SC's Eastern Coast (Conclusion)

By the start of the third day of our vacation, we were feeling relaxed. Knowing we would have to leave the following morning, we took our time getting back on the road. It would be a short day, with few activities, but that was okay.

First stop: Hampton Plantation, a state historical site south of Georgetown on Rutledge Road. The entrance took us to a large parking lot bordered by a tangle of tall weeds and wildflowers on the left, and large oak trees on the right. A lone chimney stood just past the parking lot next to the restrooms and vending machines. To the right of it, a small walkway built over a smaller creek led to the house.

After exiting the car, we were instantly attacked by a horde of rather large mosquitoes, and my mind immediately fled to research I did for my first novel. Plantation owners left their plantations during the hot summer months because of these same pesky bugs! We doused ourselves with deet-laced spray and continued to the house.

Originally owned by the Horry, the Pickney, and the Rutledge families, for all its grandeur on the outside, Hampton Plantation was surprising unattractive on the inside. After spotting the park ranger waiting to give the presentation, we threw down our four bucks each and took a tour of the house, marveling at the ugliness of the floors and bright colors, the angled edges of several doors and the overall feeling of small. It looked so big on the outside! I couldn't help thinking that Martin Brinegar's mountain cabin was built better than this place.

We tried to walk down to the river, located at the end of a path behind the house, to see the old rice fields on Hampton Island, but the mosquitoes in that quadrant seemed to have a taste for Deep Woods Off. Feeling confident that we knew all we wanted to know about the house, the layout of the land, and the large Oak tree George Washington saved (on the right in the photo above), we left and headed south.

The second and final stop before we went searching for a meal was Cape Romain. We couldn't go to Bulls Island this trip, but I could get a glimpse of a small portion of the Wildlife Refuge. After parking, we walked (rather, I hobbled) to the end of a wide, concrete pier that stretched over the marshes and into the channel. It was beautiful, and as I stood at the end of the pier gazing at the saltmarshes extending to the blue horizon, dolphins lazily breaking the surface of the water before disappearing again, and the seagulls and pipers flying around in slow circles, I knew without a doubt that I was in love with South Carolina. It sounded corny, even to me, and I couldn't fathom how someone could love a state, but I do and for the rest of my life I'll appreciate the time that we spent here.


We drove to Murrells Inlet for supper, and after passing by Drunken Jack's seafood buffet, we spotted Flo's New Orleans Style Seafood. One of the few things I miss about Texas is the food, both Tex-Mex and Cajun, and if a plate at Flo's cost thirty bucks a person, I didn't care, we were going in.

I'll spare you the details of my reasonably priced crabcake Po' Boy and the delicious Roux-based red beans and rice, of our view of the inlet and the live Jazz music, and the novel inspiration I had that caused me to start scribbling away on a napkin while Kelley patiently waited. Sufficed to say, it was the perfect ending and we went back to the hotel, stopping to walk along the Georgetown Marina first, and kicked back for the rest of the evening. Though I've tried, I cannot find a decent end for this trip report other than to say I wouldn't have changed a thing.

Except for the hole that dog in my pants. I'm still trying to figure out what to do about that.

SC's Eastern Coast (Day 2)

You would think suffering an injury at the beginning of a trip is a bad thing. While admittedly not preferable, this particular injury worked to our advantage. Already we'd been graced with a beautiful sunset and saved from hordes of mosquitoes, so after a light breakfast and a couple of Advils, we took off up Hwy 17 to find more treasures.

First stop: Pawleys Island. Granted, we visited the night before, but our short trip was focused on the south side of the island. This time, we wanted to explore the north point, and hopefully, find a road that would lead to other tiny islands the map claimed existed along the SC coast. We quickly learned that the north portion of the island was almost a mirror image of the south, sans public beach, and that such a road did not exist. In fact, there appeared to be only two roads on and off the island, both on the west side. If a hurricane heads toward the Carolinas, I hope the residents are give ample warning; I can't imagine everyone evacuating off those two tiny two-lane roads!

By the way, I follow the Pawleys Island PD on Twitter and just as the sign in the photo above indicates, the speed limit is strictly enforced!

Faintly frustrated, we crossed back to the mainland and jumped on Hwy 17, driving through upscale Litchfield and the cute shops along the road. Shortly after leaving that city, we saw a sign for Huntington State Park. Yes, Huntington! I cannot believe South Carolina has both a Hunting and a Huntington State Park, but they do, and fortunately, both accept the Annual State Park Pass. So we drove across the bridge over the marsh, and parked with the hopes of taking a quick sight-seeing tour.

