Hunting Island Scenes Part Seven

"I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floatin' around accidental-like on a breeze. But  I think maybe it's both."

Quote from Forrest Gump in movie by the same name

I allowed myself the rare treat of a  souvenir from Hunting Island, South Carolina. It's not like me to ever buy  souvenirs.  I am on a teeny tiny budget plus I live in a small mini-motorhome. But a coozie cup is very handy for me since the only tumblers I have in the motorhome are stainless steel and kept in the freezer for icy cold drinks.  Being a southerner, I love iced tea. In my case, I drink copious amounts of green iced tea for health reasons. My stainless steel cups fit the coozie perfectly, providing a built-in coaster as well as insulation. 


The Vietnam scenes from Forrest Gump were filmed at Hunting Island in the jungle and marsh.  Indeed the shrimper scenes were also filmed around Beaufort, South Carolina. Beaufort (pronounced Bue-Fort) is the closest town to the island, at 21 miles away, down highway 21. 


In the movie, they often showed a feather falling in the scenes. I can see why, because while I was at Hunting island, this phenomenon kept happening to me too. Suddenly out of nowhere, a feather would come wafting down from the heavens, right before my eyes. It seemed to happen to me several times a day. Harley would often jump and leap to try to catch the feather. Once caught, he was unsure what to do with it next. 

The feather represents the journey to destiny, free and random like dumb blind luck. It  simply floats about on the breeze, no direct route and no known destination. (Gee whiz, does that sound just like me or what?)

 The ocean tosses up driftwood on a regular basis at this island.

I was surprised to find a big jellyfish in October. He was beached as the receding tide gently left him behind. He is over 12 inches in diameter.

 A lone sailboat on the sea. I was surprised to see him so close, as the waters are shallow with hidden sandbars. As a child at this exact same island and beach, I fell in love with islands, oceans and boats. Incredibly, as an adult, all three played a major role in my life as I spent over two decades messing about in boats at sea, working and sailing to exotic islands. 

As a child at this island, we used chicken necks and kite string to lure in crabs, which we scooped up with a net, depositing them into a bucket. When we had caught enough for our supper, we took them home to boil in a big pot on the stove. They were delicious. Mom taught us how to distinguish the boy crabs from the girl crabs and how to pick them apart for their delicate tasty meat.

I figure there is nothing wrong with splurging on  edible souvenirs, so I bought some of Joe Trapp's yellow grits. I love yellow grits though I am not fond of the common white version. In the camp store, the food choices were limited and mundane, save for these wonderful yellow grits grown and ground in South Carolina.


They also make an exquisite base for heavenly casseroles. Sometimes I make a quickie version in the microwave. First I cook the yellow grits. One serving  takes about 5 minutes.  The method is 3 to 1, with 1 part grits to 3 parts water. Once cooked, I then  add beaten eggs, cheese and bacon bits, stir that into the grits, then cook again to let the eggs set and the cheese melt. 


Many folks like their grits with copious amounts of butter and salt. I do add sea salt to my grits for sure, once they are cooked. 

Although the Spanish Moss appears so large and heavy, it's very light, hanging off a delicate limb as shown here. It likes humid moist warm weather for growing. It's not a parasite, it just likes to hang about on oak and cypress trees, though it will sometimes attach to other trees as well except it generally avoids evergreens. 

This was my second campsite, as we had to break camp and move further into the jungle, in order to extend our stay. Us,  being me and the goofy dog. I took a final picture of our spot, before setting out on the road again. I am backed up close to the jungle. I don't want to leave, not now, not ever.

While the campground roads are paved, the sites are not. The roads are one lane and marked for one way traffic. I preferred the roads when they were paved in sand and seashells. It was like that before progress hit and the big heavy rigs complained of getting stuck too often. 

Some people just can't appreciate natural beauty. I met a camper with a mega rig who loudly declared "What they need to do here in this campground,  is chop down 90% of these trees so the big rigs can get in and out easier!  They also need to pave over the campsites and get rid of this sand."

I so wanted to knock him silly into the very  next state... clearly he didn't belong at Hunting Island. There are plenty of ugly RV parks with excess pavement and lack of trees for people like him. Why he chose to come to this gorgeous park and complain about nature, is incongruous. He went on to inform me "They also need to put dumpsters in all the camping loops, this business of having the garbage so far away is downright inconvenient."

I so wanted to say to this rude little man, "The exit is that way mister!" But I held my tongue and gave him my silly grin I reserve for fools. 

This is Delaware State Park in Delaware, Ohio with my camper in back, taken last summer.

I think that camper should take himself to Delaware State Park in Delaware, Ohio. Last summer, I ended up at their ugly campground and I am so sorry I did. The office is miles from the campground, so I had no idea until after they had my money, that the place was so ugly. Every campground loop had a huge overflowing dumpster as their focal point, right in the middle of the camp area. That is my rig in the background, in the spot they assigned me. It was my first (and last!) visit to that park. They had no pride in their state park at all. I even called the office, to tell them the garbage was overflowing.  They told me "Someone will pick it up next week."  I wanted to capture the cat-sized rats in this picture that were munching on the garbage, but I startled them and they ran for the woods to hide. One was bigger than my dog!  

At Paris Mountain State Park in South Carolina, a ranger explained to me that the  state park system, in an attempt to preserve the beauty of nature, has removed all their garbage collection cans and dumpsters, instead settling on one central garbage dump in each park. I personally prefer looking at nature rather than  looking at scattered garbage dumps. I think it was a very smart move on the South Carolina state park system.  The walk to the dump area was refreshing for both me and doggy. It may be a tad more inconvenient, but the trade off of beauty instead of garbage dumps, is well worth it in my book of happiness. 

Another camper was telling me about a campground they went to on the Florida panhandle ages ago, that was so close to the ocean, they kept a big tractor around, to pull the RV's back out of their sandy spots when it was time to leave, should they dig in and get stuck.

The marsh that surrounds half the island is sometimes dry and other times water logged.

The narrow bridge from Hunting Island includes a traffic light, to alert drivers when the draw bridge is about to open. If you should see an 18 wheeler crossing the bridge, you best wait on the other side until he has crossed, otherwise you might lose your RV mirrors as you pass him.

A final farewell to the low country, as it is commonly called along the coast of South Carolina. Once again, it left tears in my eyes. I always feel so at home here and I have no idea why. 

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