Category: Fun

Helen and I have camped at Edisto Beach (SC) State Park for seven years. We always come for two weeks in November. There were a couple of years when the weather was “iffy,” but most years, we have enjoyed glorious sun-filled days and cool, crisp nights. In other words, perfect camping weather.

We have camped in Edisto enough to know the best sites to reserve (translation: THE PERFECT VIEW, according to Helen). This year, we rewarded ourselves with a campsite that afforded us a fabulous view of the marsh and the setting sun. We can hear the sound of the shore birds, listen as the mullet breaks through the water, and absorb the pungent smell of the pluff mud and the sea-salt air. We had the perfect spot for a two-week visit.

After setting up camp, it was time to say “hi” to the beach, hidden from our view by an extensive dune protecting the campground from rough seas. There was barely a sole on the beach. The solemnity was shouting at me. I took a short walk to test the water. The surf and sea foam were surprisingly warm. I returned to our campsite in time for Happy Hour and the first sunset we witnessed during our stay.

Collin, our son who lives in Charleston, came the next day and generously loaned us his golf cart. The cart was handy for trips to the nearby grocery store and seafood market. Mortimer fell in love with the cart and would walk to it as soon as he came out of our trailer. He rode around like a chauffered movie star. Thanks, Collin.

During our first week, the Beaver Moon rose and pulled the tides to a height that threatened our campsite. Water came in from the marsh and filled the yard behind our camper. Thankfully, the water receded almost as quickly as it rose, and we managed to stay above it all. The surf rose to the dunes. There was no beach during high tide.

Throughout our stay, the sunsets were spectacular. For some of those spectacles, the colors that rose after the sun went below the horizon were just as stunning. I have never had more fun with my camera. There are a few examples below.

Late in the first week, I realized I had slept through too many sunrises and resolved to make at least one before departure. At 6:00 am, I dragged my fried seafood-filled old body out of bed, threw on some sweats, grabbed my camera, and walked to the shore with Helen. The sky was warming up for the show. A few others stood on the sand, camera in hand. Suddenly, a pod of playful Dolphins swam directly before me as if to announce the coming attraction. I lifted the camera and snapped away. That picture is at the top of the page, but I have plenty of the main event.

Helen and I took two side trips while at Edisto. The first was to a small town fifteen miles away to do our laundry at a nice laundromat—there are none in the tiny village of Edisto Beach. Another more enjoyable trip was to Botany Bay, a wildlife preserve about five miles from the campground. Helen and I visited this tiny island about four years ago and could not believe the large number of Conch shells lying on the sand—literally hundreds. Things were different this time.

Beach erosion has almost destroyed the entire island and washed away most of the Conch shells. An educational sign noted that the shoreline has receded over 2,500 feet since 1950. The large Live Oaks that covered the island succumbed to the salt water and storms and now lay as a mass of bones on the beach. Erosion uncovered ancient beds of pluff mud, buried for centuries. Visitors cannot take shells from Botany Bay, but many hang Conch shells from the dead limbs of the fallen trees. On our previous visit, a group of archaeologists was digging through a shell mound for artifacts. The digs have ceased because the water is so close that the work gets washed away before completion.

I must go now. Mortimer is begging for a cart ride, then it will be time for my nap. Enjoy your week. Have a lovely Thanksgiving, and count your blessings. I count mine every day. We’re so blessed. We’re Easin’ Along.

What October lacked in activity was made up for in color—I’m talking about fall color. Despite the very dry conditions (less than a tenth of an inch of precipitation), our mountains exploded with vibrant shades of red, yellow, and orange. I can’t remember a more vivid Fall season.

A few weeks ago, I submitted a post about a spur-of-the-moment trip to Cades Cove in the Great Smoky Mountains. While I was fortunate to spot a bear among other wildlife, Mother Nature was the star as she slowly began lifting the curtain on the seasonal spectacle that draws millions to our region.

Last week, Helen and I joined about forty families from our church for our annual camping trip in the Big South Fork National Recreation Area on the upper western side of the Tennessee Valley on the Cumberland Plateau. Although we are the token grandparents for this three-day adventure, we wouldn’t miss it because it allows us to spend time with the young people of our congregation.