But I couldn't do it. It was hot and humid and I hurt, and even with the help of my hiking stick, I knew I couldn't make it to the bridge, so we walked up to an overlook and looked out over the marsh. We saw flowers, marsh grass, water, big and small birds, trash, pluff mud, and oyster beds, and after taking a few pictures, we walked back to the car and drove toward the north side of the Park where we found another boardwalk and did the same thing. This time, the view included dozens of small fiddler crabs, which amused my husband.

When I realize it was past time to take another Advil, we headed back to the car, back up Hwy 17…

And found the Seafood Capital of South Carolina!

Murrells Inlet, SC (pronounced Merle's Inlet) located on the southern tip of the Grand Strand in Georgetown County, is absolutely one of the cutest little coastal places we've seen. Just south of Myrtle Beach, though unstained by that…city, Murrells Inlet is what we women refer to as "darling!" Nestled along the marshy inlet, the portion of the town that runs along Business Hwy 17 is packed with seafood restaurants which, for some reason, fail to detract from the overall atmosphere. Only later would we learned about the marshwalk, the Veterans Pier, Brookgreen Gardens and more. Despite the view, and abundance of food, we continued on and made the mistake of driving through Myrtle Beach, aka Gatlinburg by the Sea.

The only thing I'll say about that place is that it's the only city in South Carolina that I dislike. Moving on.

Our next stop was North Myrtle Beach. If you're planning a trip to this area, research restaurants before going. Granted, they have seafood restaurants galore, but most are costly buffets. If you like plate after plate of crab legs, shrimp, and scallops, this may work for you, but the only crustacean I eat is crab mixed with bread crumbs and formed into a patty, and if I'm going to pay that much for just fish, I would prefer to buy a nice pole and catch it myself. Besides, limping as I was, I needed a restaurant where the waiter would bring the food to me in exchange for a gratuity. But the walk from the entrance to our table was long, so we stayed.

Though disgusted after watching Kelley tear apart crab legs, we drove on. Consulting the map for our next destination, my eyes instinctively lifted toward the North Carolina border where I noticed several rows of faint, squiggly lines. Tilting my head to the side to read the faint print beside it, a slow smile spread across my face when I saw what was written there: Green Swamp. And we were heading toward it.

I was elated. After hearing so much about Green Swamp from my hiking group, I knew it was a place we needed to go, and here it was, just a short drive away. I didn't have to convince Kelley, and soon, Green Swamp became our final destination for the day.

I have to admit that I'm a bit confused. With a name like Green Swamp, one would think a swamp would be somewhere in the vicinity. If so, we didn't see it, nor did we see an official entrance. We found a parking lot—after passing by it, turning around, and then backing up when we passed it again. Immediately after leaving the car, we saw a venus-fly-trap looking plant, small wildflowers, and long stalks with white button heads that I think are hatpins. I wasn't surprised since it was a biological preserve. I was surprised later when Kelley pointed to a patch of yellow and said, "That looks familiar." Within minutes, we were looking at pitcher plants.

We stayed awhile, searching for botanical treasures, contemplating a hike to the other side of the preserve. But at this point, the sun was shining through the trees across the street and we knew it was time to go. 

SC's Eastern Coast (Day 1)

25th Anniversary Trip - Day 1:

Georgetown - A Character City, so claims the water tower on the southern outskirts of that town. The logo is apt, for in one sense, Georgetown is a charming, historic town nestled along the water south of Myrtle Beach, but it is also a town forced to adjust to a new life after the rice plantations of old were destroyed by war and hurricanes. Like most Carolina communities, Georgetown adapted by enticing other industry, though it now exists in relative obscurity.

We arrived around two-thirty, approximately four and a half hours after we left Greenville. The mills and factories just south of town concerned us, but worries flew out the car window when we saw our hotel near the intercoastal bridge, located on the banks of the Great Pee Dee River where it runs into the Winyah Bay.

Nice....

After settling into our room (which had a view of the marina), we drove to the historic district for dinner. Though small, downtown Georgetown was about as nice as any we've seen in SC, and much less crowded. After finding an empty parking spot on Front Street, we went to the Dogwood Cafe and ate Po' Boys on the back deck, which was built above, and overlooks, the Sampit River. Afterwards, we strolled down the Harborwalk, the boardwalk that runs behind the shops.

It was early, so we decided to scout out Pawleys Island. Though we've never been there, we'd heard about it by virtue of the famous Pawleys Island Hammock and from a few recommendations of people who knew people who had been there.

