When the people sat around on the porch and passed around the pictures of their thoughts for the others to look at and see, it was nice. The fact that the thought pictures were always crayon enlargements of life made it even nicer to listen to. -- Zora Neale Hurston
The ferry that will take us to paradise.
Our gear. We were told to pack light.
A local fishing on the pier.
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Unloading on Sapelo.
Setting up home for the weekend.
Friday evening, on the beach.
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Patterns in the sand like abstract art.
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The edge of a sandbar at sunset.
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Next morning, on a tour. The Sapelo cemetery.
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On the gounds at Chocolate.
Inside the old barn, partially restored.
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Detail of a tabby wall, a mixture of sand a shells.
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The first black church on Sapelo, 1868. Locals had prayed for resources to build the church when a storm blew ashore a pile of lumber.
It's a wild settlement, Hog Hammock.
The Reynolds summer home.
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The Sapelo lighthouse.
Sunday morning, on the estuary between Sapelo and Cabretta.
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The road to our campsite.
A fiddler crab. Not as colorful as the ones of my youth.
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Barnacles on a washed-up buoy.
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Even the flotsam looks like art.
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What a face!! Actually the underside of a horseshoe crab, but don't you see a tribal mask?
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Not the white sand beaches of the Gulf of Mexico, but imbued with colored algaes.
Time to get back to camp and zip up the rain fly!
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After the storm, back to the beach.
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The sky in preternatural technicolor after the storm. Can I use the word "cerulean" here?
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A cedar tree, given way to the erosion of encroaching tides.
Monday morning, the obligatory group shot before leaving.
The island way. When the bus run hot, open hood and let it rest.
On the ferry, heading back to reality.
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How often do you get to say "a lowering sky"?
The dock back on the mainland.
If you ever have the chance … a half pound of amazing shrimp w fries and a drink for $11!!