In short: A southern gentleman at the ramp warned us about downed trees three miles in on the Satilla. He was right. We hit two big pines bank to bank, then more past that, and ended up hauling the whole outfit 200 yards through the woods in six or seven trips. The next day meant getting in cold water to drag the canoe through and lifting it up and over trunks. It was the roughest day we have had since we started. We still had a blast.
Thursday about 4:30 we rolled into the ramp and started unloading. A gentleman who had been fishing gave us the word: downed trees about three miles in. Out here you do not ignore local intel. A local knows things the map will never show you, and this one saved us from being surprised. Before we knew it we were at the trees he told us about, two big pines bank to bank. I tied off and walked the bank about a hundred yards looking for a way around, found another tree down past that, and came back to Tina. Sometimes the river just tells you where you are camping.
We could not slip that stretch, so we portaged. A portage is when you carry the boat and gear overland around what you cannot paddle. You unload first, then move the gear in loads and the canoe separate. Our worst stretch ran about 200 yards, and it took six or seven trips to haul every piece over, reload, and push off. We set the system at camp the way we always do, hammocks up, tarps up, because routine is the armor. I walked the woods for fat lighter while the light faded, and we got a fire going with the Uberleben Modern Firecraft. The steaks were frozen solid that first night, so we ate peanut butter and jelly and honestly, best sandwiches we ever made.
The Satilla was not done. A mile down there were two more big pines, one with lily pads growing off the end, and we got hung up trying to slip through. I took my shoes off, got in the cold water, and cleared the path, then pulled Tina and the canoe through. Fifteen or twenty minutes of that. Thirty yards later, another pine across the river, and since we were already wet we lifted the canoe and gear up and over. The river makes you earn every mile. After three more miles we found the right sandbar, and that night the steaks finally cooked the way they were supposed to. Steak and potatoes while the sun went down, what a way to end a hard day. Tina put it plain: she would rather sleep with alligators than run this one again until it is cleaned up. We did it, it is in the books, and we are better for it.
Reading obstacles, portaging a loaded canoe, using local intel, and handling a river that fights back. It is all in the River Master guide.
Read the River Master guideA portage is carrying your boat and gear overland around an obstacle you cannot paddle. With a loaded canoe you unload first, then haul gear in loads and the boat separately. Our worst stretch was about 200 yards and took six or seven trips.
Locals know what the map cannot show. A gentleman who had been fishing warned us about downed trees three miles in, and he was dead right. Out here you do not ignore local intel, it saves you hours and keeps you out of trouble.
It depends on the tree. Some you slip under by getting low, some you push off and swing around, and some you lift the canoe and gear up and over. When it is truly bank to bank, you portage everything on foot.
It is beautiful, but the stretch we ran was choked with hurricane-downed pines that made it our hardest day. Scout current conditions before you commit to a section, because a river can change a lot after a storm.
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