03-24-11

03-24-11
195 miles
Hilton Head Island - Charleston - Givhans Ferry State Park
Woke up around 6:35 am and started organizing my things ro go. Sequence is important. The sleeping bag before the mini cooler; the futon before my suitcase and toiletry bag (a Converse sweat bag that I use for shampoo, towel, hair dryer, razors, dental kit, deodorant, etc.); it’s almost unconscious b now…but I still make a few mistakes if there have been too many das between uprooting from the last campsite.
It’s been four days and though my Friend, Mike has been a generous host, I’ve overstayed my welcome. I was expected to only be there thru Wednesday, but my finances low, I needed the additional night. John, Mike’s housemate and business partner has been a patient guy, but there is a lot on his plat this week. A special Sunday show with Pauley Shore as well as their current headliner is a lot to juggle. Add my presence to the mix and I become one too many things to juggle. I get that. I’m just grateful for the extra day to get a little something going. A day can make a huge difference and yesterday made an exceptional difference.
I packed the car with the exception of my toiletry bag, Mischa and my camera. I have learned to shower After packing the car. Sequence in important. Feeling clean and refreshed after the shower I set up my camera to inter view Michal about his business and other topics. I get about 34 minutes of good content before I have a brainfart and loose my train of thought for a follow up question. The gaffe ends the interview. It’s enough.
I leash Mischa and we head back on the road, destination unsure. But not before getting some pictures of the boys outside their comedy club (and a few poorly lit inside shots).
Now it’s on to the freeway.. There is a bit of relief in this. Being hosted is great. The best. But your time is never truly your own. You are synced to your host’s day. And you get to spend your time with your friend and learn about the local area. But other things suffer. Writing. Privacy. Sleep. Something gets the short end.
And when you’re camping, you have your day to organize as you choose. But it’s either isolated, or you’re meeting other campers or trying to find local places for provisions.
Both have their advantages and drawbacks.. When I need to catch up on writing, camping is the remedy. When I have friend in a state I can see, being hosted is the way to go.
By the time I get to I-95, I’ve committed to going to Charleston . Town of history, Coastal access and beach weather.
At about 107 miles I stop at the cities “Welcome Center” to get more detailed info and directions for James Island County Park. At first entering the center I’m almost acknowledged by the man behind the counter. He’s absorbed with something he’s doing on his computer. Information?! Maps!
“Over , there - against the wall” he said dismissively. Barely looking away from his screen. Turning I say “So much for the welcome.” and proceed to browse. A few minutes later he suggests that one of the pamphlets has a good map in the back
Is he trying to make up for his earlier lack of hospitality?
I tell him I’m looking for information about Jams Island County Park and Ft. Sumpter.
He eventually gives me a “better map” he had below the counter and now he was really into helping. He shows me a route to the Park that will “save you at least 20 minutes and about 30 lights” and he was right, too!
He says “they have free shuttles from downtown that will take you right to the park”
:I’m planning to camp at the park”
I see a road that goes from the park to the north side of the Island and seems to have close proximity to Ft. Sumpter. “If I drive out there do you know if I could see the fort from there?”
“I’d hate to have you drive out there and end up in front of some tract homes with no view and the tour give you information as you’re going out there.”
“I have a dog/”
“Well then that won’t work for you”
I thought it was interesting that he didn’t want me to waste my time driving the short distance to the end of James Island, but his suggestion was to drive all the way over to take the tour in downtown Charleston (over twice the distance) and If I hadn’t brought up that I had a dog I’d have wasted a trip. I get that he’s working for the Department of tourism for Charleston, but where was the legendary “southern hospitality” that is so often touted? I know it exists. I lived in Wilmington, NC for a year and I just came from Hilton Head and it did seem to have not departed from that place. Well, he did help me with directions to the park…so maybe it was just whatever it was he was engrossed in when I came in. I hope it was porn. On second thought, no.
Upon arriving at the park I find that the prices are not near what is advertised in the AAA Camping book that was issued just last year. Instead of $18 to $26 that was listed, it was $28 to $40!
I decided to camp inland. I’d go up I-26 to find cheaper lodgings elsewhere.
But not before a short excursion to the north end of James Island along Fort Johnson Road.. The road ended at something called the South Carolina Marine Resources Division
http://www.dnr.sc.gov/marine/mrri/ftjohnson.html]. I followed a truck in, sure that I was trespassing on government property. I get to the end and can see the bay. I’m sure my hunch was right and that I will be able to get a picture from the shore of Ft. Sumpter.
Jackpot! Not only can I see it from there, but there is a stone marker (looking very much like a headstone) Stating that “From this spot mortars were fired on Ft. Sumpter” and more detail. But thee was also a professor from the College of Charleston who gave me a great deal of information about the property and history of the area…and he let me shoot a short video of him talking about the firing on Ft. Sumpter!
.With unexpected successes under my belt I decided to try to tackle the downtown interchanges to get to I-26 towards Columbus.
I get turned around and find myself someplace in some downtown part of Charlestown. Realizing I’m not on route to the desired Fwy, I flail about and suddenly find myself looking at :The Citadel” (at least the Stadium). So, I take a few pictures and drive past it still looking for “26”. I take a right and then see behind me that the street I just turned onto leads to 26 heading in the other direction - what fucking luck! I’ll just make a left and the next street and double back. Fucking luck indeed. This town doesn’t like left hand turns or U-turns…just Right turns. Figures.
And one way streets.
Eventually I find my way to the freeway and drive out of Charleston. I don’t stop until Ladson. I get off to use a McDonalds wifi and see where I can camp for the night. My excursions were fruitful, but it was getting on 5 pm and I wanted to have my tent up before sunset.
I find one nearby, Givhans Ferry State Park, and the price is right. $14.00 - The AAA Book said 12-13 but their own website lists “$14.00”
I get there…eventually…I pass by the turn because the sign is only showing from the other direction. I discover this after driving more than 7 miles past the place I was supposed to have turned. That was supposed to be 7 miles from the town of Ridgeville. I get there. No one at the registration office. There’s a sign they’ll be back at 7:30 it’s now about 6pm, I presume the time is for tomorrow.
I set up the tent and getting power to it and settling in when a truck pulls up on the road ahead of my spot. It’s the Ranger! Great! Now I can pay for the spot. $14 dollars, right?”
$16.28.
It said on your own website $14.00 - I just checked it an hour ago!
That’s probably right before you add the fees.
Ok, then… here‘s the money.
You’re going to have to drive to the ranger office, that’s the only place I can register you.
Southern Hospitality.
“What”?
“Nothing…it was just what I was thinking. Hell, I wouldn’t have said it out loud. Dude packs a gun.
I get there and register for the night. If I want to stay another night I’ll have to register early and move ‘cuz the space I’m in is reserved for tomorrow night.
Then Mr. Ranger and I start playing a game of “Who’s on first” with directions. I tell him that as I approached the camp I say a road ahead of my with cross traffic and I’d wondered what the road was and where if lead.
He looked at me like I was crazy and said there’s nothing in that direction for 7 miles. I said that that was the direction I’d just come from…what was the road in the other direction? We went around on this for a good 10 minutes. He kept insisting that there was no other road that could be seen to have had traffic from the road that lead to the park. He even drew a map. I asked him if I could see the closest road from the road that lead to the park and he said “yes”.
Then, That’s the road I’ve been talking about.
That’s Highway 61, the one you came in on.
No. I came in from the other direction.
The road that was seven miles from this entrance.
I saw him thinking - “No you didn’t”
Southern Hospitality.