“Walking the Low Tide Line”
– By William J Mullen
Edisto Beach, South Carolina
August 3, 2017 2:35 A.M
The world would be, should be, quiet at this hour. It would be, should be, peaceful. But, deranged monsoon like weather took over. Rain dumping down in surreal quantity. Streets flooded. The noise of the rain out here on my little back porch, deep in the Low Country, on the humid South Carolina coast – is deafening. And that’s just the rain. Forget about the the ‘flash bang’ thunder knocking the breath from your lungs, shaking body and structure.
The last couple of days here on Edisto Island have been magic. A special kind of magic that only places, only places, that still retain the pace and quality of a bygone era can offer.
Now I’m not talking Victorian, or post War. No, I’m talking closer to home. The kind of magic we had here in the States, when we travelled in the seventies and earlier eighties. Traveling with our parents, in Oldsmobile, and Chevy station wagons – riding in the back back – rear window down. Hell, sometimes the rear door down too – feet hanging off.
Cozy places you would go to. Where nothing was fancy. No big city outlets. No renowned patisserie. No top shelf sommelier.
But that didn’t matter then. And in real terms – if you stop and consider it – it doesn’t, and shouldn’t today.
No, there are qualities that far outweigh the fancy, the frivolous.
Real Qualities . . .
Simplicity. Relaxation. Stress free. Happiness. Family.
Those are true qualities. Easily found, rediscovered, or conveyed – on Edisto Island.
Edisto is a small island town I like to think of as a “store and a half” town. The Bi-Lo is the most serious grocery store, and the liquor store – Sea Spirits, is adjacent at the intersection of Palmetto blvd. and Jungle Road. There is a large pay to play ice machine in front of the liquor store, and a Horizon gas/convenience mart next door as well. Across the street from the Bi-Low and the Horizon is Finns, a full service sit down restaurant right on the beach. Finns offers breakfast, lunch, and dinner menus. Mostly focused on sea-fare, Finns does offer a variety of other meals including, sandwiches, burgers, and salads.
The state park, Edisto Beach State Park is located near all of these conveniences, at the eastern end of Palmetto blvd. The park offers camping for trailers, as well as for folks looking to tent. The park has swimming, fishing, walking, picnic shelters, boating access, even wireless internet for the always connected crowd.
Down the island is a small outpost – a restaurant called Whaleys Store – offers an extensive menu of Lowcountry seafood dishes, as well as fried seafood, and burgers.
Edisto really is a throwback.
~
Earlier on Palmetto Blvd . . .
There were big family goings on tonight. Dozens, I mean dozens – of family members, all festooned in tie dye garb, painstakingly crafted for this event . . . filtering out to the beach for group rioting, merry making – and pictures.
Some serous sheep dogging was needed to herd the group into position. That was clearly not my job. Being busy – er – guilty of trying to capture the moment in a series of in your face to the point video interviews – I was far too distracted to be useful.
I was, in fact, sheep dogged myself on several occasions. Woof.
We took our pictures. With all of our people . . . 50 . . . 60? Damned if I know. A bloody lot. A fine and friendly man who was wondering on the beach named Pat O’Brien worked the cameras for us. He took many photos of our group and seemed to relish his role . . . I suggested perhaps he was getting an hourly wage at union rates. He laughed. All seemed a success.
After dinner the children ramped up to warp speed, and noting the overabundance of the children’s energy levels relative to the adults energy and focus, I fled . . . with beer.
Well truth be told, the ocean had been calling me all day. Beckoning. Moaning. Living in my thoughts. Finally the time came. The impetus. The freedom.
I walked across the empty four lane – Palmetto Blvd – to the sea. A few cars slowly creeping at me from a great distance, lights dazzling in the salt air. Beach access 2. I found some family, from one of the other rental houses – 7 in all this year, spread up and down the beach – enjoying the evening sea. I crouch and talk for a bit.
The tide is low now. The beach is a different creature.
All of the children, boogie boards, easy-ups, sunbathers . . . all gone. Off eating, dining, drinking, laughing, spreading aloe over sun burned skin.
A few surf casters are out there, and I stop to chat with one group. A dad and two boys. . . . said the boys were hoping for flounder. I asked if they had any luck. He smiles and laughs a pleasant southern laugh, “Nope. Not really,” he says, as his smile widens he holds up his beer. Perfect. I should have recognized it right away – they were fishing, he was sitting on the cooler.
Quality time.
The beach was firm and cool at the low tide line. Sand well packed and sifted. Easy to walk in. Pure joy, feet on beach sand, can of Founders Brewing Company’s “All Day IPA” in hand. Pure joy.
I was taken by a few plovers running on the beach, skirting the tide, running fast on their little twig like legs – legs moving so fast as to blur.
I looked away from the plovers at just the right time. The sunset was peaking over Edisto Beach.
The sky was carrying formations of heavy black clouds – rain bearing clouds. Clouds bearing our near term future.
The setting sun caught the clouds hovering there – over the island – and painted them an electric burgundy. And, for a brief moment – a snapshot of time, really – the color and the contrast in those clouds, so intense, so vivid . . . so temporary.
Shortly the sunset was fading as all things do in time. Day shifting to night, one day turns to the next, dinner turns into rounds of cocktails on the screen porch – conversations with friends, family, family of friends. The evening makes way for slumber – small children fast asleep twisted in unlikely positions and drooling – dreaming. Adults washing the last of the evening’s dishes before retiring themselves – to snore long hollow songs through the night.
I think about these realities as I walk the low tide line – here on Edisto Beach, South Carolina.
I think about the lessons the sunset – the sun – teaches us each day. Appreciation. It begs us appreciate – our lives, the place we are standing, our planet – everything. It teaches us how to appreciate everything. That, my friends is a gift, and lesson of monumental proportion for those who will accept it, really see it.
But even before that – before you learn your daily lessons – you need to decide to walk the low tide line, to look for the setting sun, to make the time, and feel the love.
Making time, yeah – make some time to visit Edisto Beach. Like watching the sunset, you’ll appreciate every minute.
So I sit here, rain pounding on the roof of the screen porch in unit 603, Ocean Ridge. The streets are filling with rain.
I take a long sip of my drink and look at the time. Slipping towards 4 A.M. Time for bed.
We’ll be back out there, walking the low tide line by 10:30.
Gotta love Edisto Beach.
William J Mullen 