Cumberland Island, March 27 - April 1

Cumberland Island is a national seashore on a barrier island off the coast of Georgia, and until a few months ago, I'd never heard of it. 

I had my eyes on Baja for a winter/spring kayaking trip.  But Mike M. mentioned a Geneva Kayak Center trip to Cumberland in an email and a seed was planted.  I took a look at the trip description, and it was more affordable than Baja.  I talked to Ryan at GKC, and he said the Cumberland trip normally has a bigger range of conditions than Baja ("conditions" are kayak speak for wind and waves).   It's got salt marshes on the west, live oaks and Spanish moss in the middle, and a 17 mile beach along the eastern shore, facing the open Atlantic.  Wildlife includes feral horses, armadillos, and alligators.   The trip would spend 5 days paddling around the island.
 

Before long, Cumberland Island had become my spring paddling destination.  And at the end of March, seven of us gathered at the hotel in St. Mary's where we would spend the first night of the trip.   Ryan from GKC was the trip leader.  Mike was the assistant trip leader.  Scott, Chris and Aaron were all affiliated with GKC in one way or another.  Geoff was from the Philadelphia area.   And me.
 

After boat packing and dinner, we gathered to talk tides and charts.  I have a basic understanding of navigation and had collected tide and current information for each day of the trip, but it's a lot more real when you get down to day to day paddling details.  How early do you need to get up in the morning to get to the launch site and be ready to launch just as the tide is turning so that you can catch the ebb tide as you paddle down the river?  If you want to take a shortcut through the creek, and you know what the creek depth is, and you know that low tide is too low to travel the creek, when do you need to start (allowing for the effect of the tide on your rate of travel) to get there with enough water to get through?  
 

We managed to hit the trifecta for early morning starts on the trip, getting up between 4 and 6 every day to get to where we needed to be with the tides and currents with us.  I had noticed the tide schedule would favor early starts before the trip, but found myself thinking "we won't really have to start that early;  we're on vacation!"  But tides don't follow vacation schedules, so we were early risers.
 

On Day 1 of the paddling portion of the trip, we arrived at Crooked River State Park in plenty of time and got our boats and gear ready.  As soon as the tide turned, we set off down the Crooked River.  We crossed Cumberland Sound (part of the Intracoastal waterway), then paddled into the Brickhill River and stopped for lunch at Plum Orchard, which was the first of the three mansions we would see.
 

Thomas Carnegie (brother of Andrew) and his wife Lucy bought property on Cumberland Island in the 1880s, and built the family mansion (Dungeness) on the southern part of the island.  Thomas died relatively young, and Lucy became the matriarch of a large clan and the social center of the island.  As her children came of age and married, she built several of them mansions of their own.  (Bachelor sons, however, did not get mansions.)  Plum Orchard was the mansion built for son George.  A volunteer park ranger gave us a tour.  It was impressive, with cutting edge amenities for the turn of the century: refrigeration, electricity with DC current inside of wooden conduits, indoor plumbing that wouldn't look out of place today, indoor pool, squash tennis court.  There were buttons to summon the servants, and of course, separate stairways for the servants.  What really made the enormity of the family wealth sink in was realizing that this was a secondary residence, used only a few months a year.
 

After lunch and tour, we paddled on to our first campsite at Brickhill Bluff.  It's interesting how names conjure up images in our minds.  The bluff I imagined was much grander than the actual bluff, but it was still a fine campsite. We took a walk through the live oak woods before dinner.  A grape vine was spotted and 3 of the guys jumped from a tree a la Tarzan to swing on it.  At dinner we enjoyed the first of the delicious meals prepared by chef Ryan … fish and shrimp.

We put the tarp up over the "kitchen" before we went to bed, and the rain started during the night.  Fortunately it had just about quit by the time we got up the next morning, and the rest of the trip was good weather.
 

Day 2 required an early start to get through Christmas Creek at high water and on the flood tide, so we were up at 4 and launched at 7.  We took a shortcut through Mumford Creek, then were back on the Brickhill river. 
 

