Day who knows Charleston, SC

We have now biked to the big bridge twice. It is 12 miles round trip along the water and through downtown. I am used to the East Coast Greenway in Mansfield/Coventry/Bolton, CT which is entirely different. There we ride through the woods on dirt paths sweeping through old train railways.  We see old telegraph posts, creaks and waterfalls, and the occasional deer.  Here the ocean is on one side and old beautiful renovated homes on the other and lots and lots of traffic.

I am learning to appreciate the city as living small requires you to shop more frequently because you don’t have the space to keep any extra. You have access to endless restaurants, you can bike to the park, the grocer, or the local coffee shop. We went to the gym last night and Carrie was alarmed at the 20 minute drive but for me that was normal.  Even living on a busy road back home, nothing I need is closer than a 10 minutes drive. I am okay with that living in my home, but it would be hard to manage it here living small.  Too many trips.

After 5 wks on the boat with limited movement our bodies ache from a few days of adding exercise back in. It amazes me how fast we lose muscle when it takes so long to build it up. However, building it up is what we have to do if we want to enjoy our independent and fun filled lives. We need more muscle than ever to do tasks on the boat that I never dreamed of having to do only a couple years ago.

When I was younger I ran a 17 mile race through the woods in Texas without any training or thought. I didn't do well, but I finished. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had gone out drinking the night before. Not only that, but on mile 3 I was stung in the bum by an angry wasp whose nest was disturbed by a runner who passed before me. By the time I was done I had lopsided cheeks and had to drive while sitting side saddle.

Another time, Carrie and I mountain biked with friends through the Sedona, Arizona pink jeep trails. It was incredibly treacherous terrain, jumping gorges and steering down steep embankments. I doubt we gave the danger we were putting ourselves in a second thought. Not even after I fell into a prickly pear cactus and had to have a friend drive us home because my hand and leg were too swollen. We just laughed and iced with cold beer.

Now a days we are more cautious. Sprains and strains are no longer treated with ice cold beer. We are more aware of our mortality and how easily we break, but we also know the dangers of not moving our bodies. So although we are aware of the pain a wipe out would cause, we ride anyway.

Day 41 Charleston farmers’ market

We started off the day going to the Charleston farmers’ market downtown.  We rode our bikes and got there early as we were worried about how busy it would be.  It was not busy and we walked up and down the isles admiring the wares and fresh veggies.  We went by one stand where they had mushrooms and you could buy a bag that would grow and before I even spoke a word Carrie said, “no!” and pushed me along.

We selected a huge tomato for sandwiches, a cucumber, and a big dark red pepper.  I was very happy with our purchases and we got back on our bikes.  We peddled to the Target and got houseware items we were running out of and packed the insulated backpack tight.  Carrie held the rest in a paper sack hanging from her handlebars and we cruised back to Irish Eyes.

Once there we rested in the a/c for a bit before Carrie decided we should take another little ride to see the local park with tennis and pickle ball courts as well as a lovely manmade lake close by.  Now, I have known Carrie for over 50 years and I have grown to be weary of her ideas about ‘little ride’ and ‘close by’, but I also knew that two days ago she hiked over an hour, rode her bike all over town, and played full games of both tennis and pickle ball with her daughter and Anthony.  So I was feeling confident.

In time I am 5 years younger than Carrie.  In body and mind, she is about 15 years my junior.  I don't say that lightly.  She literally rides circles around me even when I try my hardest.  The other day I pulled a muscle taking off my sports bra and this woman has fallen off a roof and barely spilled her drink!  Needless to say, I should have been more cautious in my agreement to take a ‘little ride’ to a place ‘close by’.  We biked for hours.

We took our bikes all around the end of Charleston from our place in the Harborage at Ashley Marina and then through its center in our return.  Although I am currently on the couch exhausted with sore body parts everywhere, it was pretty awesome.  There is a pier that runs most of the way along the water where you can watch boats and birds and dolphins.  There is a fountain near the end of the pier where kids can splash and play.  Even the adults and dogs joined in the hot sun to get some relief.

On the way back we hunted down Starbucks for an alternative place for me to work and we went through the park with the lake again along the tennis and pickle ball courts.  Carrie kept updating me throughout the trip to help me get my bearings.  My dyslexia makes it hard for me to comprehend things in space so riding the streets and having her reiterate where we were developed the map in my mind further.

We took our showers, finished our laundry, cleaned our rooms, and are enjoying good food.  There was a huge storm last night and everything got a little wet so although we used the dryer we still have items hanging by the door.  As I sit here in the boat typing this into my phone, I can hear the rumble of thunder in the distance and I can’t help but think about how well those mushroom bags would grow in here.

Awesome image of lightning striking overhead.

Taken from facebook page of Harborage at Ashley Marina

Taken from facebook page of Harborage at Ashley Marina

One day we will ride our bikes over this bridge.  Not today, though, not today…

This pier goes on and on.  Beautiful ocean on one side and gorgeous houses on the other.

Trying to dry laundry inside.

Day 40 Charleston, SC

The day we sailed into Charleston we braved our last storm of the trip.  We were so close when the clouds came rumbling in.  Our last bridge was in view and yet we couldn't go forward.  In the beginning of this trip that might have been difficult to swallow but after 5 weeks of unpredictable living, it was simply an inconvenience.

We found a shallow, but slightly protected inlet and threw in both anchors. After an anchor dug in we taped our leaks, grabbed our safety gear, and waited. We counted seconds between the flash of light and the rumble of thunder. At first, the storm was fierce but she quickly got bored with tossing us about and flitted away leaving us a little soggy but otherwise intact.

