Savannah; A Birthday Drenching; A History Lesson

We are drifters, Gypsies, vagabonds, latter-day Kerouacs in an absurdly large Ford. Had Allison and I lived a hundred years ago, I truly believe you would have found us (IF you found us) curled in an empty boxcar, restlessly yearning toward the sunrise, our destination only realized when railroad police evict us, set us afoot, at a forgotten, dusty depot in some unnamed territory. (author's note: WARNING! WARNING! ROMANTIC, IDEALIZED CRAP ALERT!!!)

Toward the end of March we loaded up the dogs and our bindles (look it up, but it's more nostalgic hogwash, we use a space-age, waterproof nylon suitcase) and once again headed to the coast, this time a touch further north and the Southern Belle called Savannah. We were (as you may be) interested in the city's history, the aura of Americana surrounding this 'Flower of the South'; since we arrived in GA we had been advised uncountable times that no stay is complete without having spent time there. THEY WERE RIGHT.

Savannah was settled by a guy named James Oglethorpe in 1733. You can read his story at
http://ourgeorgiahistory.com/people/oglethorpe.html
and I highly recommend it for perspective. The area almost immediately became a center of commerce for exporting the products of the New World to England, France, and The Netherlands. Money and manufactured goods were likewise flowing back across the Atlantic, and the original colonists and their descendants did VERY well for themselves; the area grew and became strategically and politically influential.

Before we went there, this author had perceived the city mainly in the context of the American Civil War. In my weak defense, I am (not uniquely, I'm certain) a product of my experience and education; I only knew that which I had been told, been taught, or read. Georgia was the Old South; Savannah (Atlanta, Charleston, Birmingham, insert your choice here) epitomized the Confederacy, its traditions and mores, that became the iconic conflict, good vs. evil, that almost destroyed the United States in the mid-19th century. To be sure, much of the history of Savannah is inextricably woven into the dark fabric of that shameful and inexcusable era of the 'peculiar institution' also known as African Slavery. But it is also so much more...

My preconceptions were immediately demonstrated to be unforgivably naive, simplistic and uninformed. A closer look at this area and its people recounts a story of almost-unbelievable courage, endurance, and sacrifice. Unfathomable hardships were endured by the city's founders (and the first generation after them), that the fledgling democracy first conceived in Philadelphia in 1776 would not draw its last breath in the same decade as its first. To paraphrase (badly, I fear) Thomas Jefferson's famous quote: the blood of patriots (and their brave British and Loyalist adversaries) consecrates the very foundations of this city. See here http://www.americanrevolution.com/BattleofSavannah.htm
for what I believe is the definitive account of these inspirational (and poignant) events.

Well! Enough sermonizing and enough of my annoying newfound habit of burdening you, dear reader (apologies to Stephen King), with additional homework. Suffice it to say that we knew NOTHING about this beautiful, graceful, dignified city until we came here, until we listened carefully to the whispers of ghosts that reputedly prowl restlessly the narrow alleys, the ruined fortifications, the misty harbor. I am humbled by (and ashamed of) my ignorance.

Now here are the photographs. As always, click on the pic for a larger view. If you are persistent and thorough, you will discover what I mean by 'A Birthday Drenching' as contained in the title of this post. I'm sure you will find it comical; I did.

Statue Of James Oglethorpe, Chippewa Square:


Forsythe Square... They Really Have Dead Guys Under The Statues!


Oglethorpe Landed Here... This Is The Cotton Exchange


I'm about worn out now. Lots more pictures tomorrow.

S.

OK, here's some more stuff from Savannah. Sorry about the delay, I am just now recovering from a MOST UNPLEASANT medical 'oops!'. The procedure is called Lithotripsy, an arcane, misleadingly bland word essentially meaning 'you have a kidney stone the size of a marble; if we don't get it out, you are an excellent candidate for dialysis and, ultimately, placement on a transplant list, so we are gonna blast it outta ya with a hypersonic death ray, BWWAAAHHH HAA HAAA HAA!!!' (evil guffaw and demonic wringing of hands unsettlingly reminiscent of Snidely Whiplash).

The Riverboat We Had Allison's Birthday Cruise On:


THIS Is The 'Birthday Drenching'. The Waiter Apparently Decided I Needed A 32-Ounce Savannah Sling, Ice And All, Down The Back Of My Neck:

NOTE: There were about a hundred people in our section of the ship's dining room when this happened. The room became VERY silent for about 15 seconds; after that, well, have you ever heard the sound of about fifty cell-phone cameras, video cameras, and regular digital cameras ALL FIRING SIMULTANEOUSLY!?! These people were tourists from all over the U.S., and about a half dozen other countries. I sincerely hope this is not, for me, what Andy Warhol had in mind when he uttered his iconic 'fifteen minutes of fame' remark...

NOTE 2: When this happened, my shirt was tucked in, net effect of which is that ALL the ice in the drink found its way down the back of my jeans. HA! FUNNY!

