All other things aside, I sort of needed a…well, let’s call it a tune up ride…before my epic trek (don’t ask, just stay tuned) coming up on Tuesday.
So I got on my bike and cycled from my house to the Gainesville-Hawthorne Trail, and then followed it to the, you know, bitter end as it were. Which just happened to be in Hawthorne.
Anyway, I just threw in these images to show that I actually did make it to the end of the G-H Trail and back. (On the other hand, if you are a believer in fake news perpetuated by the lame stream media, I could very well have Photoshopped these images So you decide.
The important thing is that I am invested in the Gainesville-Hawthorne Trial. And I have been for a very long time.
Starting in the early 1980s, the beginning of my 30-year stint as editorial page editor for the GNV Sun, I wrote numerous editorials and columns championing this trail. Nearly half a century later I am still in love with it.
On the ride I noticed a wooden cross where CR 325 intersects with the trial. Fifteen years after a UF student was killed there, someone is still leaving flowers in her memory. It is a sober reminder that trail users really do need to stop and look before crossing a dangerous rural road.
On a typical Sunday the Gainesville end of the trail is teeming with cyclists, runners, skateboarders and e-scooter riders and more. But as you get closer you get to the Hawthorne end the number of trail users dwindles and you are likely to find yourself in splendid solitude.
There has been much talk over the years of new subdivisions…even a brand new city…springing up in rural southeast Alachua County. But when you consider the spongelike nature of this very wet corner, you begin to realize the folly of such sprawl dreams.
And of course it’s not all about preserving wetlands. Riding the trail you see frequent signs the controlled burning that helps keep this Eden of woods and water healthy.
The company that ran the railroad before it morphed into a trail was once fined for poisoning oak trees along its route. The railroad is long gone. And the oaks remain.
I remember a time, and not all that long ago, when Prairie Creek had virtually dried up amidst a years-long drought.
The creek is back! At least until the next drought.
The thing about riding this trial is that it’s not just a journey through space and time. It is a ride through history.
Listen, if you haven’t done so already, you really ought to take this trail journey through time, space and history. You won’t be sorry.
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