I promise…. every day
February 3, 2012
Ocean Boulevard is a four lane road. That is pretty much unforgiveable. But I sat in a rocking chair on the front porch of our cabin with the sun beating down on me through the screened porch and found forgiveness anyway. Kerry brought me an omelet better than anything we could have ordered in any restaurant around here (in spite of having forgotten any spices, including salt and pepper) and I already had a good cup of coffee in my hand, and I thought to myself, it just doesn’t get any better than this. I have been so incredible blessed in my life.
But I also couldn’t deny the sadness that surprised me on returning to the place where my best friend took her life 31 years ago. We passed by the restaurant where she worked so long ago, and despite Hurricane Hugo and Hurricane Commerce, it had not changed a bit. We both found it kind of eerie.
As I sat on the porch, amazingly still for me, I once again imagined myself at the Surfside Police Station, asking about a woman who hanged herself in a small rented house a block off the beach, wondering if they still might have the note she left before she did it. I know they wouldn’t. It has long ago been tossed as something no one would care about any more. Only I do. I would still like to know her last words, her last thoughts. Could I have survived thinking I was responsible for Shosha’s death? I really don’t think so.
In the middle of winter, this place is wonderful. It boasts probably one of the last maritime forests on the East Coast. Thank you, Heritage Trust. But as you walk out on the beach, you see that it is sandwiched in between high rise hotels on both sides. It is like an oasis of beauty in the middle of a desert of commercial sprawl. (There were few pictures to be taken on the beach.)
But although small, there are two small trails, one leading to a seasonal pond, i.e. right now it looks much more like a meadow, that can deceive you into thinking you are well off the beaten path… as in, the sounds of the ocean drowns out the sounds of cars, at least, this time of year.
But the beach is the beach, and there’s something so healing about watching the waves make their white path to the sand. It is so powerful and repetitious and soothing. We walked on the beach before our coffee, where my toes froze because I decided sandals were beach wear whatever time of year it was.
This place is not wasted in the winter anymore that it isn’t packed to the gills in the summer. The campground had at least two circles full of RVs and tents, but best of all is that the equestrians have claimed it for their own. The parking lot that leads to our cabin was jam packed with horse trailers. With a permit, you can take your horses to the beach, and on a weekday Friday, the beach held many of them. (One of the only pictures to be had on the beach was the horses disturbing the shore birds.) They were arriving as we left with our bikes to explore the park; they were back and sweaty when we returned. Side note: at the end of the day, when all trailers were gone, so was all evidence that horses had been there…. pretty impressive.
We had to go to Huntington Beach State Park. It holds so very many memories for us. I went there for the first time in 1976. I thought I had entered a magical place driving through the canopy of trees. Four years later, Kerry and I came in our new Volkswagen van following a Greenville News trip to the Colonial Cup in Camden. We were ill prepared, went to the local store and bought candles and a flashlight bread, cheese and wine. It was wonderful. Later, we would bring our children, and once our friends Doris and Timothy and Alyson to participate in a Marine Explorers weekend where we slept out under the stars and listened to ghost stories. (Doris and her crew chose to sleep in one of the rooms of the Atalaya castle.)
It was as beautiful as ever. I admit to stopping at the Park Store and purchasing a T-shirt to wear to school and also a short sleeved jacket on clearance that helped me to stay warm in what was a very cool if sunny day. (I also got two postcards I hope to remember to send to my Aunt Patsy and Norma, sort of a tradition for us.) We unpacked our bikes and went to where the old campground used to be and what is now only an old road with a circle loop at the end that holds no campsites, no small store, nothing of what we once knew, but still beautiful. From there, we checked out the present campground where we have also spent some time. We decided that tomorrow, we should spend most of the day here, but at this point, Kerry was hungry and ready TO EAT as we had had nothing since that omelet. Even though Murrells Inlet looked amazingly as it always had, we opted for a seafood trough, which actually turned out to be Chinese, but that just meant that it also had sushi so Kerry was a happy man. The deviled crab and the seafood au gratin was full of chunky green pepper, which I loved, so I spent most of my plate there.
What trip would be complete without checking out the local BIG LOTS! We purchased the needed seasoned salt and pepper and also a book for me – Girls in Trucks (a kudos from Josephine Humphries was the kicker) since I had neglected to bring one and had completely read all the SC park book last night. We also picked up some bike locks so we could have more flexibility in leaving our bikes. I just LOVE Big Lots J
February 4, 2012
Another every day
Today started at an amazing NINE o’clock. Wow. The wonders of Benedryl. Another omelet.. this time with seasonings and salsa, and we walked the beach and finished with the nature trails we missed yesterday… and then headed to Huntington Beach State Park.
We started to walk to the jetty then went back for our bikes. Between the wind and the loose sand, it was a fairly challenging ride, but well worth it. Kerry also appreciated the abundance of birds and the lack of high rises on the horizon. The jetty is beautiful, the waves crashing against the rocks. I’ve often thought that the best metaphor we ever have of God is the ocean – wild and beautiful and to be respected. There was a sad sail boat sunk near the jetty, only it’s sail beam and a small part of its starboard side visible above the surf.
As I walked the jetty back to the protected beach, I almost missed the huge and beautiful Great Blue Heron that was less than 20 feet from where I walked. I guess he (she?) sensed how unaware I was and felt unthreatened. It remained for Kerry to get many shots on his camera, but I couldn’t figure out my phone video – I so wanted to record its slow progress from the water to the shore – but my phone call to Shosha was too late to capture it. The ride back was easier somehow and when we hit the paved road to the marsh walk was easier still. There were no alligators braving the sun on the boardwalk, but we did see mullet in the stream, occasionally flashing an invitation to the birds with their shiny skin.
We rode back to the jetty parking lot and headed down the Sandpiper Pond Trail, a trail by the recently reopened to the ocean inlet in an attempt to recreate the brackish water that existed before Hurricane Hugo and the 2001 closing of the pond to the ocean, allowing invasive species to kill the native ones that were adapted to the occasional visitation of ocean water. It made us wish for grandchildren because it was so magical and with so many places to play and imagine. We are going to be such great grandparents when given a chance J
The return trip had to be by the shore where I shed my shoes and walked through the pretty cold water. It was the way all beach trips should progress. I hope I never go to the beach without getting my toes wet, no matter how cold. We had beautiful sunshine until the last twenty minutes. Who could ask for more?
