A Case of Primal Stream Therapy

ON THE INTRACOASTAL WATERWAY, Ga. — “One of the surest ways to value any place is to connect with it, even if only a little bit.”

From “River of Lakes: A Journey on Florida’s St. Johns River,” by Bill Belleville

*

The stern of the American Eagle left its churning, bubbling signature on the still morning water as the 165-foot coastal cruiser glided south toward Jacksonville, Fla. Mounds of water pushed from the ship’s path began a rolling march to the tidal marshes along shore. Sea gulls and terns followed in the ship’s wake, diving into the frothy water in hopes of finding fish brought to the surface by the propellers.

As the gulls laughed and soared, I stretched out in a lounge chair, went limp and let the engine’s rhythmic throb relax me. This cruise, though, offered far more than relaxation and luxuriating in time well spent. We, the 26 passengers of the American Eagle, were on a voyage of discovery-of self, nature and historic places.

For seven days we plied coastal and inland waterways, starting in Savannah, Ga., and ending at Fernandina Beach, Fla., stopping in such historic places as St. Simons Island and St. Marys in Georgia and St. Augustine in north Florida. Along the way, we explored the water and the land around it and wove new friendships.

With no megaship Broadway-style musicals to entertain us, we embraced life’s most basic pleasures. Some of us searched for solitude in the ship’s small aft library, which is stocked with historical novels and guidebooks pertinent to the ship’s route. Others gathered in the comfortable Nantucket Lounge on the bow, where passengers chatted and watched the ship’s lumbering progress through the water. Some, preferring the wind in their faces, climbed the stairs to the topmost deck for a panoramic view. Or they rested with books on a small deck at the stern, where the American Eagle’s bulk sheltered them from the chilly March wind.

After-dinner programs were simple and educational. Barbara Halpern, a fellow passenger and medical anthropologist, gave a fascinating talk on Gullah, the culture and language of the slaves who worked coastal cotton and rice fields in Georgia and South Carolina. An actress in heavy, binding Victorian garb came aboard at St. Simons Island to talk about ills suffered by women of the mid-and late 1800s, some of which have been attributed to their constrictive clothing.

And in St. Augustine, actors depicting Mr. and Mrs. Henry Flagler told us a little about the millionaire couple’s influence on the historic city at the turn of the last century.

Bill Belleville, author of “River of Lakes: A Journey on Florida’s St. Johns River” (University of Georgia Press, $24.95), boarded the ship in St. Marys to shepherd us the next day up the St. Johns River to Palatka, about 50 miles south of Jacksonville. On the evening before our two-day river run, he showed us scenes of the 310-mile waterway and talked about its history and tribulations.

Belleville’s chat ignited our curiosity and passion, and we peppered him with questions about the river’s health and fate. We learned that the fight to protect the waterway was a struggle against insufficient laws and ills brought on by the destruction of water-filtering wetlands.

The next morning, Belleville climbed to the top deck with a few of us, weathering the cold wind that whipped the ship but warming us with his deep appreciation for the river and its ways. He unfolded a map that showed the intricacies of the waterway, and we quickly learned to judge water depth and to find our location using the numbered red and green channel markers that glided past.

We asked more questions about the nature of the river and its inhabitants. Satisfied at last, we hunkered down in chairs at the rail and watched the scenery change from rural marshlands to great inland lakes. Huge homes, diminutive fish camps, rusted tankers and smoke-spewing factories rolled by, all stamps of the encroachment of civilization. But still, nature perseveres, as evidenced by the wildlife we saw: ospreys, cormorants, white pelicans and great blue herons.

As the week slipped by, we passengers offered swatches of our lives with which we began a quilt of friendship. Frank and Marie St. Clair, a 40ish couple from Seabrook, N.H., are avid bird-watchers who lounged at the stern of the ship or on the upper deck with binoculars, spying birds and brimming with infectious excitement. Mary Oppenheim, a cheerful woman from Guilderland, N.Y., once coached swim teams and owned an antique boat. Joel and Barbara Halpern of Amherst, Mass., are anthropologists who have lived and traveled all over the world. Frances Baker, a lively octogenarian who lives on Hilton Head Island, S.C., was on her fourth cruise aboard the ship. She is an avid grower of orchids, a prolific reader and a fount of poignant stories.

The ship’s crew proved just as congenial as its passengers. The American Eagle’s assistant hotel manager, Stuart Covitz, paused at our lunch table one day to talk excitedly about this, his first sailing on the ship. At dinner, Mate Rob Kenney chatted about his two children and his wife, a teacher. Hotel Manager Christine Stancliff magically appeared on deck and in the lounge with a cheerful smile and tempting trays of cookies. Amiable Capt. Andrew Howes talked with passion about his love of being on the water.

The days took on a lazy rhythm, and we gladly fell into stride. The earliest of risers padded quietly to the Nantucket Lounge, where the day streamed through the windows. Between 7:30 and 9 a.m. we ate breakfast-fruit, cereal, eggs, waffles, and pancakes in all their variations. We often lingered at the tables, talking long after our plates had been cleared. Then we made our ways to our preferred places.

