Miles today: 170Miles to date: 1169
Where are we again? Charleston, South Carolina
Fun fact: Few people realise that South Carolina is, in fact, located due north of North Carolina. It is common knowledge, however, that South Carolinians just love to recycle jokes.
The Day’s Events: This morning we got up fairly early and cruised down south on highway 17 with the top down, heading for the beach, of course. So, 60 miles later, we took a left, and crossed the Intra-Coastal waterway and on to Ocean Island Beach, one of the many sandbank islands, protecting the swamps for which the Carolinas are famous. We had hoped for a deserted beach, with a shady tree and a little bar (like in Greece) but what we got was an entire town, with streets full of holiday homes, retirement homes, and rental cottages, and only one spot where as a day-tripper you could park the car and go to the beach. So we took it.
Our reward was the sight of a flight of ten pelicans (unfortunately, we couldn’t get the camera out fast enough to photograph them), and a very beautiful wooden pier (which was moving slow enough that even we managed a few pictures). Armed with our newly purchased sunbathing mats, and a new pair of sunglasses for Malcolm whose old pair had fallen to pieces in his hands the morning we left for this trip, we claimed our spot on the beach and wriggled into our bathing suits, trying not to get arrested for indecent exposure. It was bad enough that Malcolm was the only Frenchman on the beach (i.e. wearing Speedos, rather than shorts to the knee.) All good clean fun but, since it was 100 degrees hot, after an hour of sunbathing we felt that we had had enough sun for the moment.. So, after a last dip in the sea to cool off (warm water but scarily large waves), we headed off again towards Charleston, stopping on the way at a classic roadside dinner just like the ones you see in the movies for eggs over easy and jugs of sweet iced tea.
After a while we crossed the state line into South Carolina and trundled down Highway 17, through the tropical storm showers for about a hundred more miles until we got to the outer ring of Charleston. We’ve checked into a classic budget motel (think Psycho); we’ve put the clothes in the wash, and we’ve just been across the Highway to a ‘Sticky Fingers’ restaurant for that Southern classic dish: the mountain of spare ribs (see above). This, with a 23-ounce glass of the locally brewed Yuengling lager, means we are too stuffed to write any more.
Ted’s Photo Blog
A picture of me, Ted, soaking up a few rays despite having forgotten to pack me swimming trunks.
