With just 10 days left to complete my epic 10,000-mile journey, the finish line is tantalizingly close. But here’s where it gets controversial: after a year of relentless hiking, the line between adventure and routine has blurred. This morning, as we checked out of the motel, I felt a surge of relief—not just because my mild sun poisoning had subsided, but because Slide, my hiking companion, was finally recovering from his severe case. But is this still an adventure, or has it become a grind? Let’s dive in.
The past year has been a whirlwind of extremes. Sun poisoning, hives, and countless other ailments have become almost mundane. I’ve lost count of how many times my skin has rebelled against the elements. Strangely, unless it’s severe enough to cause hot flashes or chills, I barely notice anymore. It’s easy to forget these struggles when you’re immersed in the rhythm of hiking every day. And this is the part most people miss: the normalization of discomfort. I’m considering compiling a list of all the bizarre health issues I’ve faced—a testament to the body’s resilience and the absurdity of this journey.
Before hitting the trail, we stopped at the same gas station as last week. The same friendly face was behind the counter, and we grabbed breakfast sandwiches, coffee, and snacks for the day. They had these adorable cake snowballs shaped like snowmen—basically chocolate cake filled with marshmallow and coated in a coconut-chocolate mixture. Think of them as the real-life version of the rice balls from Spirited Away. I’m not usually a fan, but after a year without one, I couldn’t resist. Is it just me, or do these little treats feel like a nostalgic hug?
Today’s route was a repeat of last week’s: from the motel through Moore Haven to Clewiston. The only difference? We’re staying in Clewiston for multiple nights to rack up those final miles. With the Florida Trail and Overseas Heritage Trail nearing their end, every step counts. Our plan is simple: out-and-back hikes from Clewiston to maximize mileage. It might sound monotonous, but it’s the most efficient way to hit our goal. But here’s the question: does repeating the same route diminish the adventure, or is it just a necessary evil?
As we walked along the paved levee, the sun rising in the distance, I couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu. We’re stuck in a Lake Okeechobee fever dream, and it’s starting to wear on me. My motivation to create YouTube content has waned, thanks to the repetitive scenery. How do I make this section entertaining for my audience? Is it even possible to make the mundane magical? I’ve created so much content this year, but I’m my own worst critic. Plus, filming with someone else around feels awkward. Maybe one day I’ll come out of my shell, but for now, it’s a struggle.
By noon, we were back in Moore Haven, ordering breakfast burritos from the same Mexican restaurant. The food was as delicious as I remembered, and we ate our burritos on the bridge, just like last week. This time, though, we didn’t get stuck behind a train. Is it just me, or does repetition make these moments feel both familiar and surreal?
After a few miles, we stopped at a recreational area I’d visited last year to hide from a rainstorm. Slide hadn’t noticed it before, so it was a nice surprise for him. We tossed our trash, refilled our water, and continued toward Clewiston. The sunset on the levee was breathtaking—a thin layer of clouds glowing as the sun peeked through. But here’s where it gets funny: I accidentally scared the heck out of a guy walking toward us in the dark. I’m so used to hiking without a headlamp that I didn’t even flinch, but Slide, who was behind me, thought the guy was me and started talking to him. His surprise was priceless.
Once in Clewiston, we headed straight to Punto Rojo, my favorite Colombian bakery. Their pan de bono is to die for, and we stocked up on treats to enjoy on the levee. We even got a tres leches cake in a cup—ridiculously sweet and utterly delicious. Outside, a stray cat begged for food but swatted at me when I tried to pet it. Is it just me, or are stray cats the ultimate paradox of cuteness and attitude?
After adding a few more miles, we checked into the Clewiston Inn for three nights. Unpacking without worrying about repacking tomorrow felt luxurious. We’ll probably resupply at Walmart and slack pack, making the next few days delightfully easy. But here’s the real question: as we approach the end, is this journey still about the miles, or has it become about the moments in between?
As we celebrate Christmas in Clewiston, I can’t help but reflect on this wild year. If you’ve enjoyed this blog and want to support my hike, there’s a ‘Tip the Author’ button below. Every little bit helps, and I’m incredibly grateful for your support. Now, I want to hear from you: How do you balance routine and adventure in your own life? And do you think repetition ever enhances an experience, or does it always dull the magic? Let’s discuss in the comments!
