NOTE: Some paddling actually takes place far down the story.
We set off 5:00am-ish on Saturday morn for our week of canoe camping down south, planning to car camp and stage gear Saturday night at Colleton State Park, South Carolina before putting onto the Edisto River for a downriver camper.
While stuck in the ubiquitous traffic jam on I-95 in North Carolina I was checking the trucker’s channel on the CB, looking for parallel route advice, when a young lady hopped out of the stopped vehicle next to us and opened the trunk to get something. Traffic began moving again and, instead of scurrying back into her seat, she hopped into the trunk and her partner drove off.
Proudly waving her hard won can of Coke she attempted several times to exit the trunk as traffic stopped only to have the driver accelerate again. Finally fed up with riding in the trunk, she waited for the next slow down and hopped out.
MISTAKE. I knew this was a mistake when I saw her dismounting. Don’t ask me how I know, but, trust me, I know – jumping from a moving vehicle rarely works out the way you anticipate. End-over-end she went, rolling down the pavement. Luckily not squashed by the next car in line, she escaped with some road rash and a well-shaken Coke.
Little did we know that this was the first of many calamitous incidents to occur in the following week.
Arriving at Colleton State Park (a “paddler’s” park on the Edisto, a scant 3 miles east of I-95) in good time we set up camp and waited for our boat-laden companions to arrive. We enjoyed a long talk (well, more of a “listen” actually) with the Park Ranger, Mr Frank Cole, who regaled us with a tale of driving a ’57 Ford “fresh outa the speed shop” cross country on old Route 66 at high speeds, always staying at least 100 miles ahead of the State Police roadblocks.
Little did we know this was the first of many tales we would enjoy hearing from Frank.
Waiting for Ben & Kathy to arrive as dusk drew on we began to play the “Is that them?” game as the occasional car turned into the campground. Nope, never t’was.
As we were preparing to call it a night Ranger Frank again strolled up to our site, announcing “You prolly ain’t gonna wanna hear this but yer friends done blowed an engine”. Ben & Kathy had thrown a main rod bearing in their van and were stranded in a Stucky’s (stuck at Stucky’s?) up close to the NC/SC border. Frank had a telephone number for us to call.
Little did we know this would be the first in an increasingly convoluted series of telephone calls.
Using Diane’s cell phone to call the number (my first ever cell phone call – little did I realize…) we discover that we had reached Kathy’s sister Barb in Maryland. How to reach Ben & Kathy…their cell phone? Nope, they are stranded in a no-cell-service area, using a pay phone to call out. We could give them our cell phone number…but we don’t know it.
OK, how can we find out what our cell number is. Hmmm, hang up and have Barb dial *69. We try it. Doesn’t work with cell phones. Hmmmm, dial out on our phone “2002006969″ (try this on your phone at home or work; dialing 2002006969 will get you a voice that tells you your own phone number). Nope, that trick doesn’t work with cell phones either.
In fact, nothing works. If you don’t know your own cell phone number, you can’t get it, no way, no how. Not even from your cellular company.
Finally we talk to Barb one last time and decide to pack it in for the night. We’ll find them tomorrow, if it means cruising through the parking lot of every Stuckys on I-95.
Up early the next morning we get another call from Barb. Ben & Kathy, true connoisseurs of parking lot camping, have coaxed another half mile out of their engine and moved from the Stuckys down the road to a truck stop – Citgo/Wendy’s/Dairy Queen/Krispie Kream – good move…after all, how many pecan log rolls can one family eat?
Barb has the phone number for the truck stop; we finally speak directly to our lost friends and convince them that the best course of action is for me to come get them and their gear, bring them down to Colleton to camp for the night and we’ll deal with the van on Monday.
I find them picnicking in the Citgo parking lot, blankets spread on the asphalt, making the best of it. Load up their gear, their boats, their kids, their dog and head back to Colleton. Together again, the kids commence playing and the adults begin conjuring plans.
