It's been over six months since I've taken any real vacation time. Originally, I was supposed to be backpacking the Inca Trail up to Machu Picchu around this time, but travel restrictions related to the pandemic forced the cancellation of that trip. In it's place, I opted to spend four days with REI Adventures kayaking and camping along the Carolina Coast. As the trip approached, the guide service, Coastal Expeditions, was fantastic about communication and during the last week when some severe thunderstorms and high winds were looking imminent during the third they re-organized the itinerary to ensure everyone's safety. Instead of spending the entire time along the coast, we would also be spending some time kayaking through the black water swamps of the lowlands near the coast. It was a little disappointing, but I truly appreciate the guide's consideration of everyone's safety.
Day 1 - Echaw Creek to Santee River
I drove down Wednesday night after work and slept at a hotel near our meeting point. When I awoke Thursday morning, I had to quickly get ready and drive just a couple of miles to Coastal Expeditions office, where I met our guides and the other participants. It seems one group cancelled last minute and there will only be our three guides and six participants on the trip. We spend a little bit filling out waivers and sorting our gear, but after just a short time, we hope into the company's van and we're transported to our first launch point at Pitch Landing on Echaw Creek.
After unloading our kayaks, two tandems for the two groups among us, two singles for myself and the other solo adventurer, and finally the solo boats for our three guides, we spend a little time fitting them and our life jackets and then covering some basic paddling techniques. It seems everyone here has at least a little experience, which should make this a much more enjoyable trip.
Soon, we're propelled into the water with a firm push from our guides and we drift slowly into the black abyss of these swampy lowlands. The water surface here is nearly black, but when you take a handful of it from the creek and examine it, the water appears to be nearly clear. Our guides explain that the bottom is littered with decaying organic matter and due to the slow flow of the water and the preservative properties of much of the vegetation, tannins leach out of the organic matter over long periods of time and stain the water, much like a tea. So that's it, we're paddling in tea.
It sounds like most of our day will be spent in the Francis Marion National Forest exploring the wildlife and waterways here. The creek is moving, but so slowly, it's difficult to tell. The waters and shorelines around us are teeming with life. Caterpillars are everyone and I even find one on my back at some point. Many of the tree limbs hang low over the water and many previously fallen trees and branches rise up from the shallow waters to create an obstacle course for us to maneuver through. It's actually quite fun, but the swampy nature and dark waters also make one a bit trepidatious about being here in the land of alligators and water moccasins, both of which we are keenly on the lookout for. The entire setting is very surreal and it's seems something almost out of a horror movie.
At one point, we stop at a structure owned by a friend of the guide service's owner for a quick restroom break and stretch. It's really nothing more than a shack out in the swamp, but it's nice to get out of the boat for a few minutes. From the shoreline, we do end up spotting a couple of very young gators and a snack, which we aren't able to identify positively due to its position on a floating log.
After returning to the creek, we paddle a short distance further before reaching the confluence with the Santee River, where the currant really picks up. Within no time, we reach our campsite for the evening at Pleasant Hill Landing, which is a nice clearing along the shoreline, though still deep in the forest. I check our traveled distance and it seems we paddled about 5.1 miles this first day.
As dusk begins to settle, we are served a terrific jambalaya (vegetarian version for me) and we all enjoy some interesting fireside chat. It seems our guides are well versed not only in kayaking, but also in herpetology and ornithology. We spend a fair amount of time discussing the inhabitants of the forest, including the endangered Red-cockaded Woodpecker. It seems that several of the trees here have been marked with a double white band around them, indicating a nest or possible nest of one of these small rare woodpeckers. Our guides enjoy identifying the birds around us by site and even by song. It will be a theme of our long weekend.
Once everyone has finished their meal, we had down towards the water to enjoy a spectacular sunset over the Santee. While we take in the final warming rays of daylight, our guides bring out a tray with sliced strawberries and a selection of gourmet chocolates, including mint, maraschino cherry, and sea salt. Everything is delicious.
With the darkness, temperatures begin to drop and everyone decides to turn in for the night, though we will be awakened several times, through the night by the loud calls of barred owls in the trees above us. As I lay in my tent under the warmth of my backpacking quilt, I reflect back on what a great first day this has been.