We pulled the anchors back in, reset all that she had upset, and dried off as much as we could. With fingers crossed we made it out of the inlet without getting stuck on the sandbars lining either side.  We passed a sailboat that was not quite as lucky.  Her captain and first mate waved a hello as we passed.  They were stuck in the mud, waiting for the tide to lift them back to freedom.

It felt like sailing towards freedom during our last few hours as we sailed into Charleston, SC. We have had one heck of an adventure but I looked forward to consistent a/c, solid ground, clean showers, real coffee and ICE! You have ideas about what struggles you may have before an adventure like this, living so small and moving every day, but there is no way to really know how it will play out.

I definitely cherish things that I took for granted before I left.  Dinner at Helen’s, dropping by at K&T’s bar, cooking with Emma, game nights, drum nights, having family nearby all the time, playing games with our nieces and nephews, snuggling with our vast number of beasts, riding bikes, cooking big meals, unlimited fresh fruits and vegetables, and endless ice cubes.

This past week we have started to adjust to living on the docks, living small in a big city and stretching our limbs as we explore.  I am not a city person at all, but I appreciate the access to everything within a short bike ride.  We also have found pickle ball courts, our gym, the best happy hour spots, plenty of live music, and biking trails.

Yesterday, we watched storms roll in from the protected patio of a resort. Irish Eyes floated peacefully a few miles away tied to her protected slip. There were no anchors to throw nor windows to tape. No one counted between the lightning strikes and thunder rolls to determine the distance of the storm. We just relaxed on the lounges by the patio’s edge deciding where we might go to happy hour. The smallest part of me missing the excitement of another storm at sea.

Day 33 The Haunted Murrells Inlet, SC

It started with a fly biting me in the bum. I was finished as the captain for the day and Carrie had taken over. I had my feet up and the breeze gently brushed my hair as I read my serial killer novel. All was well. As an avid reader you should know that with Irish Eyes ‘all was well’ indicates an impending ‘all went to hell’.

The nasty little creature bit down hard and paid with his life. Perhaps he had a moment to yell to his clan before his doom or maybe they were already upon us. Carrie and John were like fly swatting ninjas but they just kept materializing. Bad language and the snap of swatters on canvas kept overpowering the sound of our little engine.

We felt we were lucky to be getting near our landing dock at Murrells Inlet where we could shut all the doors and windows and crank the a/c. Our ignorance of the area had us hopeful. We didn't know it was haunted. 

After closing up and having dinner only the sound of an ice cream truck could have gotten me to leave my cool, bug free hovel. That was not the case for John who was desperate to get out of what one friend refers to as our ‘floating prison’.  Carrie and I, instead, took out our bag of dumdums and used the wifi to watch a terrible netflix series.  Yes, a whole series. It was so dull we watched on fast forward only stopping for important parts like a plane crash or a bear and then the last 10 minutes of the series.

Near the end of our skimming John came back full of nervous energy. “THIS PLACE IS HAUNTED!” This is his story in his own words:

This port is a tiny little shrimper’s enclave just off the ICW, with history dating back to the 1860’s, and a population of 605 according to the last census. We took a short walk to pick up fresh shrimp, and immediately I was fascinated by this little town that seemed to be from another time.

Crissie and Carrie stayed in the air conditioned boat to watch a show, while I set out into the heat to explore more of this quaint area. I walked down streets with old sidewalks that meandered around huge oaks and cypress trees, with branches that wept wisps of Spanish moss. Some of the houses were small, while others were more majestic in size and style, but all had equal amounts of southern charm, and I found myself snapping dozens of photos. There were beautiful churches, an art studio, a middle school, and a tiny restaurant with the words “Bless our shrimpers” written on the window. I was struck by how quiet everything was.

 

 

I noticed an area drenched in sunlight down a narrow dirt lane and decided to explore. I found more enchanting houses and an area that opened up to a large field. I figured the road would circle around at some point so I continued on. Turning a corner, the trees thickened and I passed one street that looked like it might take me back to the boat. It was shaded by an imposing tunnel of trees and was a less inviting avenue for sure, so I kept going. The next cross street appeared to curve away from my intended destination, so I had to double back to that shadowy dirt road. As soon as I turned down the road, a sudden breeze struck me in the face, and the branches around me began swaying in a breeze stronger than I had felt all afternoon. Insects also began singing out high pitched buzzing sounds. I found it so peculiar that I pulled out my phone and began to record… 

I had no idea what I was about to discover only a few hundred yards down the road. The trees soon parted to reveal a large church; dilapidated, boarded up, and flecked with small “no trespassing” signs here and there. Behind the church lay several grave stones that seemed strewn about in no particular order. I’m not exaggerating when I say that my hair stood on end, and a previously hot, muggy afternoon now felt chilled. I quickly snapped a few pics, and a short video of the road that would take me away from that place. 

I chose to heed the signs and not trespass on the property, standing a safe distance away near a gnarled bit of twisted undergrowth just past the old entrance to the church. Likewise, I sincerely hoped my presence there did not disturb the eternal rest of any souls still residing there. The history of that church and its congregants remains a mystery to me, but the memory of that little town will remain a part of our sailing adventure. I walked briskly back to the boat, but didn’t shake the chill until the reeds lining the creek came back into view.

(Found on a granite stone on the water’s edge)

A SONG OF HOPE

O GALLANT HEART, DEFEATED, 

NOW GAZING TOWARD THE WEST, 

WHERE THIS DAYS SPLENDOR CRUMBLES,

DISASTROUS AND UNBLEST,-

LOOK, TIL THE DEATH LIKE DARKNESS

BY THE STARS BE GLORIFIED,

UNTIL YOU SEE ANOTHER DREAM

BEYOND THE DREAM THAT DIED.