Dueling GPS... (SC)

Dueling GPS - Dave's Garmin on the left, our TomTom on the right.

They acted like they were using the same map system, but would route slightly differently and advise slightly differently. We may not have had our options set the same, e.g. truck routes only, avoid toll roads, etc.

We go to Hilton Head… (SC)

After lunch we joined Cathy and Dave for a drive to Hilton Head Island, the famous luxury resort on what is claimed to be the largest island on the eastern seaboard south of New Jersey. As we approached we began to notice Ferraris and Lamborghinis.

Hilton is a centuries old name for the area, unrelated presumably to the hotel and, ah, entertainment Hiltons.

Most of Hilton Head consists of gated communities but for $5/car you can enter one of the original 1950s communities. The single family homes, nestled in trees, looked quite nice and not overdone. The condos looked like typical resort condos but did have nice pond views. Golf courses everywhere.

Dinner consisted of a couple beers at Hinchey’s on Hilton Head. The bar was Chicago sports-themed and Cathy (from the Chicago area) remembered growing up with a Hinchey that she though had moved to Hilton head. She questioned the bartender, named Mike, who turned out to be the son of the Hinchey that dated one of her bridesmaids 40 years ago. The father, unfortunately, had left just hours ago.

Mike said that hurricanes are very rare in Hilton Head, contrary to reports, but if one came it would be devastating. His restaurant/bar does a great business during the summer tourist season allowing him to stay open all year, although he does close during the Christmas season. From a visitor standpoint, he thinks the summer is the worst time to visit because of the heat, bugs and crowds; we are visiting at the best time.

Fellow traveler to Parris Island... (SC)

This monster was holding on to the back of the seat in front of us on the Parris Island bus outing. He never moved, nor did we. At least not without care.

What is it?

You will report at 0700 hours to Parris Island… (SC)

At 0700 we boarded a bus in the dark to go view a graduation ceremony at the Parris Island Marine Corp Recruit Depot, tour the base, and have lunch. How did all this come about? Why? Not sure, but our leader Jamie was a Marine pilot during Korea and is well connected throughout the Carolinas.

Twenty five minutes later we were on base only to sit in our bus for an additional 25 minutes awaiting an escort. Soon after we were on backless cold aluminum stadium seats in an equally cold breeze wishing we were still in the shelter of the bus.

All the Marine escorts and ushers wore short sleeve shirts.

A young-looking full-bird colonel came out, as he said, to warm up the crowd and answer questions. He said they wear short sleeve shirts because the general decreed winter starts Monday, and today is only Friday. [Laughter.] After a few more warm-ups he moved to another section and repeated his shtick. He was from laid-back Los Angeles and definitely didn’t match my image of a Marine colonel.

At 0900 the start of ceremonies was signaled by the parade-center arrival of a uniformed English bulldog mascot that preferred standing with his rear to the audience. The recruits then marched into formation as the wind launched caps skyward. Occasionally a uniformed observer would parade-march to a hat, pick it up, parade-march to a hatless recruit and with two hands, as if lowering a crown, cram it on the recruit’s head.

Weddings, funerals, and graduations all get to me and this was no exception, but when it concluded we were all anxious to get back to the bus. We were then guided on a bus tour by a six-year sergeant but little was visible except buildings and PT areas. She told us most of the physical training is done between 4:30 AM and 6:30 AM.

Lunch was in the NCO club and was good.

Gullah, Gullah… (SC)

For some time we’ve been hearing about Gullah culture. Gullah is unique to certain islands of South Carolina and Georgia, and in Georgia it is known as Geechee. It is a blend of African, Caribbean, and Old South (English) elements.

In Myrtle Beach Jamie showed us a professional DVD featuring a woman that goes by the name of Aunt Pearly Sue telling stories and singing in Gullah. We also saw a DVD of last year’s caravan, where Aunt Pearly Sue told stories and sang to the caravaners. Her dialect, our hearing, and the recording quality made her difficult to understand, but most frightening of all, she pulled people up on to the stage and made them participate, and that is definitely not my thing.

Tonight we had a good low country dinner (fried chicken, mashed potatoes, Frogmore Stew aka low country boil, coleslaw) at the Penn Conference Center a few miles from camp, followed by Aunt Pearly Sue in person. I, naturally, was in the 3^rd row, as far back as I could get.

She was easier to understand in person and altogether friendlier and not inclined to put us on the slavery guilt trip I expected. She commented that there was no way that that few white people could take that many blacks, that there were also black slavers. And her songs spoke not of placing blame but moving forward. Best of all, I didn’t get pulled to the stage.

Bob blows a tire… (SC)

Bob blew a tire on today’s drive.

He became aware of it when a passing motorist pointed to his trailer wheels. The tire (yes Paul) was a Goodyear Marathon with less than 4000 miles and fairly new. He removed the wheel and rather than fussing with a spare drove on three wheels to the campground. (I don’t know about other two-axle trailers, but you can do this on an Airstream, as long as you keep your speed down and limit travel to maybe 50 miles.)

Ralph had a tread blow on a Marathon and defensively replaced a second Marathon as well. This is the first flat tire since Ralph's experience..

Charleston to Beaufort…Cam and Marcia as parkers (SC)

Marcia and I left early with Jamie and a few others to ready things at Tuc De Wood (that’s Gullah) campground on St Helena Island, close to Beaufort SC. On the way we stopped at a country store called the Carolina Cider Company, featuring a variety of very good cider (I sampled a nice peach), jams, jellies, etc. Marcia selected a couple things and I bought a trip-appropriate rubber blue crab that squeals, undoubtedly sounding just like a real crab, squeezed.

Parking was easy, except for the bugs and humidity. Marcia stood with Jamie waving a red flag as Airstreamers approached so they would not miss the obscure entrance. For better or worse, the sight of a woman waving a red flag caused some non-Airstreamers to come to a halt, not sure what was going on but reluctant to pass.

I stood with my own red flag down the campground road and would halt Airstreamers, give them brochures on the area and a campground map, and direct them to the campground office.

This was an easy parking job because that was all we had to do; the campground operators would then meet each Airstream, lead it with a golf card to its assigned site, and guide it in parking. (Minus the golf cart, that is what we parkers normally do.)

This campground really is in the woods. The sites go off in many different directions to fit amongst the trees, and at dark it is incredibly—ah, dark.