Like a scene straight out of Deliverance (1972), the black waters of Georgia’s Ebenezer Creek are eerie. Approximately 20 miles north of Savannah lies a river with water so black that it looks like it is filled with tea. Decayed vegetation from the surrounding swamp fills the water tinting the color black. The river has excellent examples of water tupelo and virgin bald cypress.
The boat landing had a few cars with trailers parked in the lot. The enormous trees surrounding the boat launch formed a gate to another time. The silent flat water and cypress stretched beyond our sight. Inside the swampy labyrinth, the air seemed to stand still. There was a real sense that this swamp was sacred ground.
Massacre at Ebenezer Creek
Prior to disembarking, we used the visitor rest area. The historical marker confirmed the eeriness of Ebenezer Creek. The location we were about to paddle was the site of a massacre during the Civil War. The creek was witness to a massacre of refugee African Americans at the hand of the Union Army. It was December 1864 and Union General Sherman was conducting the famous March to the Sea. About 600 Freedmen (men, women, and children) were following the army. Confederate forces were nearby and these were displaced innocents of the Civil War. In the end, the Union Army built a pontoon bridge to cross Ebenezer Creek. Once the army crossed the river, they cut the bridge and pulled it up, leaving the freedmen behind. The 600 became frightened for their lives as sitting ducks for Confederate aggression. They began crossing the river and swamp and died by the hundreds.
The gravity and importance of this paddle fully sank in. There we were. Alone. About to drift through a graveyard. We slipped our Old Town into the tea-soaked abyss. We paddled silently away. I couldn’t help but think that we were connected not only to those innocent victims but also to the Indigenous peoples that once paddled this land. They too were victims. Removed from their ancestral land and set to the Trail of Tears in the 1830s.
Creek Creeping
As a tributary of the Savannah River, the creek itself is easy to navigate. We keep to the center of the river as we drifted slowly downstream. The cypress trees were gigantic. This was reminiscent of The Great Dismal Swamp and Congaree National Park (internal links). The difference here, however, was the number of abandoned buildings and dilapidated docks. This added to the eeriness of Ebenezer Creek.
On our way back upstream, we opted to canoe through the swamp amongst the trees, outside of the river path. It was here that we felt a deeper connection to the solitude. For hours we paddled silently through the cypress. Their massive trunks gracefully stretching towards the heavens. At that point, it became clear we had not crossed a gate to another time but rather entered an altar.
Our retreat was effortless. The slow movement of the river facilitated easy access to the boat launch. Upon our return, a van of workers from a local institution was there cleaning up the area. One guy offered to help place the canoe on our car. We chatted for a bit and he asked if we had seen any “gators.”
Luckily, we hadn’t had any such encounter.
