by Edward Gossett
It was supposed to be a Scout campout. The rest of the troop canceled. Just me, Josh, and a Hobie 16 launched from Crooked River. We aimed for Brickhill Bluff at the north end of Cumberland Island. Fourteen miles of tidal marsh and winding creeks stood in the way.
The wind came from the northeast. That was the direction we needed to go. In narrow channels we had to paddle. The breeze was too light for clean tacks. We pushed through it. After four hours, we reached the landing.
Camp Set on the Water
We didn’t bring a tent. We stayed on the boat. We rigged the sail as a lean-to over the trampoline. Line tied it off to the rigging. The mainsail sagged but held enough to keep the dew off. There was no rain that night. It worked.
On shore, a dozen kayakers had already settled in. Their camp looked like a catalog shoot. Dry bags, stoves, folding tables, and even homemade bread. They had everything but the kitchen sink. I wouldn’t swear they didn’t have that too.
Bugs, Burn, and Bread
No-see-ums showed up first. Mosquitoes followed. I had a bottle of concentrated DEET. The kind that numbs your lips if you get it wrong. Josh and I wore shorts and T-shirts. That was a mistake.
The kayakers wore long sleeves. They had face nets. They looked like they knew something we didn’t.
Dinner on our side was simple. A small burner and a pouch of dehydrated stew. Josh watched the water boil. He took one bite. He hated it. Someone from the kayak group noticed. Next thing I knew, Josh had a slice of fresh bread. Peanut butter and jelly. Thick. Soft. Probably the best thing he ate all month.
Horses and Midnight Sounds
Wild horses live on Cumberland. We heard them that night. Hoofbeats moved past our landing. Snorting. One stepped close. I stayed still. Might have been a raccoon or a hog. Either way, it didn’t stick around long.
The tide reached us while we slept. My shoes were soaked by morning. Marsh water rises slow, but it always gets where it wants to go.
Wind Behind Us
We left early. The wind hadn’t changed. This time it was behind us. One long reach. One jibe. Fourteen miles took a little over an hour.
Josh laughed every time the spray hit. The Hobie lifted up and sliced through clean. We passed every bend we had fought the day before.
Trip Notes
- Launch: Crooked River State Park
- Destination: Brickhill Bluff, Cumberland Island
- Distance: 14 miles each way
- Boat: Hobie 16
- Camp: Sail lean-to on trampoline
- Bugs: Bad
- Food: Worse
- Kayakers: Well-fed
- Horses: Heard, not seen
- Return trip: 70 minutes of solid wind
What to Pack Next Time
- Long sleeves
- Head net
- A backup meal that doesn’t taste like glue
- Real dry bags
- A tarp, just in case
- One more slice of homemade bread
