THREE LITTLE PIGS

Christy and I had big plans for spring break. We both had a week off, and I was scheduled to work in Utah the following week. Initially we thought we’d both go to Utah for a week of canyon hiking. That was before a series of financial disasters, including but not limited to; major dental work, a hole in the roof, a raccoon in the attic (related to the previously mentioned hole in the roof), and an unpleasant surprise at the end of federal income tax form 1040A (the raccoon is not technically a dependent). After all of that, we decided not to spend the money, even though my flight was already free. We still had a week off from work though. What to do?

I consulted THE LIST. THE LIST consists of an assortment of hiking destinations we want to visit. Near the top of THE LIST is Cumberland Island National Seashore. Cumberland Island is a barrier island off the southeast coast of Georgia. It is similar to the outer banks, but with less development and far more hiking options. In fact, the central part of the island is a federally designated wilderness area. The south and north ends of the island contain historic structures and ruins, as well as a scattering of private residences.

Getting to Cumberland Island isn’t easy. From Charlotte, a six hour drive is necessary, followed by an hour on a ferry. The National Park Service limits the number of visitors allowed on the island, so reservations are necessary. I called about three weeks in advance, and reserved a camping permit and a spot on the ferry. We choose to take the 9am ferry (for reasons I’ll discuss shortly). This required driving down the afternoon before, and staying at a hotel. Thanks to my frequent business travel, I had plenty of Hilton points for a free room. The ferry and camping permits cost a total of $50, which isn’t bad considering we’d be spending four full days at the beach.

We arrived at the ferry dock in Saint Mary’s, GA, at 8am. We parked at the visitor’s center, where we checked in and paid. We then unloaded our gear, which was not done gracefully, due to the ridiculous amount of food and luxury items we had brought. This included some gourmet meals, as well as a large bottle of wine and a liter of vodka. Well why not? The hiking would be flat and easy. Wrong. I struggled just getting my pack out of the car and over to the dock. Could we have the wine now?

At 8:45 we endured the ferry orientation before boarding. Getting our gear on board was a bit of a fiasco, as we jostled with campers lugging coolers and enough camping gear to outfit a Bass Pro Shop. A chilly one hour cruise followed. We were half-frozen by the time we got off the boat and walked to the ranger’s station for camping orientation. At this orientation, we sat through the standard lecture about not feeding the animals. Then the real fun began – the assignment of campsites. The island features four backcountry campsites and one developed campground. Specific sites cannot be reserved, and campsites are chosen first by campers making the earliest reservations. This is the reason why taking the first ferry over is essential. Campers arriving on the later ferry get the leftovers. As it was, we had only made our reservations three weeks in advance. What would be left by the time our name was called?

The assignment of campsites was a tedious process. We sat and waited, as individuals were called up to select their sites. One campsite, at Stafford Beach, was already filled that night by campers who had arrived the previous day. Christy and I were hoping to stay at Brickhill Bluff that night, which at 10.5 miles, is the campsite farthest from the dock. By the time my name was called, I was relieved to find it still open. Even better, our desired destination for the last two nights, Stafford Beach, was still available as well. After wading through a sea of red tape, we were finally ready to go. It was 10:30.

Cumberland Island is beautiful, and that is apparent even from the dock. The interior of the island is covered in a dense maritime forest highlighted by gnarled Live Oaks draped with Spanish Moss. The undergrowth is frequently dense, with palmetto lending the island a jungle flavor. We hiked into the dark interior, leaving the general clamor of the dock area behind.

The hiking was pleasant despite the weight of my pack. The truth is, I had agreed to the heavy pack concept. We’re planning a 10-day backpacking trip through the Wind River Range in Wyoming this summer, so it hardly seemed too early to get used to carrying a heavy load. The trail was as easy as expected, but we were both startled by our first armadillo sighting. We had never seen armadillos before, and the first two we encountered were clearly crazy. They were racing in circles around a tree, creating quite a ruckus as they darted through the underbrush. At first I wasn’t sure they were really armadillos. They looked like possums in full armor, like they were on their way to fight a battle with the raccoons for island supremacy. We spent several minutes trying to photograph them, which would seem silly later after we’d seen about a hundred more.

