Some nights, my mind drifts back over years of travel and features I’ve written for BOOM! I’m often astounded that so few people have heard of the places I’ve written about. But I shouldn’t be surprised. Before I ventured out and explored, I’d scarcely heard of them myself. For this feature, I’d like to reminisce about a few remarkable adventures in hopes that many of you—who have read this column for years—may be moved to put your cell phones away and go live life … before it’s too late. Life is short. Take your spouse, your kids, your grands, or your significant other, and go somewhere exotic. Feel alive, away from the mundane world we all tend to become ensconced in. Sunsets, alone, are worth a stint in the great outdoors. And, remember, learning is a precious and gratifying byproduct of travel.
My first piece submitted to BOOM! concerned an impromptu solo bike ride on Alabama’s Chief Ladiga Trail. Starting in Anniston, the trail ends in Smyrna, Georgia, becoming the Silver Comet Trail at the Georgia line. It’s a beautiful paved path over an old railway route. I purchased a bike, made some practice runs, and hit the trail, just like that. It’s my favorite way to go live life. Just go. Don’t think yourself out of it. Something I never mentioned about this trip in the original story was an encounter I had about 30 miles out on the trail in Georgia. This will really inspire you. LOL.
From behind, I approached four large men strolling side-by-side on the trail. It seemed strange, these four guys in the middle of nowhere, aimlessly sauntering along.
I don’t really recommend biking a trail alone. There’s security in numbers. I was by myself. But armed.
It seems that lawlessness is on the rise these days as the hearts of many grow cold.
Incidents on the Chief Ladiga Trail are few and far between. But I’ve heard that women have been accosted and people murdered along this gorgeous trail. As I advanced toward these men, I calculated they would not hear me coming. I kept my speed steady, my approach as silent as possible. About five yards from them, I stood up, hit the pedals hard, and powered straight through the middle two, accelerating to 20 miles per hour, startling them. I shouted buenos dias! as I raced pass. Luckily, I didn’t encounter them on the return trip.
Monte Sano is a mountain overlooking Huntsville. If you’re a cat lover, you’ll love this story. Monte Sano means “mountain of health.” And there are some healthy cats up there. The park spans 2,140 acres with miles of hiking and biking trails, and has spectacular vistas from its summit.
I snapped a photo from my hammock of the sun’s rays forming a cross through the trees. This delightful phenomenon lasted a mere split second.
Late into the night, I was having trouble sleeping. From my hammock, I used my small flashlight to survey the darkness. As I gazed into the black woods, I saw a tiny light—sort of like a firefly—in the distance. The light zigzagged: left, then right, then left, and soon became two tiny lights. Eyes. Like burning embers. The embers meandered closer, occasionally disappearing behind a tree. The eyes stopped within a yard of me and, although I aimed my beam directly at them, I saw no body. Only the creepy embers. My sense was: This is not a small animal. My hammock had mosquito netting and a tarp over it. I must have appeared like a large something-or-other to the creature. It passed behind me and, to my complete bewilderment, disappeared. I figured if it was going to eat me, it would have attacked already; so, I zipped my sleeping bag over my head and drifted off to sleep.
First light, I emerged to find large cat paw prints all over my car. There were cans of sardines in the trunk … and maybe an open one. Can you blame the kitty?
Cumberland Island sits off Georgia’s coast at the intersection of history and wildlife. After the American Revolution, Nathanael Greene, Washington’s most trusted general, built a home there called Dungeness. A hundred years later, during America’s Gilded Age, Thomas Carnegie and family made the island their playground. Carnegie built a home on the ruins of Dungeness. When the Carnegies eventually abandoned the island, they left their horses and other animals to fend for themselves. Today, wild horses are omnipresent, as are wild pigs and every other critter imaginable.
The island is beautiful and mysterious. To get there, one must take a ferry from the quaint seacoast village of St. Marys. The ferry makes a couple of trips over and back per day. See: www.Cumberlandislandferry.com
Most campsites are an easy stroll to the beach. Watching the sun rise out of the Atlantic Ocean is priceless. Indeed, Cumberland Island is a photographer’s paradise.
Some observations: Camping reservations are required through the National Park Service. If camping, plan on being well-provisioned with food and water. I camped two summer nights on the island in record heat and became dangerously dehydrated. Don’t make that mistake. Campsites are primitive. Restrooms and showers are within walking distance of sites. Don’t try and pat the horses. They bite. But they’ll pass right by you and not bother you if you’ll oblige them the same courtesy. I took my mountain bike with its fat tires. Skinny road tires are totally inadequate for the thick, fine sand.
Now, hurry up! Go live life! Many blessings.
Jeff Barganier is a novelist, travel writer and speaker. He travels far and wide upon the slightest excuse for something interesting to write about. His novels include Lawson’s Bluff (2021); The Slash Brokers (1998). He also manages Cindy Barganier Interiors LLC at The Waters in Pike Road, Alabama. Contact Jeff at Jeffbarganier@knology.net. You may print out his features at www.jeffbarganier.com and take them with you when you travel!