In Hein van Greevenbroek’s cruising story this month, he makes a reference to Roger Miller’s lyric, “I’m a man of means by no means, King of the Road.” I met such a man of means by no means in a marsh just outside Savannah, Georgia, while I was canoeing the Intracoastal Waterway in the winter of 1983. My paddling partner and I were making our way south along the Georgia coast and following the meanders of the Skidaway River as it looped in and around Savannah suburbs. At the intersection with the Vernon River we turned south into a brisk headwind, and rather than fight it we pulled ashore on a small hammock—a sliver of high ground with a ragged crown of stunted trees.A whisp of smoke rose above the brush, and nestled in the trees we found a smoldering campfire next to an upturned aluminum johnboat. Its bow was propped up and the openings around the boat were walled in with weathered plywood. Plastic buckets were scattered around the campsite. There was no one there. Upside down, Arthur's johnboat was his shelter; right-side up he'd row it to Savannah, carrying a bicycle to get around town. The kayak belonged to my paddling partner.
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Wonderful story, interesting, somewhat sad and melancholy. I wonder what became of Arthur?
I hope that God watches out for folks like Arthur. I admire the simple life; but pray that I don’t end up there !
What a wonderful story and sad at the same time. Arthur appears to be doing okay for himself, but it is sad to see a veteran living the way he does and to say he is a “never was.” He served his country and will always be a hero.
Thank you for the story.
What a beautiful story. Thanks for sharing. Let’s hope we can all turn out a little bit like Arthur.
Thanks for sharing your memories. People who live like that actually have a lot to offer if we would just take the time to stop and listen, but most of us are in too big of a hurry with our lives.
We lived on those Savannah marshes for twenty years. My mother-in-law would jig for crabs out of a skiff and one day in the cool of the Fall the crab barrels slid to one side in the bottom and capsized the boat. She and her friend were in their eighties and no one was close enough around to help. At some point someone noticed them stuck in the mud along the shore of the creek and called for help. When they were helped to the ambulance for a check-up they gave false names. They were embarrassed and angry at themselves for having capsized. They didn’t want friends to know about it. Hilarity ensued when the newspaper got hold of the story.
A touching story! I liked the feeling of freedom one can have living simply but was also saddened. It was plain Arthur spoke constantly for missing some company. I hope he had some full time friends in his future.
Thank you.