Paul and I went from Savannah to Charleston by taking the Intercoastal Waterway, at least a small part of it. Initially we did poke out into the Atlantic, and we timed it just perfectly for 2 or 3 meter swells, repeat thunderstorms, rain, gusts up to 30 knots. The intercoastal was lovely and allowed us to see more Gullah Geechee land, including a stop at Dafuskie island.
We anchored by the public dock in Charleston and knew we’d be there for a bit, so we decided to find some comforts of life: we needed water, as we don’t run our desalinator in the muddy, tidal river, we needed a laundromat (our washing machine is “resting”), Paul wanted to find a gym with a swimming pool, and I wanted to see some history!
Luckily Charleston delivered on all our needs and more. Paul even preferred Charleston to Savannah, although I’m on the fence about that. The houses look very different, but the city is bigger, and the history is deeper. We saw where the civil war started, houses built in the 1700’s, heard the church bells of St Michael’s, and Paul had his first She-Crab Soup.
We witnessed the opening of Spoleto- an annual arts festival and walked miles and miles through the old city. Between the Med school and the Universities, it was a walkable historic area with many conveniences and a lively population. I did laundry at the College Laundromat, and we used the gym facilities at the med school (including amazing hot showers).
Highlights of Charleston:
Anchoring at the convergence of the Ashley and Cooper rivers and hearing dolphins… so many Atlantic dolphins near us it almost became common place, almost. We’d stand on deck and hear the gasp of breath, only to see mother and baby slowly porpoising past. Also, the tide ran so fast it frequently felt like we were asea while anchored. The sound of water gurgling down the side of the boat and little skips and jumps of the bow keeping us alert and on our toes.
Paul read “South of Broad” by Pat Conroy and enriched his time there with literature. Excellent book, Conroy painted the color of the streets we walked with more recent history and local color. I’m reading it now, but as we sail more north it is becoming a memory I’m discovering – what an amazing experience to read the piece in the place.
We took a self-guided walking tour and saw a historic and gothic feeling cemetery kept by the Unitarian church since the 1700’s. A gorgeous space, full of greenery and hidden tombstones that we had walked by a half dozen times before exploring at the direction of our virtual tour guide the “WalkNTour” app. I highly recommend this tour, narrated by a gentleman with a perfect accent. a year’s subscription is (14$) and we LOVED the Charleston history tour. I cannot wait to take even more as we travel north.
Happy hour at Hyman’s: A famous restaurant; we hacked the line by getting there early, sitting at the bar, and ordering one of everything. Paul tasted his first she-crab soup here, a famous Low Country dish, and I ate hush puppies and fried pickles until my arteries squealed. As we left, the line for a table was down the street.
Martinis at Frannie and the Fox: Paul’s go to drink is a dry, gin martini, up with a twist, and in the Caribbean, he was very often disappointed. Not here. The bartender delivered, and we felt like true southerners enjoying our pre-dinner drinks.
Moving the boat to Folly beach for a few days: the beach town was fine and dandy, but our best nights were watching the full moon rise over the empty vacation beach and hearing the birds chirping. The tide change was so severe that at low tide we once walked off the back of our boat directly onto the beach and checked an old lighthouse, stepping lightly over oyster shoals. It felt like an actual dream. I wouldn’t change our time there for anything. We both awoke one night and walked on deck. The moon was so full we were bathed in silver light as we watched dolphins swim past and just marveled.
Sleepy and Bopeepy: My favorite stone lions. Frequently seen in front of old Charleston houses, my favorite were two lions with distinctly different attitudes. Paul coined the name Sleepy and Bopeepy, and it became a city landmark for us after. Now when I’m feeling tired I call myself a Sleepy or a BoPeepy.
Date night: my beloved went above and beyond, scoring tickets to my favorite band, playing one night only at the North Charleston Firefly Distillery. A night of music under the stars, eating boiled peanuts (pronounced “bow-eled-peanuts”) on our towel, making googly eyes at each other and dancing. I was totally surprised. A thoughtful gift from my person that made me feel so desperately happy for our weird little nomadic life. The stars aligned.
Our leaving was chaotic as usual. We had plans for a departure time, marred by a fouled anchor (the public dock is notorious for submerged detritus), but constrained by high and low tides. After an hour of attempted “up anchoring” we gave up and started calling river dive services. Bottom line, we couldn’t leave. And then around midnight, the tide shifted, and our anchor cleared, so we up anchored- and waited in a clearer anchorage, leaving the rivers mouth for the North Atlantic in the morning. We have a date with the Chesapeake, but for now, we are meeting the High Tiders and continuing our east coast tour.
As per usual I am writing this during the limbic time between destinations. We leave one place and have hours and days in between arriving, plenty of time to remember and write, and to prepare for the next.
More from the other side of Cape Hatteras! On Y va, ya Ding-battas.
Love
Paul and Lindsay
TIBURON MARINO 