The energy of the children playing tag, biking, scampering through the woods, and singing around a campfire (all without a cell phone) is pure joy and a delight to witness. The colors at Big South Fork were at their peak, if not slightly past, and the weather was perfect; the meals, prepared by the outing organizers, were just as good.

The abundant color remains in the lower elevations, but a good rain (if it ever comes) would wash it out. I took the picture below of the trees in our neighborhood as an example.

In summary, we spent most of October leaf-peeping, leaving out a report of trips to the dentist, eye surgery, repairs to our camper, and no Trick-or-Treaters (again). I couldn’t do that to you. That’s our October–I would love to hear about yours.

We’ll come to you next from Edisto Beach, SC, so please join us there.

We’re Easin Along.

Eastern Tennessee was enveloped in glorious fall weather last week. The leaves began showing their colors in the higher elevations, and the temperatures hovered in the mid-70s. More than a week passed without a cloud in the sky. Helen was visiting our granddaughters in Charleston, leaving Mortimer and me to fend for ourselves. Cabin fever set in quickly, and I had to get out.

On Tuesday, I clicked on a Facebook post featuring pictures of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park posted by visitors to the Cades Cove Loop. Without hesitating, I grabbed the camera bag and a couple of bottles of water, jumped into my truck, and drove the 40 miles to the entrance of Cades Cove. Although I visit the National Park several times yearly, primarily on the North Carolina side, the last time I visited Cades Cove was in the late 1980’s.

Cades Cove is a lush valley surrounded by mountains on all sides. Wildlife, such as black bears, deer, and elk, roam freely throughout the area. The Cades Cove Loop is a one-way, eleven-mile road around the valley featuring historical structures that pre-date the National Park, hiking trails, and a visitor center. I arrived at the entrance a little after five p.m., hopeful that most crowds had moved on.

From the Loop, I had a fabulous view of the mountains and the emerging color from the branches of the oak, hickory, and maple trees covering the mountainsides. They stood out handsomely against the clear blue sky. The mountains are beautiful, but I remained focused on spotting wildlife.

Traffic on the loop road was relatively light for the first eight miles, and I had plenty of opportunities to pull over and take pictures outside the truck. The meadows had turned a shade of brown and contrasted nicely with the remaining green on the trees and a few grassy patches.

At the eight-mile point, traffic slowed to a crawl. Many visitors were coming off the hiking trails and heading for the exit, and I got caught up in the rush. Typically, I have no patience for slow traffic, but this was a day to roll with it—I was in no hurry.

A couple of miles later (and fearful that I would leave without pictures of wildlife), a turkey came into view. Several feet later, I spotted several more on the opposite side of the road. Finally, I had evidence that wildlife still existed in Cades Cove. The best was still ahead of me.

At the nine-mile post, traffic came to a complete stop as I approached a small hill. I waited in line for several minutes before traffic moved again, and when I crested the hill, I saw what caused the traffic jam: a large black bear walking across an open meadow. Looky-Loos with cameras were all over the side of the road. Some were on top of their cars, some peering through the sunroof.

When my turn for a close-up came, Mr. Bear was beside the road, less than ten feet from my vehicle. He had tags in both ears so wildlife biologists could track his movements. I only had to point my camera from the driver-side window and snap away. I couldn’t persuade him to look up; the acorns had his attention, but he was large and had a thick, gleaming coat. Mr. Bear was a handsome fellow.

I hit the trifecta less than a mile from the end of the Loop. Still crawling in slow traffic, I passed two White-Tail deer grazing near the edge of a field.

I was very proud of myself for stepping away from the Man Cave on a gorgeous afternoon. It was time well spent. I put the camera away and continued Easin’ Along toward Knoxville. Traffic…who cares about traffic?

Author’s note: Please keep the Tennessee and North Carolina flood victims in your thoughts and prayers. These are hardy folks, but most of them could use a helping hand right now. Many are isolated due to road collapse and remain without water and electricity…and some have no shelter. Anything helps. The Red Cross is taking monetary donations. Thank you.