Bulls Island Cape Romain National Wildlife Refuge, SC, USA [AAW14]
Beach vacations are problematic. The draw of the ocean is always strong in me. A beach can be a beautiful thing: a long stretch of sand fading into the horizon, the rhythmic surf rolling in, a persistent salt breeze - all make me want to kick back and listen to Buffet tunes with a cold adult beverage. Sadly, most beach vacation locations are at best a collage of consumerism and overdevelopment.
For instance, high rise condos built right to the waters edge. Some beaches cannot be traversed at high tide because the condo development is so close to the ocean.
One block behind the high-rise condos, the inevitable T-shirt and other souvenir shops and restaurants under staffed with bored and insolent workers providing mediocre food, prepared unhealthily for the throngs of sunburned inlanders standing in line to eat at the latest version of the same old seafood restaurant. It is our national obsession with the monetization and subsequent degradation of a beautiful view. Of course, that is nothing new as observed by HD Thoreau in The Maine Woods, “...the mission of men there seems to be, like so many busy demons, to drive the forest out of the country.”
But, there is a way to escape. There are oases of nature in these globs of consumerism littering our shores. Most coasts are studded with National Wildlife Areas - bits and bobs of nature preserved in spite of the heavy political lobbying and financial graft of the real estate developers.
The Cape Romain National Wildlife Refuge is located an hour or so south of the violence and cruelty of the condo forest pictured above. It is a couple of hundred years from the current coastal development but not without its own evil history. The first thing European visitors did when they explored the unspoiled South Carolina coast was, "...enslave several dozen Native Americans." How nice. The only thing that works to get the evil of our ancestors out of my mind is a nice long walk.
Bulls island is about as close as one can get to a real coastal experience and provides several miles of trails. Enough to flush the brain and reset the mood. A short and cheap boat ride takes you from Garris Landing to Bulls Island and back to the way it should be. Back to the way it could be if our society cared more about beauty and less about making money at any cost to the land, the animals and the humans that inhabit a place. Oh, I forgot, I'm resetting my mood.
On my visit it was partly sunny with intermittent showers and dark clouds and a nice breeze on the seaward side of the island. The humidity hovered around 100% with 85-degree F temps so I was soaked either from sweat or from rain the entire day. Even a Gortex parka was useless at keeping me dry so I stuffed it back in my pack and enjoyed the moisture.
The island is off limits to vehicle traffic except for the NWA maintenance crews so you walk on trails that are actually dirt roads wandering through the coastal wetlands on the inland side of the island. As we disembark, the group of about a dozen people take the direct route to the beach in an attempt to avoid the voracious mosquitos. I peel off on my own and head north looking for something different - while vigorously applying DEET to fend off the blood sucking disease carrying natural wonders as I walk briskly in a vain attempt to outrun them. Within a quarter of a mile a Great Horned Owl flies across the road about 10 feet off the ground right in front of me. Then a coyote crosses heading the same way. That counts as something different. I look to where they disappeared in the brush, maybe to follow. But the growth is too thick me. I head on down the trail.
The path winds through the fresh water marshes with occasional copses of trees. As I round a corner and sleeping alligator is startled and explosively charges into the water. I am not sure who was frightened the most. The alligator disappears into the reeds. After a few minutes of deep breathing to get the adrenaline under control, I walk on.
I spot another gator in another pond and get a picture of him watching me from the far side of the pond. The log in the center of the picture, far side of the water near the reeds is the stealthy hunter.
As I watch is begins to rain and slowly and quietly another gator surfaces near where I am standing.
Nothing like an apex predator actively checking you out to add even more interest to a rainy mosquito infested stroll. It takes a moment for me to get uneasy. It is silent with only the sound of raindrops hitting the water. I suddenly have a bit of a chill - a totally involuntary reaction to the toothy visage eying me. I remember the speed of the gator I startled. It occurs to me that in a second or so this one could be on top of me. But, is it really interested? Probably not. I decide not to stay around and learn the truth.
The trail/road continues northward through the marshes to the north end of the island and loops back to the beach.
There are dead standing trees in the surf. Rising sea level? Island subsidence? I do not know why these trees are in the surf zone of the beach. But they are quite picturesque.
I wander through the dead trees wading in the surf heading south now along the Atlantic coast of Bulls Island. Nothing but the sound and sight of the coast. I expect to encounter the other folks who rode over to the island with me earlier in the day. But I see no one.
As I continue I have to wade a couple of waist deep streams flowing from the gator-filled freshwater marshes across the beach and into the sea. One stream is deep enough for a refreshing dip. I go in clothes and all. Nice to rinse the sweat off even though it will be back soon as I stroll on down the beach.
As I proceed, the snags fall behind and an immense, deserted, sandy beach fades into the horizon. I walk for a couple of hours, turn around and walk back to the trail that will take me back to the dock. I stretch out on the sand and doze for an hour then wake up a bit stiff and still soaked to the skin with sweat, freshwater and seawater but now wearing a fine coat of sand. I drink the last of my water. Eat my last peanut butter sandwich. Sadly, this lonely day must come to an end so I head back to the dock to catch my scheduled ride home.
I find my fellow islanders-for-a-day huddled in the sparse shade near the dock. The sea breeze is not hitting this side of the island and the sun and humidity are temporarily intense as we await the next shower slowly moving our way. Talk is subdued. Most seem to be still enjoying their day on the island with nothing to do but be on an island.
As the boat gets underway a slight breeze and the shade cover makes it bearable again. We head back to the mainland in the company of a dolphin occasionally surfacing behind us.