home is where the boat is: Georgia

Thursday, December 19 – Monday, December 23, 2013

Sunset, Georgia

Too short. Our stay in Georgia was too short. We loved it there, and are looking forward to returning for more on our return North.

Maybe we should have stayed longer then, but a variety of circumstances urged us to travel further south, and after a few days, Georgia was in our wake.

We loved Georgia for reintroducing us to open, vast, dramatic landscapes along waterways mostly void of development, homes, and towns. Georgia was a twisting network of rivers and creeks wandering through marshland, punctuated with shallows and full of strong currents and impressive tidal ranges.

Georgia reminded us of the Chesapeake Bay, the Elizabeth Islands, and the Maine Coast—it felt like there were nooks and crannies to explore everywhere, and that the possible number of anchorages was endless. It felt open, wild, rural, laid-back. The scenery was beautiful.

We had originally been excited about visiting Georgia’s towns and cities—such as Savannah, Isle of Hope, St. Simon’s Island, Jekyll Island, and St. Mary’s—but as we were wandering through the Northern part of the state that first morning, we realized that for the first time in a long time we could enjoy a place through its natural beauty alone. We were tempted to stop and wander historic streets, but the allure of quiet anchorages was greater. We made a short stop in Isle of Hope to refuel, especially important as we were using our diesel heater to stay cozy and warm those chilly nights and mornings, and after our short visit with civilization we only tucked ourselves amidst marsh grasses and trees.

Skipping towns and cities did not mean that we didn’t meet anyone however. The Georgian waterways were full of activity, and small boats were fishing and shrimping everywhere we turned. The fishermen were friendly and cheerful and often stopped to swing over and chat, and we experienced the warmth of southern hospitality, maritime-styled.

Cumberland Island

We anchored in a few creeks and rivers, and then reached Georgia’s crown jewel—Cumberland Island, home to Cumberland Island National Seashore. Cumberland, like our beloved Acadia, boasts miles of hiking trails through a variety of ecosystems—sandy beach, swamp-like interior, and coastal forests—and we were excited to stretch our legs and explore!

We enjoyed hiking about the Island, and hiked until we were exhausted, continually looping back to check on Evelyn. It was windy, gusty, and rough so we were nervous about leaving Evelyn unattended too long—we wanted to check each time the tide or wind shifted to make sure she was still okay.

Meanwhile, we wandered down dirt roads lined with massive live oaks decorated with Spanish moss, while palms thickened the undergrowth. The day was warm and moist—invigorating the dried pine needles lining the paths in areas, so that the air filled with a delightful aroma. We reached a marshy shore and spotted hoof prints in the mud—following them we saw our second wild horse quietly grazing—we had spotted our first the day before, while still aboard Evelyn.

We walked back through a forest of tall thin trees and no undergrowth—an open expanse dotted with slender tree trunks, canopies high above. The next environment we enjoyed was swampy and flooded, with sinking mud lining pond-like areas. Passing through we reached a sandy floor, with palm trees and dune grasses, the roar of the ocean and the smell of salt. The air suddenly felt different, and hiking along the dunes reminded me of hiking the Jersey Shore trails at Cape May or Corson’s Inlet—but with palm trees, more exotic plants, and wild horses! We saw four more as we approached the beach—a male, who upon spotting us clearly marked his territory, two mares, and a foal.

Horses on Cumberland Island

Then came the beach—an open expanse of white sand, trimmed by blue ocean and green palms. It was devoid of human presence, without even a foot print in the sand until we wandered further along.

We picked up our pace as we wandered the beach—sunset was in a few hours, we were now far from Evelyn, and exploring swamp-like areas in the dark did not excite us. But when we turned back inward to cut back across the island we were greeted with a stunning, yet different looking swamp (for lack of a better moniker). This one was emerald green—the palms were green, the moss was green, and the water was green.

Soon we were back into forest, then paths lined with live oak, and then back to the western side and our anchorage just as the sun set.

We rowed back, chatted with some fishermen, and watched the sun dip below the horizon. We had seen wild horses, a plenitude of birds, the biggest spider I’d ever seen in the wild, forests, beaches, marshes, swamps (still no gators). We enjoyed a nice evening to calmer winds.

Cumberland Island

The next morning the winds had shifted and increased, and temperatures had dropped. Winds were expected to grow stronger that day and throughout the week, with bad weather coming from the North. We wanted to stay at Cumberland longer, but knew we would not leave Evelyn to go ashore even if we stayed—our anchorage was exposed and we would worry too much. A bit further south the weather looked more promising, and there might be a spot open to buy some fresh foods for a nice Christmas dinner. We looked ahead to see what was further south and saw not much more—we were on our last chart. If we wanted to cross into Florida and continue south, we needed new charts. So wind, weather, holiday hours, tides, charts availability, and the prospect of a scrumptious Christmas dinner encouraged us to leave Cumberland Island with the rising tide. Soon we were on our way, and though we never thought we would make it that far south, we crossed the border into Florida.

Cumberland was behind us, but one day it will be ahead again—a prize to aim for. Everything that we have passed we will pass again, a beautiful reality reminding us that there can be no regrets—only experiences to look forward to.

More photos of Georgia: