It was a
short hop from Myrtle Beach to Buck Hall Recreation Area in the Francis Marion
and Sumter National Forests, South Carolina. Our expectations for this place
were sky high and only slightly curtailed by the prevailing relatively chilly
weather. But once Willem had us signed in and we were driving to our pretty site
(33.038781,-79.562829) -- one of only 13 for RV’s arranged around an open area
almost the size of a football field, we perked up and got to work setting up
camp in a slight drizzle. We were
looking at unfavorable weather for 3 days but the uniqueness of the campground
on the banks of the intra-coastal waterway (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Intracoastal_Waterway ) promised things and experiences we
have not had before.
When Willem did
his viability study for our trip years ago, this interesting place prompted him
to look into a means for exploring the Waterway and bays we were to encounter. Until 2010 he thought of an inflatable boat
but at the Hershey RV show he saw the PortaBoat, which pointed into a different
direction. Not having thought of the kind of money that a new one with motor
would call for, he started tracking the internet for a used one, of which he
saw some but not anywhere close to Pennsylvania. It seemed that they were more in use on the West Coast and
perhaps way south. But in May 2012 he spotted an ad on e-Bay and responded
directly to the owner in Philadelphia, where he picked up quite a bit more than
planned for the next day: an unused new 14-foot
boat with brand new engine and almost all available peripherals, such as a mast
and rigging for use as a sail boat. The price was right and the boat was ours,
folded up and hoisted way up to the rafters in the garage, with the engine on
its cart in the basement. Although tempting to try it out before winter, Willem
had a knee replacement scheduled and was buried in projects to complete before
then. In addition, there was the licensing issue. So finding out what he had bought
was left for somewhere en route with the trip! It ultimately happened at
Killbear Park in Canada, where the engine started on the second pull and the
boat performed extremely well. This was confirmed at Bar Harbor, Maine, where
we ventured out into the bay. And from
there onward, we looked forward to Buck Hall, which instigated the boat acquisition
in the first place.
Meanwhile,
we were making the best of weather not exactly conducive to a climactic
maritime experience by stirring up excitement in the kitchen. This was not to
be carried into Thanksgiving, two days hence, though. We figured that much of
the fun associated with it is in preparing the feast together. However, we’ve enjoyed
virtually uninterrupted delights of this nature for the past four months and
dining out would be more special than merely shifting gears for the occasion.
After all, it would be real challenging to square a turkey with the likes of
our little RV propane gas oven. Our Thanksgiving dinner at Cracker Barrel was
great and was punctuated with pumpkin pie -- to the introductory surprise of
Fickie and Stella.
It wasn’t
until after Thanksgiving that the weather took a turn for the better and
activity on the Waterway picked up as pleasure boats and large sail boats
passed frequently. Although huge barges were also seen and particularly at
night their engines and lights attracted attention, commercial use seems
limited. But the channel is still dredged to considerable depth so as to
accommodate sizable boats. Given frequent rough sea conditions during storms
and hurricanes on the East Coast, the Waterway provides safe havens for vessels
at such times. Our seafaring was hampered, however by other interests, such as
getting our satellite TV antenna looked at in Charleston for possible repairs,
and sight-seeing, including museums, e.g. http://www.charlestonmuseum.org/home and the aircraft carrier USS
Yorktown http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Yorktown_%28CV-10%29
. These were eye-opening
experiences for us, not familiar with a ship of this nature and only marginally
with southern history. The weather looked good on Saturday and in the afternoon
we decided to get the boat into the water to at least fulfill a longstanding
expectation. To our dismay we discovered that the packet with hardware required
for assembling was gone. The search was fruitless and we figured it had to wait
for Sunday, although we were more than 30 miles away from the closest hardware
store.
Sunday was
December 1 and we had to reserve camp sites in California State Parks for June
2014. Reservations would open at 11 a.m. As before, we were especially apprehensive
about succeeding with weekend spots and planned on having four devices
simultaneously directed at the reservation system. The whole thing didn’t go as
smoothly as before, with only the two computers linked up smoothly by the
deadline time. We had to get spots at three campgrounds and at the very moment
Fickie seemed to have one of them in hand, his computer encountered a Windows update
that simply just took over, leaving California in mid stream! Meanwhile, Willem
seemed to be making progress with the second camp ground, when he backtracked
to ascertain a date and apparently lost his fish on the hook. He re-grouped,
targeted another site because on return, the initial site was indicated as
having been taken. But when he clicked to finalize the reservation, both sites
were there! One could be dropped and the other secured. Meanwhile Fickie was
back on track also after trying to secure an after-update alternative and
likewise ended up with two to choose from! Willem finalized the third
reservation and within about an hour we could declare: mission accomplished!
