My snap above is the main lodge. As I mentioned previously, it's a barrier island accessible only by small boat.
What sorts of people would spend serious bucks to inhabit rustic cabins built in 1910 on the edge of a swamp with far fewer amenities than home, the air full of skeeters, Diamondback Rattlers and gators roaming around, no elegant plantings other than God's, simple home cookin, no umbrella drinks, and where the evening entertainment is an academic talk on bird migration?
Well, as Mrs. BD pointed out, it can be expensive to get that old-timey vigorous WASPy in-the-woods time these days in remote places. A condo on a beach with WiFi and TV, hotel menus, and Pina Coladas and lounge chairs around the pool would be less than half the price tag, but boring as heck. She believes that my Yankee-types, as a matter of taste, like either grand luxe or rustic roughing-it, and nothing in-between. Probably right. In addition, we do not like to sit on vacations. Go Go Hi Ho.
As she also pointed out, the price at Little Saint Simons is all-inclusive - all meals (no menu choices, of course - family-style), all of the naturalist adventures, all the boats and kayaks and bikes, all the booze and cocktail hours and oyster roasts and shrimp boils at the beach. And the entirely private 7-mile island, just for you. Chef is a grad of the CIA (Culinary Institute of America for those of you in Yorba Linda) but he does home cookin like his grandma.
So who was there (all with spouses)? A self-selecting elite bunch of folks. A recently-retired career Army Ranger from Colorado who discovered an interest in natural history. A retired Memphis cotton broker. A NYC doctor. A high school teacher couple from Salt Lake City. An 8th-grade Science teacher from Michigan. A famous nature artist from Massachusetts. An Ornithology prof from Georgia Southern (not a railroad - a university). A professor of something from Boston. A fund manager from Chicago. A jolly, congenial, and intelligent crew, and a tattoo-free zone for sure. Lots of laughs at mealtimes.
Despite the skeeters, they have a high repeat rate. I would recommend March-April-May or October for a place like this. Too hot and too many bugs in the summertime - for me, anyway.
Our temps last week were daytime highs around 76 and nights high 50s-low 60s. Constant sea breeze. Perfect.
I remarked to Mrs. BD that it must be a rare "resort" vacation spot indeed where, when one of the resident naturalists asks for a show of hands for the next morning's 7 AM birding in the marsh, almost everybody present raises their hands.
"Meet at the trucks at 7 on the dot."
More boring travelogue pics and nature details below the fold -
The dock. You can take a skiff out anytime you want, for as long as you want. Fishing tackle freely available. Kayaks too.
We called it Jurassic Park, riding on the bed of a GMC truck into the maritime jungle with the early morning birdsong - mostly Carolina Wren, Yellow Throated Warbler, Parula Warbler, Cardinals, Gnatcatchers, Pileateds, Summer Tanagers, Cardinals. Clapper Rails clapping in the distance. Black Racers wiggling across the sandy roads and the occasional Diamondback Rattler. The naturalists shove the Rattlers off the road with a stick after giving everybody opportunities for close-up photos.
The dining hall in the main lodge. Cultural note: Southern gals dress and make themselves pretty for dinner, even in the woods and regardless of age. Mrs. BD says they are more into expressing their femininity than Northern gals. It's a good thing, and a good lesson for Northern gals.
A quiet little room to read in or to have a Martini, in the main lodge. The 2 families that own the island take it over for family events from Thanksgiving through January, so they get the good duck hunting for themselves and their own guests.
Georgia maritime forest: Live Oak, Slash Pine, Loblolly Pine, Magnolia, with an understory of Palmetto, Cabbage Palm, and Red Bay. Abundant Spanish Moss.
I'll post a Part 2, probably on Friday.
