Tales from the Island
At my core, I’m a storyteller.
Storytelling has always been a part of my life, whether through photographs, games, or late-night conversations. For years, I ran epic Dungeons & Dragons campaigns, weaving stories that spanned years. Before that, I spent countless nights with friends around campfires or on front porches, spinning tales until the first light of morning.
Now, as a photographer, I tell stories in a different way—through images. Every shot I take captures a fleeting moment, a piece of someone’s story. But there’s another side to storytelling that I’ve been itching to share: my own.
Welcome to Tales from the Island, a blog series where I’ll recount some of my adventures here on Tybee (or in this case, near Tybee). This is my way of sharing a little more about myself. As an introvert, I sometimes find it tough to open up during shoots. Too often, I discover at the very end of a session that my client and I share some amazing common interest. If only I’d known sooner, we could’ve had a great conversation while snapping photos.
This series is my way of breaking the ice, before we even meet. I hope you enjoy it.
Stranded
A cautionary tale
Our story begins with a kayak, a perfect summer day, and the kind of disaster you can only laugh about later. This was years before I even took an interest in photography outside of cell phone photos.
One sunny morning, my friend Dakota Joe and I decided we needed a break, a chance to unwind. A trip to Little Tybee, the uninhabited island across the water (which is a popular camping location, not part of Tybee, and is a completely separate island), felt like the perfect idea.
Our vessel of choice? A decades-old, three-person fiberglass kayak some friends and I had picked up at a yard sale for $50. To call it “well-loved” would be generous. Its faded paint and scratched-up hull had carried me through a few adventures before. So what could go wrong this time?
Plenty, it turns out.
A Perfect Day… Until It Wasn’t
It was the kind of day that makes you love summer: blue skies, a salty breeze, and the sound of waves lapping against the shore. We paddled across the river and into the open ocean, heading toward Little Tybee. The water sparkled in the sunlight, someone in their small personal helicopter flew by enjoying the day, and for a moment life felt perfect.
As we approached the island, we focused on dodging oyster beds, sharp clusters of shells that could scratch our kayak. We were so intent on steering clear of them that we didn’t see the wave coming.
It hit us hard.
In an instant, the kayak flipped, dumping us and all our gear into the water. The ocean was shallow enough to stand, but the waves kept smashing into us, making it nearly impossible to maneuver the heavy, waterlogged boat. After struggling to drag it ashore, we realized we were at the mercy of the tide.
We decided to wait.
Making the Most of It
Stranded, soaking wet, and now partially in survival mode, we took inventory of our gear:
A disposable film camera
Snorkeling gear
Life jackets
A first aid kit
A lighter
One bottle of water
One bottle of Gatorade
Not exactly the most prepared, but we’d make it work.
While waiting for the tide to drop, we decided to enjoy the unexpected detour. Dakota Joe, a film photography enthusiast, pulled out the camera from our dry bag and started snapping photos while I took some photos with my iPhone. At some point I donned the snorkeling gear and swam along the shore. For a while, it was actually fun.
Then the tide finally went out.
A Sinking Feeling
We returned to the kayak, hopeful the receding tide would make it manageable. At first, things looked promising. The boat was mostly out of the water, its fiberglass hull resting on wet sand. Relief quickly turned to frustration when we saw it was completely filled with water.
With no drainage system, the kayak was impossibly heavy. Desperate, we grabbed our oars and tried digging it free, but the wet sand slid back into place as fast as we could clear it. After what felt like hours, we admitted defeat.
Plan B: Bailing Out The Water.
Using tiny scissors from our first aid kit, we cut a plastic water bottle in half and turned it into two makeshift scoops. Under the blazing sun, we took turns bailing, six ounces at a time, until the kayak was finally empty.
For a brief moment, we thought we’d won, until we spotted a massive crack along the bottom of the hull. The weight of the water had split the fiberglass. The kayak wasn’t going anywhere.
Defeated, we slumped onto the sand and stared at the boat, reality sinking in: we were officially stranded.
Survival Mode
With the kayak cracked beyond repair, we had to face the truth: we were stranded. The tide was out, the sun was setting, and swarms of biting bugs descended as the summer heat eased.
