Day 1 - The Ghosts of Carolina

 Day 1 - Beaufort, SC to Falls Church, VA

I suppose that technically we began our journey the evening of June 30th when we pulled chalks for Beaufort to spend the night with my in-laws, K9 and Mary Ellen; the goal being to drop the dogs for them to look after for the month, but also to share a meal, talk about Conor's time at camp in North Carolina, and to get a good night's rest in our family home. But life is what happens when you're making other plans, and sadly, Mary Ellen began running a fever earlier in the day. This earned her an ambulance ride to the ER where she was diagnosed with Pneumonia. YUCK! She's doing better now, but was sorely missed as we shoved off from Lady's Island to begin the trip.

SIDE NOTE: We've spoken with Mary Ellen and I've gotten updates from K9 to her progress. She's on the mend, and expected to be home soon.

SECOND SIDE NOTE: For those reading who don't know my extended family, the name "K9" was born in Marine Corps aviation. It's his call-sign, and was created from his surname, "Kindsfater" being 10 letters... K+9 letters = K9.  With a call-sign / nickname like that, you lean into it! It stuck. Everybody I know calls my father-in-law "K9", and it's a nickname that's as unique as he is.

As we pulled out of Beaufort down Interstate 21 toward I-95 North, the scattered clouds made way for the breaking morning Sun over the marsh at high tide. The "Lowcountry" as it's affectionately called, is as beautiful as any place on Earth. Oyster clusters peek out of the tidal marsh, the smell of the Pluff mud hanging heavy in the humid morning air. Towering live oak trees dripping in Spanish moss dot the landscape, and Palmetto trees grow wild along water's edge while Herron and Egrets glide the flats in search of food. It's a breathtaking scene and just one of the many reasons Sara loved the Lowcountry so. Both Conor and I took note and breathed it all in. As the big black truck lumbered down the empty highway, we shared a very heavy emotional moment bringing us to the edge of tears. We were certainly feeling Sara's presence, and the knowing that we would not see our beloved Palmetto State for a month weighed heavy.

Just then my navigation app cracked to life and provided instruction to take the next turn toward Old Sheldon Church. "Our first stop." I said to Conor. He looked at me and, wiping tears from his eyes said, "What is it"? I explained that Old Sheldon Church was built in the 1700s, burned down during the Revolutionary War, rebuilt, then burned down again during the Civil War on Sherman's "March to the Sea" campaign. It's protected by the National Historic Society and is considered haunted, too. A wonderful first stop.

Conor and I walked the grounds, minding the many tombstones until coming across one that was covered in coins. I still don't know the significance of the coins or why they were placed there, but we walked back to the truck to gather a couple of quarters, and we went back to the gravestone to make our offering and share a quiet moment. If it would bring us good fortune on our journey, it would certainly be worth the time and donation.

From there we headed North, blasting up I-95 through a deluge of rain, until there upon the horizon, we saw it... Buc-ees! We'd heard tales of the World's most perfect gas station, but never set eyes on it, and then there it was... One-hundred and twenty gas pumps. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY GAS PUMPS!? And inside? Fresh barbecue, a beef jerky bar, home goods, hunting/camping/fishing gear, tee-shirts, novelties, and of course, endless coolers and shelves filled with snacks and refreshments. It's Shangri-La!!!  Barbecue and Gasoline?! Suddenly Julie Andrews is ringing in my head, "and these are a few of my favorite things..."

We stopped at Buc-ees for fuel and lunch and gave a quick look around for a place to buy fireworks only to learn that our best bet would be at "South of the Border" - a kind of novelty circus-town to break up the monotony of Interstate 95, and the last stop in South Carolina before crossing into North Carolina.

A side effect of living in South Carolina is, any time you leave the State to visit family or friends around either New Year's Eve or the Fourth of July, you're picking up fireworks! The Cackalack gets the GOOD stuff! So Conor and I were all too happy to stock up for the coming Fourth of July!

What should have been an eight and a half hour journey ended up closer to eleven thanks to all the stops (and of course, DC area traffic contributed to that as well), though we eventually made it to Falls Church, VA where our hosts prepared brisket, ribs, and all the fixins... 

Given the heavy start to the day, we'd say Day 1 was a success! Stay tuned - more to come...