By Nathan Kleinman

Here's the dilemma: you live on the east coast, you don't have a lot of time, and you don't have a lot of money, but you want an out-of-this-world wilderness experience. I too found myself in this difficult position. Thankfully, there's hope. A little known national park called Cumberland Island National Seashore. A mere two-day drive from Washington, New York, or Philadelphia (my home-base), Cumberland Island lies off the coast of southern Georgia, about 40 minutes north of Jacksonville, Florida. The island is 17.5 miles long, and is covered with alligators, armadillos, bobcats, wild pigs, wild turkeys, deer, snakes, lizards, and massive wild horses, all thriving in varied ecosystems ranging from sand dunes to hickory forests and swamp meadows to palmetto glades. It is also one of the main nesting sites for loggerhead turtles.

In this setting, one can find both true respite and true adventure. My trip, with four of my high school buddies, took place in May. Typically, May brings rather mild weather, but Cumberland Island was already a sweltering 98 degrees. The only way to access the island, aside from your personal boat, is by a ferry run by the National Park Service, which leaves from St. Mary's, Georgia. We loaded our 90-pound backpacks onto the boat, bid adieu to ice cubes, air conditioning, and toilets and embarked on our journey. On the ferry we met a colorful local man who told us, "If ya use all five of y'all, ya can ketch yerself one a them turkeys. Just ring its neck like a dishtowel. Like a dishtowel." He repeated the phrase along with a visual demonstration, until we turned away. Then he tapped me on the shoulder and warned me about ticks. He said, "Y'all are gonna have to check everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Yer gonna have to let each other look places you wouldn't normally let someone." Sadly, our new friend was right.

Being that we were all law-abiding citizens who have respect for our natural resources, we did not take his first piece of advice, but we had to take the second piece. Ticks were everywhere. We could see them crawling on the ground, in trees, and all over our bodies. We were only there for six days, but we each removed over 100 ticks from ourselves. If you plan a trip, don't even bother bringing DEET, it doesn't work on these ticks - they simply don't care.

Upon arrival to the island, all backpackers must sit through the requisite 30-minute meeting with the ranger on duty. During this meeting he or she warns you about the dangers presented by Cumberland Island: three types of poisonous snake, alligators, sharks, wild horses, and raccoons. The last one may seem most benign, but Cumberland's raccoons are horrific. They are huge, they are many, and they are ravenous. The ranger said to tie a parachute cord between two trees, then hang all food and toiletries in a bag from the middle of the cord, no less than five feet above the ground. We did this, but it didn't stop them. The raccoons at the Stafford Beach backcountry site ate nearly all of our food, despite re-hanging our food 10 feet off the ground and 10 feet from the nearest branch. The only way to combat the raccoons is to stay at the Hickory Hill site, which is so dismal (due to the throngs of ticks, mosquitoes, and biting flies) that not even raccoons are willing to live there. We were awakened our second morning at Hickory Hill by two wild horses who had decided that the 10 inches between our two tents was the best place through which to run, kick, and bite. We were told that it was mating season, but when you're awakened at 5:45 a.m. to sounds that can only be described as Jurassic, knowing that it's mating season is no consolation.

These tales may sound harrowing, but they are why one would visit such a place. And they did not make up the majority of our time there - most of it was spent walking along miles of unspoiled beach and hiking through what can only be described as temperate jungles. On our last day, I was swimming in the ocean (a tepid 82 degrees) when I saw a fin in the water 30 feet away. My heart skipped a beat or two, but then I realized it wasn't a shark, but a dolphin. I watched it swim away and left the water ecstatic. This was the perfect way to end the trip. Then I looked back in the waves, there was another dolphin, then two more, then five more. I ran back into the water and spent the next 30 minutes frolicking with no less than a dozen dolphins.

Cumberland Island can be a scary place, but it is those scary moments, added to once in a lifetime experiences, like swimming with dolphins, that make a journey there worthwhile.