The entrance to Christmas Creek was not obvious … we made our way through some reeds and eventually got to the point where the creek became well defined.  The creek provided a shortcut to the Atlantic side of the island, allowing us to avoid paddling all the way north around the tip of Little Cumberland Island.  With few landmarks to use to find our position in the salt water marsh, we used the hammocks (areas of high ground with trees growing on them) that were marked on the charts.
 

Just before Christmas Creek opened up into the Atlantic, we landed to take a break and hike over the dunes to scout our exit route.  The creek was flowing out, the tide was ebbing, and there was an off shore wind, so creek, tide and wind were all moving east.  The swells were coming from the east and pilling up on the sand shoal that stretched out from the creek entrance.  The result was surf that seemed pretty big in a little kayak.  We needed to turn south (right) as soon as we reached the Atlantic, and the main shoal was dead center as we left the creek, so the plan was to keep to the right to avoid the worst of the surf.
 

But things didn't go quite according to plan.  With the current, tide, and wind all moving us east, the group unintentionally ended up in the center of the shoal, and paddling into the biggest breaking waves.  You also want to hit the waves more or less head on, increasing the tendency to stay in the center.
 

I was towards the rear, with Ryan behind us, and he told those of us who were close to him to move right, which we did.  It's always hard to estimate heights after the fact, but I think we were paddling up and over 5 foot waves where I was, and they were probably higher to my left.  I made it out with a bit of an adrenalin rush but no other problems.  Two of the folks who had moved farther to the center capsized.  One rolled and the other was rescued. The good thing about the rescue situation was that wind, current and tide were carrying the rescuer and swimmer out, so by the time the swimmer was back in his boat, they were in calmer conditions.  It would have been trickier if they had been carried into worsening conditions during the rescue.  Mike had done the rescue, and mentioned that in the conditions, he would have liked someone to raft up next to him to help stabilize.  Another lesson was that you need to be paying attention to the big picture, including the landmarks behind you, to know whether you're where you intended to be.
 

Regrouped and glad to be past the shoal, we paddled south, made our way through a second shoal, then stopped for lunch.  Back on the water, we crossed a third shoal and stopped while those who wanted to spent some time surfing.  It was perfect conditions … lots of green water, meaning the waves were big enough to surf on, but not breaking.  Three of us opted not to surf, and hung out in the swells waiting. 
 

Back underway, we proceeded to our Stafford Beach campsite.  As we paddled, several of us struck firm but movable objects with our paddles, which we later learned were probably cannonball jellyfish.  We saw pelicans gliding above the waves, the tips of the "wings" of numerous stingrays on the surface of the water, and several dolphins.
 

This was our longest day at 18 nautical miles (20.7 statute miles), and we were nicely tired by the time we landed.   Some folks did a bit more surfing, but I was ready to call it a day (this was my second day on the water for the season), so enjoyed watching.  Mike did an endo over one of the waves that was very impressive, though perhaps not intentional.
 

We had to carry our gear a good half mile to the camp area, but it was worth it.  The campsite was lovely, nestled in a clearing in the live oaks which we promptly hung with drying gear.  (When returning to the campsite after dark, it was easy to spot our camp with all its reflective tape.)  And there were cold showers, which were most welcome. 
 

That night we walked back down to the beach and watched the nearly full moon rising.  The moon lit up a brilliant path straight towards us.  It was also bright enough that the rest of the ocean was bathed in silver.  As the swells approached the shore and started to pile up, the front of the waves were dark bands against the silver background of the ocean.  When a wave would start to break, you would see the white foam on the top edge, and you could even see the white spray being blown back off the top of the wave by the wind and backlit by the moon. 
 

And if that wasn't magical enough, on our left 3 horses appeared -- two adults and a foal.  They wanted to cross to our right, and started walking along the beach in front of us.  Just as they passed us, they got spooked and started running, and we could feel their hooves pounding on the sand. 
 

It was hard to leave the beach that night.
 

