Day
2 - Georgia Coast Passage 2004 - by Dale Davenport
Monday,
March 29, 2004
Toward:
Around Sea Camp Dock
From:
Same
Winds:
15 kts. diminishing
Distance:
Weren't measuring
Notes:
Jay Eberly helmed Rebecca Ann with me as crew and then I sailed Sara,
with Jay crewing, tweaking the rigging in both boats. Earlier in the
day by great fortune we were given a tour of the island by a very gracious
man - one of the few private residents.
Rebecca
Ann captain's comments:This was a sightseeing morning followed by technical
day-sailing in the afternoon. The sightseeing opportunity was quite
special; here is how it came about. One year earlier, Cal, Jay and I
had sailed to Cumberland for a week of camping and day sailing, as mentioned
in the last installment. That first evening we were busily engaged in
anchoring our boats. The goal was to secure them
so thatwe could pull them ashore at all tides, to avoid having to swim,
and to leave enough play in the rodes to rise to the seven or eight
foot tidal range, while setting them so that the strong tidal currentswould
not carry them out to sea. We were observed from his spot on the shore
by an older gentleman, who for sake of his privacy I will call the Guide.
(Yes, I admit that using that name pretentiously imitates the late-19
century genre of amateur sailing travelogues, reminiscent of stories
written by Humber Yawl Club members.) He is a member of one of the families
that still have private outholdings on Cumberland, properties passed
down from the days when the Captains of Industry built their private
winter playgrounds on the Georgia sea islands.
Some
families with great fortunes summered at the Jekyll Island Club on the
next island north, built grand "cottages" nearby and steamed
and sailed fabulous yachts. Thomas and Lucy Carnegie bought umberland
virtually en masse and built mansions there, tended by hundreds of employees
living in dormitories The descendants of those aristocrats still vacation
in homes on the 
island.
The
ferry that bringsmost visitors, who are mainly hikers and campers, does
not transport motor vehicles or bicycles. The only ones allowed belong
to the old families that still have their ancestral outholdings, or
to the Park Service. So, having a friend with a vehicle means the visitor
can see the entire island in a few hours, as opposed to hiking for several
days. And, hiking to see it all means carrying a pack and getting a
backcountry site permit for camping, since walking all the way to the
north end from Sea Camp campground, which is near the south end, and
returning in a single day is beyond the ability of most people.
The
Guide is an inveterate boatman. His experience began on the Connecticut
coast, sailing a refitted wooden lifeboat that his father set up for
the children on Fishers Island in Long Island Sound. It continued with
a stint in the U.S. Navy during World War II and, after varied sailing
experiences thereafter, including a lot of Caribbean chartering, continues
in a catboat he keeps at a family home on the Maine coast.
So,
our small boats drew him to us and his discerning eye approved of the
boats at least. He provided vital local knowledge and assistance that
increased the security of our mooring tenfold and thus our peace of
mind. Also, the Guide is good company.
He
was expecting us on this second visit to his island and took care of
us and our boats in the same manner as before. He also gave us the full,
inimitable Cumberland Island tour. (Part of my rendition of the tour
highlights probably is from the 2003 trip, when we took an abbreviated
tour, but it's interesting and they blend in my memory.)
All
aboard his well-worn Isuzu Trooper, with the Guide at the wheel as driver
and narrator, we saw the site of the old Dungeness mansion. It was built
originally by the widow of General Nathanael Greene. He ran the successful
(from the US perspective) southern theatre operations in the US Revolutionary
War. Greene had owned the island prior to his death but never lived
there. That mansion burned in 1866, but was rebuilt in 1884 by Thomas
Carnegie. That one burned in 1959, but the ruins are there. We saw the
nearby former grave of Light Horse Harry Lee, a hero of the Revolution,
and father of Robert E. Lee, who died on Cumberland. Harry had served
under Greene. He was a better fighter than businessman and lost his
fortune after the war. He was almost killed in an anti-war riot in Baltimore
(War of 1812) and, leaving family behind, he fled to the Caribbean to
regain his wealth and health. He succeeded with neither.
Attempting to return from those islands in 1818, he was set ashore on
Cumberland by the captain of the vessel on which he was traveling, sick
and near death. He was interred in the graveyard for years until the
Lee family moved the remains to Virginia. Another one of Harry's relatives.
We
crossed the barrier dunes, our Guide expertly gunning the engine to
cross the sand, fast for momentum but not too fast to spin. North along
the Atlantic, on the hard sand with the tide out, he took us at thirty
or so miles an hour. The wind was strong that morning. Midway along
the coast, an area of shallow water about a mile in length that extends
out about three miles from the beach, produced an endless sea of white
horses. The sun was as bright as could be. I could see from Jay's face
that he was thinking the same thing I was - could we be sailing in that
sea in those conditions? Later, we agreed we could, but I think he meant
it more than me. Deep down I think Jay wouldn't mind too much if his
boat was broken in the surf so he can get a Caledonia Yawl, but I may
be too suspicious.
