Gentle Trails journal

Because every great adventure start with one easy step

Fog clings to Green Cove Springs like a stubborn ghost this Sunday, swallowing the St. Johns River whole. An hour east (or west?), an old VW van waits—pop-top ready for camping epics, belly-deep in space for kayaks, wakeboards, bait buckets. Talked to the seller last night; it’s the one for marina mornings turned Ocala overnights. But this pea-soup haze? My soul screams “wait for sunrise,” while adventure yips “keys, now!”Boat deck coffee in hand, I weigh it. Roads turn lethal in this: zero visibility means brake-light roulette, slick blacktop betrayals. Sunrise chases fog here—by 8 AM, gold rays will part the gray, safe for the haul. The van’s not fleeing; it’ll grin wider in daylight, me poking tires, flipping the pop-top, dreaming Black Creek bivouacs.Patience wins today.

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