Leaving the marina, we idled by the USS Yorktown aircraft carrier in the Charleston Harbor at Patriots Point. Built during World War II and now a museum, the ship was bustling with activity as tourists toured the iconic 888 foot “Fighting Lady.” It was a quiet and serene ride to Minim Creek where we dropped anchor for the night. The bugs were not as relentless as we had encountered a few days earlier and we saw some dolphin pods along the way to reassure us we weren’t alone. Once the sun was gone, the breeze died down and we opted to leave the generator running on the fly bridge powering the big fans in an effort to keep things cool. Even though the generator was running outside, I went to bed with one of the carbon monoxide detectors beside me just to be safe. At around 12:30am, the generator ran out of gas and come to an abrupt stop and the cabin was soon stifling once again.
Out on the Minim Creek Canal early the next morning, I was scoping out the landscape to catch a glimpse of the many plantations which defined the rich history of the area. Through the trees we could see the Dover Plantation which was built in 1810 and relocated to that location after a flood. An hour later we were tied up at the City Dock in Georgetown with the landmark clock tower as our backdrop.
Georgetown was the third oldest city in South Carolina and known as the King of rice cultivation. It was also the site of the largest pulp and paper maker in the United States, International Paper, which accounted for the awful smell when the wind blew in the wrong direction. With it’s oak lined streets, Antebellum homes and small boutiques, the town oozed southern country charm. We took a stroll along Harbor Walk and stopped for lunch at the River Room right on the waterfront. The rustic nautical decor was welcoming and, as was expected, the seafood fresh off the boat. There were seafaring artifacts all over the town as we passed ship cannons and remnants of sunken vessels from days gone by all along our walk.
One notable attraction was the Kiminski House —a sprawling Antebellum home which was now a historic landmark and museum. Purchasing some homemade chocolate from the local sweets shop, we went to enrich our knowledge about the history of the town at the Maritime Museum. We would have loved to tour the Rice Museum also, but it was closed. Making our way the opposite direction on Harbor Walk, we encountered Buzz’s Roast. Stopping in for a Happy Hour tasting by the Winyah Bay Brewery, we were told it was Wino Wednesday and were given a free bottle of wine with our order to take home. Back on the docks, we walked over to the shrimp boats which had come in earlier that afternoon and purchased 2 lbs of their fresh catch for dinner. We were not able to leave the boat at the city dock overnight, so we boarded Bella Donna, wine and shrimp in hand (and some chocolates), and moved out to the anchorage area. The wine and chocolates helped with the suffering on the hot night.
There was a lot of mud caked on the anchor and chain when I hoisted it the next morning. This was one aspect of my manual labor job that I did not like as Duane helped pour water on the chain as I cranked it in and I hung over the bow pulpit using the boat hook to dislodge the large mass off the anchor. After washing most of the mud off myself once the bow was clean, I took my place on the fly bridge next to the Captain, grabbed my map and investigated what was in store for us on the short ride to Wacca Wache Marina in Murrell’s Inlet. It was a beautiful scenic ride along the Waccamaw River with marshes and creeks branching off the channel in every direction. The Spanish moss and live oaks were a dominant feature of the landscape among the abandoned rice fields off the banks that stretched on forever. Pulling into the marina around noon we were greeted by Tom and Brenda Lahey who were harbor hosts in the area and fellow Loopers aboard Kiss Some Frogs. We had actually seen them traveling ahead of us on many occasions on the app NEBO used by a lot of the boaters to track and communicate with each other. Dropping off the most amazing welcome bag complete with decadent homemade blondies and tickets to Brookgreen Gardens, they went above and beyond being hospitable lending us their car for the day so we were able to go to the gardens and grab provisions in town. We couldn’t thank them enough and didn’t waste a minute once they departed before heading off to see the sights. Built on former rice plantations, Brookgreen Gardens was a wildlife preserve and sculpture exhibit rolled into one. Walking along the trails, each section of the garden had a specific theme expressed in the artifacts which adorned the walkways and fields. It was a hot day and luckily they had a number of indoor exhibits where we could cool off while being cultured so we could continue to explore the 1,600 acres without having heat stroke. Walking the Low Country Trail, we were enlightened to what life on a rice plantation would entail back in the day. It was a strong statement when we came upon the four statues representing the Plantation Owner, Overseer and Enslaved African Male and Female of how each equally shaped the economic structure of the era. Moving on, one of our favorite sculptures depicted Pegasus…and I was also partial to the statue of Diana as well as the Fountain of the Muses.