The tinkling of a bell escorted through the ship’s hallways by a crew member announced lunch at 12:30 and dinner at 6:30. We came away from our tables with a common cruise complaint: We were simply too tempted by the good food heaped upon our plates, the butter-soft beef tenderloin, the medallions of tasty veal, the braised duck, lobster salad, Cajun-spiced salmon and shrimp pasta. Desserts-tiramisu, rich chocolate cake, bread pudding and creme brulee-proved our final undoing.

After the evening’s program (or, one night, a lively game of bingo), we retired to our staterooms. Mine was in the bow of the ship on the first deck-’steerage,” we had been dubbed. It was furnished with a double bed, two rattan chairs and, in blond laminate, a squat chest of drawers and a table. A small reading lamp was perched on a night stand. There was a clock radio there, which I could tune for news of the world around us if I felt the need, which I didn’t. Our bathrooms were spacious, more Holiday Inn than cruise ship. There was a good-sized shower, which delivered steaming-hot water within seconds; a toilet; and a sink with, unfortunately, precious little counter space.

Our port calls treated us to quick overviews of the coastline’s history and some touching personal history. At Frederica Christ Church on St. Simons Island, we heard the tragic story of its minister, Anson Dodge, and his bride, Ellen. Dodge, who came to the island after the Civil War, pledged to stay forever at Ellen’s side. She died during their honeymoon, and he had her buried inside the church near the pulpit. When he died, his second wife, Anna, carried out Dodge’s wish to be buried with Ellen. Her body was exhumed and placed in his grave.

Back on the waterfront, some of us strolled the island’s rocky beach, which is guarded by a lighthouse built in 1872, shortly before Dodge’s arrival there. From the wet sand, we watched the sun slip behind the mainland and contemplated the durability of Dodge’s devotion. Farther south, we came across another remarkable gesture of devotion: the exquisite Memorial Presbyterian Church in St. Augustine. Henry M. Flagler, the millionaire developer who took St. Augustine by storm in the late 1800s, built the church as a tribute to his late daughter. The construction of the beautiful church was completed in just less than a year, in time for the first anniversary of her death.

For those of us who crave closeness to nature, there was an excursion to the Okefenokee Swamp Park in Waycross, Ga., where we trod elevated boardwalks to view such creatures as snapping turtles and sluggish alligators. We boarded a small skiff called a johnboat that took us down a watery “trail” in the swamp, the headwaters of the Suwannee and St. Marys rivers.

A small replica of a steam train, a new addition to the park, let us explore some of its higher points, including a patch of land holding an authentic old cabin, with its uncomfortable-looking rope bed and a dusty sleeping loft.

On the last day of our sailing, we rose early to savor the water one more time. It was an emotional experience for those of us who had made a primal, albeit brief, connection with the Intracoastal Waterway. Some of us climbed to the back deck as the ship slowed between St. Augustine and our destination, Amelia Island.

As if giving us a last treat, nature was out in full force. Great blue herons and snowy white egrets lined the west shore of the narrow waterway. We also saw a trio of roseate spoonbills, our first sighting, on the lapping shore. The east shore-populated by palatial homes with boathouses, pools and neat landscaping-was a stark contrast to the wilderness opposite it.

Later, after passing Mayport, we again were among grass marshes, where we saw several pods of dolphins, some with young ones at their sides. To our delight, one rose out of the water, leaping in a playful breach.

Our docking at Fernandina Beach on Amelia Island was bittersweet, the last spot we would see with our new friends. We disembarked to explore the lovely Victorian town, full of historic brick buildings and shops selling resort clothing, pricey souvenirs and lovely bric-a-brac. But as the sun was drawn into the water’s embrace, we returned to the ship. Again we gazed out from deck, contemplating for a last time the horizon beyond the bobbing sailboats anchored upon dazzling water.

Lisa Carden is travel editor of the Orlando Sentinel.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

Guidebook: On the Waterfront

* The Eagle’s itineraries: The next available cruise similar to the one described here is not until Nov. 3; it departs from Baltimore and arrives seven days later in Jacksonville, Fla. Stops include Savannah, Ga.; Hilton Head Island, S.C.; Wrightsville Beach, N.C.; and Yorktown, Va.

A seven-day Intracoastal Waterway cruise farther north departs from Charleston, S.C., May 26 and travels to Baltimore, with stops at Georgetown, S.C.; Beaufort, N.C.; Norfolk, Va.; and Crisfield and St. Michaels in Maryland’s Chesapeake Bay.

See the Web site (below) for details and other itineraries, including fall foliage cruises. * Cost: The ticket for my cabin on the cruise from Savannah to Amelia Island was $2,370. Early booking discounts of $500 per single stateroom and $1,000 per double stateroom often are offered. Suggested gratuity is from $125 to $150 per passenger. Shore excursions on our cruise ranged from $8 for a walking tour of Fernandina Beach on Amelia Island to $25 for an excursion to Okefenokee Swamp in Georgia.

* About the ship: It was launched in April 2000 and is 165 feet long and 40 feet wide with four decks. Capacity: 49 passengers. * For more information: Contact a travel agent or the cruise line at (800) 814-6880; on the Web, check https://www.americancruiselines.com.