The Sea Islands of South Carolina 2

Another gorgeous morning on our Dixie roadtrip. The sun was shining, the sky was cloudless and the temperature was due to hit 75 degrees. We were nowhere even near to feeling homesick for wintry Manchester, not when it was time to hit the beach!

We drove into Beaufort for breakfast, stopping at Blackstone's Cafe which proved a welcoming spot despite the proliferation of military insignia, army pennants and photos of war vessels.

We had a short stroll along the seafront where porch swings line the sea wall, overlooking the drawbridge and marina.

Christian sits a spell

Back in the car, we crossed the drawbridge and headed out to the end of the road, to Hunting Island. The islands in between were flat and featureless, almost indistinguishable from the grassy salt marshes. Suburban sprawl had spread even here though, the islands paved over with strip malls, houses, schools and fire stations.

Then Hunting Island rose on the horizon, like the crest of a green wave. Driving under the canopy of tall pines and palms was like escaping into a jungle.

Entering the state park cost a few dollars but it was worth every penny. The broad beach had the whitest of white sands, backed by palms and overlooked by a lighthouse.

Where's my hat??

The tide was out and gulls were stood in the mud, stirring up the sand with their feet to work up some grub.

The whole beach was almost empty and we climbed the lighthouse on our own (a couple dollars extra, but worth it for the views).

Time to hit the hiking trail which ventured along dunes covered with palmettos, ivy and undergrowth. At one point we emerged at a channel plied by kayakers while fishermen threw nets out into the shallows. The crooked palms and the heat shimmering off the sands made me think of Africa, not America.

No surprise the place featured in the live action version of The Jungle Book and doubled for Vietnam in Forrest Gump.

All too soon we were back in Beaufort for lunch, at the Magnolia Cafe. Conveniently located next to the visitors centre and coach car park, the food didn't seem to suffer from being so firmly on the tourist trail although the prices were a bit high.

I had a bean burger with salad on top for a bit of roughage, Christian had the chicken sandwich and we rounded off the meal with a slice of pecan pie, a brownie and bottomless glasses of iced pink lemonade.

Time for a short hop...to Savannah!

The Sea Islands of South Carolina 1

The back roads heading south out of Charleston meander through pine forests and grassy marshes that merge with the sea. It's no wonder this indistinct shoreline is called the Low Country.

If you find yourself in this neck of the woods, be sure to stop at the Carolina Cider Company, a family operation that sells local produce from a converted gas station along Highway 17, near Beaufort. If you're looking for some traditional Southern delicacies made from family recipes, this is the place.

There are plenty of ciders, jams and relishes to sample plus old fashioned favourites like grape Nehi soda. We were besotted with their preserves. Yes, you too will realise it is entirely plausible to have a love affair with jam once you taste their peach and cherry fruit butters.

Turning off here, we headed into dust-blown Yemassee with its soulless motel along the bleak Interstate highway. Still, it was a lot cheaper than anywhere in Beaufort and a convenient halfway stop between Charleston and Savannah.

Although Yemassee itself had little to see, it was an interesting contrast with gentrified and prettified Charleston. In some ways it reminded me of growing up in southeast Kansas where we lived in a trailer parked near the highway, miles away from the grocery store but with a church next door and cross-country freight trains trundling past at all hours.

A lonely road through the forest near Yemassee took us past the ruins of the Sheldon Church. First built in the 1750s, it was burnt by the British during the American Revolution and rebuilt in the 1820s, only to be destroyed during the Civil War. Same say the church fell prey to General Sherman's 'March to the Sea' but others have suggested it was stripped for kindling and building materials by locals recovering from the war's aftermath.

Either way, it remains an impressive ruin, a brick shell surrounded by oak trees shouldering long wisps of Spanish moss. To find it, follow Old Sheldon Church Road out of Yemassee.

On to Beaufort, a port city which has been a darling of Hollywood location scouts for years (Forrest Gump, The Big Chill, Full Metal Jacket and Prince of Tides were filmed here).

Beaufort felt like Charleston in miniature but with more open spaces, more trees, fewer pavements and absolute quiet.

We sauntered about as the sun mellowed in the late afternoon sky along the peaceful streets lined with grand mansions and soaring steeples, but also abandoned plots and little chapels.

The light was perfect as we strolled its tiny downtown and sunset over the harbour was stunning.
That night it was all about living the American dream, when we were first able to enjoy what so many other roadtrippers can only experience in the USA. Things like sleeping in a Super 8 motel, shopping in K-mart and sitting down in an off-ramp diner for an all-u-can-eat buffet. We cast our eyes over the iceberg lettuce (chopped), spaghetti (made with mystery mince beef) and the blobs of mashed potatoes (instant) and thought...Americans say English food is bad??