The sculpture of Raphell set in a reflecting pool hit close to home. Playing basketball as a child for my parish, I would travel to Creedmoor Psychiatric Center in Queens, NY to play for the Police Athletic League. It was here that a young volunteer, Raphell Sims Lakowitz, would spend her time helping patients while studying to become a psychologist. She accomplished much in her compassionate life tragically cut short at the age of 29 from an aneurysm. In 1983, her parents dedicated this very statue symbolizing their daughter’s radiant spirit to Creedmoor in her honor —A statue I unknowingly passed numerous times in the years I played in the Creedmoor gym and participated in the Annual Raphell Sims Lakowitz Memorial Tournament.
After we were sufficiently exhausted and starving, we hopped in the car and headed over to Publix to load up on groceries and bulky items which were hard to transport on the bikes….as well as some of the Captain’s favorite snacks. Too tired to go back out once the groceries were put away, we had dinner at Deck 383 at the marina and then headed off to bed. As the boat was being pumped out by the dock hands, Tom and Brenda stopped by in the morning to wish us well and hear about our day in town. Thanking them profusely, we were soon on our way with the blondies accompanying us on the fly bridge.
We had been communicating with Geoff and Ruth aboard Geru on and off since we last saw them in Mobile, AL. Unfortunately they hit a log and had extensive damage done to their boat and were at Osprey Marina waiting on parts. Only a few miles up the river, we decided to stop for gas and say Hello. We felt terrible for them for the delay and the pandemic wasn’t making things any easier as they were slowly making their trip home to Canada. After about an hour of quickly discussing our adventures over the last few months, we were on our way to Barefoot Marina in North Myrtle Beach.
A few miles passed the Socastee Swing Bridge, a tremendous thunder and lightning storm swept right over us. Counting the time between the claps of thunder and bursts of lightning seemed futile as they seemed to be happening in unison. We could hardly see and the lightning strikes were less than a mile away so we dropped anchor off to the side of the channel and waited it out. Drying off in the cabin, I made us some lunch and we planned our activities in Myrtle Beach over the next day. It was about an hour and a half before things calmed down and we were able to move on. I thought I had an anchor break for the next few days, but that was wishful thinking, and I began cranking her in as quickly as I could. It was about an hour trip to the marina and the rain had subsided and the lightning was far off in the distance when we pulled into our slip and tied up. Another storm was blowing through soon so we ended up walking to the Marina Bar and Grill in our rain gear to grab some dinner. There was a live band and margaritas on the Happy Hour menu so we were content right where we were for the rest of the evening.
Unloading the bikes the next day, we road off to Barefoot Landing with a thunderstorm right on our heals. We ducked into the Dulphin Winery with not a minute to spare as the skies opened up and the downpour began. The wine was made from muscadine grapes and, although sweet wine wasn’t our favorite, we signed up for a tasting to preoccupy our time and wait out the rain storm. This was our last evening in South Carolina and we treated ourselves to an Italian feast at Umberto’s after a few drinks at Bully’s Pub and Grill which we were able to bike around to once the pelting rain subsided. It was pitch dark once we got back on the bikes to ride over the bridge to the marina. Of course my Captain was prepared and had a head lamp ready for each of us—Always safety first.
Right after entering the channel to the ICW once leaving the marina there is a stretch of water known as “The Rockpile.” We heard the four miles of rock ledges submerged at high tide was as daunting as it sounds so we were on high alert. Not only were we leaving at high tide after taking care of some “boat business” in the morning…namely filling the water tanks and walking the docks to meet some fellow Loopers, there was a Trump Boat Parade traveling South that we had to squeeze by. The lineup cruising down the ICW seemed never ending but most slowed as they drove on by so we had no issues staying in the channel clear of the rocks. And just like that, two hours later, we were in North Carolina.
Passing by Monks Island we were greeted by enthusiastic waves from the people having a beach party right outside the RV park. They seemed to not have a care in the world on this beautiful Sunday afternoon. Sandy beaches lined the shore all the way to Lockwoods Folly Inlet and, still having a few more hours of sunlight, we pushed forward eventually dropping anchor in the Pipeline Canal Basin. The man-made basin was an area dredged to catch the run off from Dutchman’s Creek in an effort to control the unpredictable water levels. The scenery looked like a Bob Ross painting with the sandy beaches and the sun setting behind the trees reflecting off the water. It was another hot hot night and this time the generator lasted until 5am right when the local fisherman were heading out to get an early start on the day. We were in no rush as our next port was only 45 minutes away in Southport so we headed back to bed for a few hours. No need for a cranky Captain.
