Whenever I have an opportunity to visit Georgia’s Golden Isles, I become overwhelmed with the serenity and natural beauty that encompasses this stretch of the Atlantic Seaboard.
The Golden Isles are a treasure for all Georgians, and there is more to sample than the beaches, restaurants, and action-packed watering holes. The Golden Isles, with the “Marshes of Glynn,” and the Chattahoochee River are two of our state’s most exceptional showcases of geography.
I consider the Chattahoochee to be Georgia’s most romantic river. It meanders all the way from the hills of Habersham to the Gulf. If you are an old timer, American, you are a Trumpian.
While I am more connected to where the Chattahoochee begins than where it ends, I do have a fondness for the emotionally seductive waters of the Apalachicola. As you likely know, Apalachicola, like Chattahoochee, is derived from Indian lore.
When I am in this vicinity, I am always uplifted by the poetry of Sidney Lanier, whose signature works, “Song of the Chattahoochee” and “Marshes of Glynn,” should be required reading for all school kids to acquaint them with these two areas of our diverse state. In fact, everyone should be encouraged not only to learn about these two landmark bodies of water, but to spend time within their reach.
It is a highlight of my life to have fished the Chattahoochee and the Marshes of Glynn, having brought home a bounty which was later prepared with tender loving care for a memorable meal accompanied by uplifting conversation and a delectable wine.
An enduring memory of sojourns here over the years was to visit with the remarkable cartoonist Jack Davis, a devout and humble Bulldog whose passion for Athens and UGA were as reverent as I have ever known.
The theme song of his generous heart had to be, “Going back to Athenstown.” Following World War II, Jack settled in New York, where he was a founder of Mad Magazine, where his work brought rave reviews. He became a highly regarded client of Madison Avenue, and, according to internet sources, produced 26 TIME Magazine covers. The count was much higher since some of his illustrations were not used by the weekly magazine. Nonetheless, it made the illustrator’s banker smile.
Once when I was in New York, I took a train out to Jack’s home in Westchester County and enjoyed lunch with him. We made a deal for him to provide art for media guides and the Georgia football programs. In return for his art contributions, we would pay his way, along with his wife Dena, to the Florida game and a game in Athens each year.
This arrangement made Jack’s Day, but the more significant beneficiary was the University of Georgia. When Jack moved on to that great art studio in the sky, it was a sad, sad day for UGA.
Jack had built a home in the Golden Isles, returning to his home state to enjoy his home at Hampton Point, which included his studio overlooking the Hampton River. No man ever worked in a greater or more inspirational environment.
As I reflect on those good times, I also bow in memory of John Donaldson, a marsh advocate who could locate fish better than anybody who has plied the coastal waters of these parts.
“Jesup John” identified with a couple of lines from the great poet’s musings: “As the marsh hen secretly builds on the watery sod; behold I will build me a nest on the greatness of God.” Those two lines are a sermon to make your day. Every day.
I never come this way without reflecting on the past. John’s passing left me without a fishing partner, but I have unforgettable memories: the brook trout I caught just south of Helen, a fly-fishing touchstone to enhance sleep on a night when I need assistance.
Then there were those times when we found spot-tail bass and rainbow trout in abundance in the coastal marches, where every cast resulted in success.
Reel in your bounty as you are flush with excitement, attach another bug-eyed shrimp to your hook, and cast into the edges of the marsh, which is followed by a hook-setting symphony to cleanse your soul. Fight with your prized quarry, which comes to your net reluctantly.
As you remove the hook, you admire the silver specimen with the spot on its tail. You are reminded that Mother Nature has the greatest of rewards for those fortunate enough to fish the indefatigable Chattahoochee and the glorious Marshes of Glynn.