Don & Susan: Swamp People

Posted by Susan Russo on April 5, 2012

Now that the car is exuding an oniony aroma, we continue down Route 1 to Waycross, GA and The Okefenokee Swamp Park. We check into the brand-spanking new Comfort Inn & Suites throw our junk into the room and fly back out to the swamp. We toyed with the idea of just going to the pool and hot tub and saving the swamp for the next day. But then I reminded Don that the forecast was calling for thunderstorms and since it was sunny right now we should head out. (Weather can either make or brake a trip like this and we have been blessed thus far)
The Okefenokee Swamp houses the headwaters of both the Suwanee (as in, “way down upon the”) & the St. Mary’s River. The swamp was formed by the accumulation of peat in a shallow basin. The water is called “blackwater” due to the accumulation of tannins in it from all the vegetation. It is freshwater and is said to taste like tea. Longtime residents are called “Swampers” and due to their relative isolation, have developed their own phrasing and syntax of language.

We spring for the train ride and boat tour ticket and arrived just in time for the last round of the day. Our train engineer and first tour guide had such a thick “swamper” dialect that we could only understand every 4th word or so. He brought the train to a stop on what was called “Pioneer Island” and invited us to wander around for a while. There was a visitor center with a small museum and he cautioned us to not get too close to the “wawtah” so the “gators don’t git ya”. (At least that’s what I think he said) Hoping to find said gator, I head in the opposite direction of everyone else with Don.

It wasn’t long before I have my close encounter with what seemed to be about an 8ft gator. Moving swiftly in the direction the gator was not heading in, Don and I unknowingly get a little more separated from our group and deeper into the interior of Pioneer Island. Soon Don is drawn to the unmistakable odor of sour mash boiling and sniffs out the moonshiner!

Don’s new friend “Shiny”, as we dubbed him tipped the jug with us a few times then took us over to meet his kinfolk. It seems these were the original “swamp people”.

Don decided to enter the cabin, hoping that by being friendly he would get more corn squeezins’. I decided I would wait on the porch.

Quite some time elapsed and the train whistle was blowing “all aboard!” I decided I’d better search for Don. I stepped off the porch and over what seemed to be a yard littered with empty little brown jugs. I headed for the entrance of the house and there was Don talking to a wooden Indian.

Obviously inebriated. I went in to the house to give those “swampers” a piece of my mind. Imagine, giving that much moonshine to a city boy! But it seemed my admonitions fell on deaf ears.

I told Don we had to hurry so we could make the train but after all that drinking he needed to make a little stop.

Fortunately, we were able to make the train and get back in time to get on what was to be the last boat trip of the day. (Our new mantra is: ‘If you come late, you get more’) I escorted Don down to the dock and we step into our swamp runner.

Our guide for this trip was an adorable little muskrat of a man (he’s the old guy with the white hair in the first picture) who has been a guide here since he was a teen. He piloted us through the swamp showing us medicinal plants and herbs and explaining how they were used. He showed us flowers and wildlife and told us about the huge wildfire in the swamp last summer and the restoration efforts. Our group was funny and interested so he took us for a little extra side trip “gator hunting on my time now” he called it. There’s a tower in the middle of the park that’s 90 ft up. You climb up (ugh!) and can overlook the whole place.