We thought The Mosquito Coast was in Central America

Brunswick brought more mosquitos and noseeums than everywhere else we’ve been combined.  We thought the worst thing about Georgia was the continuous line of football dirtbaggery from cheating Kirby Smart to druggie Hershel Walker to that time Wally Butts conspired with Bear Bryant to fix a game.  It’s possible, however, that the bugs are worse.   Brunswick the town at least was pretty cool though.

Yesterday we awoke to fog.

Not a big deal because we didn’t plan to travel, but concerning because it might come back the next day.  Anyway, the sun came out so after pickleball we hit up the marina Oysterfest and hiked through the shady park.

Brunswick’s most famous landmark is Lover’s Oak.

This beast is famous because it prexisted America.  Supposedly it’s some 250-years old.  We couldn’t verify the claim, of course, but it looks pretty old.

On the way home we passed a pot that may or may not have been used for the first Brunswick Stew, a somewhat ambiguous soup found throughout the South.  We couldn’t verify the claim, of course, but the pot looks pretty old.

We capped off the day with The Lower Place, SeaQuest, and No Snow.  Charlie couldn’t bring himself to pay a dollar for each of the chicken wings he wanted but made up for it with a huge cookie and ice cream.

Today, no fog.  Dana’s tide and current calculation said we should get to Little Mud River at 11.  So we left at dawn.  Most of the day was cruising on snakey rivers through flat marshes.

At one point we passed close to Glynco, which basically is noteworthy only because it’s the home of the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, which is where Raylan and Art were shooting instructors together before Raylan shot the Miami drug dealer and was reunited with Art in Kentucky.  Sometimes there are boats along the ICW on training exercises.  Sadly we saw the same number of cool military-type boats today as the number of submarines we saw on the way to Brunswick.  However, a big cargo plane buzzed us way closer than was necessary.

We reached Little Mud River shortly before high tide, which was good because at low tide we’d be three-feet short of the five feet we need to float.  The vultures gather on the channel markers at the entrance awaiting the carcasses of injudicious boaters.

Okay we know that vultures don’t have webbed feet, but maybe these are duck vultures or something.  The point is, we made it through without incident.

We also safely made it past Blackbeard Island, which supposedly still holds treasure buried by the pirate formerly known as Edward Teach.  Now it’s a National Wildlife Refuge, however, so we probably weren’t in much danger of having our gold doubloons hijacked.

A long day traveling led us to the mouth of Kilkenny Creek.  Kilkenny Creek is identified easily by the ridiculous Shell sign on the northern bank at the entrance.

The marina was just around the corner.

On the scale of Sunset Harbor in Miami Beach to Logsdon Tug Service in Beardston, Kilkenny Marina is about Bobby’s Fish Camp.  A welcome stop with a serviceable dock for a few boats, but not necessarily a destination.  Fortunately we like quaint.

We also like good meals.  The only nearby restaurant has a reputation for great food.  Unfortunately it’s closed Mondays and Tuesdays.  Tomorrow’s Tuesday and we’re not staying until Wednesday.

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