The loss of an island’s grande dame
It is amazing the way a place can imprint on your brain; the way your experiences there can stick to your heart and inform your very outlook on the world.
Such an impression was made on me when I had the opportunity to visit Ossabaw Island many years ago, and this week we have lost the woman whose stewardship made such an experience possible, Mrs. Eleanor “Sandy” Torrey West.
Ossabaw Island is the third largest of a string of barrier islands that skirt along Georgia’s Atlantic coast. Some of the islands have been developed, while some are protected as Georgia parkland with varying rights for visitation. Thanks to Sandy West and her family, Ossabaw is one of those protected under the management of the state.
“Ms. West served as the matriarch of Ossabaw Island, which is made up of 26,000 unspoiled acres of forest, wetlands and beaches on the Georgia coast in Chatham County,” reads a statement released by the Georgia Department of Natural Resources this week.
Mrs. West’s family bought Ossabaw Island in 1924 at a time when the islands were sought by wealthy businessmen for escape from their industrial environs to the north.
In 1961, Mrs. West and her husband established the Ossabaw Island Foundation and invited students, artists, writers, scientists, ecologists, philosophers and others to connect with the natural world and each other through the Ossabaw Island Project in the ’60s and the Genesis Project in the ’70s.
In the late ’70s, Mrs. West instigated the effort to ensure that the island would forever remain a wild and pristine place by negotiating the sale of the island to the state of Georgia in 1978 for half of its appraised value, on the stipulation that it be designated as the first Georgia State Heritage Preserve, securing its permanent protection.
It was under this mandate that, for a number of years, the biology departments at Shorter University and Berry College organized a spring break camping trip to Ossabaw for the purpose of exploration and learning.
In hindsight, I am so glad that I found the idea appealing enough to miss out on more frivolous beachy travels. I had other options, but I happily traded swimsuits for hiking boots and boarded a bus in the wee hours of a morning with other brave students and professors willing to spend their break in the pursuit of knowledge.
I’m making us sound much more noble than we really were; there was plenty of fun enjoyed in the process. But, we were living in tents all week, cooking our communal meals on propane stoves and over the campfire, and we spent many of our waking hours hiking and exploring.
It turns out that it was in my first year on this trip, 1987, that Mrs. West made the family estate on the island her permanent home, where she lived until 2016, and it was our great honor to be invited to visit with her and tour her home while we were there.
Boy, what an impression she made on me. This petite powerhouse of a woman walked us through her home and told us story after story about life on the island. Stunning artwork hung on the walls and each piece came with a fascinating tale of the person who created it and of their time on her island.
If you didn’t already love the place, you certainly would by the time she was through with you.
We also had the chance to wander around the abandoned small community that had been built by and for the people who participated in the sabbatical opportunities they offered.
It was like a hippy commune straight out of history with a communal kitchen building and several small rustic houses, including an actual treehouse and an A-frame house that still had a stack of Mother Earth News magazines in one corner.
While my visits there were brief, I can honestly say that I will never forget how bright and plentiful the stars were as we lay on the beach and searched for constellations.
Nor will I ever replicate how delicious the freshly netted and filleted mullet was when wrapped in foil with a little butter, salt and pepper and gently roasted in the coals of the open fire.
I can only hope that I might, once again, get the opportunity to wander the island in search of wild boar and donkeys, or encounter an alligator in its natural element, from a safe distance and out of mating season, of course.
My experiences on Ossabaw Island taught me so much about the fragile balance of our natural world and the importance of time spent in it.
The value of a wild place such as this is infinite, and the wisdom and vision that Mrs. West and her family mustered to ensure that it would remain as such was pure genius.
Sandy West was 108 years old when she left this world, and I bet she would tell you it was her love of and life in this place that fed such a long and healthy existence. I, for one, will be forever grateful for the experiences her generosity afforded me, and I will never forget the lessons I learned on her island.