Following the tsunami routes, we spent the day exploring between Charleston and Savanna. Beyond suburbia we traveled through miles of absolutely flat and monotonous country. The sky was blue and sunny, there were trees, marshes, and occasionally bodies of water but each mile looked like the last one and the next one.
Our first stop was the small town of Beaufort (with the beau rhyming with mew, as in beautiful). Beaufort is widely touted as "the area's queen belle, with antebellum mansions, sail-dotted bays and fashionable boutiques". With our newly acquired tourist map in hand we set off on a mini tour of the waterfront and the historic houses. Everything along the waterfront seems to have been recently revitalized with a boat filled harbor, a broad walkway, suspended swinging bench seats, play equipment, and acres of open space for picnics and games. Behind the Main Street filled with shops, with we avoided, were two streets of lovely old homes built in a variety of styles. After a few photos and a quick lunch we headed off for the surrounding islands.
Our first stop was the Penn Center on St. Helena Island. Established after the end of the Civil War the Center's original goal was to educate the children of the freed slaves. Some children came from the surrounding area and others boarded. They were taught the usual reading, writing, and arithmetic in the mornings and in the afternoons manual skills that would lead to self supporting jobs. The focus changed with the Civil Rights movement and the later battles to retain their property. Black owners were being cheated because what to many of the Gullah people was swamp, was potential beach front property to the wealthy. The small museum has many interesting artifacts gathered from the slavery times through the 1980's. The acreage is quite large with a church and many of the old surviving buildings that are used for a conference center. All it needs is some generous donations and a dynamic director. The current website for the Penn Center does not include a map, hours of operation, or entrance fees.
Not far down the road on another island is the Hunting Island Lighthouse. After entering the park, Mike drove us on a winding road through a forest unlike any I have ever seen. The afternoon sun was filtered through the trees highlighting a variety of tropical looking plants. The word exquisite comes to mind. Walking from the car the forest thinned and the beach and lighthouse appeared. We paid another fee and climbed just over a hundred feet to the top for a spectacular view of miles of coastline. It was amazing to learn that the lighthouse was in its second location as a consequence of land erosion, having been designed for the purpose, with enormous curved concrete blocks weighing several tons each being assembled with brick lining, and the wrought iron staircase and intervening floors being bolted together.
The clock is ticking and our rental car is due in Savannah so we turned around to exit the islands, follow the tsunami signs, and find the way to Georgia. The ground is so low and flat that a rise of one foot seems like a hill. There is no quick way out and earthquakes are as much a possibility as they are in Portland. All I can envision is donning a bathing suit and climbing the highest tree. Escaping safely we arrived at our rental return with two minutes to spare.
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