Our first day on this trip was fantastic, but the second will turn out even better. It begins with a chilly wake up call around 6:00 AM. Temperatures never dropped below freezing over night, but they dipped pretty close to it and leaving the comfort of my tent just doesn't seem appealing at first. Finally, I brave the cold and begin breaking down camp. In the meantime, our guides have prepared coffee and tea for us, while they cook some scrambled eggs and sausage (again, vegetarian for me). The warmth of a hot cup of tea was just enough to get me going and breakfast is terrific. In just a very short time, we have finished eating, packed up our camp, are on our way to our next launch point.
Once again, the entire ecosystem is vibrant with life. The shorelines are covered with oyster beds and birds hover around feeding on them whenever they have a chance. Shortly after leaving the ramp, I spot the dorsal fin of a shark as it battles with something near the shoreline. The guides think it was a very young lemon shark, but we didn't get a very good look before the little guy disappeared under the waves. Luckily, it was a young one. After getting home I looked it up and full grown lemon sharks can reach around eleven feet in length.
I ask one of the guides to critique my paddling technique, as I feel that I'm working too hard and not getting very much velocity out of the boat. He observes, but says my form is pretty solid and suggests that it may be just some of the currents we are pushing through. Later, I will realize that I actually have my personal flotation device on a bit too tight and it's not allowing me exercise my full lung capacity. For now though, I just push through as we make our way to Bull Island, the largest in the Cape Romaine National Wildlife Refuge. As we approach the dock, we meet another of our guides how has brought a large boat over to pick up and transport our kayaks. As we climb up onto the dock and raise our boats from the water, she points out a bottle nosed dolphin on the nearby creek shoreline. The cunning guy is driving fish towards the shore in order to trap them for his next meal. Ingenious creatures. Total kayak distance was right at 4.5 miles, but it felt like much longer battling the ocean currants.
The interior itself is much like I remember Cumberland Island being from a trip a couple of years ago. Again, teeming with life. The mix of salt water and trapped fresh water ponds/swamps makes for a very diverse ecosystem here, which includes alligators. Lots and lots of alligators. As we make our way along the trail, we spot a dozen or so small (2-3 feet long) gators on either side of us. The guides tell us of "Mama", who often nests here. Apparently, she is a small (only about 7 feet long), but relatively ancient brooding mother of nearly seventy years old. She prefers hatching her young in these small ponds for their safety, but often patrols nearby keeping watch on our young. We never get the honor of seeing here though.
After a mile or so, we reach the beach with only the mighty Atlantic Ocean now separating us from the European and African coastlines. The sands are alive as wave after wave comes crashing in. As we walk, we find countless cannonball jellyfish washed ashore. It's amazing they aren't extinct with as many as are here. We also see a myriad of sea birds feeding on whatever the waters bring to them.
As we make our way up the shoreline towards Boneyard Beach, which is an obvious site, a flock of twenty or so pelicans flies just overhead. I didn't realize they flew in a "V" formation much like Canadian geese, but apparently they do.
Reaching the southern end of Boneyard Beach, our guides begin explaining what we are seeing. Before us and stretching for as far as we can currently see, a large number of large, decaying trees rise out of the sand. Some are still standing, while others have fallen over taking some of their root system with them. As we learn, Bull Island is moving. The ocean currants are taking sand from the northern end of the island and depositing it on the southern and on the islands south of here. These dead and dying trees are the result of the disappearing fresh water and the soils that come with it. They cannot survive in the salty ocean water and as their preferred habitat disappears, so do they. In time, they will all be washed away, much as the ones further north were washed away in eons past. It's all quite striking though. The trunks are bleached bone white, giving the beach its name, and make for an otherworldly landscape.
From here, we turn back inland and hike along man-made levees designed to preserve the fresh water pools as long as possible to protect the wildlife inhabiting them, including alligators. Lots and lots of BIG alligators. As we travel the mile or two across these levees, we see more than 50 of these guys, most of whom are eight or more feet long. Most of them are sunning themselves on the shore, but some are out patrolling the shallow waters for their next meal. As we near the end of the levee, we see the boss. While he's across the water from us (thankfully), we estimate this guy is probably twelve to thirteen feet long - big enough to make lunch of one of us. We keep our distance and he barely seems to acknowledge our presence, preferring instead to bath in the warm rays.
