Such a beautiful Sunday, a very fine day with the temperatures in the high 80's and low 90's. Everything is still deep summer green and not the scorched brown as in the past years of drought when the temperature in July was usually at least 100 degrees. I am on my way to Decatur to stay with Martin and Mathew and to have supper at Chai Pani on Ponce de Lione Street, walking distance from their house. Here and in Decatur, the Crape Myrtles are in full exuberant bloom, pink, red, tropicanna, watermelon , white and old fashioned purple like the one in my yard I planted some years ago on July 26 , my sister's birthday in her honor.
After Anderson, take exit 14 and go south on the Heritage Corridor of Rivers and Lakes, SC Hwy 187.
Soon I am crossing the Calvin Wesley Belcher Bridge which curves across wide shining Lake Hartwell.
On the right is Pearl Harbor Rd, Mohawk Rd and then a large shopping center area where the highway takes me right out into the countryside. It is about 14 miles from I-85 to Sadler's Creek. Just before I get to the sign for Sadler's Creek Road on my right, I see Sadler's Creek BBQ, a gigantic establishment on the left, open on Saturdays.
If you could fly above the park, you would see a peninsula jutting into the lake, looking like a short narrow tube expanding into a big round balloon, a lovely forrested place which has 37 campsites and a picnic pavilion and trails. There is a .5 mile nature trail as well as a 5.4 mile trail through the woods. I take the 5.4 mile trail which is well cared for and shaded. I step from the real world with a surge of anticipation into the enchanted forest. There are nats, a few of which I breathe in. The ranger tells me that you can get a hat with a net veil over your face, but it is hot. There are hardwoods and pines and many, many muscadine vines, some of which have ripe purple berries dropped to the ground. On the trail, I stumble upon a folded wad of dollar bills, only a little damp. These I donate to the park in the big glass jar in the ranger station. People have been here, but I see no one.
The trail winds up and down, here and there coming along the lake shore. Two white tailed deer leap across the path ahead of me and near the shore I find a piece of driftwood, oddly shaped like deer antlers which I take home with me.
In the car now on the radio, I hear the Sihk mantra: "Go with Relentless Optimism" .
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