The drive up Hwy 17 was short, perhaps eleven miles from Georgetown, and we were soon crossing a bridge over marshes toward the thin island that prides itself for being "arrogantly shabby". Though it is what I call sleepy, the island is charming. Typically-coastal beach houses line what few roads exist, private piers extend into the marshes, and the entire island is gloriously absent of hotels, traffic, and tourist shops selling little plastic palm trees, tee shirts and boogie boards. Though we were there on a Friday night, Pawleys was quiet, and a fabulous place to be.

After driving around a bit, we found the public beach, parked, and began strolling across the beach hand in hand, sometimes wading in the warm water, other times walking across dry sand. It was as romantic as it was relaxing, and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Until I met Savannah.

I'll spare you the details of my encounter with the six-month-old Golden Retriever. Sufficed to say I injured my hip, an event that changed the course of our vacation—oddly, for the better.

When it happened, we were on our way to the parking lot to head to parts unknown, though I wanted to watch the sunset. But Kelley was ready to move on in the comfort of the air conditioned car. Unable to make it to the parking lot, we sat on the beach to rest and ended up staying until the riotous pinks and golds turned into a dark gray.

Awesome.

After an uncomfortable night, I realized our trip to Bulls Island, where we would spend the day hiking and exploring the island, was ruined. As it turns out, this was a good thing. As I lay cringing in pain, my husband read an article that mentioned the multitude of blood-sucking insects present on Bulls Island that time of year, which make life difficult, if not miserable, for visitors. I carefully stood up, winced and said, "Okay, how about going north on Hwy 17? I think we can find a few places there that we can see from the car. Where's the Advil?"

And so began our newly routed trip.

Next Post: The Seafood Capital of SC, and Ohhhh, Let's Go There!

Dupont State Forest

Today, we visited Dupont State Forest near Flat Rock, NC. I've heard so many good things about this place, and it was figuratively killing me that we hadn't had the time to go and explore the trails and waterfalls, and though we spent several hours there, we missed more than we saw.

Getting there
On several occasions, I'd seen the sign pointing toward Dupont Forest while traveling down Hwy 64 near Brevard, but I've been told that isn't the best entrance. Since I neglected to write down decent instructions, we went to the park's website and chose the recommended route: over NC 225, through Flat Rock, and up Dupont Road. After passing the Triple Falls parking lot, we stopped at the Buck Forest parking lot and began our hike. Walk. Adventure.

At the Park
Though it was obvious the Buck Forest entrance led into the woods, we felt we missed a main entrance somewhere. Undaunted, we grabbed our packs and walking sticks, and began our stroll down Buck Forest Road. At some point in its history, this area had been purchased by a developer, but was wrested from the carpetbaggers by caring people who wished to preserve its beauty (how's that for unbiased journalism ;o) Consequently, one can see road signs and utility markers along the trail. Still, the presence of a wide, gravel road leading through the forest surprised me. It felt like a stroll down a neighborhood street, not a hike.

Our first stop was High Falls. After admiring the falls from the gravel road, we walked down steep steps, over gnarled roots, and down slippery rocks to the base of the falls where we took several pictures and admired the wildflowers in bloom.

High Falls from a distance. Covered bridge is in the background

We left High Falls and walked down Covered Bridge Road to the--yes!--covered bridge.



While there, we encountered the first of many horseback riders, which caused no small amount of envy. The second group of riders asked us to take their picture, and we grabbed a great shot of them in front of the covered bridge. Shortly after, a dozen or so additional riders decided to cross the creek below the covered bridge. Understand there are not only signs posted stating No Entry, but this area is located at the top of High Falls. I can't emphasize the danger of their actions (please see my Waterfall Warning post.)

We said goodbye to the riders and hopped back on Buck Forest Road, then turned on Imaging Lake Road. We traveled in silence at times, sometimes lost in thought, sometimes just enjoying the tranquility of the tall trees rustling in the breeze around us. Other times, we hunted for wildflowers. After strolling for awhile, we turned back and took a break. Our resting spot was a short wooden bridge across from a prolific black or raspberry bush. Afterwards, we walked back up Buck Forest and stopped at Triple Falls, where we kicked off our shoes and relaxed.

We missed much of what Dupont has to offer, so a return trip is in order. An enjoyable trip overall, especially after visiting two waterfalls and a covered bridge.

For directions to Dupont, go to www.dupontforest.com/directions.asp

To learn more about Dupont State Forest, go to www.dupontforest.com/

Blue Ridge Parkway - The Final Day

The goal for this trip was to drive the Blue Ridge Parkway from MilePost 0, to NC 321, where we left the Parkway on our last trip. The day before, we traveled from the Shenandoah National Forest to Fancy Gap, VA where we left the parkway and spent the night in Mt. Airy, NC.