Day 3 was a play/rest/wander day at Stafford Beach.  In the morning we took a final opportunity to surf before the swells died away.  This time I joined in and got some good coaching from Ryan. Try to keep your butt at the top of the wave so you have control.  You want to avoid moving so far down the wave that your bow gets locked in, but stay far enough forward to remain on the wave. Steer away from the breaking wave and towards the green water.  If you get caught in the break, you really have to commit to your brace.  I was bracing the right way, but not hard enough, and eventually would get knocked over by a stray bounce (fortunately, I rolled every time).  I still find it all much easier said than done, especially when I only do it once every 6 months.
 

Apres surf was a yummy brunch (individual omelets, fried potatoes and fresh fruit), then we split up for afternoon adventures.  Geoff, Scott and I walked inland and took a look at Stafford House, a mansion that is still in use.
 

Dinner was individual pizzas with crusts made from yeast dough.  That evening was the official full moon, and we went down to the beach again.  We didn't see the moon at first since there was haze on the horizon.  As an astronomy major, I was starting to feel personally responsible for the absence of the moon.  Eventually we saw a lighter spot in the haze, and the moon suddenly appeared as a horizontal orange slice, with top and bottom still obscured by haze and clouds.  As it rose above the haze, it whitened up.  The surf was minimal at that point, so it was a lovely evening but not quite as magical as the previous night.
 

Day 4 we launched at 8 to get to the south end of the island by high tide.  We had to cross a jetty, and needed high water to do so.  We paddled easily along miles of sand beach, enjoying the day and the sun and the water and the dolphins and the birds. 
 

I wasn't quite sure what the jetty would be like.  Turned out to be a line of big, sharp, black rocks that didn't seem to be at all friendly to kayaks.  We found a low spot and crossed one at a time, waiting for a swell to ride over the rocks.  In between swells, the rocks were uncovered and looked eager to take a large bite out of a kayak.
 

Ryan tried a more challenging spot to cross and didn't quite make it.  We were focused on our spot and heard a crunch to our right and saw his bow sitting up on a rock.  We landed on the other side of the jetty to put a patch on his bow, but Explorers are tough boats and the damage looked superficial..
 

Then we crossed Cumberland Sound to the Florida side (half a mile or so) and landed below Fort Clinch, a brick fortress built before and during the Civil War.  It was obsolete before it was completed.  Preserved and renovated by the CCC during the 1930s, it's now a state park.
 

After eating lunch on the ramparts among the cannons and exploring the fort, it was time to cross back to Cumberland Island.  This would be a trickier crossing. Coming over we were near slack tide.  Going back, we were facing a 3 knot current from our left.  Once we crossed the sound and started to head up the west side of the island, the ebb current would be directly against us, though it would be slowing as the afternoon went on. 
 

We started trying to ferry across, but half way there we decided to accept the drift, get to the far side, and eddy hop against the current. 
 

Working our way up the west side of the island, we stopped at Dungeness Mansion.  It had burned in a huge fire in 1959, but even the ruins were impressive. 
 

Then it was on to Sea Camp, where we would stay on our final night. We hung out while Ryan made sure there was a campsite available, then landed on the dock and carried our gear up.  Like Stafford Beach, Sea Camp has a long walk between dock and campsites, but they had carts we could load our gear on.
 

Ryan prepared another yummy dinner, and for dessert an instant cheese cake that disappeared in less than 2 minutes after it was pronounced ready to eat.  No plates were dirtied in the consumption of that cheesecake.
 

The morning of Day 5 we headed back up Cumberland Sound to the Crooked River park where we had started.  At one point we watched a flock of birds (pelicans?) fly past us in a line.  The bird in front stopped flapping its winds and started gliding, then the next bird, then the next bird, one after another.  Then the lead bird started flapping its wings again, and the others followed one at a time just like fans in a stadium doing the wave.
 

And then … we were back at the launch site.  We loaded the trailer, stopped for showers, and went out for lunch.  Mike and Scott were kind enough to drop me at the Savannah airport on their way home.

There's always that moment at the beginning of a trip when you cross the line from anticipation into commitment to the adventure and whatever it brings.  And there's always that moment of sadness at the end when you and your companions are saying goodbye and parting ways, and the adventure turns into memories. But memories and new friends are both good things.  Until the next adventure…

Pictures are here