It’s been about a year since I last published a new EP or track. For nearly half a decade I have internalized a growing love for the footwork scene, in awe of the unforgiving repetition and harshness that so many classic tracks have. They do not hesitate to delve into obsessions that I could only liken with a poetic madness. Phrases and words are transformed into bits and undecipherable arias. Snares are compressed and crushed into tight sizzles, syncopated in unpredictable ways. Footwork is truly a bridge between studio workmanship and improvisational performance, especially knowing that it’s typically produced on one beat maker and by one producer.

LOQUELA is lo-fi, but higher in production quality than my tablet-based music could ever be (with my workflows). The name is the theme, taken from a chapter in Roland Barthes’ “A Lover’s Discourse.” The beauty of a lover’s self-torment, poking at an oozing wound because of not only curiosity but because of the unspoken irrationality of reliving pain in the first place. Like a spin that could take the dancer to any of the extremes, dizzy and delirious.

You can listen to it here (or buy it!)

It’s also been about a year since I last actively used a tablet as the primary tool for making music. The switch back to a laptop with a full-featured DAW was challenging but gratifying — unlike the small apps of the tablet, the program I was using would provide me skills to use throughout other production suites. I am excited to see what will come next for my sound…

Future Plans

The only music I can play live is with a flute. Live performance hardware and software still feels like such an alien concept to me — I’ve been currently working on new footwork-influenced music with a great beat machine, but the beat making is throwing me. The ability to arrange songs in real-time is a goal that I’m aspiring to this year, and I will achieve it with enough practice.

Be sure to keep up with my uploads over at Soundcloud.

The EP cover.

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I stopped at the Holton Creek River Camp, motivated by its proximity to Gainesville, FL as well as its free-ness, which I prioritized during the trip (though it will become apparent that these priorities don’t seem to hold sway in Georgia). The camp is specifically for Florida Trail hikers and Suwanee River tubers, placed just a few dozen feet from both the river and trail – it also has a sign that deters overnight parking nearby; you will have to earn your way to this area in some shape or form of physical movement.

Reservations

Reservations were very simple: I just had to call the Suwanee River Water Management District and ask if there are any availabilities for the day. Being a Monday, there was absolutely no one looking to reserve either the platforms or the tent sites, so I could easily snag one of the former. For more information, you can also check the WMD’s site out.

Don’t always trust Google.

Google Maps has an issue with directing to the camp: while it identifies exactly where the camp is located, it does not take into account the unpaved roads required to get to the campsite via bicycle – nor the Florida Trail, which would be a huge bonus if it were included in the future.

Google assumes that there is a magical bridge that goes from the south side to the north side; there isn't, just private property.
Google assumes that there is a magical bridge that goes from the south side to the north side; there isn’t, just private property.

It was already past 19:30 when I arrived at the southern end, also called the “Sheriff’s Boys Camp” or something similar. I didn’t realize until then that Holton Creek Camp was located north of the river, not south. For the next hour, I rerouted myself to the 249, adding another 18 miles to the bike trip, and causing me to arrive at the camp after sun had set.

Feeling as if I was gonna get Blair Witch’d

It was a stressful experience to go further and further into the Floridian woods from 20:30 to 21:00. The sunset occurred at 20:36, and I had already passed the highway and a mile or so into the forest. I did not want to be stuck in the forest, in the dark and alone, without something already set up to sleep in. As a child, I put covers over my head when I was afraid that someone was in my room — this has held over into adulthood while camping alone. “If you can’t see them, they can’t see you.”

For the last fifteen minutes I had to turn on my bike light so I can see along the dirt path. The worst horror is to seek the image of something; my light flashed through the trees and into the distance, and the reptile-part of my brain just waited for some darkened silhouette to appear.

Moving along.

Holton River Camp is all that and a bag of chips

I was really suprised by the handicap accessibility.
I was really suprised by the handicap accessibility.

I had seen images of the platform online, and had assumed the five structures were simply well-made bug nets. However, when I arrived, I also found it (and all other buildings) to be handicap accessible, with internal and exterior lights, as well as a ceiling fan. The platforms could comfortably fit three small tents, or up to six people with only bivy sacks or sleeping bags (which I would not recommend: the weakest part of the structure are the small perforations in the otherwise high quality platforms, allowing for a few small bugs to find a way in).

Sleeping bag in the Holton Creek River Camp platform - the wood floors were even well-sealed, but I set up the tarp as a barrier anyway.
Sleeping bag in the Holton Creek River Camp platform – the wood floors were even well-sealed, but I set up the tarp as a barrier anyway.

The rain and the platform

The fifth of June had erratic behavior with regard to weather; earlier in the day I had been soaked by thirty minutes of rain, and then clear skies for the next seven or so hours. But by twelve in the morning, a pattering of rain had started, and would not stop until the afternoon of the next day (which dampened my mood and cycling speed). I worried that the “splash back” of the rain drops would get in through the net, but the roof had covered most of the ramp entrance, keeping drops far enough away from the site – perhaps I take this note because of the possible issues that tarp tenting can produce: torrential rainfall will bounce into the enclosure, causing things to get wet regardless of the roof over one’s head.

The bathrooms and showers

It was only a small trip to the bathrooms, which are segregated into disabilities/non-disabilities and men/women.
It was only a small trip to the bathrooms, which are segregated into disabilities/non-disabilities and men/women.

Only the next morning did I check out the bathrooms, which had lit up at night when I passed them; I thought they were small, rentable houses at first. But to my surprise, the bathrooms were fully furnished: working toilet, hot/cold water shower, and a sink with a mirror, with toilet paper already in place. Also cooled by A/C! I don’t know why they put so much effort into this place, but the Holton Creek River Camp had gone way beyond normal expectations of a free campsite.

Bathroom entrances, fitted with automatic light sensors.
Pretty clean bathrooms.

Conclusion

Overall, Holton Creek Camp is more than I ever expected from a free campsite: electricity, heated water, and a roof over my head. I was really pleased to have such facilities, especially after having to navigate the dirt paths for about forty or so minutes in the near-dark. I am glad certain Floridian wildlife offices are putting the effort and time to make the Florida Trail a real destination rather than a half-assed thing to do “‘cause every other state got it”.

But be careful about Google Maps and attempting to read the official websites PDF map, as the former completely throws you off the correct street, and the latter is not to scale and can be confusing to figure out the actual entrance to the Holton Creek area (you can go along the Florida Trail, which I could not find a trailhead, or via the Northwest entrance).