The morning sky had already begun to spit at us as my wife Pam, my 16-year-old son Jake, and I arrived at Leith Volkswagen in Cary, North Carolina, to begin our Wild Weekend trip to Tybee Island on the Georgia coast. The rain didn't let up at all on our five-hour drive down I-95. It was apparent the weather was not going to cooperate this weekend, but if you wait for perfect weather, you will spend entirely too much time indoors.

We made it to the Ocean Plaza Beach Resort on Tybee Island late Friday afternoon and decided to relax a while before having dinner in the hotel restaurant. The Ocean Plaza is just a parking lot away from the beach, and is next to Tybee's 700-foot fishing pier and pavilion. It is surely the place to be on Tybee in warmer weather, but as the wind howled on this rainy November evening, only two guys lingered at the corner bar in the 20,000-square-foot pavilion as my wife and I headed out onto the pier. We hoped for sun in the morning.

Up early Saturday, we watched the sea spray and the dune sands blow under a gray sky as we readied for the day, the first part of which was spent on a three-hour tour with Sea Kayak Georgia. Tere Blue, our guide, explained that a 9.5-foot tide—high even by the standards of the low-lying Georgia barrier islands—had filled Chimney Creek and the surrounding tidal marsh but was quickly on its way out. We needed to get into the water. After adjusting our kayaks, suiting up in PFDs, and going over a few basic strokes, we were off the dock and paddling up a twisting tributary over sea oxeye daisy and through cord grass. About 100 yards later, the water widened as we made our way along Chimney Creek. The wind and the receding tide combined to conjure a swift, sea-bound current. This nearly made paddling necessary only to steer, though at a few spots the strength of the current did provide some interesting eddies. Meanwhile, clipper rails and other migratory fowl showed themselves here and there across the marsh.

On a broad stretch of the creek, I was ahead of Pam and Jake, who were having some steering problems, so I decided I would make a wide circle back their way and, as I sidled up to them, announce that I was in fact paddling circles around them. My momentum picked up as I came in to cut the final arc of my turn, so I dug in for a strong stroke. My kayak and my center of gravity suddenly parted ways, leaving me to recall Tere's instructions to float instead of trying to stand in the muddy creek bed. Today's lesson: Don't get cocky.

After Tere helped me back into my boat, I was a little gun-shy with my movements and a little chilly under worsening weather, but still enjoyed the remainder of our swift trip to the mouth of the river and our landing across from Little Tybee Island.

Tybee Island is, of course, just offshore from Savannah, so after hot showers back at the hotel we made our way into the city for some time on River Street and a tour in the Touareg of some of the city's famous squares. On Sunday morning, after a hearty and delicious breakfast at Tybee Island's "world-famous" Breakfast Club, we toured Fort Pulaski National Monument, a Civil War fort on nearby Cockspur Island, before heading back north on 95 to home in North Carolina.