We
encountered various interesting people at Buck Hall, including a fellow who
landed his boat while we were wrapping up an unsuccessful fishing attempt off
the adjacent pier. Not many had ventured out that day on account of the weather
and this guy wasn’t successful at fishing from his boat either. He was a local
who seemingly just went out as a matter of habit and empathized with our lack
of success to the extent that he returned from home shortly after with a
sizable sea trout for us -- a catch from the day before! Thawed and nicely
prepared by Stella that evening, it added to the great memory of a really
generous man! This was an example of southern kindness we’ve become much aware
of by then and continued to enjoy as our trip progressed, echoing the theme of
generosity from a church sermon we heard a week or two before.
The most interesting thing of the entire trip to
date was an outside fireplace beside a lovely neighboring motor home and next
to a very sizable pile of wood and a log splitter. On Wednesday morning Willem
learned from Al, the owner, that the truckload of wood which he was working on
with the hydraulic splitter would be gone by Saturday. Adjacent to the RV was a
tent which proved to be more than a pen for a pet dog. Al brought an object
vaguely familiar out of it, which he placed inside the fire ring. It was a grey
enamel barrel from an older time clothes washing machine. He soon had a fire
burning inside and continued to feed the insatiable hunger of the thing for
logs throughout the afternoon, while his sister, Janette and friend, Kim were
joined by another couple from an adjacent RV. These folks didn’t blink for the cold
and Al went all out to stay on top of it. We were invited to join and enjoy the
well above ground level radiated heat and the pretty after dark sight of red
hot coals showing through hundreds of tiny holes, which once had gallons of
water passing through. Terrific!
The next
morning a huge cauldron appeared from the tent and throughout the day the
neighbors prepared a unique dish -- Sadowski Brunswick Stew, enough to feed an
army. That evening they shared some with us and saved the remainder for future
use mostly by Al, who was getting ready to return to Raleigh, North Carolina,
the next day. Janette and Kim were from Columbia, South Carolina, and would
leave two days later. This prompted Susan and Stella to reciprocate with South
African ‘melktert’, which went over real well.
Although the
weather improved for the last two of six days, we were scheduled to move on
Monday, which we did. It was a detour to get to Camping World, where the
antenna was being looked at and when we got there our problem had not been
addressed yet. Some 3 hours later we were on our way though, replacement
antenna on board and knowing we were not going to be at our next destination
before dark. Willem had meanwhile called ahead for a camp site and access,
should we arrive after closing. The receptionist informed him of the beauty of
the place and the number of the camp site she assigned to us, right on the
beach. Regrettably, we would not see any of it until the next morning, when we
were assured, we wouldn’t believe our eyes! The place: Hunting Island, South
Carolina http://southcarolinaparks.com/huntingisland/introduction.aspx 32.388573, -80.431354 .
And so it
was, notwithstanding tricky in the dark maneuvering to get the 5th
wheel backed into the camp site. We couldn’t see the ocean immediately behind a
low dune, though, but the incoming tide was increasingly rowdy throughout the
evening – raising our suspense. Willem was up early and first to satisfy his
curiosity. The place was truly beautiful and with the tide rising again, water
was rushing up to the foot of the beach passage way. The campground was covered
with enormous 60+ foot pines interspersed with palms, half the size and
seemingly not quitting on reaching up to match the competition! Live oak trees
filled in wherever there were openings and the whole thing was almost beyond
belief. But true it was, with even more truth to behold as we ventured out
during the next 4 days.
A need of
supplies had us go to the nearest town, Beaufort, which turned out to be quite
something with a colorful history -- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beaufort,_South_Carolina. Amongst others, its more recent
claim to fame is its popularity for motion picture settings, such as Forrest
Gump. We didn’t opt for tours of such scenes but rather hugged the surroundings
of the campground, which included numerous hiking trails, a fishing pier,
lagoon and light house and extended beach walking during low tide. At high tide
the coast line was pounded and in the absence of rocks, the evidence of erosion
in the last few years included palm trees way off shore and an asphalt drive
abruptly terminating at the beach. The explanation given was that it used to
curve along the beach between camp sites and trees now all washed away. This
barrier island is literally losing ground to the ocean – an ongoing process
accounting for the shallow beach front at low tide when one can walk far in on
sand to see waves cresting hundreds of yards away. But they return with a
vengeance six hours later to continue hammering at the low dune separating the
ocean from the campground. It was on the third morning that Willem opened the
shade of the upper bedroom to realize how close we really were when looking
right across the dune into the waves! Behind the campground and all was an extended
tidal swamp area extending for miles inland and it clearly was the ocean’s
nursery, where fish and other critters hatched and grew to ultimate move-out
size.
