This is MY River

This Yes, I said MY. Just as it is yours and every other resident of the state of Georgia, as well as the tourists who seek the beauty of the outdoors. Hunters, fishermen, artists, historians, wildlife observers, scientists, kayakers, swimmers, photographers and weekend boaters all are able to find something that interests them. From the brackish, marshy areas in McIntosh and Glynn counties to the fresh, tea-colored water further north, this river is one of a kind, and it is mine. My beautiful Altamaha River.

From where the Oconnee River and Ocmulgee River come together near Lumber City, it meanders about 137 miles south to kiss the Atlantic Ocean near Brunswick. It is said my river is the 3rd largest contributor of fresh water into the Atlantic Ocean from North America, as well as being the largest river system east of the Mississippi. It has some of the last remaining cypress swamps and hardwood bottom land in the south and has the only known old growth long leaf pine and black oak forest in the United States. It is home to over 100 rare or endangered species of animals, plants and birds, as well as supporting at least 55,000 species of shorebirds and seabirds every year, many on their migration routes from the Arctic to South America. It was designated a Bioreserve in 1991 by the Nature Conservancy and is on their list of 75 Last Great Places on earth! Quite impressive, huh?

Historcally speaking, from the prehistoric time of the Timucua people to the 1610 Spanish Mission, from the Yamasee Chief Altamaha in the late 1600's to marking boundaries during the Revolutionary War, all the way to recent times (1994) when Survivorman Les Stroud filmed an episode in one of the Altamaha basin swamps, there is much to be learned. I will leave the seeking of this history to you, as each of you may have a particular time period that interest you.

I am an avid fisherman (um, woman!) and enjoy my camping trips. I have always preferred "roughing it" over staying at a campground, so my husband and I will load up the boat and head out to a sandbar, setting up camp and calling it home at least for a few days. I will admit that as I've gotten older, "roughing it" now consist of a large tent with an air mattress! In the months that weather and temperature are cooperative, we will fish, both with rod & reel and limb lines. There is nothing like being on the water at the break of day, seeing a limb line jumping up and down, then finding a nice catfish just waiting to be turned into breakfast, or an afternoon spent watching a bobber disappear and pulling in "bigger-than-my-hand" bream! We, like most all fishermen, have our favorite "honey holes" for pan fish or smaller catfish. We know right where we want to hang our limb lines before we even arrive. Other times of the year, hunting is on our agenda. Wild turkey, deer, wild hog, squirrel or whatever suits our fancy and is in season.

My main reason for this writing is to bring an awareness and hopefully an appreciation for this wonderful river habitat that is right in our own backyard. This is my river and I hate to see what is happening to it because of a few people that don't care, ones who destroy so much of this beauty, whether unknowingly or out of sheer lack of deceny and courtesy. It makes me sick when we pull up to a favorite camp site and see their crushed beer cans, broken glass, dirty diapers, paper towels and anything else you can think of. It makes me wonder if these idiots trash up their own yards in this manner. Are their homes as dirty as they leave the camp?
When we hang our limb lines, I often find where someone else has hung a limb line, yet they left their line tied to the limb, only cutting the hook off when they left. In a short time, the lines they leave behind will begin to cut into the limb, setting it up for disease and eventually killing the limb. Sort of like wrapping a rubber band around your finger and leaving it there. I cut every single one I find, often having to disembed it from the limb. My lines are tied so I can remove them when we leave. These same people often mark their lines by tying plastic ribbon to the limb. Sure, in time the ribbon will get brittle and not cut into the limb, but it can fall into the water and be eaten or entangled in wildlife or fish, as well as looking unsightly.Why not just tie your ribbon to your line instead of the limb? When I find these ribbons, I remove them and place them in the trash bag I carry in my boat. When we leave camp, our trash goes with us, including all that we have picked up. It is then properly disposed of and will not leave a mark on my river. A good rule of thumb is "If it wasn't there when you came, don't leave it there when you go." If everyone would simply clean up their own mess, people like me wouldn't have to clean up after them. This is my river - clean it up!

I understand the enjoyment of boating. What I don't understand is how anyone can possibly enjoy anything around them going so fast! I promise, the fishing hole you are trying to get to so quickly will be there when you get there if you slow down. Most boaters are aware of NO WAKE zones near camp grounds, landings or homes along the river, but what about the wakes they cause along sandbar camps or near other fishermen on the river? Do they think about the bank erosion they cause? What about the people like me who own smaller john boats and get swamped by these speed demons? I can't count the times my husband has had to bail out gallons of water in our little boat caused by these idiots and their wakes! Or the times we have been quietly fishing along a bank and have had to take a wild ride over their waves. SLOW DOWN! Not only is it the decent thing to do, but it is safer for all involved.

Anyone familiar with the river should know how dangerous it can be. The usual yearly flooding washes all kinds of debris into the river where it can be floating just under the surface, unseen by a speeding boater until it's too late, until their boat is capsized, bottom ripped open, or flung the occupants overboard. For example, in January 2010, a Baxley couple were duck hunting when they hit a log in the river, capsizing their boat. He didn't make it, and she was found 9 hours later suffering from hypothermia. In December 2008 the mighty Altamaha claimed the life of Rev. Jimmy Byars of Brunswick and February 2006 claimed the life of an Iraqi War Veteran stationed at Ft. Stewart. Yes, my river can be cruel - which means you need to be careful. Be mindful of others on the river. Be watchful at a slower pace. Be safe. Doing so may just allow you, or others, to enjoy the river for a long time to come.
While writing this, my 6 month old grandson sat beside me in his highchair, playfully babbling and cooing. Before too much longer he will be up and running around chasing his older brother and going with us on our fishing and camping trips. Both my grandsons will one day swim here with us, probably this summer when the water warms enough for them.

As they grow up, I'll teach them how to fish, how to hunt, how to gather the proper firewood, how to set a limb line, how to skin a catfish or clean a bluegill. I'll teach them what the night sounds are and how to spot the majestic bald eagles perched in the tall, ancient cypress trees. I'll teach them to read the woods for deer sign or where to look for squirrels. I'll also teach them the importance of our river and how to take care of it. This is my river - take care of it. Clean it up. Move a bit slower. Have some manners towards others. If you bring it in, take it out. Leave nothing behind but footprints on the sandbar. And please, I am begging you, leave my river suitable for my grandsons to one day inheirit from me.