We passed the busy, developed Sea Camp campground, which features showers, bike rentals, and carts for transporting gear from the dock. Then we joined the Parallel Trail, which runs north into the interior of the island. A dirt road runs the same direction, but the trail is more pleasant, since the road is open to traffic from the remaining residents on the island. After a little more than an hour, we decided to cut over on the Pratt Trail to Stafford Beach for lunch. Christy wanted to see the actual beach, and it wasn’t far out of the way.

We reached the Stafford Beach camping area first, where we’d be spending Monday and Tuesday nights. From there we followed an access trail ¼ mile across the dunes to the sea. We plopped down on the beach, which was occupied by exactly three other people, and ate. It was still a chilly day, and the extra wind coming off the ocean discouraged sunbathing, never mind swimming. Hopefully the weather would be warmer when we returned in a couple of days.

After lunch, we followed a dirt road back to the Parallel Trail. We continued north into the wilderness area, and encountered a wild horse shortly before the Hickory Hill campsite. I knew there were wild horses on the island, but I hadn’t been sure about our chances of actually seeing one. I was relieved, because I knew it was exciting for Christy, who had ALWAYS WANTED A PONY growing up. Of course, we ended up seeing almost as many wild horses as armadillos.

We passed the Hickory Hill campsites, which are located in a pleasant forest setting. Unfortunately, the nearest water is almost a mile away, and it tastes of sulphur. As a result, Hickory Hill isn’t the most popular campsite on the island, although there were several groups there when we passed by.

We passed the previously mentioned water-source, and continued another ½ mile to the Yankee Paradise campsites. Yankee Paradise is similar to Hickory Hill, and is located at the junction of several major trails. From there we continued north on the well-marked Yankee Paradise Trail until we reached the main road.

We followed the dirt road north briefly, before leaving it on an alternate route that passes near Ashley Pond. I had chosen this trail simply to avoid the road, but I had gained an adventure in the process. These trails are more primitive, and lightly traveled. The armadillos seemed more skittish around us, but the real excitement came when three wild pigs bolted across the trail ahead of us. The only wild pigs we’d ever seen previously had been in Hawaii. This was shaping up to be quite a noteworthy day for wildlife sightings.

We eventually reached the road again, and continued north to the turnoff for Brickhill Bluff. A short walk led to the edge of a bay, where we were greeted with views of the mainland beyond a vast salt marsh. The campsites line the edge of the bay, and are truly outstanding. Some are nestled under spreading Live Oaks, while others occupy grassy meadows. All of them are at the water’s edge. For us, the best part of Brickhill Bluff was having it all to ourselves. Brickhill Bluff may be the best camping area on the island, but the long walk from the dock discourages most people. We enjoyed the rewards of a stellar campsite, as well as an elaborate meal featuring burritos and wine. What wine goes with burritos? Any wine, if you just carried it 11 miles or more through a wilderness of insane armadillos and racing pigs. That evening, we enjoyed a fine sunset as we watched a dolphin leaping and diving just off-shore. I slept exceptionally well that night, even though I was still excited about the adventures to come.

LOST

We slept in a bit the next morning. This was probably a mistake, since we wanted to explore the north end of the island before heading back to Stafford Beach. We had egg burritos for breakfast and gathered our gear for a dayhike. Technically, we were supposed to “check out” of our campsite at 10am, but I wasn’t too worried about it. Nobody else was around, and we didn’t even depart for our dayhike until 10:30.

We hiked the road, an access trail, and the Bunkley Trail to the north end of the island. At the end of the Bunkley Trail, we joined another road, which leads to an area of private residences and the First African Baptist Church. The First African Baptist Church was the site of the wedding of John F. Kennedy Jr., and we were looking forward to checking it out. First though, we had to get there. Getting there required walking up the road, which unfortunately was blocked by a large snake. The wrist-thick snake stretched almost the whole width of the road. I knew, from the camper’s orientation, that the island harbors three species of poisonous snakes. This clearly was not a Rattlesnake, nor a Coral Snake, but it could have been a Cottonmouth. It was brownish in color, with darker patterns down its back. The only reliable way to identify a poisonous snake is to get a good look at its head, which is a bad idea if it is in fact poisonous. I wasn’t inclined to do that, so Christy decided to scare it off by lobbing pine cones and sticks at it.

Five minutes later, the snake was still there, surrounded by a growing pile of sticks and pine cones. This was tedious. Against Christy’s objections, I decided to walk around the tail end of the snake. Getting more than a few feet from it was impossible, thanks to the dense undergrowth and the swampy terrain. I passed beyond it without incident, and Christy nervously followed. The snake still hadn’t moved as we continued our hike up the road.

