1 Night Solo Canoe Camping the St. Marys | 12 Foot Gator at the Willow Tree

In short: It was a rainy afternoon in South Georgia with a lot of bad looking clouds and thunder rolling, and I went anyway. The kayak did not work out, so I backed up, regrouped, and got the canoe. Then I set off solo on the St. Marys to paddle a section I had not run in years, camp under the Sturgeon full moon, and fish that little dead lake come morning. New water, old memories, and a night I will not forget.

The kayak did not work, so I got the canoe

I started out in the kayak and it just did not go too well, so I had to back up and regroup. I went and got the canoe, and I am glad I did. I know how stable that canoe is, unlike that kayak, and I know how to maneuver it. That is the whole thing about a solo trip. There is nobody out there to bail you out, so you go with the boat you trust. We got in the water at 6:15, a little lighter than last time. Every trip out we get a little lighter, figuring out what we actually need and what we can leave home.

The water was black and slick, one of those pretty South Georgia evenings, and I was heading into a stretch I had not paddled in many long years. I did not know how many trees would be down across it or whether I would find a good spot. That not knowing is half the reason to go.

New water, old memories

This river carries a lot of my life in it. I stopped at a willow tree on a bend where, years back, a boat turned over on us on a pitch black night with my son and my nephew and my brother-in-law aboard. We swam to the bank and walked a quarter mile through the woods by the stars to get back to camp, holding onto each other's shirt tails the whole way. I pulled up at that same spot to tell that story, and to say I love you and I miss you to my boy. Some places on a river are more than just water. They hold the people you have been out here with.

I paddled on past a little dead lake off the main river where a twelve foot gator used to hold, the kind of spot that will keep you out of the water no matter how hot it gets. Big cypress trees, cypress knees standing up all around, an old tupelo stump the kids used to jump off of. Every bend had a memory tied to it.

Camp, a full moon, and a fire I had to earn

I found a spot where a downed tree pretty much said I had gone as far as I was going, dragged my gear around it, and set up camp. Got the rain tarp up because that sky could not make up its mind. Tried out a new chair and a new hammock, had a couple of brownie bites to keep me going, and took a quick bath in the fast running river to wash off the rain and the sand. Then came the trouble. I had fallen in earlier, my lighter would not work, and I had left my fire striker at home. So I lit the cooking stove, dried the lighter out over it, and once it dried it sparked and I got my fire going. A little improvising and I had flames. It was the Sturgeon full moon with a meteor shower that night, and even through the clouds you could see the glow of it. A good solo night on the St. Marys.

Questions about solo river trips

How do you start a fire when your lighter got wet?

You improvise with whatever you have left. On this trip I had fallen in the river earlier taking a quick bath to wash off the rain and the sand, and by the time I needed a fire my lighter would not spark, and to make it worse I had left my fire striker back home. So I lit my little cooking stove instead, held the wet lighter over the flame to dry it out, and waited. Once it finally dried, it sparked right up and I got my fire going after all. It was not the plan, but it worked. The real lesson is to always carry a backup way to make fire, a striker, an extra lighter, something that does not depend on the one lighter staying dry through a solo trip. But if you do not have that backup, look at what you already have in camp, like a stove, and work around the problem instead of sitting in the dark.

What should you know before an overnight solo river trip?

Pack light, and try to get a little lighter every single trip out, because you learn each time what gear you actually use and what just rides along for nothing. Put in with enough daylight left to find a good spot and get everything set up before dark, since a solo trip is not the time to be searching for camp in the last light. Get your rain tarp up early if the sky looks unsure at all, the way mine did heading into a stretch of the St. Marys I had not paddled in years and did not know how many trees might be down across it. Pick a boat you actually trust, not just one that is available, because on this trip switching from a kayak that was not working to a canoe I knew well made all the difference. Above all, solo means nobody is out there to bail you out if something goes wrong, so keep the plan simple and give yourself margin.