March 7, 2016 Hunting Island: Goobye and Thanks For All the Books

The sun rises over the silver ocean.  Where the jungle trail meets the sand split between the submerged dead trees and a shining dark pond, the ospreys have made a nest of sticks at the top of a tall dead tree.  A birder from Charlotte is there with a long lensed camera waiting for them to arrive.

A pair of cormorants is floating and diving on the pond. We watch them until they fly up, circle and land on the branches of a dead oak out in the ocean.

Other than the birder, the beach is empty. We have stayed in the light house cabin over night.

Yesterday, Pat Conroy, died in Beaufort Hospital.  His home was just here on Fripp Island.

This week, his brother, a neighbor of my son, John, said, "I have to go to Beaufort, to put my brother back into the river."

In the sand, I write:  "Goodbye Pat, And Thanks For All the Books"

By now, the water has washed my message away.

March 3, 2016 Colonial Dorchester State Historic Site

People walking across the grounds of this historic site are not wearing clothing for a day's walk or picnic. Instead they are dressed formally in dresses, suits and ties. They gather at the obelisk, an ancient brick structure of two stories in height with arched passages through it.  A wedding is taking place.

I am looking for the interpretive trail and ask a woman exiting her car with her brown and white English Spaniel, Bradley.  She points to the tabby fort and tells me to walk into it and through it out the other side and I will find a trail along the Ashley River.  The trail ends abruptly by the lovely green river.  There is a cormorant perched on a rock or piece of masonry in the flow.  Another dog walker (she has a Shitzu and a Yorkie) tells me in a New York accent, that the trail goes another way beyond the fort, but it goes into the woods and she was afraid to follow it.  I try that one and it also ends abruptly by the river.

Here, without trails, there is the old tabby fort, built in the 17th century, an architectural dig of the old town, picnic tables and a restroom, the brick obelisk, beautiful trees and the green flowing river.

I leave to find my way South towards Beaufort and in the outskirts of the town of Summerville, now clogged with traffic, there is a sign, advertising " GATOR RABBIT AND BUFFALO BURGERS.  There is no restaurant to be seen.  I take 165 for about 15 miles to the hamlet of Ravenel.  Along the way, pink and purple azaleas are in full bloom.

On Hwy 17, a small car passes, proclaiming on its back window:  "I Kayak, Therefore I Am".

March 1, 2016 Musgrove Mill State Park: A Birding Hotspot

A false spring, a haze and a temperature of 70 degrees. Daffodils are blooming. There is hope in the light air. There are new bird houses in the trees at Musgrove Mill State Historic Site.

There is a new Park Manager named Dawn Weaver who lets me in the locked office. She is about to go to the bank, but instead she takes me to the back porch and shows me the new bird feeding station where on one recent day, birders counted 200 birds.  Circling high in the air and screaming their screeching calls, are two hawks.  She tells me they may be about to mate.  They are, indeed, checking out the trees near the office for a place to build their home.  There are also a pair of eagles who live on the park grounds.

Dawn Weaver came a few months ago from Huntington Beach State Park, a coastal birding hotspot. She tells me of how she saw her first Roseate Spoonbill on her second day at the park. Some birders put her to the test to identify it. A few days later, a nine year old girl told her sadly that she was having to leave to go home without seeing a Roseate Spoonbill. Dawn took her to the place where she saw one before and could not find one.  Suddenly two of these beautiful pink birds flew by them and landed on the pond.

Before I go to walk the trail down by the Enoree, Dawn shows me the eBird website from Cornell Ornithology Labs.  Their maps now indicate Musgrove Mill as  birding hotspot.  People who watch birds can sign up at eBird.org and add their own lists of birds.

Before I hit the trail, she tells me that there is an area where the wild boars dug up the trail, but they have cleaned it up.  She says they only come out at night.

I am not afraid of the wild pigs.  I have met them before at Congaree National Park and found they had no interest in me whatsoever.

Don't go out in the woods  tonight
You're sure of a big surprise
If you go out in the woods tonight
You'd better go in disguise

If you go out in the woods tonight
You better not go alone
Don't go out in the woods tonight
It's safer to stay at home

For tonight is the night the wild boars have their picnic!

Plagerized from the song by Amarin Rose "The Teddy Bear's Picnic"

February 21, 2016 Cottonwood Trail: A Sanctuary

I can see the color orange across the wetlands.  A man is using binoculars to look at something high in the trees on the edge of the forest.

When I approach, he tells me that he has seen both a flicker and a pileated woodpecker high up in the same tree.

He is a former Bosnian, who fled the wars in 1994.

Around his neck, he wears Swaroski binoculars.

"I thought I needed them." he says. "They cost three thousand dollars.  You don't need any like this."

"I like to come here to be alone.

I think of many things."

He smiles broadly and raises his arms like a runner crossing the finish line.

"Or I can think of nothing."