We built a fire to keep the bugs at bay and called friends on Tybee, only to learn no one could reach us until the next day, unless we called the Coast Guard, which wasn’t an option for two broke, young guys.
Hoping for help, we set out to find any campers. After miles of walking, we came across a couple near some driftwood who generously offered a bag of popcorn and their well-wishes. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a feast.
Back at our campsite, the night came alive with the sounds of crickets, waves, and rustling underbrush. We huddled by the fire, rationing Gatorade and popcorn like a five-star meal, counting the hours until morning and talking about the absurdity of it all.
An Unexpected Twist
Hours passed, the fire crackled faintly, and we were deep into rationing Gatorade when we spotted a flashlight moving toward us in the distance. Hoping it was a camper with a boat, we called out and walked toward the light.
“Hey, have you seen a crashed helicopter around here?” the man with the flashlight called out.
The question stopped us in our tracks. “No,” we answered, confused. “But have you seen a boat that can take us back to Tybee?”
As it turned out, the flashlight belonged to a member of the Tybee Fire Department. They were searching for the helicopter we’d seen earlier in the day, the small one that had flown nearby. It had crashed somewhere. The pilot, astonishingly, had gotten to shore somehow and left the wreckage behind, not notifying anyone. A tourist had reported seeing a helicopter falling from the sky, and now the fire department was out searching for the crash site.
After a brief conversation, they agreed to return for us once they located the helicopter. We headed back to our fire, hoping this strange turn of events might still work in our favor.
Much later, we saw the flashlights again. True to their word, the firefighters had returned to pick us up.
The End of the Adventure… for now
The ride back to Tybee was pure bliss. We were tired, hungry, and more than ready to be home. Along the way, the firefighters took us on a detour to see the crash site. It was on a sandbar close to Tybee. Even in the calm moonlight, the mangled wreck was chilling—the kind of thing you don’t easily forget. I don’t know how the pilot was able to walk away.
When we finally arrived back on Tybee, I stumbled home, collapsed into bed, and slept like a rock.
The next morning Dakota Joe and I met up and had breakfast at our favorite restaurant, 80 East (sadly now closed). And to this day it’s probably the best feeling breakfasts I’ve ever had.
Safety Tips for Your Little Tybee Adventure
I want to make it clear that I think camping on Little Tybee, the uninhabited island that is separate from Tybee (confusing, I know), is a great and safe activity. This is a worst case scenario story and takes place during a time when Tybee had less safety signs about the intense waves on the south end where the back river begins. This is also meant to be a cautionary tale about two 20 year olds who thought they were invincible and used a kayak that was not designed for ocean travel.
If you’re planning a kayaking trip or exploring a remote island, like Little Tybee, here are a few lessons I learned the hard way:
Check Your Equipment
Inspect your kayak for cracks, leaks, or other damage before setting out.
Use appropriate equipment. A kayak designed for the ocean would have prevented this whole event.
Make sure your paddles are in good condition and bring a spare if possible.
Bring the Right Supplies
Pack plenty of water, snacks, and a small first aid kit.
Bring a dry bag to protect essentials like your phone, keys, and camera.
Carry an emergency whistle and a waterproof flashlight or flares.
Know the Weather and Tides
Check the weather forecast and tide charts before heading out. Sudden changes in conditions can make your trip less than ideal.
Wear a Life Jacket
Always wear a properly fitted life jacket, even if you’re a strong swimmer.
Tell Someone Your Plan
Let someone know where you’re going, when you’re leaving, and when you expect to return.
Don’t Rely on Your Phone
Cell service can be spotty or nonexistent in remote areas. Consider bringing a waterproof GPS or a marine VHF radio for communication.
Learn Basic Survival Skills
Be prepared to handle situations like building a fire, signaling for help, or finding shelter in case you’re stranded.
Stay Calm in Emergencies
Panic can make a bad situation worse. Take a deep breath, assess your options, and focus on solving one problem at a time.
Respect Nature
Avoid disturbing wildlife, leave no trace of your visit, and be mindful of your surroundings. Remote islands like Little Tybee are delicate ecosystems (we had to retrieve the kayak a day later for this reason).
Know Your Limits
Don’t push yourself or your equipment beyond what they can handle. Sometimes, the safest choice is to turn back.
