In short: One canoe, one night on the Suwannee out of Griffis Fish Camp. The water was up from the last trip, so I ran upriver past the Okefenokee refuge boundary to take a peek at the Suwannee Sill, then turned back to make camp on a sandbar before dark. I strung the hammock, threw the rain fly, and got a fire going off the striker. The catfish would not cooperate, so I sat down to sardines and crackers, then finally hooked one catfish after all, put him right back in the river, and ate the sardines anyway. After dark I counted three gators watching camp from across the water. A good, quiet night on the Suwannee.
Pulling in at Griffis Fish Camp, the river was a lot higher than the last time I was here. I got the canoe unloaded, put the vest on this time, good advice from one of y'all, and pushed off for a one-night run with a sleeve of crackers and a can of sardines to my name. It did not take long to see the first gator. A big one came off the bank fast and walked right into the water, and a little further up I passed the sandbar where I spent my first solo night on this river.
I kept pushing until I reached the boundary of the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge. Past that line you cannot camp without a permit, so I knew my camp had to be back down on the river side. It was getting on toward evening, but I wanted to run up and lay eyes on the Suwannee Sill first, the old water-control structure at the edge of the Okefenokee that they finally opened back up to let the swamp flow the way it wants to. I looked at the gap and thought about slipping through, but there were logs stacked in there and the last thing I wanted was to roll a loaded canoe. Another big gator slid off the bank right about then. I took my peek, said see you later to the Okefenokee, and turned back toward camp.
I found my sandbar and it was home for the night. First thing I do is walk it and pick my spot, and this one had two good trees just the right distance apart. Hammock strung, rain fly over the top, and I was set up and dry in about fifteen minutes from the time I turned the camera on. It was ninety-five and change that afternoon in South Georgia, but a nice breeze came up the river and cooled everything off. Set the camp back from the water, get your shelter squared away first, and then you can relax into the evening instead of chasing daylight.
For the fire I did not have my Vaseline cotton balls packed this trip, so it was down to the striker and whatever dry tinder I could put together. A couple of strikes and I had flame, then it was just a matter of feeding it small and not smothering it out. Fire is the one chore you never want to rush and never want to skip.
The plan was simple: catch a catfish, cook supper. But the Suwannee does not care about your plans. If you have followed my other Suwannee trips you know I had never landed a catfish on this river, and for a good while it looked like the streak would hold. I watched the poles, got one good drag that came off, and got nothing else. After dark I walked the waterline and shined the light, and counted three sets of eyes looking back from across the river. Three gators keeping an eye on camp. As long as they stay on their side, we stay on ours, and everybody has a fine night.
No bites and a hungry man means you go to what you brought. Sardines in mustard sauce, a stack of crackers, and a Coke Zero, and I will tell you it ate just fine. Then, of course, the second I gave up on it, I hooked a catfish, so I finally broke the streak. I slid him back into the river and finished my sardines anyway. I ate a can and a half and sat by the fire full and content, frogs and crickets going and a whip-poor-will calling every now and then. Come morning I slept later than I meant to, had a protein shake for breakfast, packed the boat, and paddled back to Griffis to go meet the family for a few days on the St. Marys.
Reading a refuge boundary so you camp legal, picking and setting a sandbar camp before dark, one-strike fire off a striker, and packing a supper that never depends on the fish biting. It is all in the Canoe Camping Playbook.
Read the Canoe Camping PlaybookNot without a permit. Past the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge boundary you cannot camp on your own, so plan your camp for the river side of that line. Run up to see the Sill if you want, then turn back and set up before dark.
Pack a supper that does not depend on a catch. Sardines, crackers, canned meat, and a pouch of potatoes keep without a cooler and fill you up. The fish are a bonus, not the plan.
Build a tight bundle of fine, dry tinder, shavings of fat lighter, dry grass, or a Vaseline cotton ball, then shower sparks off the ferro rod straight into it. Shield it from the wind and feed it small. With good tinder it is one or two strikes.
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