Getting Into the Way Back Machine

In a distant past, (about a month ago), that seems like only yesterday, I got the opportunity to take a special voyage to a place I hold most dear to my heart.  My finding Cumberland Island and the natural wonders which existed there, led to my discovery of Amelia Island just next door, resulting in a truly life changing event for us.   One of my friends, Lynne, called me one busy afternoon at the gallery and said "I have a ticket to Cumberland Island tomorrow but I can't use it.  Would you like to take it?"  Thinking that it was one of the day trips from St. Mary's on the Park Service Ferry, I politely declined because my knee would not hold up to the amount of walking that trip would require.  Later that evening I got a note from Dickie Anderson who does the "High Tide Women's Weekends", saying how nice it was that Lynne thought of me first to take her place.  The "light bulb" finally lit up in my brain and I realized that this year Dickie was highlighting the National Parks in the area and this was no ordinary trip to Cumberland Island.  With shaking hands I grabbed the phone, praying I was not too late, and called Lynne, apologizing if I had awakened her, and asked if the trip was still available.  YES, YES, I WANT TO GO!!!

Lynne had feared rain and the heat since she is still recouping from a recent bout with some health issues.  The morning started out to be beautiful as I showed up early, not wanting to miss the boat, with my pack, my new orthopedic inserts in my walking shoes, and raring to go.  The recent rains had mushrooms growing galore all over the island and these were the first thing I saw as I walked toward the docks.  In the early morning light I could not pass them up without a few shots to start off the day.  It was a 70's flashback when mushrooms were a big subject for me to paint.  I'm sure there are still many of  my mushroom paintings hanging on walls in the Chattanooga area.  That was the time when framing in barn wood, reading Foxfire, and Adele Davis's dietary books (who lost favor when she died of cancer) which all told us how to live simply, eat healthy, and be environmentally friendly, the new hot ticket in living.  The dawning of the Green age; and you thought Al Gore invented it...

A perfect morning to climb aboard a boat and go on a very excellent adventure.  It was so calm it was almost as if I wasn't sure which was the upside of the photograph as I looked back toward the street on which my gallery sits and thought how great to just walk away for a day.  [Thank you to Lynne and to Bruce for making it possible.]  I whiled away the time waiting for the official Cumberland Island Park Service Ferry to show up at OUR dock,  enjoying the reflections through the camera's lens.

It was indeed a perfect morning for a cruise.  I suppose Gilligan thought the same thing when he set sail for that short cruise that ran through many seasons.  Although Cumberland Island is just a short distance as the boat sails and the crow flies it usually seems much further away since actual landing on the island means a trip to St. Marys and making reservations on the Park Service Ferry or spending the big bucks to go with Greyfield Inn which leaves from our island.

It was almost too calm as the water became a perfect mirror and I like the abstract in the water not realism.  Come on now, give me a wave or two.

Finally a boat came by and gave me some interesting images to capture.  Some day I will have an exhibit of all the wonderful things I see in the water.

With lots of bigwigs from Washington with Park Service affiliations on board and with women who had come from near and far for this trip, most were eager for a top side view as we left the harbor.  Dickie had outdone herself in arranging this great one of a kind event.  So thankful was I, to be able to be on board.  My yellow pack and camera bag sit in the foreground.  I should not have bothered.  Every thing was provided from water to a pack in which to carry our "stuff".

At that time of the morning there were many of the wild horses of Cumberland Island out along the grassy beach areas, as we paralleled the shoreline.

Our first stop was Dungeness, the home of Lucy Carnegie and her family, previously owned by and the home of the Phineas Greene's.  We strolled with the very informative Park Ranger down Coleman Avenue as we listened to the stories of the people who had lived here from the knowledgeable park ranger.  The canopy of Live Oak Trees and Spanish Moss fills you with expectations of what might have awaited you beyond the turn in the road as you traveled once upon a time in Miss Lucy's carriage as her guest.

Lots of wild turkeys were scattering as we interrupted their quiet morning of dining on the lawn bugs.