Next time...a return to Beaufort, plus the ocean road to the sandy shores of Hunting Island.

Charleston: The Holy City?

Founded by cronies of Charles II over 400 years ago, 'Charles Town' became the largest colonial city south of Philadelphia. Once a rich port where cotton, rice and a third of America's slaves passed through, Charleston retains a pre-Civil War atmosphere with porticoed homes lining cobbled streets that look out towards Fort Sumter guarding the harbour entrance.

The tidbits you can glean from Wikipedia! It never occurred to me that one of Charleston's nicknames is 'the Holy City' thanks to its abundance of churches and its historic religious tolerance which extended to the French Huguenots and the Jews.

Steeples are still the first things you see punctuating the skyline when approaching the city.

This was all a bit difficult to appreciate on our first afternoon in the city, when the skies were leaden grey and a chill wind blew over the choppy water. We had a brief walk around the historic core of the city. Eventually the rain drove us into a Tex-Mex placed called Moes where we warmed up with fajitas, hot salsa, guacamole and rice & beans. Cheap and filling, if not that fresh or tasty.

Time to find our accommodation for the evening, the 'Not So' Hostel. If you are young or young at heart, then this place is funky and cool. If you've never stayed at a hostel before or didn't enjoy your college days in the dorms, then you're in a for an eye-opener!


Initially we were alarmed at the state of the streets nearby, which verged on being a shanty town on the fringe of the city, but the neighbourhood improved immensely once we found the place. Still, we did not want to venture out after dark and it was too far to walk into the city centre.

The hostel sprawls across three traditional buildings that date from the 1840s which feature open verandahs, complete with rocking chairs. Each of the two floors had its own kitchen and bathroom. Our room was tiny and aside from a closet, leather bench and lamp table had no furniture or storage. The beds were single mattresses, lovely and firm. Free continental breakfast was on offer but didn't start till 9, which was far too late for us early risers.

We were up and out the door before 7 under a cloudless sky, the air filled with the sound of birds greeting the early morning sunshine. After parking at the visitors centre, we followed King Street, which reminded me of my university days in downtown Lawrence, Kansas with its similar mix of eateries, boutiques, bars, galleries and bookstores.

King Street has an eclectic range of building styles, from Georgian to High Victorian...

...and Art Deco.

Occasionally an ivy-covered alley beckoned us to glimpse into gardens filled with azaleas or a cemetery where tombstones were draped by tree boughs laden down by Spanish moss.

Crossing Broad Street, we entered the residential district which proved even more gorgeous.

We happened upon Rainbow Row, America's oldest Georgian terraces, each uniquely painted and adorned with ornate lamps.

We reached the Battery, the sea wall that protects the largest houses, many with multi-tiered colonnades of south-facing porches to best catch the breeze.

Turning down streets at random, we found perfect Georgian streetscapes with wooden shutters, flickering gas lamps and cobbled lanes where we half-expected horsedrawn carts to come trotting.

Instead we spotted window cleaners, deliverymen, dog walkers and a mobile pet grooming van catering to the whims of the city's elite.

One thing this city lacks is friendliness, with only one passerby nodding at us and asking 'how ya'll durrin?'. After awhile the non-stop beauty of the place turned into pompous grandiosity and the exclusivity became almost repulsive. It's a town where you can spend $80 on a T-shirt, but can't walk around the corner for a pint of milk.

One antidote to the snobbish atmosphere is the city market, which boasts local beers, hot sauces, photographs as well as woven sweetgrass baskets - which fetch astronomical prices. Time to make tracks: it was becoming clear we'd never be able to fully appreciate Charleston as our budget couldn't take the strain!

Back in the car, our last stop on the way out of Charleston was at a bland strip mall which happens to boast one of the South's finest barbecue joints, the Hickory Hawg. The surroundings weren't particularly inspiring but the food was incredible with huge platters of smoked chicken, hush puppies, coleslaw, baked beans and our first encounter with those famous collard greens (a leaf like kale cooked with ham hocks). All for a bargain £5 a plate!

Take the tip and make time for the 'Hawg' on your trip!

Next stop...down the back roads past a mysterious abandoned church, through beautiful Beaufort and out to the stunning sea islands.

Just photos of Charleston

I'll be writing a proper entry soon, but suffice it to say Charleston is the loveliest big city I've yet to visit in the States.

Proof is in the photos!










Exuding grace and charm...from top to bottom!