At
the north end of Cumberland a tidal sound of as much as a mile in width
separatesthe island at all but the lowest low tide from a smaller island
called Little Cumberland. -82-Our Guide took us to the western shore
near this sound, which is the northwest corner of big Cumberland. Here
there is a cobble and gravel beach that overlooks both the sound and
the channel along the marshes to the west of the 
barrier
islands. The next day we would see where we stood from our boats sailing
in that channel.
Near
the north end of the island is an area that was settled by free African
Americans after the Civil War. A one-room, tiny chapel remains, built
of simple siding. It was in this place that young John Kennedy was wed,
on Cumberland, because of its privacy, with outholders accommodating
guests.
Next
was a mansion called Plum Orchard, built for a son of Thomas and Lucy
Carnegie. -88-The great house is closed to the public and is scheduled
for renovation or preservation. -111-Our Guide knows the caretakers,
and since they were not around to show us the place, our Guide was kind
enough to usher us through. To me, nothing is better than a restored
architectural treasure except one that is not restored, and that is
what we got to see.
On
the grounds our Guide also showed us a very large alligator that lives
in and near a pond at the edge of the grass lawn. He was as big as any
we saw on our trip, except for one on the fourth day, and our perception
as to that one may have been impacted by proximity. More on that later.
Moving
south we passed a grass airfield, still used, but before a plane lands
or takes off somebody first has to shoo away the horses that graze there.
Nearly
back to our beginning, we saw the grounds of Greyfield Inn, the only
lodgings under roof available for remuneration on Cumberland. Greyfield
is another mansion built for a Carnegie child, still in the original
family, but the current generation offers rooms and meals for paying
guests who are interested in the quiet and nature-oriented activities
Cumberland affords. Guests travel there on a private boat from Fernandina.
We hitched a ride to Fernandina and back for a day trip the year before,
and I think the vessel that makes the run is a custom Maine-built Ellis,
a beautiful boat. From all reports, staying at Greyfield is at the other
end of the economic spectrum than camping, although there is plenty
of beauty for all, whether rich or upper middle class.
In
between the sites mentioned, we were treated to the stock in trade of
nature on the island - the mysterious twisted live oaks covered with
Spanish moss, palmettos, sand, dunes and grasses, wild turkeys, a few
straight, flat sandy lanes to travel and an occasional hiker. At night
the armadillos run around the forest in the moonlight. We saw quite
a few. The Guide said sometimes nude women lie around on the beach in
the daylight. We failed to sight a single one, despite close watch.
When
we returned to our base the wind was still blowing strongly and there
was a similarly strong sentiment among the crew to stay on the island
another night. While they wandered off and did something to amuse themselves,
probably involving rum, Jay and I went down to the boats to play around.
We sailed our own and we sailed each other's separately. We sailed each
other's together. We changed a few fittings and rigging items. Generally,
we just went back and forth in the vicinity of the dock and had a good
time.
Lying
two miles northwest of the Park Service dock, on the mainland across
Cumberland Sound, is the Kings Bay Naval Base. 57- It offers a protected
artificial harbor with open ocean less than eight miles away. It serves
a fleet of "Boomers", Trident ballistic missile submarines,
named for the noise each of the 24 warheads would make if fired. We
had seen a number of Navy fellows with smaller, but nevertheless impressive
weapons at the ready on the 2003 trip. They flew over our boats in helicopters,
looking down on us as we sailed. They also came out in semi-rigid vessels
mounted with machine guns, moving very quickly to take a position between
our boats and government real estate, when we delayed tacking a little
long and got fairly close to a degaussing range, which takes static
charges off the subs as they come back to base. The hometown for the
base is St. Marys, a small town in which we stayed the night after we
finished the 2003 trip. The Iraq war had started just that week and
there was a local rally on the riverfront in the evening. Witnessing
that close military community, we appreciated and admired the solidarity
but it was not open to strangers. By 2004 things in the security department
seemed to have backed off a bit, but still we assumed that we were sailing
before an audience across the water. The choppers were still there occasionally,
with gunners peering down on us from open side doors, a few hundred
feet overhead. I always tried to execute crisp tacks when they were
watching.
Despite
the fact that the boats spent the night exactly where they slept the
night before, it had been a full, interesting day. If it had been only
my choice, we would have taken advantage of the lessening afternoon
wind to sail northward on our course.
But,
we all agreed to head out fairly early the next morning, with the goal
of reaching a marina on Jekyll Island. That would require over thirteen
miles of travel northward on the Cumberland Sound, along the west side
of Cumberland as well as Little Cumberland. Somewhere near the middle
of that distance is The Dividings, where the incoming tide meets from
both ends, or when outgoing, commences in both directions. Beyond, we
knew we must cross the two mile width of St. Andrews Sound, between
the north side of Little Cumberland and the south end of Jekyll Island.
St. Andrews is very shoal in many areas and is wholly exposed to the
swells of the Atlantic from the east. It has a reputation for chop or
confused waves, depending on the coincidence of wind and tide. We expected
a long day in the protected waters up the side of the islands, culminating
with careful sailing across St. Andrews'. Meanwhile, we spent a second
night under the huge, twisted branches of the live oak trees of Cumberland,
with the constant roar of the surf not very far away.
Now go to Part
3
