Prior to her arrival, I had sent Jane the book, Untamed: The Wildest Woman in America and the Fight for Cumberland Island, by Will Harlan, so she would have some background information. Jane grew up in Yorkshire, on the northeastern coast of England. As a child she and her friends played cowboys and Indians, inspired by tales of our wild West. Those tales told of pioneer women as well, and for Jane, Carol Ruckdeschel was just such a living legend, foraging for her food, eating roadkill, riding sea turtles. And Carol lives on Cumberland Island.

Since there is only so much you can see in only one day on Cumberland, we decided to take the Land and Legacies Tour. We docked on the island and found our guide, Elizabeth. No sooner than Elizabeth had applied her foot to the gas pedal did she begin to elucidate on the history of Cumberland. “For all of you who live in the United States” (and she did know that she had a Brit aboard) “this island belongs to you! It is part of the National Parks!” Well, spit couldn’t have dried on her tongue before Jane belted out, “Bloody (expletive deleted)! This belonged to us long before it belonged to you. The Duke of Cumberland was our Duke!” And thus our tour began.

“I wondered what sort of wilderness the island encompassed, what sort of terrain,” Jane said. “I wanted to see Plum Orchard. I hoped I could meet Carol Ruckdeschel, which I didn’t really expect, but I did get to see her house and it was larger than I anticipated from what I read in the book. It was a long drive to the Alberty house and the First African Baptist Church, which was our first real stop on the tour. I loved the story Elizabeth told about John Kennedy and Carolyn Bessette being two hours late to their wedding because her wedding dress didn’t fit, and then being left there after the wedding and having to ride back to the reception in the back of a pick-up truck! I hadn’t heard that before.”

At the end of the day, when we boarded the ferry back to St. Mary’s, Jane was enthralled with the white pelicans on the shore as we were leaving Cumberland. She was sorry not to have had time to see the beach, and she felt badly about the fate of the horses, but she was full up about her day. The white caps on the water reminded her of the white tailed deer bobbing through the woods. All the history of the island, deep and dark and rich, criss-crossed in her mind with the many connections to her own island, over the same ocean that touches both their shores. Jane and I plan to save our allowances and go back for a stay at the Greyfield Inn.