Live Oak Blues What happens.

Defeated last week, I came back to get to Cumberland Island or die trying. Buzzed by jetskiers, choked by diesel fumes, scraped by barnacles, scorched purple by the sun, and nearly felled by seasickness, I made it. ‘Twas the most strenuous slog I’ve ever done in a kayak: at one point the swells coming in from the Atlantic were so rough that I could feel my kayak surfing down the face of them–not an unpleasant sensation, but it’s tough to even tell you’re making headway in such conditions in this, my first interstate excursion.

Seasoned paddlers will tell you that islands look a LOT closer than they actually are on the water and I was not even sure I had made it until I felt the blessed sand under me as I finally ran aground on Cumberland. I could spend more than a blog post raving about what makes this island so special, but a mere 100-yard trod from the beach brought me inside a old-growth stand of live oaks and needle palms–a veritable godswood. I would have stayed there and napped if not for the dozens of mosquitos covering every inch of exposed flesh.

I was scorched and exhausted while I devoured my sandwich there on the beach, wondering how I would find the strength to get back, or what I would do if the gathering clouds above decided to become more serious. I decided to halve the return by stopping off by Fort Clinch and then made my way close to shore around the peninsula until I saw the sweet glow of my white truck and its serious AC waiting for me. As the weather cools later this fall, I plan to do a two- or three-day paddle around the island. I will include some sunscreen in the packing list when I do.