Now that we've reached the extreme norther end of the island, we continue down the beach again, passing by a buried ship. As we approach, I see the mast rising up and lopsided, which obviously doesn't look right. Our guide explains that it beached itself many years ago and since then has been completely covered with sand except for the visible mast a few other rails now sticking out from the sands. Apparently, the boat was abandoned at sea for some reason.
Being a much faster hiker than most of my comrades, I make my way quickly down the beach taking time to enjoy the company of a ghost crab along the way. One of my fellow participants had kept pace with me and gets into a show of aggression with the little crab as he tries to take a picture. As he moves left, the crab moves left to block him and then to the right similarly. He raises his little claws almost in a Cornholio gesture of "Are you threatening me?". It's quite a funny little dance.
Day 3 - Wambaw Creek and Hampton Plantation
Temperatures overnight were absolutely perfect for camping and I slept terrific. I'm sure the four or five glass of wine that I had last night helped a bit as well. I do note as I roll around to get comfortable in the early morning hours that I got some sunburn on my nose, forearms, and the backs of my lower legs.
I rise a bit earlier this morning and immediately begin breaking down camp and packing for today's adventure. As I walk the short distance from my campsite to the common area, I see that our guides are already hard at work getting some breakfast ready for us. I enjoy a cup of Earl Gray along with my eggs and some of the vegetarian sausages. While it takes most of the others a bit longer to break camp, we're all set to go by around 8:30 AM. Today, is an exercise in timing as we know the heavy storms are on there way and due to hit us around 2:00 PM.
So, as the others head the opposite direction up the creek, the remaining guide and myself finishing packing the van and then head for the pickup point at the Wambaw Creek Boat Ramp. Along the way, we encounter a charismatic corn snake in the middle of the road and get out for a better view. While corn snakes are not venomous, I don't want to agitate the little guy, though my companion has less concern about this and as he has some expertise in herpetology, I don't voice my concerns too loudly. He gets some great shots, but the our little slithery friend is quite angry and strikes at him and his phone several times. Eventually, with the help of a small branch, we coax the little guy off of the road and are able to continue on our path to meet the rest of the group.
Soon our companions arrive in their boats and we begin loading them up. For lunch, our plan is to stop at the nearby Hampton Plantation State Historic Site, assuming the rains hold off a bit longer. It's only a short drive to the site and once we walk to the main plantation house, the large awning and porch provide a safe and dry place for a quick meal - wraps again, but still delicious. The main house was expanded upon several times over the years, but provides a solid example of architecture during the period of slavery in the United States.
After lunch, we take a short stroll around the plantation grounds and nearing the van just in time, the rains finally begin. Originally, the plan was for us to camp tonight, but given the severity of the forecast storms, Coastal Expeditions has reserved rooms for us at a hotel in Mount Pleasant. While I love being outside and camping, a nice hot shower is never a bad thing. Arriving at the hotel well before dinner, which our guides arrange to have delivered to us, I decide to take a trip to a local brewery to taste their selections and I'm not disappointed. Getting back to the hotel a little before the expected food delivery, I kick back and relax on the comfortable bed. Soon with a knock on the door, my dinner has arrived, Greek this time. Yummy. Through the night the storm rages, but when I wake the skies seem mostly calm.
Day 4 - Quimby Creek, Cooper River, and Huger Creek
While today is the final one of our adventure, it doesn't mean it's going to be any less exciting. I get up early to repack all of my gear before leaving the hotel. When I arrive back at Coastal Expedition's office, they have prepared bagels, cream cheese, hard boiled eggs, and fruit for our breakfast. Very thoughtful!
We quickly hop in the van and depart for the Ralph Hamer Sr. Boat Landing on Quimby Creek. This area is still something of a black water swamp, but even more wide open with very few obstacles and a wide waterway to paddle in. Our guides explain that his is what happens in this ecosystem once the Cypress trees have been taken down. This was done for purposes of growing rice, formerly South Carolina's cash crop.
Soon, we reach another confluence and head up Huger Creek, which will be the last of our waterways to be paddled. After a 6.5 mile kayak trip on these waterways, we come to the our final resting place and I paddle hard to accelerate and force my boat far up the ramp. After we load up, we head back to the office to pick up our cars and head out on our respective journeys home. I give our guides a little token of my appreciation for the wonderful weekend I've just experienced, tell them and my fellow participants goodbye, and then hop in my jeep and start the long drive home. What a great weekend. I feel exhausted, but refreshed and recharged. It was a great adventure.
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