Tag: camping

Surprises of a quiet day: Blythe Island Regional Park, Brunswick, Georgia

A wildlife bonanza and kayaking serendipity right at camp

This campground, part of a park run by Glynn County, was my home for three nights, arriving January 23rd and departing January 26th. After the long excursion to Okefenokee, I decided to stay and enjoy the park on my last day. Chores and writing got accomplished, but I also just relaxed. While my laundry was drying in the laundromat, I walked over to the park’s public marina on the tidal South Brunswick River. The birds, there, oh my, I just couldn’t believe it!

On the dock, a pair of brown pelicans posed willingly, their fuzzy yellow heads so soft in contrast to their much coarser gray body feathers, wet from the brackish water.
Another intriguing pose
A male hooded merganser popped up next. I watched him dive and preen, gazing down from behind a long fish cleaning table that mostly hid me from sight.
The snowy egret can be identified by its bright yellow feet, which I clearly saw as he stalked along.
Then there were these buddies. The immature little blue heron on the left, with its distinctive green legs, flew in first. Then came the bird on the right, which I believe is an immature white ibis.
Two youngsters enjoying the hot sun and refreshing breeze, hanging out together.

Later that afternoon, I ambled out of my camp chair, assembled the kayak, and plopped it into the water that I could see from my front window. There are two tiny lakes there, but it turns out there is a canal (or stream?) that flows out the far side. Paddling past more egrets and a shy turtle, I followed the current into the narrow passage, past longleaf pine above and rhododendron below. Once, I turned back briefly just to make sure that going against the current would be doable.

If I hadn’t stayed to relax at camp, I would have missed this gem.
Today’s mystery water plant, observed in several large matted clumps

Exploring that canal and a couple of dead end turns off of it, I ended up paddling almost three miles. Meanwhile, there was a small problem in paradise. Fires ants! Carrying the kayak down, I had been bitten four times. I recognized that stinging pain right away, but it took a minute to find them under my Teva strap. A day later, my left foot would be swollen and very itchy, with blisters where the bites were and an ugly reddish color to the front half of my foot.

I will spare you a photo of that!

Last character of the day’s wildlife bonanza was this armadillo, spotted as I drove back home with a takeout shrimp po boy from Fish Tails Pub & Grill, right down the road.

Sometimes the best days happen right at home!

Farewell snow, hello North Carolina

The Uwharrie National Forest offered excellent kayaking, hiking, and warm campground friendships at the start of my winter-long RV journey.

You have all been exceedingly patient in waiting for the full NC story, which will be covered in the next several posts. This was the first true camping stay of the trip, chosen for its convenience for a visit to my dad’s first cousin Janet in Graham, NC. I arrived on January 5, 2024, two days after my 62nd birthday. I had been eagerly anticipating this milestone, the magic age for purchasing a Senior Lifetime America the Beautiful pass.

Running from the snow and toward the Uwharrie National Forest headquarters before Friday closing time, I made it. After a marathon 484-mile drive, with my pass in hand, I set up in the Arrowhead Campground on Site #31 (first come, first serve so it was mine for up to 14 days). There was an electric hookup and a thankfully sturdy (more on that later!) stone shower house.

The Uwharrie National Forest is in Piedmont North Carolina, east of Charlotte.

At the campground, I found the community I had been promised. Don, the campground host, lives out his philosophy of making the world a better place, one camper at a time. He, and fellow campers Joan and Al, even bought my books! Joan, an AT section hiker who is well on her way to finishing, read as far as chapter 12 in Upwards, and it was fun to be able to answer her questions about my NFCT thru-paddle around the campfire.

How fortunate that Don was my first campground host! He finessed my trailer into a better spot for me, treated me to an El Dorado cheeseburger with onion rings, and stood next to my truck yesterday in the freezing cold and miraculously got it to start when it hadn’t earlier.
Me, with Al and Joan…a fun surprise was unexpectedly meeting them and their dog Missy, during my hike on the Dark Mt. trail!
Looking out from the shelter of the shower house during a downpour with a tornado warning!
My Arrowhead campsite (#31) was paved, fairly level, and very wide, with an electric hookup.
Looking toward the lake at sunset, with a glimpse of the lake through the trees.

One last weekend

One last weekend

Pulled from summer’s grasp into the chilly hands of fall

Our gear, gathered from the jumble of adventures past, rejoices to venture forth just one more time

The lake, discovered by friends who camped there first and generously shared the story of its wild, empty shores

The surge on windy crests of white to find our home, where some good soul has left us firewood beneath a tiny roof of birchbark

Dreams of swimming lie buried under wooly hats and added layers and we scramble over jumbled rocks to a woodland trail instead

A garter snake, like us, seems unwilling to surrender the feisty warmth of summer and defends his trail with fierce tenacity until we slip away

Hotdogs drip, above the glowing coals, beneath the toasting buns, and we eat with gusto

Later, the wind has calmed and water gently laps the shore. Does it dream of summer’s radiance or long for peaceful snowbound sleep?

In quiet unity, we write, we draw, we scoot ever closer to the living glow that wrestles with the icy night, as stars emerge

Dawn pulls us from the best of sleep, as crazy, restless calls surround our narrow point. Then, paddling out, the echoes become a bouncing dot of black and white, a loon to say farewell until summer comes again.

(by Laurie Chandler, Tunk Lake, Maine, September 2016)