Sunday, September 4

The Low Country, SC

I had it from an inside source that the shrimping was really getting good, so we loaded the car and traversed the SC Midlands down to the Low Country. Through miles of country roads, still ponds and hunters galore as we approached the Bamberg County line......
It was opening day for dove hunting.

As we entered Bamberg, Marj's M&M jar teetered and overturned. She tossed dirty M&Ms out the window leaving a colorful chocolate trail across Bamberg and out the other side.

We passed Quiet Walk Way and Yankee Lane, the Snake Ridge Hunting Lodge and we crossed the Big Salkehatchie River as we entered Hampton County. Cotton fields still more green than white. We spotted Tom and Doug on the side of the road buying watermelons from a truckbed. Tom left home two hours before we did and we were now passing him. I twerped a few cute beeps as we flew by, a red blur.

I smiled as we were welcomed to Crocketville and thought fondly of the Crocker sisters, my ancestors. As we drove through Yemassee, we were clearly in the Low Country – Spanish moss draped over the road, swamp out each window. We opened the window and took a deep breath. Like Bedouins coming out of the desert into the promised land.

The only reason to slow down and maybe come to a stop on this route would be the Old Sheldon Church on Old Sheldon Church Road/SC-21 which we were just passing.  Sherman's troops burned this church, yet some of the walls remain.  It's a beautiful, quiet place.  A great place for some fantastic photos. 

We crossed through Beaufort, over the draw bridge, across Lady's Island and into St. Helena's by mid-afternoon. We sat around the living room, discussing the tide charts and getting our bearings, unpacked the coolers and headed back out rotating.

As we approached the water, the White Horse pulled into dock. Perfect timing. Captain Bobby Graves was pulling in after a week of shrimping.  We climbed aboard and let me tell you that was a chore for me.  I don't do well with heights, especially above water.   Obviously, you see below, I really didn't think this maneuver through all the way.  One foot on shore, one foot on the ship just can't be a good idea unless you're a cheerleader.


Graves gave me a tour of the shrimp boat and we settled in the wheelhouse with a few friends. I kicked back and smiled happily.


Bobbing on the water in a wheelhouse listening to stories of days gone by. And trust me. Between the upstate sheep farmer and the low country shrimper, every story became a sermon.

2 comments:

KLABER said...

No doubt you will write out some of these "sermon" stories one day, right? Loved your descriptive travelogue.

Poof said...

You betcha! But it will be a long time from now after we get a few more visits in between hauling shrimp!