I had forgotten where this wonderful old fountain was, while on a previous trip and was determined to not miss it this time.  It was located on the backside of the oldest remaining building on the island, a nice tabby built by the Greene's who had built the first Dungeness.  This building had housed the tutors for the children who lived at Dungeness.  It had also served as an office for the tutor who stayed on to be Miss Lucy's right hand man after her husband died fairly early in life.

In the museum at the dock, which is actually the old Ice House for the estate, you can see the pictures of the mansion when it was a real live home.  It is impressive now but must have been a true wonder for its time.  The Carnegies had the latest in technology, and when only 7% of the country had electricity, they were generating their own here in their private island paradise.

Since there was so much to do it was time to re-board the boat much too soon, but we had a lunch date with the folks at Greyfield Inn.  It was not something anyone wanted to miss, either, as walking around the ruins, we had worked up an appetite.  This horse was enjoying a morning brunch of Spanish Moss, which it was harvesting off a downed tree.  A glimpse into part of their diet on the island.

These two were grazing on the sparse grass found growing on the sand flat.  I loved the twisty gnarly branch forms from the trees which have been uprooted by the eroding shoreline.

This was my favorite of the horses I saw.  Such a pretty pattern.  The horses through the years have mixed with those from the all the families who lived there.  My friend Cindy who lived here, and whose grandmother was Lucy Carnegie, can tell you whose horses influenced some of the colors especially the ones with the white blazes on their faces.  Sometimes a horse just gets through the fence and spreads his charms around the whole island.

A tour of the main floor of the house, now Greyfield Inn, which was given to the daughter, Lucy, as a gift.  The library here is filled with rare first edition books, some signed, which you are free as a guest to browse through.  The lunch was substantial and pleasant as the whole group assembled to chat, get acquainted, and pose for a group photo.  That's me with the red shirt, hat and water bottle in her hand sitting on the first step underneath the rather large flower pot on the right.

We had 20 minutes to go until the boat would leave us but I just had to walk with a few hardier souls to get a glimpse of the beach I had for so long loved.  This is the Main Road, which goes from end to end on the island and which I have hiked many times with my backpack loaded with a weeks worth of food on my back, and then later on my old three wheeler with Bruce once we found a cottage we could rent.  I stood remembering that first walk on my very first trip as four of us, 3 women friends and one male, when the sounds of the Armadillos would startle us as they rattled the stiff Palmetto fronds scurrying away when we passed by.  We couldn't see them and was not sure what was making the noise.

My knee was reminding me that I still had to walk back, and it was quickly nearing departure time.  Thankfully a fellow came along in one of the golf cart vehicles from Greyfield and I was relieved and thankful to accept a ride on his chariot right to the dock.  Yea, saved the knee for another time.

The next stop on the tour was Plum Orchard behind which we had found our little Pink Cottage retreat and left the tent camping behind.  Since it is about 7 miles up the island I don't often get the chance to revisit.  On the way we had to retrace our path a good bit to be able to access the river channel, with the large ferry   The channel took us very close to the Kings Bay Nuclear Submarine base.  The large tall structure on the top left photo is a gizmo (very technical words so don't get overwhelmed) through which the subs pass through on their return to discharge the static electricity that has built up on the outside of the vessel due to the friction of the high speed with which they travel through the water.  They have to do this so they don't create a spark when they refuel.  As luck would have it on such a perfect day a sub was in port.  Of course we also were being evaluated, but  as a result, able to get up close and personal with the gun boat which was guarding the base.

Plum Orchard was the largest of the homes Lucy built for her children.  They were all given the choice of a house or cash, with most of the girls opting to take the money and run.  This is one of the most beautiful, which the daughter-in-law added another wing onto, after it was built, needing more space, -for just the two of them and staff of course.  It has over 100 rooms although I was not sure what was considered a room.  I think the count had to have included closets and hallways as rooms, because it doesn't seem that big to me.  Of course it has an attic with living quarters for some of the staff which we were not able to see.  That means 4 floors of rooms including the large and cavernous basement which we were also privileged to explore.  There was an area the size of a room just to accommodate the motors for the refrigerator which was in the adjoining area.  Things were not so compact in the early days of electrical technology.