In the event of some vehicular calamity, a true Duckhead will stop, evaluate the situation, and ask themselves “What Would Dave Do?” (WWDD). Duckhead Dave is famous for his stylish escape from problems, vehicular and otherwise.
WWDD? Well, Dave would rent a truck and car trailer and carry on. (Dave is also famous for carrying on…so to speak). So, Ben calls Ryder and books a truck and trailer for the following day. I’ll drive them and their gear/boats/kids/dog to the Ryder place and we’ll make plans >from there.
Plans made, we enjoy another lengthy visit from Ranger Frank, this one featuring a long and convoluted story about a visit to Cuba, selling black market cigars, Castro as a professional wrestler in the Carolinas in the early 50′s…with sidebars on the Klan, area race relations and customs, local politics, more souped up cars and encounters with the highway patrol. We quietly note that Frank has a different last name in some of these stories. Gotta wonder about that….
Next morning we pack up their gear and drive ëem up to get the truck & trailer. The plan that evolves is for Ben and Kathy and kids to cram into the truck, kids sharing the middle of the bench seat, stuff the dog in the van on the trailer, and most likely just hightail it home. Although, in the plan B scenario, they could meet us half way home at Merchants Mill Pond and still manage to wet a boat on this trip.
At Ryder shop Ben goes in to sign his life away while Kathy and I hang in the parking lot. Kathy wanders over to check out the truck, hops down and slips away to whisper into Ben’s ear those devastating words…”bucket seats”.
BUCKET SEATS!?!
OK, so much for plan A. And Plan B. Plan C calls for Ben, one kid and the dog to take the truck, trailer, van, canoes and gear north to Merchants Mill Pond. I’ll take Kathy, one kid and minimal gear back to Colleton and we’ll head to Merchants in the morning. Won’t Diane be surprised to see me return with Kathy and Sam?
Hmmm, now there is an opportunity. Diane is fully expecting me to come back solo. Plans are made to drop Kathy off at the Park entrance and for Sam to hide in the back of the van. I’ll pull into our site, get out and crack a beer and Sam will come bursting out of the van a few minutes later, claiming to have stowed away ëcause he didn’t want to go home yet. Hoo, boy, can’t wait to see Diane’s reaction to this trick.
Arriving back at Colleton I drop Kathy off at the Park entrance and Sam hides in the back of the van. A police car flies by, lights flashing and siren wailing. Another police car blocks the entrance to the camping area. I squeeze past to discover all manner of fire and rescue vehicles parked at our campsite. This can’t be good.
I anxiously walk to the edge of the river and with great relief see my kids safe and sound amidst a crowd of people at waters edge. “What’s going on guys?” I ask. “A kid drown…Mom is out there swimming and diving for him”.
Diane was sitting at the rivers edge, watching Tyler and Cooper swim when she heard “Help..HELP!..my brother drown”. Diane takes off running upriver towards the voice, followed by another young lady who was also near the river. Another bystander takes off to make the 911 call.
Diane finds a shocky young man at the waters edge, shouting that his brother has gone down. Turning to the other would-be rescuer Diane asks “Can you swim?”. Yes, fortunately, both Diane and the other lady have lifeguarding histories. Diane knows CPR – there’s a chance…
Into the water they go, holding hands and diving, hoping to find the kid while there is still time. Visibility in the water is zero. The current is washing along at 4 mph. Both swimmers make repeated attempts, running back upriver after the current sweeps them out of the search area (they’ve had the foresight to mark the target area with a towel left on the riverbank).
Finally, Search & Rescue, the Police, Fire and Ambulance teams arrive on the scene. Boats and divers in the river, searchers on the banks…they never find a trace. We are all plenty spooked. Ranger Frank stops by again to introduce his wife, give us some fresh picked strawberries and tell us a few more stories. It begins to rain and, still a bit spooked, we all turn in.
