Monday, June 30, 2014
Accidentally in Love...Dreher Island State Park
I did not mean to love it. Honestly, I didn't even like it. Dreher Isalnd is a nice enough place. I would have grudgingly admitted that much .... if you like to fish. I don't. The concept of fishing is nice. It brings back memories of the Andy Griffith Show and watching Opy and his dad meandering to the water with fishing poles loosely thrown over their shoulders in a quaint world drained of color. The concept of fishing resonates with relaxation, quiet sleepy afternoons and communion with nature.
The reality of fishing for me is much different. When I was little, I answered the lake's beckoning call and caught a mammoth fresh water snapping turtle. Because I was about eight at the time, the beast appeared to be a remnant from the Jurassic Period escaped from the La Brea Tar Pits to capture my line and warn me of the hubris of trying to lure any lake creature into harm's way ever again. The warning mostly stuck. Once as a newlywed, I accompanied my husband on an impromptu fishing excursion. I, of course, refused to touch a worm. I certainly would not agree to impaling the creature or to drowning it. No worm need fear me. My husband did bait a line for me to cast. I caught a pine tree.
I again abandoned angling but would occasionally hold a pole and try to look cool. For me, fishing was smelly and gross. It involved worms and dirt and mud and...well...fish. It also involved....waiting..... Vast expanses of time spent standing still, sitting motionless, letting the quiet seep around and invade you...impossible for my busy little spirit.
I am not quiet. My personality bids me always move, always stay alert, always be drawn to conversation. I love nature for its life, its incessant movement and noise. The concept of being still and waiting for a fish to fancy a bite off of a recently tortured and mangled worm is less than appealing.
Dreher Island was a park I had written off as a "boat dock". It was a pity as this park was so close to our home. With all the truly wonderful parks in the mountains and on the coast, with the many historical and cultural sites, why am I closest to this one?
And yet, proximity begs one take notice. It was impossible for me to fly to Oconee and back during the day while my children were at school. I could easily escape to Dreher Island. Proximity begged and logic beckoned and I began to spend my days at Dreher Island. I wondered trails, listened to the birds call and screech at one another, watched squirrels banter around and knock loose branches in their hurry. I saw deer- silent, gentle, alert creatures with deep brown eyes watching me and assessing any potential danger.
Slowly, Dreher Island grew into much more than just a boat dock. It became a place of quiet repose and gentle respite. I bathed in the incessant movement and constant noise of nature. It was a perfect tonic for one who craved stillness and motion- peace and activity. I could not walk by the shore and not be entertained by the water ballet of dozens of fish who at first alerted and held their position. The schools soon resumed their delightful dance and gurgled fish giggles at the silly notion that they should fear me.
I used to cringe when I told people that Dreher Island was my home park. But proximity begets encounter and encounter begets mingling, mingling...friendship and over time, friendship turns to love.
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