Because they could afford to do so it was tastefully furnished with fine furnishings and elegant touches like Tiffany Lamps and hand painted/stenciled wallpapers everywhere.  To me the warmest part of the house was this cozy fireplace which you stepped down into, located in the foyer area,  It would have been very warm and cozy with a roaring fire on those cool damp winter days.  Great touches like wood paneling in the Gun Room to give it a very masculine touch with billiard tables, a baby grand, and built in gun cabinets along with the tortoise shell Tiffany lamps in the picture above.  A great place to hang out at the end of a hard day hunting and prowling the beaches.  Even an elevator with hydraulic lift which later came in handy as the Carnegie son developed a muscle condition which left him in a wheelchair.  What had been a luxury became a necessity for navigating to the upstairs bedroom area.

The only time I have seen a horse in this condition on the island.  The Park Service lets the horses remain on the island on the condition that they do not have to do anything to keep them going.  This means if they get sick they do not help.  Sometimes a stallion will loose his place as head of the herd and is exiled.  He will then soon die of loneliness and this could be the case here.

There is a fresh water pond just behind the house, which I had remembered always had lots of birds.  That was back when I didn't know the names of our birds.  The tree was filled with lots of very skittish Great Whites, White Ibis (young ones still brown). a Green Heron, some baby Alligators, and mosquitoes the size of birds and ticks to boot which took their toll on me and I did not stay long.  It was pretty grown up and one of the longest snakes I have ever seen in the wild had run into this pond on an earlier trip back in the old days.  I like snakes but I didn't want to prowl around in their house uninvited.  Water snakes are noted to not be real friendly to such intrusions.

It came time for us to turn homeward.  I usually do not feel our paper mills pollute the air but from this distance I am rethinking my stand on this.  True we do not get the smells on the island associated with papermills of earlier times, but when I saw the clear pristine skies from this distance and the plume of low lying yellowish haze spreading to the Southwest from Rayonier and gray smoke coming directly on the North end from the Rock Tenn plant I was very disheartened.  I don't think they were both just having a bad day.  Now come on folks, even if your pollution doesn't stay on our island, it's still going out there.  Let's clean up our act!!!  Even on cloudy days...

The Marshes were at their prettiest green and the horses were enjoying it as if they had been turned out into a new pasture.

Only a few of us still headed for the upper deck on the journey back home.  There was wine and treats inside the cabin underneath and some very tired ladies to enjoy it.  The trip was exhausting but wonderful at the same time.  None of the buildings we toured had the new fangled air conditioning so perspiration had taken its toll zapping our energy.  As we rehydrated only a few rain drops added to the mix from the gray clouds overhead.  All around were the perfectly beautiful billowing clouds I love.  I took many photographs of them that day.  The next day one of my other friends from Jacksonville who had gone on the trip came to say she was disappointed that I had not made it to the mixer and fashion show later that night.  I said, "are you kidding?  I was sound asleep by 8 o'clock."  Am I getting old?

Nests and Ospreys

Last week continued with two nests, #7 and 8 being found over the weekend by one of the park rangers.  Meanwhile I was doing turtle patrol for Ranger Marie who was on vacation putting me on the beach more days than usual.  It seemed that turtle nests were popping up all over the place.

This one was a hard call as to if or where there were eggs because she had possibly laid right in the wrack line of the river, up against an escarpment.

Clouds still teased a bit, but mostly just flirted with us and moved away.  Still no rain.  I had out of town house guests heading my way for a week to take one of the workshops which Mikolean and I were offering.

"X marks the spot", or in this case the Ghost Crab hole gives us a good indication of the location of the egg chamber of this ocean front nest.

Interesting tracks as momma turtle came in on the right side got to work laying her eggs and beat a hasty (as turtles go) retreat back to the water.

