In short: We pushed out of our home territory up to Lumber City, Georgia to paddle the Ocmulgee River down to where it joins the Oconee and forms the Altamaha. The river had come up since Sunday, running swift and brown and muddy, nothing like the clear blackwater we know. High water changes everything. The heart of this one is a campsite that just felt eerie, so we trusted the gut, loaded back up, and moved a mile down to a spot that felt right.
Y'all can see the blackwater has turned brown, I said as we started down the Ocmulgee. We put in at the 3:41 boat ramp on May 15th, and the river had come up with swift currents and muddy water. High water changes everything on a river, the lines, the hazards, and the places you thought were safe. We passed the old rotating train trestle, probably been a while since that thing turned, and loaded River the dog up for the ride. Somewhere back in the water I saw something that was not a gator, maybe an otter, but we turned around and never did see it again.
Around five o'clock we found a place, got out, unloaded the bags, and decided where to set the tent. And then something just felt eerie. It is hard to name that kind of feeling, but you learn to trust it on a river. So we did not argue with it. Guys, we are gonna change our plans, I told Tina, it just does not feel right, so we are gonna move on. We loaded everything back into the canoe and went down another mile or so. That is when we found it, up out of the water on the sand line, tent tucked under the trees, a beautiful view. This is gonna be home.
Supper was quick and simple, mashed potatoes and Dinty Moore beef stew off that little burner. We said grace and thanked the Lord for watching over us on this new river and for all His creations. While we ate we listened to a pair of hawks having a field day across the way, two of them, maybe three, either a pair already or fixing to make one. It was a rough night, got cold for some reason and I did not sleep good, but morning came bright and we got up to assess the day. Tina got her coffee and a protein shake stood in for breakfast.
Come morning we packed up and paddled on to the big moment. This is where the two rivers meet, I told y'all, the Oconee to the one side and the Ocmulgee we just came off, coming together to start the Altamaha. The water swirled in every direction, and it is a beautiful place. That is what the Altamaha is, it is not a beginning, it is a collision. And we had one more night on it, because the river was not finished with us yet. The finale is coming next.
Reading high, swift water, trusting your gut on a campsite, and moving when a spot feels wrong. It is all in the Canoe Camping Playbook.
Read the Canoe Camping PlaybookThe Ocmulgee joins the Oconee River in south central Georgia, and where those two waters collide they form the Altamaha. We put in at Lumber City, Georgia and paddled down to that meeting point.
High water changes everything about a river, the lines you would normally run, the hazards you have to watch for, and even the places you thought were safe. On this trip the Ocmulgee had come up since Sunday, running swift and brown and muddy, nothing at all like the clear blackwater we are used to. We put in at the 3:41 boat ramp on May 15th and could tell right away this was a different kind of water to read than what we normally paddle. Along the way we passed an old rotating train trestle that looked like it had not turned in a while, and we had River the dog loaded up for the ride the whole time. At one point I saw something in the water that was not a gator, maybe an otter, but we turned around and never spotted it again, which is just part of paddling water this high and this stirred up.
Yes, without question. We had already gotten out, unloaded the bags, and picked a spot for the tent when something about that place just felt eerie. It is hard to put a name on a feeling like that, but you learn to trust it on a river, so we did not argue with it or talk ourselves out of it. I told Tina we were changing our plans, that it just did not feel right and we were going to move on, so we loaded everything back into the canoe and pushed off again. We paddled down another mile or so before we found a much better spot, up out of the water on a sand line with the tent tucked under the trees and a beautiful view in front of us. As soon as we saw it we both knew, this was going to be home for the night.
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