Next morning the brake it down and pack it up. And up and up. Packed up like mini-van Oakies in fact, with drybags lashed under the canoes on the roof, absurd amounts of gear stuffed into every nook and cranny inside, three kids on the back seat, one adult on the floor, two adults in the front seats…Merchants Mill Pond or Bust!
Ranger Frank stops by to see us off with directions to the local pick-yer-own strawberry fields. We stop and pick a few baskets and then it’s back on the road again. I realize that this is my 6thrunning of the Canadys-to-Oak Grove route in the past 4 days. If anyone needs information on I- 95 through South Carolina, I’m your man.
(The Edisto, where we never actually wetted a boat this trip, is a fine blackwater camper. There is an outfitter just across the river from Colleton State Park on Rte 15. The sections between Rte 21 and Givans Ferry, about 40+ miles total are recommended for both paddle camping and day trips.)
We drive north into the rain. Hit a grocery store and resupply in the rain. Check in at Merchants Mill Pond in the rain*. Pack the canoes in the rain*. Paddle in in the rain*. Set up tarp and tents in the rain*. Cook supper in the rain*. Long, wet day…we go to sleep in the rain.
* – Guess how glad I am to have finally replaced my old, worn, leaky Gortex with a new rainsuit!
We awake Wednesday morning to the sound of wild turkeys gobbling in our campsite. Our site is strewn chaotically with damp gear, but in a flurry of activity breakfast is on the stove, coffee is perking, 70′ of clothsline is strung and a fire is started.
This turns out to be a rare all-day fire. Downed wood is abundant at the group canoe in sites at Merchants Mill Pond and we keep this fire going all day, drying kid socks and shoes (with the inevitable flaming socks and melted soles…happens every time, ya know?).
Whilst drying out we begin to get settled and comfy in our new campsite. Three hammocks go up (three hammocks + four kids = unending rivalry for hammock space), a sapling is selected for the backwoods tetherball tree (small beach ball tied to a tree with 6 feet of string) and the first of a series of highly competitive all-terrain Bocci games gets underway. (Note: Our thanks to the Wampanoag Paddlers for their recommendation of all-terrain Bocci as the canoe campers sport of choice).
Post-lunch several of our group elect to take a day-hike, others opt for a short paddle ëbout the swamp. The hikers return to camp with tales of encountering lost hikers and more lost hikers, all of them ill-prepared for even a simple dayhike (the idea of the “ten essentials” seems unknown hereabouts…we did notice some commonality of gear among local hikers…the southern “two essentials” – a NASCAR tee shirt and a pack of Marlboros).
Close to dusk three boys wander into our campsite, no map, no food or drink, no raingear and no idea where they are. They have been hiking for hours without a clue. One asks “How do we get back to the parking lot?” “Which parking lot”, I ask, showing them a trail map of the park. “The one with the cars” they reply brightly. We rehydrate them, give them something to eat and Diane & Kathy lead them back through the swamp for a few miles ëtill they’re on the correct trail. One of the boys, pointing to the backcountry outhouse complains “They oughta have more of them guard posts along the trail”. En route back from delivering the boys to safety Diane & Kathy encounter the boy’s parents, also lost and wandering in the swamp cluelessly, and set them on the correct trail too. Having dealt a serious blow to the Darwinian evolution of the human species in the Carolinas, Diane & Kathy return with the setting sun and we all gather round the still blazing, all-day campfire for an evening of sit-and-sip.
Thursday morning dawns bright and sunny…”dawns” is the operative word too, since the boys are up and about with sunrise.Their reward for early rising is a glimpse of one of the secretive and seldom seen Merchants Mill Pond alligators. The adults rise later to find that the kids have already attended their own breakfast needs and have rekindled last night’s fire…what service – I always knew the kids would be good for something eventually. Thus begins a lazy, hang-around-the-camp-and-read-a-book kinda morning. Towards lunchtime we finally got moving about a bit, packed some lunches and took an exploratory day paddle down into Lassiter Swamp.
