm blowing in. The surf was quite high bringing onto the beach a variety of flotsam and jetson, including logs, shells, algae, and plenty of plastic debris along with other human trash. A plethora of jellyfish decorated the sand, and I fell in love with a tiny bird, called the sanderling.

These birds, sometimes in ones and twos and sometimes in large groups, frantically ran back and forth chasing the edge of each wave, searching for tasty morsels of food. Because they have no back claw, they run differently than many other birds. Their bodies bob up and down while their legs appear to be going many miles per minute. They reminded me of wind up toys.

When I approached large groups of these birds, I noticed some of them standing on one foot. When the group began to run from me, the ones on one foot hopped rather than ran, eventually dropping their second foot. Seeing them always made me laugh and again I voiced a prayer of gratitude for the protection the national seashore land gave to these birds.

I did manage to reach my car before the severe thunderstorm arrived. I sat in my metal box hoping my rubber tires would protect me while I watched lightning more spectacular than most I have ever seen. It went on for hours. Sometimes there were sky to ground jagged flashes. Sometimes these flashes went sideways from one cloud to another. At times the entire sky was lit by unseen pulses of lightning lasting for minutes at a time. Other moments I saw what appeared to be balls of fire racing across the sky. It was as good as any fireworks display I have seen.

Steven Blueberry Brindle, who had been instrumental in helping me hike the Florida Trail with a broken foot, offered to drive 6 1/2 hours to hike with me on my final two days. I didn’t want him to have to walk roads, so the next day I jumped ahead to hike the remaining section of trail that wound through the roads of the Pensacola Beach resort town.

Steve arrived mid afternoon the following day, just after the tail end of another severe thunderstorm. He and I had a lovely walk along the dunes on the bay side of Santa Rosa Island.

We camped that night in the national seashore campground, visiting with Brushy Bert who had hung around to see me on my final day. After visiting with some of the other campers, I called it a night aware that in the morning I would be ending yet another epic journey.

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