The First African Baptist Church is a small structure located in a meadow. We were surprised to find the door open, and went inside to explore. Inside we found a few pews, and an old bible. We took a few photos before closing the door and resuming our walk.

We curved around the north end of the island before reaching the Terrapin Point Trailhead. Christy had seen enough, and decided to walk directly back to camp on the road. I chose to take the trail. This path was very primitive, but offered some limited views of the bay. I passed a couple of raccoons, a wild turkey, and another wild horse before the trail completely disappeared. This was frustrating, since it was already past noon, and I didn’t want to backtrack. I didn’t have much of a map, but I knew the road was directly to the west. I decided to bushwhack that way until I hit the road.

I bushwhacked for quite awhile. Luckily, there was less undergrowth on this part of the island. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever reach the road when I stumbled out of a thicket into the middle of it. From that point, I hurried back to camp, barely pausing to observe more wild horses near the road.

We had lunch at camp at 1pm, broke camp, and were back on the trail by 2pm. Christy was a bit worn out from the previous day’s hike, and wanted to take the direct route to Stafford Beach. However, there is another route, which provides a loop hike in the northern portion of the island. I wanted to see as much of the island as possible, so we decided to hike separately. I’d take the longer route, and we’d meet at the Yankee Paradise campsites. From there, we’d hike together on the Parallel Trail to Stafford Beach.

It wasn’t long before I began to question my decision. My pack was still heavy, and I was a bit tired from the morning walk and the previous day’s hike. I followed the South Cut Road east to a junction, where I had decision to make. The trail to the right was a shortcut that would save time and energy. However, I really wanted to continue ahead to see Lake Whitney, the largest lake on the island. I was concerned about the time though, so I ultimately chose to take the short cut. This seemed like the wise choice, until the short cut trail disappeared. Ah, more bushwhacking, this time with a heavy pack. I passed the skull of a horse jammed into the branches of a tree. I had to wonder, was this some sort of grim trail marker, or a warning?

A few minutes of bushwhacking brought me to the Roller Coaster Trail. This trail was apparently named for the endless series of 5’ hills it ascends and descends on its route south. This was actually kind of a nice change from the completely flat hiking elsewhere on the island. Some time later, I reached a junction, and another decision. I could take the Tar Kiln Trail to Yankee Paradise, or continue ahead on the Lost Trail. The Lost Trail looked slightly shorter, so I decided to continue ahead, despite the name.

Like the Roller Coaster Trail, the name of the Lost Trail made sense. The trail is brushy, lightly traveled, and frequently blocked with fallen trees. I made poor time, and probably uttered occasional profanity, as I bashed and scraped my way south. At least the trail was passable, and no mysterious clouds of black fog materialized and tried to eat me. I finally joined a larger road, and hurried towards my meeting place with Christy.

I found her napping near the campground. It was already 4:30, and she had been waiting for an hour. We still had 3 miles to go, and the sun would set in 2 hours. Unfortunately, I was exhausted. I stopped for a break and a snack before we resumed the hike.

We made poor time, thanks in large part to aching feet. My feet were killing me, and I surprised Christy by calling for another break not far beyond Hickory Hill. We finally finished the last mile at 6pm, which gave us just enough time to set up camp before dark. Luckily, we found another great campsite under a tangle of Live Oaks. The site was beautiful, and conveniently located near the trail to the beach. Despite this, we were both too tired to walk out there. Instead we settled into camp, and feasted on crab cakes. We were both relieved that we didn’t have to go anywhere the next day. Our general exhaustion helped us sleep well that night, despite the clamor of armadillos frolicking in the undergrowth outside our tent.

WILD HORSES

“Wild Horses, couldn’t drag me away”

By the Rolling Stones

We weren’t going anywhere on Tuesday. We slept in a little, before I got up to make pancakes. The pancakes came out quite well, although they featured odd, psychedelic circular patterns. I managed that without any special herbs! After eating, we gathered our belongings for a day at the beach. Earlier, Christy had caught me looking at the map, secretly plotting a dayhike. She took the map away. Today was to be a layover day, without hiking. What ensued was a real novelty for me – a rest day, for resting.

We wandered down to the beach late that morning, and were pleased to find the place deserted. It was a much warmer day, and we settled in for some rigorous sunbathing and reading. Christy flirted with the idea of swimming, but found the water too cold.