Feb 20, 2016 Hamilton Branch: Jasmine and Scat

Mitsubishi, mitsubishi, mitsubishi
he did it, he did it
sweet bird, sweet bird

The birds are singing, the frogs are singing back up.
Flocks of hundreds of starlings cross the sky.
Robins dot lawns.
There is a cloud cover.
It is going to be 60 degrees in the afternoon.

Under the passenger car seat, I find my glasses which vanished into thin air two days before Christmas.

At Hamilton Branch, the waters have receded and the trails are open again.
I am on my way in the early dawn.
The hardwoods are gray and quiet, the evergreens dark and fragrant. Starlings sit in the leafless crowns of trees in droves.

Again I travel hwy 221 beside the Georgia Pacific railroad tracks, through Woodruff and then Enoree, across the Enoree River where logs are jammed under the railroad trestle. Over Warrior Creek and beside a jade pond.

The community of Ora has a county park and on the left, Lighthouse Baptist Church with a 10 ft replica of a lighthouse and a small academy. On the right is a sign for PAIA Lower Eastern Cherokee Nation (go right on Metric Rd.).

I pass under 385, then on the left a gigantic white Walmart distribution Center surrounded by trucks. On the left is Muchoo's BBQ, now closed, Cree Ole Seafood also closed , the suburb of Wattville and I am in Laurens with Zaxby's, Long John Silver and Kentucky Fried Chicken. Across a hill on the left is an ancient cemetery. Crape Myrtles, not yet leafed out line S. Hampton Rd through town. The historic town square and county house is to the right.  Large old southern houses, some restored to their original beauty and some with peeling paint line the road. On the edge of town is the Used Tire store painted orange with a purple Clemson tiger paw on the side wall.

I go through the community of Maddens, on the left Addy Farms with a truck departing with two horses in a trailer. At Cold Point, an active Flea Market. In Waterloo, there is a public golf course on the left and the large Aurel Hill Church on the right.  The country side is beautiful here, even in winter. In Greenwood County; I cross Cornaca Creek, drive through Greenwood and then the town of Bradley and this time, I note that the lovely Eden Hall has a brick home behind it and a working farm with white buildings and white fences around the well kept fields

I cross Rocky Creek and then Plum Branch and Parksville, Catfish Bay and on the right Hamilton Branch State Park.

The staff in the office do not seem well versed in the trails and they are out of trail maps. They do have a map of the 150 campsites with minimal dotted trail markers.  I took the Hamilton Branch Connector just beyond the office on the paved road. They tell me it will take me to Hwys 221 and 28 and I should cross it at the sign for Modoc Speedway and connect to the FATS trail (Forks Area Trail System in Edgefield Cty). and Stevens Creek Trail. I cross the road and can't find the trail. I even trespass into someone's yard.
I have to return but along the connector, I find jasmine vines with yellow buds about to open (the state flower of South Carolina) and several piles of scat composed only of tubular white fur and then one that looks like the undigested remains of a snake.  The coyotes live here.

Again, I cannot find the trail that staff tells me has a sign and begins at the dump.  When I return to the office, they suggest taking a trail that begins behind the office and ends at the dump.  I cannot even find that as behind the office land moving equipment has scraped the woods to build a roadway connector. Finally someone comes out and shows me two 5 inch white squares with black arrows on two trees across the muddy connector.  I come to a fork and take the left.  I would guess it is about two miles through piney woods.  I come upon two gray deer with white tails.  One is so curious about me, she stops in her tracks and stares at me while I approach gingerly.  At about 10 feet, she leaps away. Soon I find myself looped back to the office. There is a Pepsi machine with no price on it.

I drive through the campsites and find the perfect one where I would like to camp when it is warmer. Site 77 is at the very end of the peninsula where there is water on three sides. No one is there today. Fishermen are on the lake. Ducks float on a quiet bend

I begin the long drive back.

In Parksville, a sign implores:  "Y-all Come Back".
 I discover in  McCormick, just 16 miles away,that yesterday, Feb 19, 2016 was the 100 centennial of the town and a celebration was held on that day. Now it is 23 miles to Greenwood where near the Lake there is a wedding going on at Lakeside Pentacostal Church. The wedding party including the tiny bride in white is on the deck of the church.

I stop for a late lunch at my favorite Subway on the shore of Lake Greenwood and watch a big man in black overalls have a huge 12 inch sub made.  It starts with ground beef and cheese toasted under the broiler. Then he has every vegetable available put on top: tomatoes, lettuce, onions, pickles, olives, peppers, then mustard, chipotle sauce and sirocha sauces.

"Food don't taste good unless it's messy," he turns and says to me.

"Exactly", I agree.  "A masterpiece", I add.

He and is nephew tell me to have a safe trip.

It is raining now and I am home before dark.