Lassiter may be one of the prettiest, most visually pleasing swamp runs on the east coast; crowded with large cypress, festooned with Spanish moss…turtles galore, beaver, snakes (including many water moccasins), slimy salamanders…while overturning logs during a salamander hunt on a swamp edge hillside the kids “discovered” an Indian arrowhead*.
Back at camp we renew the all-terrain Bocci series and Tyler “discovers” another arrowhead nestled in the roots of an overturned tree.*
* NOTE: Surprisingly, only Ben suspected some trickery in the continuing appearance of these Indian arrowheads – I had been salting the area with stone arrowheads for the kids to find.
Company arrives. Vic, with a growing reputation of dependability, paddles in. Vic also has a growing reputation for buying new boats; this trip he is making his inaugural outing in his spanking new Impex Diamante seakayak. Although Vic’s boat purchases continue to progress towards boats with more room for gear storage he has yet to evolve into a “real” paddler and buy a canoe. But I’m sure, if we continue to hound him mercilessly, he’ll become a canoeist eventually.
Unpacking, Vic learns his first lesson about seakayak gear storage – when packing a seakayak never force large eggs into a small hatch.
Dusk settles over our campsite again and an evening of serious single barrel bourbon sipping and summer canoe camping trip plans (Maine? Adirondacks? Ontario?) commences. Both the sipping and the planning continue long into the night.
Friday morning dawns fair, and gets even fairer as Vic dons his toque and begins grilling venison sausage over the fire. Post breakfast more company arrives; another group of canoe campers approaches the group sites and begins to demonstrate a paddling style universally known as “raw, untutored novice”.
Attempting to make landfall, they head into the thickest patch of cypress trees and roots they can find. Instead of paddling gently and slowly maneuvering their way through this obstacle course they repeatedly blast in full speed ahead, slamming into trees and careening off cypress knees until they are hopelessly hung up somewhere, loudly shouting and cursing all the while. We are disheartened to note that they are heading for the group campsite adjacent to ours. Ever the helpful good Samaritan, I hustle over to the waters edge and offer to “guide” them to an easier landing sight.
Whadda ya know, that “easier” landing site takes them to the more distant third group site – far, far away from our site. And it turns out not to be all that much easier after all, as they continue to flail about at high speed. One unexpected benefit of this display of paddling ineptitude is their declaration that “Christ, we ain’t gettin’ back in them boats ëtill its time to go home”.
Safe in the knowledge that the demolition derby is grounded for the duration we set off for another swamp exploration; this time paddling towards the north east end of the swamp, stopping to check out the family canoe-in campsites. Merchants offers 3 group canoe in sites, each with a maximum capacity of 50 people, and seven family canoe in campsites. The group sites are reservable, the family sites are first come first serve. We’ve not had much company at any of the sites and only saw one family at the family sites. Surprising, considering the beauty of the place and the incredibly reasonable dollar-a-person-a-day cost.
Back in camp Vic again demonstrated his mastery of campfire cookery, serving us a dinner of venison roast, sauteed mushrooms and onions and potatoes. Vic is hereby proclaimed official chef of the Duckheads and invited to feed us on any and all trips in the future.
Our last evening drew on in customary fashion, sitting and sipping ëround the campfire, laughing, teasing and telling tales.
Next morning we slowly packed it up and paddled it out. Racking boats and gear at the take out we met some nice folks from the Carolina Canoe Club and discovered that we had some friends in common with one of the Merchants Mill Pond Park Rangers – small world.
The drive home was, thankfully, uneventful. We later heard >from Vic, who stayed on at Merchants for a few extra days, that hikers continued to wander into his camp – lost, mapless, ill prepared and seeking advice.
Thus endeth our Spring canoe camper. Next up, car camping at Trap Pond and day paddling Trap, Tussum and Hitch Branch in Delaware, May 12 – 14.
Hopefully we have used up our year’s quota of calamities during this trip to the Carolinas.
Mike McCrea survives yet another one, with more than his share of humor, and, we’re guessing, something lucky emitting from that elfin hairdo.
