Day 17

Last night we ate sandwiches for dinner at the campsite. The ducks came back to visit. They were very chatty, quacking away, and demanding food. When we neglected to give them some, they left and went for a swim.

The women at the campsite next to us made us laugh. We don’t know how many were in their party, but we saw two of them and heard at least three voices. Their tent was a monstrosity. It was wide and at least ten feet high. From their pickup truck they hauled cot frames, mattresses, and linens. TO CAMP! Once they were set up, they stayed up late listening to music and talking to each other—loudly, as if they thought they were in a bar, and in a language I could not identify. (German, maybe?) I am glad we are moving on and that we won’t have to deal with them again tonight.

We stopped at Krispy Kreme for breakfast. While on line we were discussing what to get. The man in front of us turned to us and said, “It’s Wednesday. You can get a dozen doughnuts for the price of a gallon of gas.” Did we need a dozen doughnuts? No. Did we buy a dozen doughnuts? Yes. Why? Because it was cheaper than buying five. And Kati and G3 love doughnuts. So not only did we get breakfast, we now have dessert for after lunch.

South Carolina is the last new state G3 will enter on this trip. His current stats are: 34 states and 27 president houses. He is already planning for next summer.

Congaree National Park was not on our itinerary because I planned to come up the coast through Savannah. G3 and Kati out voted me—our family is a democracy, sometimes—opting for a detour to Atlanta instead. By the time they changed things on me, I had forgotten all about Congaree, probably because I had never heard of it until I began researching our trip. And there had been nothing about it to make it stand out. Then yesterday, while in the supermarket to pick up cold cuts, G3 picked up a magazine that highlighted America’s National Parks. Flipping through it, he came across Congaree, saw it was in South Carolina, and asked why we weren’t going. Uh-oh! I pulled out my phone to see where it was in relation to where we were and where we were going. To visit the park would require a short detour, tacking on less than an hour of driving. It would also shorten our time in Charleston, but with a bit of shuffling we could make it work.

I was super eager to put my boots back on and extremely excited to go for a hike. G3, not so much. When we arrived and I told him we’d do a hike he looked horrified. “But I just wanted to come here to get my book stamped.” And get a patch. I stared at him aghast. “We did not change our plans just for a stamp. We’re here, we’re going to see the park, and the best way to do that is to take a hike. You know that’s what we do. What I do.”

There was a great deal of eye rolling and grumbling. A bit of complaining, but he did hike with me. (He is a Boy Scout. So hiking should not be such a chore. Maybe it was being stuck we me that was the chore. Also, the heat didn’t help. It was supposed to reach a high of 95, with a heat index more than 100.) Kati opted out of the hike. She chose to sit in the shade and wait for us.

On the trail, we met a mother and her teenage daughter from Florida. Somehow, we got talking about education and the daughter complained that Florida has revoked their right to think freely. Mother and daughter are not pleased with DeSantis’ education policies. The mother runs a pre-school program. I asked her how she was going to handle “Don’t Say Gay.” She said her intention is to ignore it and fight against it. They are also appalled at the way Florida has watered down teacher certification. For obvious reasons, Florida can’t get enough teachers. Therefore, anyone who was on in the military—or married to someone in the military—can become a teacher without any training or certification. How can anyone think that is a good idea? What does being in the military have to do with teaching? The military trains people to kill, not to teach.

Ninety-nine percent of old-growth floodplain forests in the Eastern part of the country no longer exit. Logging, combined with the settling of the coast, destroyed the forest. What remains is preserved in Congaree National Park. We walked the two mile boardwalk trail through the floodplain. We saw lots of trees, huge spiders, lizards, a fawn, and squirrels. G3 found it boring. I enjoyed taking pictures, being outside, and getting exercise, but as far as National Parks go, I think this was my least favorite. Still, I am glad we came.

The boardwalk connected to a trail that cut through the pine forest which makes up a small section of the park. G3 and I both preferred walking on dirt instead of the boardwalk, but the pine forest was not as well shaded and so we sweated profusely. However, the smell of pine that surrounded us made me happy.

The speed limit entering the park was 13. The speed limit exiting is 27. What the hell? Speed limits are always the same in both directions, and they are always divisible by 5. Seeing something different made us feel like we entered a alternate universe.

I owed Kati a winery. I couldn’t find one in Charleston, but I did find a cidery. I like hard cider more than Kati, but she will drink it, and it was better than nothing. Ship’s Wheel had non-alcoholic cider which meant G3 could also have something to drink. He was happy. He hates going to tastings when he has to watch. Things are always more fun when you can participate.

Kati and I shared a flight. I liked the cider. It was less sweet than what I get at home—at home it’s too sweet. But it was still sweeter than what you get in England. The food truck behind the cidery has half price hibachi on Wednesday. When you are on a tight budget like us, you allow things like that to dictate what you eat for dinner. We started the day with a bargain and we ended the day with one. I am a happy camper. (Pun intended.)

I was expecting to hate all things South Carolina, but my first impression of Charleston is a good one. We even saw other queer people. Shocking! We are, after all, in the south.