Dolphins at Dawn

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.