Kayaking Coastal Georgia
Ominous grey skies hovered low above us while we stood along the sloped beach above the small slow breaking waves. The staged colorful kayaks provided a slight yet vibrant splash of color to the morning. The sand beneath our feet remained cool and wet from the night’s relentless rain. We were looking south across the expansive open water, providing thin images of a tree line along the horizon.
Our adventure was to circumnavigate the uninhabited piece of coastal land referred to as Little Tybee, land owned by the State of Georgia, held in a Nature Conservancy, and completely natural. The island is actually a series of small island hammocks sitting just across the back river inlet from Tybee Island.
We placed our trust in our paddling ability and in our guide, an ex-military medic who provided reassurances that the weather would hold and our trip would be fine.
We launched from the beach and paddled quickly, marveling at the brown pelicans, gulls, pipers, and other sea birds as they moved along the shoreline, using the wind and waves as tools to find, hunt, and gather food. The more regal-looking bald eagle hunted from high above us while pods of dolphins rolled through the water, and the occasional fish popped the surface of the otherwise still water.
After crossing the back river, we entered several miles of narrow creeks called Jacks Cut that provided access to the island’s south end through the protected waterway. In some cases, the cut was only wide enough for our kayaks to pass. The walls of tall lush green marsh grass lined the slough while the water beneath our boats slowly moved out to sea.
We landed on a beach just before the cut meets the surf on the south side of the island and ferried our kayaks across the sand to higher ground. Then we spent a while strolling the beach, wading through tidal pools, marveling at the natural peaceful loneliness of wilderness.
Driftwood of all shapes lay motionless, a world removed from its life as a living tree, forced by waves and wind to its temporary resting spot high on the beach against the tufts of marsh grass sitting atop dunes; the scraggy shrubs beneath the towering pines and palms gave gnarly backdrop to the island’s weathered mass.
We returned to our boats and headed into the surf. A steady line of approaching waves in front of us, seemingly there to defend our entrance into the open seas. We entered the break with adrenaline flowing. The waves provided consistent shots of breaking water across our chest, and our bows sliced through the oncoming waves, shooting us up into the air and crashing back into the waves time and time again until we finally made it to the other side of the break. The swells now rolled beneath our boats, gently lifting us up and down, reminding us that at some point we had to reenter.
Suddenly we witnessed violent splashing water to our starboard side which turned out to be a feeding frenzy of sharks just behind the break. The sight gave us more determination now than ever to remain upright, inside the protective hulls of our boats. At one point, a shark actually struck the side of our guide’s boat. If the sound and splash of the feeding weren’t causing concern, the expression on the face of our combat-hardened warrior guide sent us into a brief panic of nervous, yet focused energy.
A few minutes later, we pointed our bows back towards the channel on the north side of the island, reentering the surf with the force of the waves now behind us providing momentum, pushing us into the calm safe waters.
The last few paddle strokes back to the boat launch were combined with a fun conversation about what we had encountered, the thrill, the beauty, the natural. This amazing day, circling this small coastal island was a thrilling day of paddling, a complete soul-enriching experience, a relaxing adventure reminding me that I am alive.
