Yesterday we raced south, leaving the storm behind and our plans to visit the NC Outer Banks-Cape Hatteras Island, where winds were gusting up to 50 mph. We looked up what that would mean for an RV and learned that we'd be rocking and reeling so we high-tailed it down south. 

As the sun began to set around 6pm, we crossed into South Carolina. It had been a long day of driving but well worth it. An audio recording of Pat Conroy's "South of Broad" set in Charleston, SC, kept us company for several hours. At last we
entered a still, rural landscape as we headed toward our stop for the night: Little Pee Dee State Park in Dillon, named after the river running through it and the Native American tribe of the region. Roads here are LONG and narrow and flanked by endless flat fields speckled here and there with small groupings of double-wide trailer homes and only an occasional colonial "mansion." Dormant moss drapes from the boughs of trees like tattered paper doilies after a toddler's birthday party. Here's a photo of one of the oddly fenced-in mansions. (During an interesting conversation with the park ranger, I learned that this home is of no historical value, just the compound of a ridiculously wealth real estate magnate.)

Just before arriving at the state park, we stopped briefly on a road abutting fields of immature cotton. I got out to touch and pick some cotton and couldn't help but think of the slaves working 16 hours a day to harvest this very same field, then having to get out all those tiny embedded seeds. A sobering moment.

We arrived at our campsite in near darkness and woke before dawn to find ourselves in a gorgeous pine forrest on the edge of a lake, and not a soul (or camper) in sight. So we ditched our plans for the day to go to Charleston, and decided to stay here for a while and relax! We hiked, Marley went swimming, and I began suddenly to feel all the past months of tension and city life stress dissolve. I'm beginning to feel the rhythm of just Being, of following one's nose. To top that, we ate dinner at our fire while looking at the last of the day's light glisten on the lake and the backs of the resident ducks and geese.

Laurie and a young pine tree

From yesterday:

The most gorgeous bridge crossing I have ever experienced—all 20 miles of it across the lower Chesapeake Bay in Virginia. It appears to float and soar above the water when you are on it. The sun was in our eyes as we we heading South West so these are not my photos!

(curtesy Creative Commons)