I might suggest it would have been impossible for me not to at least think about stopping in a place named Hell. In the event what was Hell to Tate was actually extraordinarily delightful to me.
At one point in the drive we were but twenty miles from Tallahassee the state capital. At another the highway ran right along the shore of the Gulf of Mexico.
I had made a reservation for two nights at what I hoped would be a good spot to get away from traffic and noise. For $30 I was far away from the madding crowd. Oddly I was not that far from Carrabelle across the New River but it was a long drive from there to here as it were. The instructions were to drive through Carrabelle on Highway 98 then turn north on County Road 379 until the pavement ran out.
The instructions from a contributor on iOverlander were very precise but seemed impossible to follow. Were they trustworthy? This could really end up being hell.
So I set off through Carrabelle unsure how to get to the spot. It certainly sounded worthwhile…
I was pretty sure in the off season I would be alone and so it was for two glorious days! But getting there was going to require careful measurement. I first turned on County Road 379 and followed the pavement past suburban subdivisions.
And yes Florida has its own brand of bears too.
Soon enough the gravel road started and there came the point where I either followed Google’s blue line or the precise instructions of the total stranger on iOverlander. I saw the bridge and said screw it and turned off the blue line of Google maps.
I prepared to nudge past the car when the driver flagged me down. He offered me advice on how to get to what he described as the best wilderness campsite in the entire vast state park. Joe drives down from Central Georgia to enjoy this area as often as he can and I was glad to take his advice. He said people frequently brush him off. Not me. Happily he confirmed iOverlander for me and impressed on me to stick to the turns and ignore Google. Take the second right he implored me, you’ll get stuck on the first turn off! Nice man.
On the bridge I had set my mileometer to zero and at exactly 1.8 miles as written on iOverlander the right turn appeared. I gained more confidence in the instructions carefully laid down by the original contributor “busbusbus” on the information page.
It didn’t look much like a freeway but there were no rocks hiding in the grass and the ditches were well set back from the wheel marks. I pressed on at about ten miles an hour in first gear.
“Turn right at the red campground mark” the instructions said and there it was…
Another road leading deeper and deeper into the wilderness.
With a couple more turns left and right I got there much to my surprise, no back tracking required. Now I had to hope I could remember the reverse route to get out on Saturday morning…
Rusty had a quick look around while I maneuvered GANNET2 into position to fend off the north wind while getting a nice river view. He licked my face copiously as he does when he is pleased with me. I guess this was a good spot!
I marked the route I followed with a thin red line:
The views were excellent.
So where did the name Tate’s Hell come from? Some poor unfortunate in 1875 it turns out:
I had no intention of falling victim to a similar fate. Rusty wasn’t into long walks so we hung around our campsite and he sunbathed while I did my household chores. We ate well and enjoyed perfect cold front weather with crisp blue skies and cool air. Nights were cold, into the thirties, but we were snug aboard GANNET2.
Window covers in for warmth. They help a lot to prevent heat seeping out. I run the engine for 15 minutes with the heat on and two hours later I feel enough of a chill to get snug in bed. Rusty hates being covered and he doesn’t seem to feel the cold at all.
I promised to bring Layne here as she likes the pictures I’ve sent her. I hoped wed be back after Thanksgiving but this spot is fully booked till February by which time we want to be in Mexico.