The first thing a turtle does when she reaches the beach is to lay her chin down on the sand.  We are not sure what they are doing, if they are smelling to see how the sand is or if it is her hometown smell or if it is just the sudden weight of that big head out of the water, but this gal left a chin drag in several places as she struggled up the slight incline with that massive Loggerhead chin.

Staking a nest takes a good bit of time, with all the paperwork involved, staking, GPS'ing, and stringing the nest.  After we determine where we think the nest chamber is located, we place 3 stakes in the sand to form a triangle.  We place a GPS device in the spot to get our coordinates.  This is recorded in our log book along with other information such as a physical description of where the nest is located.  The nest is also recorded in the GPS gizmo.  A stake is placed in the dunes as a back-up and its location is noted and measured.  Last thing is to put a string around the nest stakes and to write on the stake the dates found and anticipated hatching.

When I stopped to check on a Horseshoe Crab stuck in a dry tidal pool area, I noticed these interesting patterns left by some crawly Crustation trying to find the water.

This tidy little lover's knot shape was formed by two, yes two, Horseshoe Crabs caught in the now dry tidal pool also.

I have learned to recognize the signs of a second (usually male) crab buried alongside the other half of the mating couple.  Lover boy had gotten  himself in quite a quagmire with only a tiny sliver of his shell visible.

I had to use a digging tool I found on the beach to get enough of the hard sand moved to allow me to carefully pry him loose.  Once released where does he head?  Well, of course he heads right back into his former prison.

As I walked the Crabs to the water's edge I noticed some pretty sand patterns formed in the runoff area of the pool.  The female was pretty tired and might not have had the energy to make it back to the water, but the male was pretty energetic still.  They both disappeared into the depths.

The Sea Oats are just starting to form their pretty seed heads.  They are now their Spring green color.

I noticed a photographer setting up his camera equipment with tripod just west of the pier.  I stopped to see what had caught his interest.  I grabbed my quick shot with my hand held camera out of the buggy door not wanting to interfere or scare away his subject.  Not too bad for shooting from the hip.

This one was Sunday evening as I gave my North Georgia guests a quick tour of the beach.  Being mountain girls the beach was a special treat for them.  This was out of my car window.  I only had a brief moment to get the shot before I lost it forever.  That is why setting up the tripod just doesn't figure into my way of photography very often.

One of the gals had never seen or heard of a Gopher Tortoise.  They were excited and they thought I had great control of the animals in the park to have them appear on cue like that.  When I said we often see deer in this area, one appears as if on cue then a few yards further on a Gopher Tortoise, so docile, she let me reach down and pick her up to get her across the road she was planning on crossing.

A little drama as we exited the rear of the park and I was pointing out our Osprey nest.

Here came Papa with what appears to be a crab cake on the whole shell.  I believe it was a Blue Crab in his talon.

He settles in as Little Girl seems to be giving instructions on how to set the table.

Looks like the Crab may have been resisting a bit.  Little Girl is certainly giving it a stern stare.

This shot was taken from the bridge Monday morning as I crossed over to the back gate of the park.  Unfortunately the nest box is so high that it is hard to get a shot of the chicks from underneath.  There are three this year and when one backs up to the side you need to beware below!  The white road underneath attests to good bathroom habits by the chicks.  No messing up the house while mom is gone.

Monday, about mid-ride around the beach, I witnessed a bit of a turf war on the big light beacon, in the water's edge on the river.  A crow was busy trying to convince the Osprey which sits there a lot that he wanted the Osprey's spot.

The Osprey was clearly disturbed, but not to the point of giving up any ground.

Several times the crow tried to persuade the larger bird to leave.

The osprey continued to resist the crow and probably just listed him as an annoyance to his otherwise good day.  The crow finally settled back on the railings but was still pretty vocal about his claims that it was "his" tower.  Who knows who the interloper was that day but I do know that the Osprey is usually in this spot and considers it his own personal fish-spotting tower. It was a fun week with more upcoming beach adventures, as I let my friends try their hand at being volunteer Turtle Patrol ladies with me the next two days getting to do lovely tasks like drive stakes in the ground with a sledge hammer.  Fun, fun, fun.