Some places are so special they deserve a post of their own. Cumberland Island is one of those places. Georgia has five major sea islands; some are quite developed, one is very exclusive (Jekyll Island), and one is almost totally undeveloped. That island is Cumberland Island, and it is now under the auspices of the National Park Service. We approach Cumberland Island from the north on a very clear but blustery day. Crossing St. Andrew’s Inlet we have high wind, big waves, and confusing currents, not to mention some challenging navigation around the always shifting shoals. We are about to round the northern point of ten mile long Cumberland Island. In the distance we see a now defunct lighthouse atop tall bluffs of sand dune headlands rising from a wide, flat beach. And galloping along the beach are four black horses. Hollywood could not have had a better visual, but the sailing conditions preclude taking any pictures. However, we know we are in for a treat.
We motor through marsh lands several miles west of Cumberland. It is windy and shoaling in many places. We get to an intersection with a side stream, and the charts and written instructions do not match. Burt starts inching slowly forward but comes to the conclusion we are making a mistake. The boat goes into reverse but not before we go aground. Our trusty diesel manages to power us off the shoal, and we then call a boat ahead for their interpretation of this area. Apparently, one should completely ignore the charts here and just use the markers which really don’t always make sense. Second time around we make it.
The next unusual sight is the King’s Bay Submarine Base. This is one of two major sub bases on the Atlantic. Needless to say, we will not have any problems with depth here. The base is to our right, and it is obvious by the number of patrol boats we pass that security is tight. This isn’t a place you’d stop in to see if you could borrow a cup of sugar – there would probably be some shots across the bow for that. The base is a bit eerie with huge buildings over the water, one of which has this large black sausage sticking out of it. And there is a giant floating degausser , a device large enough to fit over an entire submarine that will demagnetize it. It’s getting weirder by the minute, and we are happy our electronics still seem to be working.
Fortunately we turn the corner and head into the anchorage by the National Park Headquarters on Cumberland Island. There are several other boats already anchored, but it will be a rough night with the strong winds opposing the tidal currents. Nevertheless, we will stay two nights to give us the opportunity to explore Cumberland Island.
The next day dawns even more blustery and very overcast. We have a job ahead of us. The dinghy is strapped on the foredeck and needs to be launched over the side, a job facilitated by halyards and muscles while the wind gusts in the upper 20’s. We get launched without a crisis, mount the outboard, and recommission the dinghy with anchors, fuel tank, and safety equipment. It is a short but wet ride into the park dinghy dock.
We are suddenly in a very quiet place. There are a few campers around that have come over on a park boat from the mainland and one park employee. It’s a sort of do it yourself place. We find a hiking map and head out to the Atlantic side. The interior of the island is composed of dense live oak stands draped with Spanish moss. It is almost impossible to see any sky through the canopy. Ground shells provide the surface for the few roads that ply the island.
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| Live Oaks, Spanish moss, and palmettos |
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| Gnarled Live Oak with intruding sand dune |
About a mile down the road, the trees open up and you begin to hear the roar of the ocean. A boardwalk takes you through ridges of dunes to a broad expanse of flat beach.
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| Boardwalk through the dunes |
It is low tide and the sand has been packed down by the previous high tide. We walk along the shore, accompanied by sea birds foraging for low tide treats and blowing spume from the huge breaking waves. We are seeing close to gale force winds here and the walking is difficult. We find a few shells perched on pillars of sand; all the surrounding sand has been eroded away by the wind.
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| Wind and surf on the beach |
We walk a mile down the beach and then head back – the going is pretty tough so we chose an interior trail instead to hike further down the beach, stopping again for a view from a gazebo. There we chat with another couple from Ashland, Oregon who are camping on the island. They complain about the cold and wind, probably more of a problem in a tent than a boat, and we discover that he had taught school with a woman who had graduated from high school in Mansfield a year prior to our son. Again, it’s a small world.
The beach would be fantastic on a calm, sunny day but today it is inhospitable so we decide to explore more of the interior. If the weather had been better we would have carted our bikes to shore on the dinghy as this is an ideal place for bicycling. Instead, we hoof it down another road to the Greyfield Inn, only to be informed entry into the grounds is for guests only. We have heard about Greyfield. It was originally a mansion built by the Carnegie family and is now a very exclusive inn. We outsiders could dine there if we made reservations at least a week in advance and were willing to shell out well over $100 per person for a gourmet dinner. Looks like we’ll be dining aboard tonight! Meanwhile, as we tramp down the trails we look for the elusive feral horses and armadillos, seeing neither. We also see very few people. None of the other anchored boats have dared to launch their dinghies. The remaining people fall into two categories – those dressed in the latest chic country inn clothes and those who definitely have emerged from tents.
After miles of hiking, we decide to use the dinghy to get to another area of the park. It’s downwind so on this leg we stay pretty comfortable. We tie up at the Dungeness dock and head in to the ruins of the original Carnegie mansion. The island has had an interesting history. Originally occupied by indigenous natives, the early explorers claimed the island for their respective countries. On the boarder between colonial territories of England and Spain, it was an area of controversy until the English finally won out. It was owned prior to the Civil War by one family and run as a huge plantation, raising the well known sea island cotton among other crops. Hundreds of slaves were part of the enterprise, and the owners built a huge home on the southern part of the island. All came to an end with the Civil War. Some of the now freed slaves homesteaded on the northern portion of the island, but all that remains of that settlement is the African Baptist Church, made famous by the marriage of John Kennedy Jr. there some years ago. In the late 1880’s most of the island was purchased by the Carnegie family, and their estate at Dungeness was built on the foundations of the previous plantation mansion. After completing Dungeness, several other large mansions were built on the island for their children, one of which is Greyfield. At one point the Carnegies employed over 300 workers to maintain the estates. Death and fires have laid waste to most of these homes and their outbuildings, but the ruins remain and they speak of a very different time in history.
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| The ruins of Dungeness |
And it is here, among the ruins of Dungeness, we see a herd of the feral horses, busy enjoying a snack of Spanish moss.
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| Feral horses among the ruins |
The descendents of the Carnegies have given their property and the remaining buildings to the National Park System; the rest of the property on the island is under a conservancy easement so that in about 20 years, there will be no private property on Cumberland, and it will be preserved in perpetuity as a wilderness. That is indeed, fortunate, and we will look forward to exploring this special place again, albeit under better circumstances.
Now it’s time to head back upwind to the boat in what seems like a very small dinghy. The waves have built. We put on life jackets and slowly motor back to the boat, getting drenched by the surf. And, if I didn’t already mention it, it’s fairly cool outside. Hoisting the motor to its mount on deck and the dinghy onto the davits is a trying experience with Burt trying to stay balanced on the bouncing dinghy while attaching all the hoisting mechanism. It’s a nail – bitter, but we make without damaging the dinghy, motor, or ourselves. And, we dive below for the rest of the night, drying off and trying to warm up. The Florida boarder is just five miles south. Florida is supposed to be the sunshine state. Did we make a wrong turn somewhere along the way?
