I slept on the porch over the North Edisto River, watching the stars overhead which seemed to dance and disappear with the drifting of clouds. Before light, I head the call, "WhaaWooooo..Wa Wa Wa Whooooo" close by and then an answering call upriver. I have heard it here before. I think it is coyotes.
We visited Drayton Hall Plantation built by John Drayton in 1738. Over the great mantel in the Ballroom is the motto of the Drayton family inscribed in Latin and translated "This, the way to the stars". We walked the long grassy path from the house down to the Ashley River where ancient oaks lean over the waters.
Givhan's Ferry is found just off highway 61, "the Ashley River Rd" about 25 miles north of Charleston past the plantations of Drayton, Middleton and Magnolia. The four cabins here were built by the CCC in the 40's. There is camping with hookups and primitive camping.
"Floaters" drift down the dark tannin colored waters of the North Edisto on colorful tubes and rafts. I floated this river once at just this place. Nearby on the water, a gang of teenagers were yelling and diving for their truck keys which had gone overboard into the drink. A drunk woman motored her boat wildly up and down the river, pushing my float from side to side, interrupting the zen like travel down this beautiful ancient waterway.
Five years ago, my mother died in April at the age of 98. Two weeks later, her sister died as well. They had always done things together; gone to nursing school together, gotten married the same year, had their first child within a month of each other. And now they had taken their last long journey together. My cousins, Ruth and Grace and I went together on the weekend of Mother's Day to Givhan's Ferry after their passing. There was a Pow Wow of the Edisto Tribe in nearby Ridgeville and we took our folding chairs to watch.
Under a tent, men played the big drums in a circle while other male tribe members danced dances of the hunt. In honor of mothers and Mother's Day, all women were invited to dance in an only women's dance, even if you were not Native American. Ruth and Grace declined, but I joined the dancers. There was no way to tell if I was a member of the tribe. The chief's son was blond and blue eyed. Another primary dancer had the skin and features of Africa. The dancing women took me in and showed me how to dance the age old dance.
On another visit to the park, we were honored to see a local church baptizing members in the waters of the river. Ministers stood waist deep in the water and dunked believers. Several old men bound to wheelchairs were carried out, the old and infirm, as well as the young and healthy with tribal tatoos.
Today I take the Nature Trail of 1.6 miles through the forest. It begins beyond the camping areas and near a picnic shelter which has a horse shoe playing ground. The trail glances the edge of the Limestone Cliffs on the banks of the river. 30 million years ago, the ocean was here and left layer upon layer of sea animals which created the alkaline soil where plants live which are otherwise unusual to the acid soil of South Carolina.
I come to a fallen tree still bearing green leaves and go off trail through poison ivy and brambles for a while.
There is then a wooden bridge over a stream dried now to mud. Coming off the trail onto the athletic field, I meet two women who have been geocaching. They tell me they have found all of the caches in the park.
At the cabin, we cook waffles with strawberries on top and drink coffee and tea on the porch over the river.
We are in the zone.
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