Georgia, Silver Comet Trail, Kayaks and Alligators

Spring Break Road Trip -- Day 6

A multi-day front of heavy rains and wind closed in on Pensacola so we decided to leave a day early to get a head start on the drive home. Plus Georgia is not that far out of the way, is it?  (Answer: it's out of the way)  Following Google's navigation we routed to a very remote trailhead on the Silver Comet Trail just across the Georgia state line.  It felt like being driven back to the hotel by a drunk co-worker: you weren't sure how you got there -- it seemed like it took too long -- with a lot of extra turns -- and you were really happy when you finally arrived.

Unloading the bikes in the small gravel patch parking lot, we discovered Mona's bike had a flat.  

"I don't have time to fix your bike.  It's 30 minutes to sunset."  I told Mona.  

"That's OK, I'll just wait in the car.  You won't be long, right?"  She replied.

"We'll ride 10 miles and be right back," I assured her and with that Lauren and I pedaled away as fast as we could.

The combined Silver Comet and Chief Ladiga Trails run 95 miles through rural Georgia and Alabama.  A wide and well-paved trail, I was violating spirit of the Frizbo Fifty by only riding the bare minimum of 10 miles.  But Georgia was the one state in the entire Southeast that I hadn't checked off.  

MM 55 Silver Comet Trail

In the increasing gloom, Lauren and I hit the 55-mile marker took some documentation photos and headed back to the parking lot.  By the time we got back it was dark.

Get back before dark!

"Where's Mom?" Lauren wondered.

"I don't know," I answered as we rode up to the van.  I opened the door to find Mona huddled inside.

"God, I'm glad your back!  I was chased by wild dogs. And I really have to pee!"  said Mona as she hustled off to nearby bush.  Once she calmed down, she told her story.  After we left on our bikes, she decided to use the time for a short walk on the trail.  At some point she was approached by a couple of roaming farm dogs.  As I can attest, rural dogs can be quite territorial and scary.  So she retreated to the car and hid inside until our return.

"I'm so glad you weren't eaten," I said as I comforted her with a hug.  With that we resumed our journey back to Illinois.

Over the years, Mona has been a good sport on our adventures.  In 1997 when the kids were quite small (4 and 6), we took another trip to Florida for spring break.  That year we flew to Tallahassee and then drove to Blackwater River State Park for a two-night camping trip before we went to our beach house for a week.  It was already a long day by the time we arrived at the state park.

"Sorry, it's Easter Weekend, the campground is full, but I could put y'all out on the river.  You can camp on a sandbar!" suggested the park employee.

"But what about the alligators?" I asked.  I knew there were alligators in the Blackwater River State Forest.  I also knew people frequently paddled on the river without incident, but I needed some reassurance.   

"Oh, y'all be fine.  Kids tube down the river all summer and nobody's been eaten yet."

I conferred with Mona.  "Should we go for it?  We have our camping gear.  You pack our clothes and stuff for the canoe and I'll buy any missing provisions from the park store."  Soon the outfitter was driving us down a jeep road to a landing up river with a canoe and a kayak in the back.  My plan was I would paddle the canoe with the kids and gear.  Mona would go solo in the kayak.

By the time we arrived at the put-in at Wilderness Landing, it was getting dark.  The Blackwater River is lovely.  A narrow river, aptly named because of the tannins that tint the water dark brown, it meanders quietly through low hanging trees and by powder soft sandbars.

As I organized the gear, I suggested to Mona she take the kayak for a practice paddle.  She agreed.  I attempted to launch her out into river, but the kayak wouldn't budge.  It was hung up on something.  I checked that I wasn't standing on the painter rope.  OK.  I tried again.  The kayak grated, but was still stuck.  "What the?"  It was then I noticed that Mona's kayak paddle was firmly dug into the bank of the river.  She was intentionally stopping the kayak from moving.  I bent over and looked at her face.  She had tears in her eyes.

"Do you want to practice paddling?"  She shook her head no.  "Do you want to get out of the kayak?"  She nodded yes.  "That's OK, you don't have to paddle the kayak," I said as I helped her out of the cockpit.  In retrospect, I agreed with her thinking.  Who in their right mind wants to paddle, at dusk, on an opaque river, through an unfamiliar forest known to have alligators, in a kayak where your body parts are two inches above the water?  Instead I packed all the gear in the kayak, tied it to the rear of the canoe.  I then loaded the family in the canoe, well above the alligators, and paddled off into the Florida wilderness.

After a short paddle we came upon the perfect sandbar.  We immediately pulled over and set up camp.  I collected a large pile of firewood and set up the tent while Mona prepared dinner.  After dark, we put the kids to bed, relaxed by the fire and watched the river whisper by.  

Well, we thought we'd relax.  After ten minutes we could still hear the kids bouncing around in the tent.  "I'll lie in the tent until they settle down," I offered.  Minutes later, with the kids drifting off to sleep, I returned to the fire.  "What happened to all the firewood?" I wondered as the big pile was down to a few branches.

"I burned it to scare away the alligators," Mona replied.  

"You saw an alligator?" I asked peering out in the darkness.

"No, and I wanted to make sure I didn't see one," she explained.  That's fine.  It had been a long day.

The Easter Bunny found us on a sandbar

Paddling the Blackwater River

The next morning the kids got up to discover that the Easter Bunny had managed to find them on a remote sandbar.  "Good job remembering to pack the Easter goodies," I said as I watched the kids dance around the sandbar.

"Thanks.  I remembered the Easter bags, but forgot to pack any underwear for Lauren," Mona replied.

"She won't care.  She'd rather wear her bathing suit anyway."

After breakfast, the river looked much friendlier so Mona took the kayak out for a paddle.  No one was eaten.

The river is not as scary in the light of day

State:	Georgia
Date:	2016-04-01
Route:	Esom Hill Trailhead to MM 55
Distance:	10 miles (the bare minimum)