(aka If I’m going to keep taking all these photos, I may as well post them.)
I don’t know if it’s my mood or the age of development along certain roads, but sometimes I hit a strip of fabulous signs that has me pulling off on the side of the road over and over. Today from Furman to I-185 …
Filed under out of the bubble, Words words words
I do realize that plenty of people would think this is hell rather than paradise, but each time I get to go to Hunting Island I feel so grateful for the privilege of being there.
septic coffin
I can’t describe to you, really, how amazing it is. But I can tell you that the house we stay at now (since the other one washed away) is not a secret and has open dates to rent. As long as you’re willing to haul sheets and towels and food and toilet paper and pillows and blankets and Scrabble and every other thing you might possibly need, load it into a mildewed old golf cart, and bounce 15 minutes through the woods to what is increasingly an indoor camping facility. Phone’s been gone, there’s no gas now, and when the electricity goes off — which it does do — you’re pretty much end of the line since you’re one of about four houses affected. I swear I’ve seen a big orange extension cord running about a mile down the island that I suspect is connecting us. Now the county’s after the owner because the water is approaching the septic tank, but this is outrageous. First of all, the water’s nowhere near it, and second … the beach is littered with concrete septic coffins.
I can tell you that as long as there’s plumbing, I’m there.
I can tell you that there’s no goofy golf or gocarts. In fact, there’s not a commercial establishment on the island. No restaurant, no store, no souvenir shop. Actually, there is a little state park store down at the public campground that sells staples and trinkets. From the house, it would take us an hour to walk there or about 30 minutes to get there by golf cart then car. We might as well drive to the Publix in Beaufort.
For cooking, Lyta’s Easy-Bake Oven is no longer functional (gas), but you have a hot plate and a microwave. (The toaster oven doesn’t seem to work anymore.) This year, the fuses kept blowing, and the kitchen sink wouldn’t drain, which was pretty nasty. But at least there are only spiders, and not Palmetto bugs, in this cottage.
They moved this house off its posts a few years back. Guess they didn't need that septic tank, though.
Who cares? My kids have witnessed a barrier island completely transformed in the span of about 10 years. That’s geological comprehension that I didn’t get until I was about 35. By the time they see the Grand Canyon, it may just be a big yawn after watching the Atlantic lap up an entire island during the course of their childhood. It has to be pretty obvious to them, after watching palmettos fall and seeing the ocean take away houses they’ve live in, that nature is much bigger than tiny ol’ mankind.
Who cares? My dog gets to run as fast and as far as she can, chasing flocks of hundreds of birds. I’ve gotten to watch the pelican population grow from a handful to a squadron of about 40. We’ve seen the sea turtle nests build from a rare few to scores of roped-off mounds every summer. We’ve rescued stupid ol’ starfish and prehistoric horseshoe crabs, cut up hammerhead sharks, and fed mentally deranged deer. And my kids get to wrestle and roam and catch crabs in the mud and throw sand at each other all day long with no one complaining. Because there’s no one else there.
On a crowded weekend day, you might see 10 other people. Used to be these were rednecks (not that there’s anything wrong with that) who hauled their stuff from the public beach or one of the rental houses across the street. (Last year, those houses were beach front. Now they’re pretty much gone.) All of a sudden, though, since the road washed away, it’s athletic nature types who must be staying elsewhere and daytripping by car/bike/hiking boot to see some wildlife. The trail puts them out right by our house, since it’s the only dry place on the island at high tide now.
E, Cubbie, Fripp. Fripp is the only thing that mars the view. We just look the other way and are glad we're not over there.
In fact, I tend to get really incensed if other people pollute my view at all. In recent years, we’ve taken to sending the kids out to be as obnoxious as they can if anyone is dumb enough to stop for a few minutes within eyeshot of our front windows. I can tell you that this is a role at which teen and preteen boys truly excel.
I can tell you that I’ve learned more about trees here than just about anywhere else. There are three basic and very different types: palmetto, live oak and pine. The palmettos are fragile … the fall when the sea reaches them and wash up as logs to protect what is left of the beach. The live oaks go down hard because their wide root system doesn’t support them in the sand. But their hardwood skeletons live forever in the salt and surf and are more beautiful than I can describe. The pines (I don’t know what kind they are, but they’re big) have an entirely different root system. Their tap root holds them upright longer. It’s really a group of roots that have grown together to support what’s above. When they are overtaken by the sea, their tops disintegrate quickly, but their roots hold fast. Even if they fall, the roots stay pliable and seem to take much longer to rot than what was previously above ground.
palmetto, oak, pine. These have been down for a few years now.
Lots and lots more pics (Photobucket) >
Filed under out of the bubble
Our very own Lowcountry Anthony Bourdain … Lyta scouts the convenience-store weiner offering here between Beaufort and I-95, right next door to BoBops Party Shop. We’ll make a blogger out of her yet, won’t we?
Do note the absence of Swedish meatballs, making this a “buffet” rather than a “smorgasbord.”
Filed under Food, out of the bubble
It’s official. I have transferred my motherly tendencies to the dog. No toddlers to make me giggle? Just treat Cubbie like a child. Downside is that she became a needy mama’s girl while we were there. It was almost as bad as having a little kid with us.
Here, Cubbie gets babytalked by 3 people named Elizabeth.
Filed under Cubbie the wonder dog, out of the bubble
I am covered in the itchiest bug bites ever.
Somewhere on the Okefenokee site, I read that mosquitoes are never a problem during the day, but that deer flies can sometimes be aggressive. I swatted a few of what I figured must’ve been deer flies off the backs of my calves and never saw a mosquito, though things were buzzing around my head all day. This morning I woke up scratching, and the red welts on my arms and legs and neck have gotten worse all day. I’m guessing deer-fly bites don’t agree with me. I think they will itch for a week.
All worth it, though. What a beautiful place. I’ve been wanting to visit for a few years now and am glad I had the opportunity. I meant to spend and hour or two but was there about three and a half hours. Took the east entrance from Folkston and decided to do the “swamp drive” (like a NPS rim drive) and a few walks instead of getting into a boat. I’ll save that for when I have the kids with me.
At least I didn’t get bitten by one of these freaky things. They are called golden-silk spiders, and they were mostly smart enough to build their very strong webs above human heads. Some webs were very high — up in the tops of the cypress. They have this freaky white face painted on them: white with black eyes and grimacing mouth, very Jason.
After wandering into my first web, the whole Okefenokee experience got a little creepy. I was by myself, and saw only one other family the whole day. Walking along, I’d hear a rustling and stop to listen, but the sound would stop, too. I heard all sorts of things scuttling and rattling and scurrying, but I never saw them. What would I do if a bear walked into the path? or a rabid raccoon came after the apple in my backpack? But mostly I just saw lots of butterflies and great huge birds.
At the end of the swamp walk, a tower lets you get a n amazing 360 view from the cypresses to the prairie. All sorts of beautiful big birds out there.
Okefenokee wasn’t what I expected — much more solid ground than Congaree Swamp in Columbia, with it’s huge champion pines and massive cypress. Okefenokee means “Land of the Trembling Earth.” When you walk even out in the pine forests, the ground gives, seems a little soft. Your foot makes a sort of “thump” it doesn’t on solid ground.
Here are some pics. Please pardon the big smudge on my lens. Time for a new camera.
I have one big issue … I confess I can’t tell slash from longleaf. Can anyone help me with this?
Filed under out of the bubble
in BDay's bubble 