Since my dear husband and I are not (yet) regular boondockers in unimproved land areas (#campinggoals), we are not often faced with the feeling of isolation and true solitude. We both grew up in a world without cell phones, where our parents were not able to reach us or determine our exact location all day as we played outside in the woods behind our neighborhood. As children, that was normal. Teenaged Andrew and Tina would drive at night on a country road (trying to avoid parental detection, but also not easily able to reach anyone if we got an unexpected flat tire, or ran out of gas (a more likely scenario in my teenage years). As teenagers, that was normal. We were comfortable with it because that was the only option back then.
Today, however, that feeling of being completely on your own, if only for a few hours, seldom happens. If a child leaves the house, a parent generally has the ability to know where they are located. If a problem happens, help is usually a simple phone call away.
For the first time in a long time, Andy and I recalled those feelings as we drove through Fargo, GA on a gorgeous fall day in October 2020. It was Halloween weekend, and our destination was the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, also known as the Okefenokee Swamp (cue spooky music). The one-lane road laid out ahead of us, as straight as a pin, with small pine trees and natural green growth on both sides. We drove and drove, windows down, the dogs excitedly sensing that our destination was near. We rode for 20 miles from Fargo, down Route 177, with the last dozen miles absent of businesses, homes or crossroads of any kind. Miles before our destination, our cell service became unusable. Texts stopped coming and going. As dusk fell, we felt like we had already left civilization before we had even arrived.
The entrance to the park is gated and closed each evening, and it felt as if we were leaving one world and entering a new one as we passed through it. It was after 5:00 pm when we arrived, so with the Steven C. Foster State Park Trading Post closed for the day, we went straight to our campsite.
The next morning we awoke to a very quiet morning and we took a walk. The campground only has 66 campsites, and it was largely empty (and grew emptier at the end of the weekend – spoiler alert, after the weekend, we were one of only three campers on our loop). Our first task had little to do with seeking solitude. In fact, sad to say, we needed to find cell service so that I could handle our small vacation rental business in the coming six days, and Andy needed to make sure he could see his Baltimore Ravens play football on Sunday from our remote location.
We hadn’t wandered 50 feet from our campsite before we turned a corner and saw deer. At first a couple, then several. They were accustomed to human presence, but still wild and skittish. It was as if they understood that we were a temporary visitor to their land, their space. They obliged us, and allowed us to watch in awe at their morning beauty.
That morning we arrived at the Trading Post, located about a half mile from our campsite, really hoping we could meet our tech needs and still take in this beautiful place. As we approached the building, I noticed a couple on their cell phone video-chatting with their family members. As we entered the screened-in front porch, I saw a gentleman on his laptop. I was encouraged. Upon entering the store, we were met with an oasis of civilization. Camping supplies, snacks and tourist trinkets were all for sale. This was also the place we could rent boats to see the swamp up close, or even schedule a guided tour. But the moment of victory was the confirmation of free wifi! It only worked in and around the trading post, but it was blazing fast and able to handle my email, file processing and wifi phone calling and texting needs for the next several days!
Later that day, Andy had managed to maneuver the satellite dish to acquire the minimum NFL channels needed to watch the Sunday game, albeit at about 85% satellite connection. “Please Lord, don’t let it rain on Sunday!”, I whispered under my breath (ultimately, it DID rain on game day – for about 1 ½ hours, right up until kick-off, when the skies finally cleared and the game came into focus!).
Victory times two! Time to enjoy Okefenokee!
We spent five days immersed in the wildlife. Every hike we took, every trail we wandered, and even just walking down the state park road, we stumbled upon a new animal discovery. We saw a multitude of deer, several bucks included. We watched them eating, running and scratching their backs in the late afternoon sunshine. Andy spotted a raccoon and we enjoyed the sight of many birds of all sizes. We saw bears on three occasions, surprisingly close to the state park employee resident cottages, sitting below the acorn trees. Other campers had reported that the bears had also been seen in trees, so we became adept at looking up, down and all around us as we walked.