Day 3
We found ourselves backtracking on I-77. The previous evening, night had fallen before we reached one of the parkway's beloved attractions, Mabry Mill. We'd seen the picturesque mill in numerous photos, and hated missing out on it. But going backward meant hurrying later on down the road. So we opted to use it as an excuse for a return trip.

And thus, we began the last leg of our journey.

I neglected to mention that before we left the Upstate, we purchased the Guide to the Blue Ridge Parkway, by Logue, Logue, and Blouin (sounds like a law firm, no?) I really like this book. In addition to providing a general map, a parkway bloom calendar, and a list of trailheads with milepost number and difficulty level, the book takes readers from overlook to overlook, providing details of each, even if there were few details to share. With this book in hand, our conversation along the Parkway often went as such:

"What's the next overlook?"
"72.6, Terrapin Mountain, so named because it resembles a terrapin."
Kelley pulled the car to a stop. Silence. "It doesn't look a thing like a terrapin."
"Well, that's what it says."
"Well, they're wrong."

and

"MP 269.8 is Phillips Gap, named after Caleb Phillips who raised twenty-four children here."
"They mean his wife raised twenty-four children," my darling husband said.
"Well Caleb still had to feed them, and I think there was more than one wife."
"Man, I hope so."

The book was our traveling companion throughout the trip, and let us know when we were coming up on a decent stop, such as Wigwam Falls at Yankee Horse Ridge (MP 34.4) or that we missed the trailhead down to Cascades Falls (MP 271.9) because we had a small lapse of memory and forgot to consult it. It was also our guide to eating establishments, and since we didn't bring so much as a crumb of food, we really appreciated that feature. Around three in the afternoon, we stopped at the Doughton Park Concession area (MP 241.1) and ate lunch.

As Parkway restaurants go, this is probably the bottom of the list. The folks were friendly and the restaurant clean (though it lacked a clean feel), but the Mel's Diner look inside and the tight, tight quarters going into the bathroom ranks it below Mt. Mitchell. My turkey sandwich and green beans were good, though, and Kelley's chicken tenders were decent as well, so I can't complain.

Before we stopped at Doughton, we made what was supposed to be short visit to Brinegar Cabin. We ended up staying for the next half hour or so. Originally, I wanted to look around the area, snap a few pictures, and then leave, but Kelley suggested we go into the cabin. Going into the cabin was the last thing I wanted to do. What was in there, an old chair and a loom? So what? It was a cabin, and probably looked the same on the inside as it did on the outside, but since he-who-finds-flowers wanted to go in, in we went.

And were immediately met by a park ranger.

She was wearing a smile that said, "Oh good, people to talk to" and in an instant, I knew: the woman had a presentation. I was right, and without giving us time to escape, she stood up, opened her mouth, and launched into the life of Martin and Carolyn Brinegar. I was hooked.

The cabin was amazing. It was sturdy, well built, efficient, and had a great view of the mountains. We learned how the loom and the spinning wheel works. Discovered the differences between weaving wool and linen (I actually touched sheep wool.) Met the legacy of Carolyn Brinegar. Found out how the family dried their food, and learned a little about life in the mountains in the early 1900's. It was fascinating, and I was so glad we stayed. The next time I hear a reference to those poor, illiterate, uneducated mountain people, I'll think of Martin Brinegar's engineering, and the patience that allowed Carolyn to make clothing from scratch. Incredible.

We hopped off the Parkway at NC 321, the spot we reached northward on our last parkway outing, and headed home. though we missed some parkway trails and waterfalls, the journey down the parkway was one of the most fascinating and enjoyable outings we had since moving east. I highly recommend it to all who are thinking about going.

For more information on the Blue Ridge Parkway, or to check on construction or weather closures, go to www.nps.gov/blri.

Note: Commercial vehicles are not permitted to drive on the parkway, so you won't have to contend with eighteen wheelers or farm machinery. Yet another reason to take America's favorite drive.<

Blue Ridge Parkway

July 2006

Day 1
Greetings from the Shenandoah Valley! The trip from the Upstate went well despite running into a bit of rain. We had hoped to arrive in Waynesboro early enough to visit the National Park, but a glance at the map showed we were too close to the Virginia Military Institute to pass it by, so we stopped in Lexington and took a few shots of Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson's house, his final resting place, and a butterfly who wouldn't leave my car until we took its picture. Next stop was Washington & Lee University where we tried to visit Robert E Lee's grave. Not only were we too late (it closes at 5:00 P.M.) but someone was getting married in the chapel.

