I do not travel well. Also perhaps the nature of this particular journey—Part 2 of Trailing the Ashes or the Burial of Joan—is stirring up crap low down in the unconscious. In any case, I was an off again, on again, raving lunatic throughout the day. The day is not over yet but thankfully at this point Carol and I are still married and talking to each other. Probably a miracle considering my mood.
We went out driving in our ugly burgundy whatever car from some part of Asia, Korea, I think. We asked the kid at the front desk where to drive. He said don’t go to this one place—the Isle of Palms—I think because all you will see is BMW’s. He recommended another place called Folly Point. The name should have dissuaded us but we drove there anyway. It’s an Island. There is no end of Islands around Charleston.
This was a place along the order of Pismo Beach in California. Sort of low down, a bit tacky, really local stuff, I guess you might say. With beach houses all strung out along the main drag, mostly retails. I guess some families come there every summer and hang out to vacation a little near the water.
I turned the wrong way at the stop light and drove out towards where a light house was said to be located. So we start walking down this paved road as the sky gets darker and darker and thunder starts rolling and lightening starts cracking. We kept on going so we could see the light house.
It is pictured here with the storm gathering above it.
That was fun actually—the storm I mean. You could drive without air conditioning, with the windows open though all sorts of grit blew in. Then we got coffee at some place the name of which I forget and we asked the waitress person where to go next and she told us about a couple other islands about 30 minutes away. So we drove there; but the one we went to was so exclusive you had to have a pass to drive around it. I do not like the whole idea of gated communities. So no way was I going in there, especially not in the mood I was in…the sight of all that wealth was sure to get me ranting and raving again.
But on the way there we drove through the James’ Island State Park and it was wonderful and beautifully green, and the rain started coming down at that point to add to the very southern atmosphere, what with highways covered over with trees and moss hanging down.
So aside from ranting and feeling like a lunatic off and on, the drive was a good thing to do today. With the weather being the most interesting contributing factor. Who would have thunk it.?
Dave and Teresa drove north on 17 and were just getting back in the Charleston area when I gave them a call upon our rearrival at the King Charles Inn where once again our so-called keys did not work. Dave seemed in a good mood. They had eaten at a nice place, and they were in the middle of a downpour as we briefly spoke.