On Halloween night, we lit a campfire, and set out a small bowl of candy as about a half dozen children came by to keep the Trick-or-Treat tradition alive in a very different location. What we noted was the absolute darkness of the sky. Absent of any light pollution, the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge reveals a big dark sky that was wondrous – it is difficult to describe the vastness and open miles of blackness.
The highlight of our stay, however, was an afternoon on a rented skiff, out on the water trails of the swamp. Having received surprisingly little instruction for its operation (once we finally asked!), we were pushed off the little dock and out onto the open waters that completely surround the little island that the campground sits upon.
The initial waterways of the swamp are wide open and the birds were soaring over our heads. There were other birds that stood on fallen trees, waiting to spot their next meal. The landscape was unique and stunning. The quiet feeling of being alone in this natural swamp world was pervasive for most of the next four hours we spent on the water. We spotted only three other groups of people in our water travels – two skiffs like ours and a group of six kayakers paddling silently with binoculars and cameras in hand.
Our goal for the day, however, was to see alligators. With a small map in hand, marked with water trails and natural points of interest (hollow tree, Alligator Cove, Five Sisters cluster of trees, etc), we noted the wooden signs staked into the swampy waters with arrows to guide us, and made a left turn down a water “trail”, identified the narrow open water surrounded on both sides by millions of lily pads.
It immediately grew darker, as the overhead tree cover and Spanish Moss filtered out the sun. Andy had to drive the skiff slower, to adjust for the obstacles in the water – mysterious bumps underneath us that were likely hidden logs of long ago fallen Cypress trees. I was reminded of a 1970s animated Disney movie called the “Rescuers”, where an international team of mice flew to the spooky bayou swamp to rescue a little girl named Penny. The mystery animal sounds, the black waters, and the shadows cast by large overhead growth all created an impressive backdrop for our day’s adventure.
It didn’t take long before we noticed bubbles under the water, and small ripples on the surface that told us we had just missed an animal of some sort startled by our presence. We were keenly aware that there were MANY eyes upon us, and we would have to remain quiet and alert if we wanted to see our prized alligator. About an hour into our travels, we were rewarded.
Andy saw him first. Just the eyeballs initially, then the crown of the head, the long snout. The rest of this massive alligator remained hidden in the water. His head alone we estimated to be more than a foot long. I immediately began snapping photos in the general area he described seeing the gator, but it was another 30 seconds or more before I actually SAW the beast and was aware of him through the camera lens. All of the wildlife, especially the alligators, are incredibly well disguised in their natural habitat.
Invigorated by our sighting, and thrilled with the size of the prize, we relaxed and were able to see the rest of the phenomenal water world in which we were now fully immersed. I jokingly reminded Andy that I was worth more alive than dead, in case he had enough of me already, as this would be the perfect place to plan the disposal of any evidence of ne’er-do-well activities. I also wildly wondered that this was the perfect place for a band of criminal brothers to live a life of seclusion and safety from the world that wanted them caught for their bad acts (cue more spooky music).
We traveled about ten miles into the watery day trails on our skiff and were fortunate enough to spot two more alligators. They were both smaller than our first, but both were completely OUT of the water, sunning themselves on logs. We accidently coasted to within four feet of one (learning to maneuver the skiff), and thankfully, that alligator did not flinch one muscle.
Upon our return to the civilization of the Trading Post, we missed our final turn into the canal that led to the dock, a final reminder of how far away we were from the human world to which we were so accustomed. This was truly a special place set aside by our nation to provide refuge for wildlife, and we were so blessed to be able to become a part of it for six days. We were rewarded with breathtaking sightings of animals, natural growth that was astounding, and just enough time apart from the human world to feel enveloped by God’s great design.
Relaxing on our little skiff, taking in the beauty of God’s natural outdoors.
Safe travels, and Go Gators (double entendre intended)!
