Rise and Shine

Rise and Shine

      “Over there, is Cumberland Island,” The elderly man said as he pointed Northwest of us across the marsh and the intracoastal rivers. I stood there on the boat ramp shielding my eyes from the sun, soaking in the primal smells, and the salty aroma of the coast. I was almost there. I love the Coast and the wildlife sanctuary at Cumberland, it has always been at the top of my list of places to make a part of me. Camping only, with no hot water, no malls, no stuff. I was feeling sick of the ‘stuff’ world I live in. We give away stuff to make room for more stuff. We go in debt for more and more stuff that has little or no value soon after it is purchased. For a few days I was going to leave all the bills and the stuff behind and walk around with God and my camera.

          After the long ride, I tied my little Ogeechee river boat to the pier, letting out a sigh of relief. My little skiff was not designed for the open coast and brackish water had been licking over the sides at times when the water was choppy. From the dock at St. Mary’s, the island seemed so close, but it took me forty five minutes on the winding waterways and then across the open waters of the Sound. I looped my rope around one of the thick wooden posts at the dock. I decided to leave my gear for later and walked the long pier and path to the ranger station. I had not made a mistake in coming here, the twisted oaks and saw palmettos, though familiar to me, were different here. Each tree painfully shaped by relentless sun and ocean winds, told its own story. They were each joined at the canopy to provide almost complete cover. From the canopy down to the top of the saw palmettos were masses of twisted limbs so distorted that they could have been their own abstract art piece, seeming to have no rhyme or reason in their lines. Indeed, this was a very special place; very old, very worn, very strong, very independent.

          The next morning I awoke long before daylight, which is unusual for me. I had a sense that God was saying, “Get up, I have something to show you.” I was wide awake immediately, no coffee. I stepped out of the tent. It was very dark, still too dark to see the fog, but I could feel it as it embraced me like a blanket. I looked around, but could not make out any shapes. God didn’t say a word, but there was an overwhelming desire to get ready for something that was about to happen. I felt around for my camera gear. I found my tripod and my large format camera. In a moment I had my Hasselblad, which any photographer knows is one of the greatest cameras of all time. They took it to the moon for a reason, with the right photographer, it can make iconic images, clear and brilliant, but with feeling. I decided to leave the large format camera and just take the ‘Hass’ and tripod. It was a good decision.

          By memory, I headed toward the beach. If I ran into palmettos, I was off the path, it was simple. I was thinking, as I fumbled along with my gear in tow, about how early it was and how out of character this predawn jaunt was for me. After about fifty yards or so, God showed up. I looked up from following the path and there they were. Angels seemed to be breaking through the thick tree canopy and the fog in beams of light. It was indescribably beautiful as they tickled the tips of the palmettos and spilled onto the ground. I could now begin to realize just how thick the fog was.

          I headed towards the tall dune that defined the island interior, to go out towards the beach. As I came closer to leaving the interior, I sensed I should stop, but I wanted to catch the sunrise. “Turn around.” I heard the words, very soft, very distinct. I sat my gear down and turned around. Beautiful beams of light were cascading through the canopy and dancing on the twisted limbs and palmettos of the island’s interior. It was a symphony of light, shadows and shapes. It was breathtaking and magnificent. Only God could paint something that was so beautiful it seemed as if you could see, hear, and taste its intensity. I must have shot a dozen rolls of medium format through the Hasselblad in the few moments that I had. I realized that I was losing the moment, the fog, the angel lightshow. I was alone in a stand of palmettos looking around and soaking up the beauty and the sea air rolling in. A lone twisted old oak with long low branches, stood near the path leading to the ocean. The dune was high behind it and was nearly as tall as the tree.  The fog seemed to be holding there next to the back of that dune and the beams of light were still there dancing to some heavenly tune. I got into position and worked around the tree as a breeze rustled the leaves and the birds were beginning to sing.

      At some point I just stopped tripping the shudder and I stood there taking in all the smells and sounds and the glorious sunshine filling the earth as it pushed out the darkness. There were no words, just peace. I knew that my Lord had taken me, His son, for a walk. It was unbelievable. I later told God that He was just showing off that morning on Cumberland Island, and I enjoyed every moment of it.

{This was a trip in 2006, a much needed break. I used to enjoy photography in the days when black and white photography was still dominated by film. I still haven't been able to get the same results from digital technology so I rarely carry a camera these days ....miss my film rolls!}