There is an island in the very South of Georgia. On the one side is the Atlantic Ocean, and on the other, the Cumberland River.

At some point in time there were invasive plans to have it strip mined, a concrete causeway to be built joining it to the mainland, and just imagine, it would now be a hopping resort, THE place to go, perhaps some plaza malls, amusement parks, airstrips, marinas, a cement jungle with planted trees, and high rises and swimming pools and spas...

Instead, it proudly stands today, devoid of any of society's imposed advancements, in its full natural magnificence, an 18 mile long and 3 mile wide piece of beauty, designated a National Seashore Park.

They call it Cumberland Island. And it left us mesmerized and breathless.

Many civilizations of people have passed through here before us, and undoubtedly and hopefully, many more civilizations of people will pass here after us.

We spent a snippet of time here today. This is our story. And some of our pictures.

You can only arrive here by boat, either the Cumberland Island Ferry or your very own dinghy to the forest ranger dock. Our first steps ashore had us in awestruck and what we first noticed, no, rather, felt, was the complete and utter silence. The ranger's log wood cabin greeted us with emptyness, and an old map pinned to the billboard guided us.



The island is completely undeveloped, other than the Greyfield Inn, where John F Kennedy Jr and Carolyn Bessette secretly married and honeymooned.

There were so many butterflies flitting about,



A mimic here perhaps ?



The white shack (museum) holds a room full or relics that have been found on the Island, a testimony to the people and the lives that they might have led.



The first people on this island were indigenous peoples, settling here 4000 years ago (part of the Mocama, a Timucua group), what followed was the European Rivalries, the Plantation Era, the Civil War...



and History Goes On.

It was a surprisingly warm day, the sun playing peek-a-boo with some of the clouds, and there was shade provided by the live oak trees overhanging the walking paths.





The oak is an evergreen tree, a symbol of the South, and the official state tree of Georgia. Spanish moss was dangling off every branch, swaying in the humid breeze, the palmetto plants producing fans of palms larger than I.



We crossed the Island, noticing water filled bags warming in the sun (solar showers), evidence of other humans around, and pretty soon we could hear the crashing surf.

We noticed how the branches seemed to grow in the direction of the wind,



and then we exited the greeness of the forest, and saw the sand dunes, and then, the full splendour of the beach.



And what a beach... oh my,









In 1733 English General James Olgethorpe founded a hunting lodge on the island, naming it Dungeness.

Nathaniel Greene (a revolutionary war hero) purchased some land on the island in 1783 to harvest live oaks, so they could be used in ship building, the wood of some going towards the building of the USS Constitution.

Greene died, and his wife Catherine remarried and with her new husband, Phineas Miller, built a huge, four-story tabby mansion, naming it Dungeness.

Tabby is a type of concrete that was made during this time period, and uses sand and oyster shells.



In 1818, a very ill General Lee, came to the Island to visit his friend Nathaniel Greene. He died soon after and was buried on the Island. In 1913 he was reinterred in Virginia, however his gravestone was left behind.



Dungeness burned down in 1866.

In the 1880's Thomas (brother of steel magnate Andrew Carnegie) and his wife, Lucy, bought land on Cumberland Island. They started to build a mansion, based on a Scottish Castle. Thomas never lived to see it complete.

Funny how both men died. Could it be some sort of Indian Burial Ground curse?

Lucy and her nine children moved to Dungeness full time. They had pools, a golf course, and many buildings to house the 300+ servants ("slaves"?) that "made it all work" so that they could be completely self sufficient.

When she died, she willed that her horses were to remain on the Island, free to roam around, and roam around they do,



Sadly, Dungeness was destroyed by arson, in 1959.









I could almost feel and sense the ladies walking between our shadows, wearing the hoops and dresses, gloves and umbrellas, flitting about the covered pagodas while the men played polo,



or walked about the duck pond with prospective suitors.



They had naps in the afternoon, dressed for high tea, where business deals were struck and would-be husbands and wives were introduced, all prim and proper like.

We walked by some remnants of that time period, some very rusted cars, a vivid reminder that we all pass through here, leaving our prized possessions behind,



and all that's left, when all is said and done, is hidden in the sands of time.