Happy Birthday to Me!

Thanks to a truly rainy day as we traversed Wisconsin on our epic summer drive of ’21, and a wildfire in Idaho that was only one mile from the road we planned to ride, I finished 2021 with these two states left on my list. I felt that both were best explored in the warmer months, and I granted myself an extension on my self-imposed deadline. We weren’t yet ready to brave the airport and the enclosed space of an airplane cabin, but we wanted to celebrate my 60th in a big way. Whatever would we do?

Credit Kip for the suggestion: a drive to Cumberland Island National Seashore, off the coast of southern Georgia. On the way south, we would stop in Alexandria and Savannah, and on the way north, Charleston beckoned. So, off we went, into the teeth of a bomb cyclone, on March 12, my birthday!

First stop, a visit to my friend Medium Jackie, whom I met in Alaska on my National Outdoor Leadership School women’s backpacking trip. We later explored the Boundary Waters of Minnesota on snowshoes. These (occasionally) near-death experiences have made us fast friends. It was snowing as we arrived, but we shared a birthday lunch, then Kip and I continued south, all the way to Fayetteville, NC. We found a huge room at the Days Inn and then headed into the historic downtown, where we found a Greek restaurant with excellent hummus and olives, accompanied by a nice Greek wine.

We had four more hours to drive over the savannahs to reach Savannah. Wet and flat, nary a hill in sight. Our air bnb was in a beautiful house owned by a family named Starbuck. They used to hunt whales on Nantucket. We walked all over the place and had poke bowls near the house. This city of 150,000 people has been abandoned to the short-term rental craze, at least within the historic district. Words cannot express how charming and gorgeous it all is, with the twenty-one squares and the parks and the old homes. Just outside the District, however, surroundings suddenly turn rough. We were staying on the edge of all that. We listened to Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, and that was a terrific choice for an immersive Savannah experience.

Next stop, St. Mary’s, Georgia, which is the jumping off place for Cumberland Island. There is one hotel on the island, but it is a Carnegie mansion, with Carnegie prices. We stayed just steps from the ferry landing in a big old Bed and Breakfast with a huge wraparound porch. We saw mockingbirds and butterbutts and bottlenose dolphins in the harbor. Not only that, but the Amazon driver rammed the bookstore across the street with his truck, and every police officer and ambulance driver in the area responded, and we had a front row seat to the action. The next morning, we boarded the ferry for the 45-minute ride through the salt marches to Cumberland.

Cumberland Island has been on my bucket list ever since I read Encounters with the Archdruid, many years ago. This collection of three longer essays, penned by the master of the form, John McPhee, details his conversations and travels with the founder of the Sierra Club Foundation, David Brower. Cumberland Island was on its way to becoming another Hilton Head Island, crowded with golf courses and condominiums, when at the eleventh hour, it was preserved, though the efforts of the National Parks Foundation, with the support and cooperation of the Carnegie family. This island, larger than Manhattan, feels like Jurassic Park. Carnegie descendants still live out there, and they have the only cars on island. Otherwise, it is bike and foot traffic.

We spent three full days exploring the island, which teems with bird life. We saw piping plovers on the beach and heard warblers of all kinds in the trees. We biked on the beach before learning that is forbidden. We biked 8 miles in a raging thunderstorm on the single sand road to make it to an 11 am tour of a Carnegie home, now a museum. We arrived, soaked through, at 10:59. I saw a curtain move, and I started rapping on the windows. I felt like Oliver Twist, begging for more…

Another of the Carnegie estate homes (Dungeness) burned to the ground some time ago, and one can explore the ruins, as can the wild horses. Right near there is a more modest house. It was built by Revolutionary War General Nathaniel Greene’s wife. It survives, circa 1820. History overlaps here, and everywhere.

We saw wild horses and armadillos so tame that they nearly walk over your feet.

We hiked and biked and explored to our heart’s content. And on our last morning, we left before breakfast. It seemed that the young man in charge overslept. He was probably overserved for St. Patrick’s Day.

Ok, so I forgot this draft. It’s getting drafty in my head. Now it’s September, 2023, and I am not going to have time to regale my readers with tales of our time in Charleston. I am in a bind, way behind, and have to finish this blog!