The Wilds of Edisto

There are two entrances to Edisto Beach State Park.  The first turn off leads under a darkened canopy down a dirt road toward a small building that is office/store/camper check in and ice cream/firewood supply site.  This beach park is an eternity removed from any commercial culture.  The quiet campground could just as easily exist in the mountains alongside Oconee and Table Rock.  From the homey culture of the place, you might question your whole sense of direction but for the sand and shell ground you step down upon as you exit your vehicle.

We found Edisto quiet.  It was the kind of quiet that is not a momentary pause but rather an enduring silence.  The place was hushed and preserved.  It felt as if we had entered a bubble that had transported us into the earth’s past.  We explored further back into the park and into prehistory as we abandoned the car and struck out onto the trail.  Oak, holly, pine, and cedar mixed with palmetto fronds to border and define the ribbon of sand and shell trail that lay under our feet.  Vegetation combined with a sky darkened by clouds and the forest full of wild notes to testify that we had been transported back in time.  It was unclear whether we would spot a member of the Native American tribes of bygone days who would question our presence so near their sacred shell mound or whether we may encounter a prehistoric reptile idly chewing from the foliage of the tree tops.

Ultimately the trail led us to a marshy lookout.  We spied a large group of alligators swimming slowly around an inlet and navigating their way to dinner.  They demanded silent respect as they swam past us and up the other side of the marsh in pursuit of their meal.  Nostrils and eyes just out of the water, their tails slowly and silently swishing powerful jaws and bodies toward their repast, they were hypnotic and beautiful.  They were also creepy.  My maternal instinct fought my intellect.  My brain was intrigued at the sighting of the group.  My gut screamed to make sure my children were far from harm’s way in case the creatures thought my little ones an easier meal that what they were originally pursuing.  I gave in to compromise.  We watched a bit longer but my children had to endure my constant cajoling to back up nearer to their father and me.  The children rolled their eyes.  I shot out a mama look that would have scared even the alligators.  My children complied.

From our perch, we watched the swimming muscular teeth in silence until I began to be aware of the bright colors of the sunset.  We abandoned our watch and dove back through the trees.  The trail now escorted us back towards present time to a world of cars and electronics and a drive up the interstate and back to our own home.  I’m not sure if I have yet forgiven that betrayal.