Altamaha River Is Georgia’s ‘Little Amazon’—and It’s Just 1.5 Hours From Savannah

As sheets of rain slashed down, the river rolled under us. I sat on the stern and my friend Madeline was in the bow. Joel, my dad, was in his red long sea kayak. We zoomed past branches that bobbed in the current as it tried to pull them downstream.

I laughed. I was on my way to Georgia The Altamaha River was still wild. On day four of the six-day paddle from source to sea, we saw how wild the Altamaha River was.

A little over an hour south of SavannahPaddlers will find a hidden gem. Georgia’s Little Amazon is a 137 mile river that meanders along hardwood forests, old growth cypress swamps and cordgrass marshlands. It ends in the Atlantic after passing through river-cut cliffs and hardwood forest. The Nature Conservancy has named this river, which is unaffected by road traffic and is home to 120 endangered species of plants and animals, one of 75 “Last Great Places”.

Boating is the best way to experience the Altamaha. The Georgia River Network created the Altamaha River Canoe Trail in 2010. This trail is 29 points long and stretches along the entire length of the river.

Our trip began with a stay at Towns Bluff Park, a primitive campground. Three Rivers Outdoors provided a guide to help us move our car from the take-out area. Darien Before we leave, you can see us at the Put-in at Hinson’s Landing. Three Rivers has everything you need, from shuttles to 10-day trips to rentals of kayaks to guided two-hour excursions.

I’d spent a year researching the Altamaha, reading tales of winding, difficult-to-navigate tributaries, dense swamplands, strong currents and tides, big catfish, and enormous alligators.

The trip did not disappoint. We set up camp at a large beach in one of the many camping areas scattered along the river on our first night. Madeline was fishing the shoreline while I picked dewberries. She pulled a redbreast and smallmouth bass out of the water.

Dinner was fried sardines, pasta and berries. We sat on the soft sand and watched the sun set as egrets walked through the shallow water, flashing their yellow feet.

We fell into a routine over the next few weeks. We woke up early to paddle hard and watch solitary Sandpipers running along the misty coasts while ospreys peered at us from nests perched atop dead tree trunks.

We spent our lunches on the Altamaha sandbars. We cast lines into the water and took a quick dip, keeping an eye out for any alligators moving in the depths.

The silvery mullet would jump out of the darkness next to our boats in the afternoons. One memorable time, a silvery mullet bounced loudly off the kayak deck of my father.

We listened each night to the familiar barred owl song “who, whose, whose, cooks for me?” as they flew between Spanish moss covered branches.

On our third day, we saw the most alligators. “Madeline, Madeline, Madeline!” As what I mistakenly thought to be a tree began to charge down the bank, I nervously started chanting. It broke out of the willow tangles and fell into the water. The massive shape created waves that brushed against the canoe. Madeline grinned at me. “What were you expecting me to do?” She replied.

Altamaha Regional Park was the place where we spent our final night. After another round torrential storms, a warm shower and a coffee have never felt better.

We found ourselves in the park store the next morning, where we discovered a delicious diner hidden behind fishing tackle and camo clothing. Anglers from the area told us to visit Rifle Cut while eating a breakfast consisting of waffles with sorghum, fried potatoes, crisp hashbrowns and sausage.

The mouth of the river is protected by this narrow, mile-long channel. The canal is adorned with wildflowers and tiny crabs that scurry about. It also has shorebirds. The canal is beautiful, but it also has a sad history. Enslaved workers dug the canal by hand in the 1820s in order to reduce the distance to the Darien timber mill.

As we entered Darien, the river pulled back into a violent mix of wind and current.

Before we reached the final bend, we’d seen another group of kayakers on the river. They were now in trouble directly ahead of us. They had capsized their canoe after being caught in a strange mixture of current and tide. They clung to their capsized canoe without life jackets, and we raced to help.

My dad tows one with his kayak. We were able, with the help of a kayaker, to tow the canoe and the man to a muddy bank just upstream and opposite the takeout.

Madeline and I ended the trip in separate canoes. Madeline and dad coaxed an exhausted, nervous man into our canoe while I put one man in the other boat. He sat on his balls and held onto the gunwales of the canoe, causing it to tremble in the turbulent water. Madeline somehow made it across the water with him.

The Altamaha was a thrilling adventure until the very end.