Some time later, we spotted two people coming up the beach towards us. Well, we knew we wouldn’t have it all to ourselves the entire day. As they got closer, the people transformed into wild horses. Walking up the beach! We had seen quite a few horses in the woods, but I was surprised to see them out on the beach, strolling along in the surf. The two horses made quite a romantic couple. In an idle thought (and I had plenty), I wondered how they met. Perhaps the Cumberland Island Times has a personals section for horses. I can imagine how that ad must’ve read:

Wanted, single chestnut female for romantic walks on the beach. I’m a muscular stallion, 15 hands tall, that really enjoys sea oats. Must be open to mating, and have good teeth. Serious replies only, please. No mules!

The horses walked on by, before heading up the path towards camp. Christy and I had lunch, followed by lemonade spiked with vodka. By the time we headed back to camp, I was surprised to find myself quite drunk. I made it back to camp unassisted, before heading down to the new bathhouse. It’s not currently being advertised, but the new bathhouse at Stafford Beach has hot showers! After two long days of hiking, and another lying in the sand, a hot shower was quite a pleasure.

That evening, we dined on Caribbean Rice with Chicken. I sobered up enough to play cards, before we retired to the tent.

DUNGENESS

We had reservations for the ferry returning at 2:45. That gave us plenty of time to hike the four miles to the dock. First though, Christy decided to go for a run. She was a feeling a little guilty about not working out the previous day. She left camp at 7:45, and after running 7+ miles, returned after 9. Along the way, she managed to collect a few pretty shells and spot the remains of a sting ray. Well, I’m not implying that she was running the entire time.

I packed while she ran. We had oatmeal and tang after she returned, and then headed out. The hike back to the dock took a little over an hour. Near the dock, we passed a mother and daughter, watching an armadillo in fascination. We chuckled, as we must’ve behaved the same way three days earlier.

We had an early lunch at the dock. Our plan had been to take a short hike from there down to the Dungeness Ruins at the south end of the island. Christy changed her mind though, having already completed a 7-mile run and a 4-mile hike. She decided to stay behind, with the packs, while I explored.

I hiked down the oddly named River Trail, along the edge of the bay. After 15-minutes, I emerged at a museum at the Dungeness Dock. I wasn’t in a museum mood, so I hiked a tree-lined dirt road to the ruins.

The Dungeness ruins include several mansions, most untouched by the Park Service. The original mansion was built by Nathaniel Greene, a revolutionary war general for whom the city of Greensboro, NC, was named. Later the Carnegie family purchased the property and removed the Greene mansion. They built there own estates, which consisted of one sprawling mansion as well as additional buildings. The mansion burned some years ago, but parts of the building are still standing. Entry into the mansion isn’t allowed, but visitors can tour the property.

I walked around the mansion, and checked out some of the other buildings. I followed a path down to the salt marsh, where I spotted a large, colorful woodpecker. The woodpecker was blue and white, with a red head. I thought I was going to get a great photo of him, but he flew off just as I focused on him.

I visited the family cemetery, before following a boardwalk out to the beach. From there, it was a pleasant stroll up the beach to the Sea Camp access trail. On the way, I passed more horses hanging out on the beach. I took a few more photos, even though I was beginning to get used to seeing them. I knew I was nearly at the Sea Camp access trail when I saw a large crowd of people. The beaches of Cumberland Island are largely deserted, with the exception of the area near Sea Camp. I avoided the masses, and hiked the trail through the campground. ½ mile of walking brought me back to the dock, which I reached shortly after 2pm.

The ferry departed promptly at 2:45. The ride back was crowded with kids on a field trip, but the children were subdued. The ride was marred only by tourists feeding cookies to the seagulls. I guess “please don’t feed the animals” doesn’t apply to birds. I enjoyed some Hitchcockian fantasies about the birds attacking. Alas, it never happened.

We were back at the car by 4pm, and all we had left to do was complete the long drive home. That and scratch our bug bites. Well, I had to scratch my bug bites. Christy didn’t have any. Actually I didn’t have many. We never saw any mosquitoes, but biting gnats were an occasional nuisance. That and I had a mysterious bite or sting on my foot. Oh well, it’s probably just from a spider or scorpion. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.

We’ll definitely be back to Cumberland Island. Christy was quite clear about this. The area meets many of her requirements for a backpacking trip – easy trails, an undeveloped beach, and ample wildlife, including wild horses.

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