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That morning, we dined at the Huddle House, and returned to the shop. Charlie has packed all our gear into his VW van and strapped a canoe and kayak on top. We sped away, passing the flat lands surrounding the Ocmulgee, past fields of ripe watermelon, past the historical marker for the world's largest catfish (38" long, 63 lbs, if I remember correctly).

At Jacksonville, the water was very low, but moving nicely. Weather promised to be hot. We set our route on the GPS and headed out. Our watercraft consisted of one canoe (a rented 16' Mohawk and my P & H sea kayak. The only other river trip I had taken was recently on the Edisto, in SC. The Ocmulgee was more lake-water in color: pale green, with brown sandbars, red/white eroded bluffs. 

For 10 years I have been canoeing the still waters of the Okefenokee. This trip, as well as the Edisto trip, is part of a growing interest in exploring local waterways. My two sons, young teenagers now, are ready and interested paddling partners. We make a great team.

Charlie had told us to be on the lookout for gators. One member of our trip, Steven, hailed from Bosnia, and was not a little nervous about meeting these reptiles for the first time. He was especially concerned about sharing a sandbar at night with a hungry gator. I brought along an aluminum baseball bat if we should experience a close encounter, though in my Okefenokee experience, I could not fathom even needing it. 

Seeing me with the bat, he did not know whether to be more concerned about the gators, or the state of my mind. It was all a bit strange for him. While there were no gators, we did see the usual panoply of wading birds: blue heron, egrets, ibis, etc.

The GPS registered a stream rate of about 1.7 mph. Speed made good was at times 5 mph. This pace far exceeded my expectations, and allowed us to spend much leisure time in the water. 

The sun was exceedingly hot, and we needed to cool off, get refreshed, and re-hydrate. The effect of the sun did not become apparent until we felt drained and uncomfortable, for no clear reason. A dip in the river was immediately refreshing, and we quickly realized that the strong sun really did take it out of us. 

For half an hour Steven and Dominick floated alongside the canoe and kayak. We passed Barr Bluff and Coffee Bluff. Tremendous gouges in the earth from the river being forced into a turn. We ate lunch, munching on a watermelon that we had purchased on the way down. 

Shortly thereafter, the river poured through a tree-filled cut-through. It was a deep and swift channel, full of strainers. It was in this section that I realized that my still water experience did not sufficiently prepare me for river travel. The canoe I was traveling in landed sideways against a large log that was partially above the water. As we hit, the canoe listed upstream, and water started to enter. I noticed it and quickly leaned the other way. In my mind's eye, I saw the boat continue to capsize, with all our gear slowly tipping out. The trip would have turned into a disaster.

Much of my packing assumed that we would not tip, or if we did, it would be in shallow water, where we could retrieve our gear. The current and depth at this cut-through were sufficient to swallow anything that hit the bottom. I was faced with the uncomfortable truth that I had gambled our safety on something I did not want to happen, but very well could happen.

After soaking all this in, I realized that I needed to get us out of that jam. We slowly pivoted the canoe parallel to the current, and eased thought the only 3.5 foot wide opening navigable at that section.

We proceeded past Flat Tub landing, and decided to call it a day, around 4:30 pm. We wanted to save the remaining miles for days two and three. Unfortunately, the gnats and heat made relaxation on the sandbar impossible. The only relief was in anchoring on to a large branch in the river and floating. We covered our selves in OFF, burned insect coils, lit a fire, and even smoked cigars. Nothing would keep them away. They did not bite, but they were annoying never the less. After dinner, we turned in around 8 pm. We had started talking about the possibility of doing the remainder of the trip, another 20 miles, in one day, pulling out at Lumber City, and heading home.

The prospect of whiling away the hours on a gnat infested sandbar was unbearable. Paddling was much more enjoyable. The next morning, we pulled out around 9 am. The sun was strong, and the bugs were already out. We negotiated another cut-through, complete with strainers, with no incidents. We ate breakfast a little past Rocky Hammock landing. The river straightened out, forming long lake-like sections, with slow moving currents. Local fishermen joined us on the water. Some sandbars were gathering places for local campers, complete with 4 wheelers, trucks, jet skis, boats and other RVs.

We pulled into Lumber City around 5:30, having paddled at a leisurely pace, swimming for an hour here and there. The railroad bridge at Lumber City presented a photo opportunity for my shutterbug son. Its rusting trestles, and abandoned steel-framed house dramatically outlined against the blue sky.

I tried to call Charlie, to let him know we were 24 hours ahead of schedule, but he was out. We left his canoe at his shop, and headed for home.

I am already dreaming about the next trip . . . .

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Thomas Reuter € Samaritan House / Cafe 458 € 404.523-1239

Samaritan House Home Page http://samhouse.home.mindspring.com/