We're planning on exploring a bit in the area before we begin the drive down the parkway.

Day 2
Started in the 1935 and completed in the mid-1980's, the Blue Ridge Parkway meanders over the river and through the woods--and at times, along the edge of mountains. Distance is marked out in miles, with Milepost 0 starting at the south edge of the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia, to Milepost 469.1 in the Great Smoky Mountains.

The original plan was to go directly to the parkway on Saturday morning, but with Shenandoah National Park so close, we couldn't resist spending a bit of time there before heading out. Ironically, the previous evening I read the chapter in Bill Bryson's, A Walk in the Woods, that discussed his passage through this particular spot. After reading about the relatively level terrain of the AT in this area, we had to spend some quality time on the trail.

We hiked a mile (two if you count the trip back to the car) but it was enough to drench us in an humidity-induced sweat, give us the sense of pride at having accomplished that feat, and supply us with some bragging rights. After cooling off in a blessed breeze, we hopped back in the car, headed south on Skyline Drive, and finally hit Blue Ridge Parkway at Milepost 0.

The second we entered the parkway, Kelley asked me to take over the wheel. I knew he needed a break, but it put me in a bit of a snit (translated: silent and slightly unlovable) until I realized being in control of the brakes was a good thing. We've overlooked too many wildflowers for far too long. Now, with them in bloom everywhere, it seemed a great time to make up for that slight.
I slowed to thirty miles per hour and enjoyed the drive.

Fortunately, it didn't take Kelley long to get into the spirit of the adventure. Soon, he began spotting flowers growing along the parkway:

Such a glorious bounty! But what were they? We stopped at the Visitor's Center to purchase a wildflower book so we could attempt to identify the species. Before getting back into the car, Kelley politely offered to drive. I politely declined and got behind the wheel.

The parkway was unusually empty, and after an hour (and only a distance of about thirty miles) we began to think of the road as our own. We stopped, sometimes in the middle of the street, sometimes on the shoulder, and took pictures of flowers or animals that Kelley spotted. Our first long stop was Yankee Horse Ridge (MP 34.4.) where we took pictures of the logging rail and Wigwam Falls.

Because of the angles, the falls was too difficult to photograph. We left when a woman old enough to know better walked to the top of the falls via algae covered rocks (please don't do that.) Kelley again offered to drive. I smiled sweetly and slipped behind the wheel as I told him no.

There was an amazing lack of people on the parkway, which surprised us. But not as much as the number of deer and other animals we saw along the way. By day's end, we counted nineteen deer (one buck, eighteen does, and four fawns), four groundhogs, two rabbits (one who thought he was hiding from us in a tall patch of grass), one wild turkey, and one box turtle. That, and identifying plants such as Staghorn Sumac, Fraser Magnolias and other flowers, made the trip worth it.

Well, the views helped, too:

Two hours and only sixty miles down the road, we stopped at Otter Creek to eat. This is a nice, rustic (in a good way) establishment on the banks of Otter Creek. Fronting a forest and a campground, it's a bit nicer than the restaurant at Mt. Mitchell, but not as nice as Mt. Pisgah. But we were hungry and in need of sweet tea. After we finished lunch, Kelley firmly suggested he drive. I protested since he was the one spotting the flowers, but he assured me it wouldn't be a problem. Since he reached the car before I did (drat the effects of too much tea!) I graciously accepted his offer.

Imagine my surprise when, after he took off at forty-five miles per second, he was still spotting flowers!!!! I was absolutely amazed. The next morning, when he found a cluster of chicory blooms in a field, I asked him how he was doing it. He reminded me his job required him to spot a single cancerous, or even mildly suspicious, cell on a slide filled with millions of cells. Spotting a little wildflower from the car was nothing. I was impressed.

So we continued on, at a much faster rate, finding flowers such as evening primrose, what we later found out were Carolina lilies (looks like a Turk's Cap but is a darker red) and even a peach tree growing on a rock face alongside the parkway. The brakes began squeaking around three o'clock, but we continued on.

We stopped in Roanoke, VA for gas. In hindsight, we should have spent the night there, but with two hours of daylight left, we thought we had plenty of time to get to Fancy Gap, where we would get off and head to Mt. Airy. I was wrong. We barely made it to Mabry Mill before night fell. The next twenty or so miles of the parkway was lost in the dark.


Part II: History and The Brinegar Experience