We did the Historic District in an unorthodox (for Savannah) way, but one in which everyone who knows us will find no surprise. We parked every day south of downtown, unlimbered our bikes, and rode the entire area. I highly recommend that you do it this way; we had no traffic problems and Savannah's famous Squares are all bicycle-friendly. In effect, we went right through and around all twenty-one of them, something that would be impossible in a car or on a guided tour.

RECOMMENDED READING: Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil. The Quintessential and authoritative reference on the Savannah we saw. AMAZINGLY on target, highly accurate both sociologically and geographically.

Jim Williams' Mercer House From The Book:


Forsythe Park, Also Featured Prominently In The Book:


From The Front Patio, Owens-Thomas House. Looking At Square:


Colonial Park Cemetery, SEE NOTE BELOW PHOTO

NOTE BELOW PHOTO (HA! humor!) During the Civil War, Union troops were stationed at the cemetery because it was ideal for horses. The troops often searched for valuables among the graves. Some of the soldiers were mischievous; they tampered with dates on some of the tombstones. If the (modified) dates were correct, the oldest person buried there lived to be over a thousand years old!
This joint was closed to new burials in 1853. The oldest graves here date from 1750. Note the gravestones along the back wall; these were moved around and knocked over by the Union soldiers. There were no reliable records about who was where, so they just placed those stones along the back wall and called it good.

That's all for today. We are leaving Georgia on the 8th of April, and I got lotsa work to do to get us ready to travel. BUT: Check back often in the next few days, Dear Readers, as I'm not even CLOSE to being done with Savannah, its history, and the pictures. This is going to be a long, involved post, but I promise it will be worth your while to stick with it. I haven't yet showed you 'impregnable' Fort Pulaski, on Cockspur Island, that was brought to its knees (does a fort have knees?) by the Union in 1862. In thirty hours a newfangled, high-tech artillery technology called the 'rifled barrel' punched holes in this thing, and that very day the nature of warfare changed forever. And we still have to visit Tybee Island, and its pirates and patriarchs. Oh, my, I have LOTS more. Stay tuned.

Later,
S.

Okefenokee Swamp And The Golden Isles

We were off for another whirlwind tour. On the itinerary: the vast wetland misnamed the Okefenokee Swamp (tabbed as one of the Great Wonders of the North American continent by every exploratory guide we own; in actuality, a giant peat bog) and, almost as an afterthought and because it was close, the Georgia Atlantic Coast.

We drove east from Albany for about two hours through pine tree farms and pecan groves (we have yet to encounter a peach-growing area; I think they are either hiding them from us, or Georgia's nickname 'The Peach State' is just a big fib) to the north end of the area formally named Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge and Historic Area. We would never have known there was anything special about this place if it wasn't staring at us from the map; all you can see from the highway is dense pine forest and billions of saw palmetto bushes to the south and west of Route 22. I could almost hear 'Dueling Banjos' off in the distance; the only sounds were bird cries and the occasional staccato stutter of an air ratchet, emanating from an unending series of failing mom-and-pop farm equipment repair shops (which, by the way, appear to be Georgis's premier industry).

Eventually the highway widened perceptibly and we arrived, to much fanfare and blaring of trumpets (NOT!), in a little burg called Folkston, which styles itself on the Web as 'Gateway to the Okefenokee'.

Lemme tell ya a little about the town of Folkston, Georgia. It's a two-stoplight case study in obscurity, whose entire paddock of deluxe accomodations consists of (as we immediately discovered) the Jihadist Weekly five-camel-rated 'Relax Inn' and its counterpart, the fabulous (also Arab-owned) 'Western Hotel' right next door. Both 'resorts' sport professionally-drawn Web addresses listing an extensive array of amenities, so impressive that I've detailed them below. The accompanying parentheticals are this author's personal observations.

1) Heated, fenced outdoor pools (both empty, chained, in the process of returning to the land from whence they came and, from what I could see, home to an all-species-inclusive collection of the area's unwanted pet population both animate and deceased).

2) Restaurant/club combinations (now C/W-themed greasy spoon/beer joints catering mainly to backwoods roughnecks and couples with '74 Chevy pickups, his-and-hers mullet haircuts and unsatisfactory or nonexistent dental plans).

3) Opulent, graceful lobbies (true, but that's 'cause they are permanently locked; you register by the always-dignified expedient of standing in the rain and shouting through the little movie-theater-type grill in the bulletproof glass. You can SEE the lobby, you just can't GO IN the lobby. The burkha-clad refugee that checked us in never even asked for a name, usually a bad sign).

SO: it was with substantially diminished expectations that we set out for the object of the exercise, the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge and Historic Area (I'm not typing THAT again, so we'll just call it the ONWRAHA from here on out).

AND: almost-overwhelmingly-pleasant surprise: The National Park and its accompanying privately-run EcoTourist facility is REALLY NICE. Miles and miles of hiking and biking trails, guided powerboat tours, canoe and kayak rentals for self-guided exploration, a very nice gift shop and museum... they do a fantastic job of teaching the history, ecology, biology and paleontology of the area.

