Monday, May 25
St. Simon’s Island – Darien
32 nm – 4.75 hours underway
We had every intention of staying put.
Darien sits about 7 nautical miles west of the ICW—roughly an hour each way at our cruising speed. Normally, that distance would make us hesitate. But since we hadn’t planned to move at all, the detour suddenly felt like a smart trade: not only would we get to explore somewhere new, we’d still come out about 20 nautical miles farther north. A little bonus progress toward Savannah and Charleston.
Still, we debated. The winds and current around St. Simons were no joke, and staying tied up another day had its appeal. In the end, we decided to give ourselves the best possible shot and waited for slack tide.
Good call.
We slipped off the dock as smoothly as we could have hoped—no drama, no stress, just a clean departure. Even better, despite it being Memorial Day (which we had intentionally tried to avoid), the water was surprisingly empty. Add in a strong push from the incoming tide, and we were cruising along at a great pace.
The only downside? Biting flies.
What should have been a peaceful cruise turned into a bit of a battle, but luckily we came armed with an electric fly swatter. So instead of lounging, we spent the ride… well, electrocuting flies. Not exactly glamorous, but oddly satisfying.
Pulling into Darien, though, made it worth it.
From the moment we approached the dock, it was clear we made the right call. The dock master had been checking in on us during our run up and was ready and waiting when we arrived—with backup. He brought along a City Councilman to help wrangle lines in the wind and current. Talk about a welcome committee.
Once we were safely tied up, the hospitality didn’t stop. They gave us the full rundown of town—where to go for happy hour, where to have dinner, and exactly what to order. Naturally, we followed every recommendation.
First stop: happy hour at Oaks on the River, a beautiful boutique hotel where top-shelf drinks were somehow only $5. No complaints there.
Then it was off to Skipper’s Fish Camp for dinner—a true Southern experience. With Heather’s shellfish allergy, the City Councilman steered her toward the collards and Q, confidently claiming they’d be the best she’d ever have. He wasn’t exaggerating. Meanwhile, Kevin went all in: blackened grouper (though it looked suspiciously like flounder), fried oysters, sweet potato soufflé, coleslaw, and hush puppies. A full-on Southern feast.
We wrapped up the night at Tabby House Brewing Company, tucked inside the oldest building in Darien—a perfect, laid-back ending to an unexpectedly good day.
Not bad for a “detour.”
Tomorrow, we continue north to Kilkenny—but Darien will be hard to top.
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