Bubba

I'd rather not say where I am. I don't want to defame the place or it's residents. My impression of this place probably says as much about me, as about the town. And truthfully, I really didn't get off the boat to take a stroll about and see the town or meet the people.

I'm in the Carolina Low Country. The ICW runs through a series of rivers which are often connected by a short cut. You run down one river and up the next. The tides here run fast, and I try to time it so that I'm mostly running in the direction of the tide, in which case, the motor is only needed to provide steering and doesn't have to run very fast.

I was running low on gas yesterday. There are not many marinas here(or much of anything else). The marinas listed in the guidebook aren't even on the ICW. The closest one is two miles off the ICW, so that's the one where I decided to get gas.

I pulled up to the tiny creek in late afternoon. There was a short row of houses, docks and boats. From the first house emanated a cacophony of barking. It sounded like the hounds of Cerberus were inside. I thought maybe they were aroused by the sound of my motor. Maybe they thought their owner was returning home. But no, they continued on until nightfall. Probably someone's pack of hunting dogs. Seriously, it sounded like there were a lot of them.

About a hundred yards up the creek is the marina. Well, it's not really a marina. Just a convenience store and fuel dock which I ended up tied to for the night. In the parking lot were a group of guys hanging out around a pickup with it's hood open. Almost a quintessential good ole boy scene.

I had a flashback to an unpleasant experience from my younger days. I was on a solo bicycle trip through Southern Maryland. I had stopped in a small town and bought dinner at the convenience store. I decided to set up camp nearby and spend the night. At dusk, a few guys showed up, and I forget exactly what was said, but it was made clear that they didn't want me around.

Fortunately, there was a phone booth nearby and I called 911. By coincidence, the police had an APB out for me. There was a family emergency, and my dad had called them to keep an eye out for me. (A whole other story.) Anyway, my dad ended up driving down and picking me up, ending my bicycle tour.

The pic is of the moon setting this morning as I left the creek.