Cruising and Reflecting

A must for me when entertaining out of town guests is a boat ride on the Amelia River Cruise.  It is an adventure which is never the same.  This time Captain "Pajama" Dave and his able first mate Ellen were the stars of the show.  After a little bit of discussion as to who would "get to" do the talking, Dave relinquished his rightful turn to Ellen.

Because Ellen is an artist herself and this trip's group was mostly artists she convinced Captain "PJ" Dave that she could better speak our language.  She says she has seen Dave out of his PJ's only twice and that was at funerals when he showed up in his more respectable jeans.  Ellen claims Dave owns some 60 pair of Jammies.  We do have our interesting people on the island which is part of what I like.

It was good to see this new looking shrimp boat docked at in the Marina.  Gives us hope that shrimping is not dead.  Amelia Cruises is also offering a couple of new trips that sound like lots of fun.  For twenty-five dollars, you can go out on the boat with a marine biologist and help pull a shrimp net and see what you can catch.  It is "catch and release", after a brief stop over in an aquarium so everyone can see and learn about the creatures nabbed in the net.  The cruise also allows for a walk on uninhabited Tiger Island.  The other addition is a 2 hour, strictly for fun, sunset cruise with live music.  You can BYOB & food and have your own party for twenty-nine dollars per person.  These days we all have to be creative in our offerings.

This is the escape boat for the big ship docked at the port.  Ellen says this is like the one in which the sharpshooters 'took out' the pirates off the coast of Africa, the ones who had captured the captain of the commercial ship and was holding him hostage.  The shots had to hit the targets through these small windows.  That took some kind of marksmen to win that one.

But of course my interest was the wonderful reflections I could capture as we passed the port area with the big masses of color the ships represent.  The Escape Boat colors were especially rich and nice.  I wish we had not been in such a hurry but the horses on Cumberland leave the beach when the sun starts down, -so no time to waste.

I could have posted 10 of these but tried to pick out those most different from each other.  The reflections were like a kaleidoscope constantly changing.

Each vessel gives a different look with different colors and patterns mixed with the ever present blue of the reflected sky.

The big red cranes look like some kind of undersea creature with only the ripples from a tiny fish disturbing the surface.

But the topside views are pretty OK also, as more and more people are finding out what a great place Fernandina is to dock and store their boats when they are not using them.  Tiger Point Marina seems to be bustling.

Ellen gave us a nice treat which I had not experienced before.  I told you there is always something new to see or find out on Kevin and Cecilia McCarthy's River Cruises.  Ellen stood on the bow of the boat and stomped her foot.  She said that since the dolphins operate on sonar they would not be able to resist coming up to see what the noise was.  And she was correct as we suddenly had dolphin heads popping up everywhere.

One of the Ospreys has found himself a nice colorful place to hang out and fish in the middle of the river.  You will notice the barbed crown over the light itself to prevent any kind of sitting or nesting on the beacon that might interfere with the navigation so important if your are coming into port.

We postponed the Fort Clinch pass in an effort to reach the south end of Cumberland Island in a futile effort to see the horses before their "beddie-bye time".  These is nothing about Cumberland Island that I don't love except the pigs, and some of the bugs (ticks and mosquitoes in particular).  The view from here of the south end is perfect, which during my camping days on Cumberland meant committing most of the day to do a hike down that far and still have time to explore.  You can't walk on the beach there or here without taking time to find beach treasures.

Once upon a time we did just that, with the goal of digging Clams.  I was with a really great friend, Pat Weatherby, who knew all about how to locate and dig clams.  We had been told by some other campers where to find them and that they were good.  This is the area of sand flats that was to be our destination.  We had also told some city slickers from New York City about our planned adventure and they decided amongst themselves that digging wild clams sounded good to them also.  They figured they would surely be smarter than a couple of hillbilly girls, and would find an easier way to get there.  They looked on the map, saw that "as the crow flies" it would be much closer to head down the middle of the island.  What they didn't count on was the wide expanse of mucky marsh grasses and large tidal creek laying between them and the Clam beds.  They ended up on the banks of Beach Creek scratched, shoeless (shoes swallowed up by the sticky muck), unable to cross the creek, and too exhausted to retrace their journey.  In the mean time Pat and I were happily digging our clams.  Luckily they were able to flag down a boat in the creek and hitch a ride back to the dock.  They were not happy campers that night,  and somehow seemed to want to blame us for their misfortune.

This would have been the area they decided to hike through and if you know any thing about Spartina grass it is not kind to bare skin with its saw-like edges.  A Great Blue Heron does not lose his focus on dinner and stands his ground as we ease by him.

The hammock here is like a wild untamed jungle.  A place for wild horses, raccoons, a few mink, Gopher Tortoises, seed ticks, chiggers (red bugs), and probably lots of snakes.  A place I prefer looking at from the water.

The hammock gives way to the watery marsh which stretches eastward to the dunes; once crossed, they reveal the beautiful sandy beaches all along the eastern side of Cumberland Island.  And what beaches they are, so wide and white hiding a treasure trove of shells if you know where to look.  The beach was a much nicer route to the clamming area that's for sure.  Pat no longer has her eyesight, but I'm sure, like me, has stored those images from that long ago day and re-plays them; remembering a time when two much younger gals set out on the great adventure of "going native" on an untamed island, gathering our food, bringing it back to camp, steaming it, and sitting down to a great melted butter dipped meal, around our campfire.  Just like the Native Americans did, well, except for the butter.  Ummmm, nice reflections from the past.

Our usually pristine and regal Great White Egret was now wearing a mucky head dress from rooting around in the abundant food sources found in the wet, rich world of the marsh, the richest ecosystem in the world.

An unexpected treat from our accommodating hosts, Dave and Ellen, was to follow Beach Creek up its length rather than the abbreviated trip we were used to.  They were still trying to find us some of the horses; they had already left the beach for the evening.

As we traveled deeper and deeper into the creek, we passed many more birds and luckily we got to see some of the pretty-in-pink Roseate Spoonbills which some in our artist group had never seen before.

As we go further yet into the creek, old Mr. Sol was sinking lower and lower toward the horizon.

Horses are sometimes spotted in the area around the Dungeness ruins, the mansion which at one time was the center of the Carnegie life here on Cumberland Island.  The wall once separated lush gardens, grown to feed the family, from the manicured lawns.  The garden was fertilized with the organically rich muck from the marsh.  The Carnegies led a very fine and independent lifestyle for a long time on this remote southern isle, with some of the decendants still running the only commercial Inn on the island.

It was time to beat a hasty retreat back down the creek before the sun sunk totally into darkness.

It is much easier to navigate this curvy marsh creek, now at low tide, in the daylight.

The trip out is a bit less peaceful then the trip into the creek.  A very fine adventure.

Back across the open water we take in the views of Fort Clinch, then reach the deep port of Fernandina Beach, now lit by the night time lights.  Its a pretty sight and one which my friends and fellow artists enjoyed to the hilt.

The shrimp boats were very ghost-like in this badly focused photo I got by accidentally bumping my settings on the camera, but they almost make a statement about the industry.  Let us continue to resolve to buy local shrimp and not foreign farm raised shrimp, which are raised under some very questionable third world practices.

So we hope Fate lets shrimping and life in Fernandina Beach continue to exist without losing any of the good "old ways" but also utilizing any of the new ways that help us to survive these times intact.  Its our own little Mayberry by the Sea and we like it that way.

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.