NOTE: This may get you to the Stevens Creek trail by connector.
Take the Hamilton Branch Connector through the woods.
Cross the highway 221 and 28 combined at the Modoc Speedway Sign.
Turn rt on Washington School Rd  (which might be McCormick Cty  S3393) toward the Speedway.
Walk past the Speedway.
There might be a big green gate.
After the paving ends, turn left at the first left which is Forest Service Rd. 632. 632 ends at the Stevens Creek Trail.

For correct information: Sumter National Forest, Long Cane Ranger District, Long Cane Rd 810 Buncombe St. Edgefireld phone 803-637-5396. Also for the FATS trail (Forks Area Trail System in Edgefield Cty)

January 29, 2016 The Road to Beech Mountain

Highway 221 stretches all the way across South Carolina from the lakes of the Savannah River into the mountains of North Carolina.  Eleanor is driving. I am in the shotgun seat and Mathew is in the backseat covered in sleeping bags and quilts against the cold.  It is 25 degrees in Beech Mountain today.  Last weekend the snow fell for three days. Highway 221 goes through my town, then Chesnee, SC, Rutherforton, NC, Marion, Linville and then we take 105 briefly and then 184 left at the stoplight in Banner Elk.  The mountain towns converge here.
Grandfather Mountain and only 17 miles to Boone.

We see the quilt squares painted on barns along the route. Rhododenron is braced against the ice, but the road is good. Christmas Tree farms are all along the way, perfect little green cones dotting the mountain sides.  In a field is a life size tin sculpture of a soldier mounted on a tin horse. A red Confederate Flag is draped across his chest. We call him "the Confederate Zombie".

After Eleanor negotiates the winding roads with frightening drop offs (which terrify us), we find Beech Mountain Parkway and make a right. We stop at Fred's on the left for a rest room and supplies. Downstairs there is a cafe and grill thronged with skiers and tubers. After Fred's we go 2 miles down and a right on Pine Ridge, left on Teaberry and the 2nd left on Rhododendron, a final left on Poplar Drive. It is the second house on the left.

The cousins are sledding down the driveway. The uncles are watching them.  They are dressed in thick snow clothes and boots, warm knit hats and gloves.

Eleanor and I take a hike around the neighborhood at twilight, up and down the  winding roads. Houses glow in the dark with warm lighted yellow windows.  This is a mountain paradise.  Michael and Asha took the children on one of the two hiking trails recommended on a map, but the snow was knee deep and they had to turn back.

In the yard of our house, deer are eating corn at a feeding station built just for them.

Asha and Michael have made vegetarian chili with rice and sides of cheese, yogurt, and cucumbers.

Tomorrow will be snow tubing and ice skating.

All is well.

Always a Bridesmaid Chili

Original recipe with which I won 2nd place in a Texas Pete contest. Asha and Michael modified it and won first place in an elementary school cookoff. It can be vegetarian."

In a large iron pot, saute 2 lbs fresh ground chuck or ground turkey (meat optional)
1 large onion, chopped
4 to 5 cloves crushed garlic
1 grated carrot
1 grated yellow crooked neck squash or 1 grated zucchini
1 medium green pepper, chopped
1 or 2 chopped jalapeno peppers (also optional)
1 tsp cumin
3 tsp chili powder
1 tsp salt
1 tsp black pepper
stir until meat is browned,
add 2 Tbsp sugar
To this mixture add:
2 cans black beans drained
2 cans pinto beans, drained (cook beans yourself is better)
2 large cans crushed tomatoes
1 can tomato diced or pieces
Simmer for at least an hour
Add generous chopped cilantro
Serve with homemade salsa and sour cream
and grated Monterey Jack cheese.

Cornbread is the best accompaniment.

January 26, 2016 On the Gervais Street Bridge

Snow, rain and ice for the last three days in the Upstate.  Escaping down I-26, a dark green Chevrolet van, close to the ground and covered with the detritus of sludge, salt and dirt from frozen Wisconsin sails past me on its way to the coast.

The Saluda and the Broad converge at the fall line in Columbia to make the wide Congaree.  The Columbia Canal Walk and the River Walk through Cayce have been closed since the flooding in the fall.

It is 10:30 am and I am standing on the Gervais Street Bridge watching gulls careening over the rocks and three Canadian Geese dipping and diving in a quiet pool near the banks of the wide Congaree.

A voice beside me says, "Isn't it beautiful?"

A young man, bright blue eyes, white T-shirt and jeans asks me the name of the river. He wants to know if you can kayak there. He tells me his father saved the life of a girl who fell into a river from a kayak once.
He is from Syracuse, NY, but was born in Columbia.

As he walks away, he says, "The Holy Spirit will lead you."

The sky is a powder blue with milky soft clouds spun through it.  The sun is shining again.

You Are My Sunshine

You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray
You'll never know dear,
How much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away.

The other night, dear,
When I was sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
When I awoke, dear,
I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried.

You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray
You'll never know dear
How much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away.

* sung by the blogger at gatherings all around Rajasthan, India, a long time ago.