This was
probably the most scenic campground to date and the kind of place one would
returned to without hesitation.
But we had
to push on; Crooked River in Georgia was waiting: 30.84416,-81.552802, http://gastateparks.org/CrookedRiver/details?locationid=39&p=39. A South Carolina Park official at
Hunting Island was very supportive of our plan to go to Crooked River, which
was good to have because the above web site wasn’t as clear and unequivocal as
it could have been -- especially with respect to facilities. We were thus
pleasantly surprised with what we found – a beautiful spacious campground with
very good bathroom and laundry facilities. Also, staff most helpful and the
game ranger, Cate Williams, interacted with campers, even to the extent of
driving around the campground on a golf cart, showing off a turtle to children
and others interested and talking about it and other experiences that came up
in the course of her daily activity. She had also scheduled an astronomy
presentation expected to be attended by a scout troop. But Fickie was the only
audience when the scouts didn’t make it. Her preparation was not in vain!
We were
increasingly pleased with the climate, especially compared to the heavy hit
which the inland had taken from one winter storm after the other that continued
to move through. On the threshold of Florida was a good place to be! However,
what we didn’t count on was a breed of tiny gnats that proved not only menacing
but aggressive and it turned out that they enjoyed snacking on unsuspecting strangers.
These critters not only bit but sipped prodigiously from what they had struck.
We also discovered they had no respect for the insect repellant we had and the
next day we itched in the superlative, not realizing that this would continue
for days afterwards! Over the counter anti itch cream had low to zero effect.
But as stealthily as they appeared they could vanished and we learned they only
showed up in a narrow temperature range at dawn and dusk. For us avoidance was
the answer and such action arrested the
problem somewhat manageably. Willem and Fickie thus saw an opportunity to
unfold and assemble their boat to the amusement of some experienced fishermen
that were quite forthcoming with fishing advice. But we proved rather
incompetent at the particular technique of fishing and while retrieving our boat empty
handed before the gnats were expected to move in again, our primary advisor,
Michael Taylor and his friends returned. Upon learning of our misfortune they tossed
their entire catch of some twelve spotted trout and a good size red fish into
our cooler, even against our protestations! They assured us their freezers were
well stocked and they would easily repeat the afternoon’s yield the next day.
We were scheduled to leave the next morning, so we couldn’t join them for more
advanced instruction! In the course of processing 13 fish with one filet knife we
began to appreciate what we’ve relieved them of, with hordes of gnats closing
in, notwithstanding the screened-in fish cleaning station! But the freshly
caught red fish was absolutely delicious that evening and the trout filets all
found a spot in our freezer compartment.
St. Marys is
the closest town, 7 miles from Crooked River State Park. We went there for
supplies and insect repellant recommended to Fickie by Michael and Bonnie
Taylor the day before. But we first headed in the opposite direction of the stores
to explore the area and ended up at the harbor in the old town. What an
incredible place! The tourist information center brought us up to speed in a
hurry and we learned that St Marys (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Marys,_Georgia ) was once the most southern east
coast port of the US. That was before Florida became part of the US. It had
been a very busy place with up to 300 ships at a time in the bay! So,
inadvertently, we found ourselves here after having been in the historically
most northern counter-part in Eastport, Maine, 3 months ago (see On Things
Along the Way 2). We were also intrigued by some of the historic buildings,
including an authentic Presbyterian Church building, dating to 1808. On the way
back, we noted an 11 a.m. service for the next morning and decided to attend.
However, when we showed up at 10:45 the congregation was streaming out to pose
for a picture on the steps and thereafter disbanded. It turned out that the two
morning services were combined into one at 10 a.m. for this occasion but that
the Methodist Church around the corner had a special Christmas Cantata service
starting at 11 a.m. It had the additional benefit of Fickie spotting Michael
Taylor in the choir and afterwards getting additional fishing tips. This was
the day before their generous gesture which really punctuated our perception of
the extraordinary kindness of folks in the South.
It was with
very pleasant memories but still itching that we rolled out of Crooked River
for Gamble Rodgers State Park, Florida. At last, Florida, where we should be
safe from winter! Touch wood.
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