Tom Yawkey Wildlife Center

We have been anchored by the Tom Yawkey Wildlife Center, a contiguous collection of islands and waterways established for research on Winyah Bay. Fish are jumping, but I don't know if the cotton is high. Here are the entries for the last couple days.

Wednesday, May 6 (My mom's birthday)

Just after I published the last entry, the wind changed and we became acutely aware of how malodorous the emissions from the paper factory really are. The sulfurous stench arising from using various compounds to process wood pulp for kraft paper is indeed overwhelming. Fortunately, the wind shifted again after a few minutes and the full-on olfactory assault abated, but a faint miasma persisted throughout the night as the drone of the factory, like the sound of a mosquito by your ear—but a mosquito that you can’t swat away or kill—continued, punctuated by occasional loud clangs and another sound like gravel being poured from a dump truck. Needless to say, the anchorage was not idyllic in any sense.

Our goal was to leave the area as soon as possible, but first we needed provisions. After breakfast, we kayaked over to the city dock of Georgetown with our reusable grocery bags and then walked past some lovely old homes until we reached the rather abrupt end of the arboreal historic district and discovered the golden arches! I went in to McDonald’s and purchased a Diet Coke (because I prefer fountain sodas), and then we walked two more blocks, cutting through empty parking lots, to reach the Piggly Wiggly, a southern grocery chain store. Actually, the history is quite interesting. Piggly Wiggly was the first self-service grocery store. The first location was opened in 1916 in Memphis, Tennessee, The custom before this innovation in shopping was for customers to give a list to a clerk, who then collected your items for you. Black and white photographs of the original store show that people, both women and men, all fashionably dressed, entered through a turnstile and then followed the maze-like aisles, with pyramid stacks of canned goods in the middle of them, politely staying in line and carrying their few items in their arms as they made their way back to the front. There, a clerk at a check-out counter tallied their purchases and collected their money before they exited. Piggly Wiggly is credited not only with creating self-service shopping but with giving rise to impulse shopping and to an increase in product packaging aimed at brand recognition. The retail model was so successful that franchises opened all over the southeast of the U.S. 

Piggly Wiggly is a smaller supermarket than I am used to, but we were able to find everything we needed, including 2-liter bottles of Diet Coke and fresh produce. Peter purchased a southern meal of fried shrimp, macaroni and cheese and cooked collard greens, which, to his surprise, came with a cup of iced tea, not the kind he usually drinks but the southern version, which is overly sweetened (unless you are used to it). Outside the store, Peter tried to summon a Lyft or Uber ride, but there was no response on the apps. Luckily, we had five sturdy reusable bags and a backpack, so we loaded the groceries into them and set off to walk the mile back to the dock. On the way, we paused to put down the load and rest our shoulders when we came to an historic market in front of a nineteenth century house that was being totally renovated. The contractor came out and chatted with us, sharing some of its history. 

Pastel home in Georgetown

Home behind wrought iron fence

We had thought that Peter might have to make a couple of runs with the groceries from the dock to Mantra, but we were able to load everything onboard, with bags between our legs, and paddle back using improper but non-splashing strokes. I quickly stowed the food while Peter prepared for departure. We could not wait to get away from the stink. Perhaps we should have, because it was low tide and coming up on a full moon. We attempted passage through the shipping channel on the opposite side of an island from town and the recreational channel, but it is not used regularly, and we got stuck a couple of times until we turned around, after being contacted by a local by VHF radio and advised to use the other channel. There is a bar separating the channel into the town docks and anchorage from the ICW, and it was tricky finding our way across it, but we made it into deeper water. 

Two hours later, having passed through a straight man-made canal, the type of Army Corps of Engineers’ construction that give the ICW the nickname “The Ditch,” we found a well-protected, tranquil anchorage in Duck Creek, with no buildings or other boats in sight. The view over verdant marshes is only interrupted by stands of trees. Lately, the sunsets have not been as spectacular because the round ball of fire simply disappears without fanfare behind the dense woods. Even though the ditch-like part of the ICW was not as lovely as its natural meandering waterways, it did afford close sighting of majestic bald eagles in flight and on perches high in the trees. As I watched one of them with my binoculars, he carefully watched us going by, his bold white head slowly turning to track our progress. 

The wind became gusty tonight, registering as high as 27 knots, but other than the sound of the wind in the rigging, it is quiet here.

Thursday, May 7

The morning was chilly, necessitating layers and wool socks. However, the temperature rose into the low 70’s by mid-afternoon and the direct sunlight was warm, so I changed to a swimsuit to do just a little bit of spiffing up of metal on the stern of the boat, particularly the swim ladder and the supports for the life raft. Three and a half hours later, I had applied polish and vigorously rubbed every stanchion, cleat and turnbuckle as well as the support structure for the bimini and solar panels and the chain plate (which required hanging over the toe rail) and then followed my tracks on the deck, up one side of the 56-foot hull and down the other, buffing everything to a bright shine. (This would have looked good on the dock in Charleston, although it would not in any way meet the standards of the megayachts.) 

Throughout the day, dozens of swallows had amused us skimming over the surface of the water, lifting up toward the heavens and swooping down from above, acrobatic in their movements. As the sun began to descend in the west, unseen owls began communicating with each other and continued past the time we went to bed. (I probably could have identified by the pattern of their hooting, but I did not bother.) The air was still, and the full moon obscured the brightness of most of the stars in the clear sky. The placid surface of the water glistened in the lunar light. 

Friday, May 8

I woke up very late, not having slept well (perhaps because I had trouble keeping warm but was loath to get out of bed to fill my hot water bottle). The wind is strong and gusty again and the skies are overcast. We are remaining in this anchorage at least through tonight until calmer conditions prevail. Eventually, we will make it to the Chesapeake!