Since it was the middle of February, we were delighted to find the temperature in the upper 70s the day we were there. We chose the 20-mile bike path that ends up at the Boardwalk, which is a very cool hiking route that takes you right out in the swamp for about 2 miles each way. It's a good way to get out in the middle without needing chest-high waders (not to mention staying at arm's length from the moccasins and gators) and gives a good opportunity to see the wildlife without disturbing the fragile, balanced systems (small footprints, remember?).

Before we get to the pictures, you might wanna read the (unabashedly purloined from the Forest Service Web site) background below about the Swamp:

The Okefenokee Swamp is approximately 7000 years old. It is a vast peat-filled bog inside a huge, saucer-shaped depression that was once part of the ocean floor.
The elevation of the swamp varies. There is a 25 foot drop from the northwest side to the southwest side. The range in elevation is from 128 feet above sea level on the northeast side to 103 feet on the southwest side. The vegetative indicator of the natural swamp line is the presence of the saw palmetto.
The Suwannee River is the principle outlet of the swamp. The Suwannee flows from the west side of the swamp and empties into the Gulf of Mexico near Cedar Key, Florida. The Suwannee River is 280 miles long.
A small area of the southeastern part of the swamp is drained by the St. Marys River. The St. Marys River empties into the Atlantic near St. Marys, Georgia. The St. Marys River is 190 miles long.
The Okefenokee Swamp derives its name from Choctaw Indian words meaning "quivering earth" or "Land of the Trembling Earth."

On The Bike Trail, Literally Within Arm's Reach, Gator And Baby:


The Chaffee Homestead; They Actually LIVED Here Till The 1950s:


Carnivorous Pitcher Plants- THEY EAT BUGS AND SMALL ANIMALS!:


The Intrepid Explorers On The Nature Trail:


Unless You've Been Here, You Can't Believe How Quiet It Is:


A Good Pic From The Boardwalk:


A Rest After About 15 Miles, The Boardwalk:


We Saw About A Million Of These:


Finally, View From The Observation Tower, End Of The Boardwalk:


After a full day at the ONWRAHA (my sloth really knows no bounds) we regretfully (!) bade adieu to the Relax Inn and headed for the Georgia Atlantic Coast and the array of barrier islands known as The Golden Isles.

Geographical points, interesting because they directly affect the (human) history of the area:

1) If you glance at a map of the Eastern Seaboard, you might notice that Georgia's small section of coast lies the furthest west you can get and still be on the Atlantic. This has the serendipitous effect of dramatically limiting the intensity and historical frequency of hurricane landings along this stretch of shoreline. So if you have trouble recalling the last time you heard about Georgia being devastated by an Atlantic storm, that's because it rarely happens.

2) Because of the unique bend in the coastline, the Continental Shelf (the edge of the North American Tectonic Plate where sea depths increase precipitously, out into real oceanic regions) lies much further from the waterline than at anywhere else in eastern North America. This results in a seriously shallow angle of descent for the sea floor off Georgia's coast; we were given an average of about 2 feet per mile (by the Coast Guard station on St. Simon's Island) as the average fall-off for the first 20 miles out to sea. That means incoming waves, either from a storm or just regular tidal forces, expend their energy much further from the beach than is normal; as a result, the barrier islands are very stable. This is in direct contrast to the Carolinas (or Massachusetts around Cape Cod), where it's not uncommon for barrier islands (fundamentally just sand) to appear and then be washed away on a seasonal or even event-based cycle.

Net effect: it's much safer and saner to build on the islands adjoining Georgia's seashore than just about anywhere else on the East Coast; you can be fairly sure that anything you put up as a resort or vacation home won't be just floating in pieces out by Bermuda the next time you wanna go there.

Two of the abovementioned islands comprised our objective: St. Simon's Island, home of the Georgia Coast Lifesaving Station (later to become incorporated into the United States Coast Guard), and Jekyll Island, which was at one time a private club At the turn of the century, tycoons, politicians, and socialites flocked to Jekyll Island to revel in their own luxury and America's new wealth. The Jekyll Island Club was described in the February 1904 issue of Munsey's Magazine as “the richest, the most exclusive, the most inaccessible club in the world.” Its members included J.P. Morgan, William Rockefeller, Vincent Astor, Joseph Pulitzer, William K. Vanderbilt; other recognizable surnames on the roster were Macy, Goodyear, and Gould. The 'summer cottages' still standing, and which comprise the Jekyll Island Museum, are absolutely amazing in their excesses and, as such, make the island positively reek of old money.

The 1810 Coast Guard Station At St. Simons Island:


The Sidney Lanier Bridge, St Simon's To Mainland:


Because of the gradual gradient as detailed above, these islands are separated from the mainland not by open water (except in the case of the IntraCoastal Waterway, a shipping route kept dredged to allow huge container vessels to access the Brunswick port, and various other channels for small commercial, sporting and pleasure craft), but by miles upon miles of salt marsh. The wetland is flooded at high tide and the water recedes twice a day. This makes for one of the most prolific ecosystems in ths coastal U.S., and is a world- renowned bird sanctuary.

The Tidal Marsh At St. Simon's:


The Biggest Oak Trees We've Ever Seen:


Some Of The Local Residents: