The Horror, The Beauty, History
We were greeted by a balmy morning when we reached Georgetown. Rows of historic houses, lined with Spanish moss trees, paved a path to the landing. A gentle breeze was blowing on the boat dock under clear blue skies and wide puffy clouds. Church bells from town signaled that it was now 11 o’clock. ~ This landing was more pristine with large stainless-steel docks that also included a separate dock just for kayaks. The first thing I noticed was how the water was different than what we have come accustomed to. It had an odd scent and was visibly a strange brownish color that reminded me of sewage water. ~ The water was brown and dirty. There was a thin film of filth that glazed the surface of the water. ~ I began to paddle and water splashed on my leg as usual, but this time, the water was much dirtier. It was as if I were looking at drops of brown coffee on my leg. ~ Unlike the black and seafoam waters from the previous paddles, the water in the bay was a brown color, almost like the color of a chocolate Lab. It was murky and disgusting as it smelled like rotten fish because of the factories. ~ Even paddling, I sometimes got stuck in the shallows; when I tried to paddle, I noticed clouds of mud forming in the water behind me. They confused me at first, but I realized that my struggle in paddling was because I dug my paddle into the mud and drug it up behind me. ~ Repeated dips into the surface of this brown abyss cleansed the oar back to its natural state. ~ Water notwithstanding, the smell was terrific: Burnt cabbage. That’s what the factories smelled like. ~ “What do you think is the future of Georgetown?” asked Professor Hensel. “Currently,” our tour guide, Paul Laurent, jokingly replied, “the future of Georgetown is death and decay.” The nearby paper mill, an old rusty maroon colored factory, and all other man-made objects in the surrounding area made it seem as if they were visitors in our habitat. Dead trees, that sprouted up from the greenery on the island we paddled around, sported bare branches calling out for life as they would soon join the company of other trees that lay waste around them. ~ Now the ports lay abandoned. Useless. There once was a paper mill in Georgetown, but paper and flammable chemicals don’t mix, so it blew up. Now they had a steel mill that really didn’t do much except pollute the water. “I’m pretty sure they just have it as a tax write off,” our guide said. A tax write off that left the water a murky orange that made me glad I had my tetanus shots. ~ As ugly as this river was, there was a beauty to it. It was a beauty that no other place we've been yet had: history. The landing had all these forgotten pillars that stuck out of the water. It resembled a constellation or a game of connect-the-dots. Long, thick, rotten pillars, as black as the mud that they were in, stuck out of the water two or three feet. These were once part of the Georgetown harbor dock. The dock wrapped almost all the way around the shore until it was destroyed. Now all that remains are the pillars and stories of what once was. ~ The island that we paddled around seemed untouched, especially when compared to the manufacturing land around us. The colors of the trees were that of an artist's palette; the grass growing out of the sand near the banks of the island looked like they were placed there, perfectly set for a picture. ~ The bluff of the island was nothing but pluff mud. The closer we got to the island, the color of the water changed to a darker brown because of the mud. The paddles became stuck in the mud causing the yellow paddles to turn to the grey-black color of the mud. The island was covered in a tall grass. ~ Along the bank were hundreds of fiddler crabs scurrying around like children running away from tide trying not to get wet. ~ Thousands of miniature crabs looked like tiny red dots moving in the distance. ~ I noticed a dead, sunbaked crab hiding in the grass. The crab was a pinkish-red color and turning white because it had been sun bleached from not being able to move back into the water. It was a sad sight to see. ~ Further along the trip, we came to some abandoned boats, one being a shrimp boat. The tail end of the boat looked like it had been chopped off. The boat itself was covered in rest as it had been left in the water for some time. The other boats were just floating there collecting rust and rotting away with time. ~ I came extremely close to see the wreckage. The boats were filled with water and pluff mud. Piece by piece, with rust and wood falling into the water, they were becoming additions to the bottom of the bay. ~ In the distance, an abandoned sun-kissed red speedboat sat wedged in-between a rundown dock and the mainland. The deck was adorned with dark grey mats and old colorful blankets. Its hull a deep candy apple red with a thick mustard yellow line hugging the body. The mast was missing its mainsail and jib sail, probably torn away from previous storms or lack of care from its owner. ~ The water had begun eating away at the white paint turning it into a tint of orange and light grey. Slowly cannibalizing the ship until it becomes a sunken rust bucket for explorers to lay eyes on. The dark blue main and jib sails still in tack but rolled away as to not be taken as the salt airs victims yet. A dark blue pinstripe laid across the hull with the faded word “Marial” written in small white letters. ~ The river began consuming the bow of the wooden ships, tearing of chunks to recycle back to nature from which they came. Mother nature shaking the masts down with her mighty force to make sure no man disturbs the ships eternal slumber. They became rust buckets, but in death they were still a wonder to behold. Although the water looked like death with the carcasses of ships, the riverbanks were filled with luscious green grass and bushes. ~ As we paddled across the bay toward the far edge of the river, there was a diverging sailboat that slowly trolled before our group, as a flirting girl might do to get a boy's attention. It had two pollen-covered, long, white masts with rust stains near the few visible rivets, that stood proud over the landscape; one smaller mast near the bow and one just forward of the center of the vessel. Both sails were wrapped up and tied down. The bottom of the boat was lined with black paint near the bottom to help it from abrasion. The white of the hull, just above the margin where the black paint stopped, was stained yellow fading upwards. ~ There was an old man on the stern of the boat who appeared to have tan, leathery skin. On the bow, however, it appeared that the man was growing a small garden on the vessel. ~ On deck, there was a captain in all white. A loose, long-sleeved V-neck draped the captains upper body while what almost looked like pajama bottoms accompanied it. Both pieces were somewhat yellow tinted and dirty but seemed white compared to the dark red skin of the captain. He had long thin white hair. His scalp was partially visible from the back. Just behind where he was steering, following him, was a tied off dingy. It was no more than six feet long, made of wood. It seemed to gently jerk left and right as the rope pulling it tightened and gained slack. It was almost like an uncooperative pet under his reign. ~ The old man and his ship passed. ~ Gusts of wind and a heavy current made it hard to get back to where we first began. ~ Factory smoke billowed from the distance, dead trees on Goat’s Island lay waste, and sightings of birds seemed scarce. I was reminded of the Dr. Seuss book, “The Lorax.” What was once nature seemed to be consumed completely my man. The one thought that kept occurring in my head was the fact that I am as much to blame as the people who built these things—because I do not hesitate to use the resources that are presented to me, even though the way they come about can hurt nature.
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Arrival: The Marsh
It was a dull and gloomy day with an occasional game of hide-and-seek being played unsuccessfully by the sun. ~ The landscape reminded me of what the classic South Carolina landscape looked like and why I loved it so much. Although the sky was dove-grey for most of the trip, the warmth still surrounded us on the kayaks, humidity hanging in the air. The second I stepped out of the car, the heavy salt air washed over me and I took it in with a welcoming breath. The broken shell ground cracked under foot and I dodged a few sea puddles on my way to the kayaks resting on shore. ~ The marsh was much different than the river. There was a certain silence that was more soothing than the waters of the Waccamaw. Accompanying that silence were the mellow chirps of pelicans and seagulls, which glided by my eye view ever so often. I say “mellow” because rather than the usual racket of every bird singing at once, these chirps came every now and then just to break the silence. It was similar to that of tapes containing sounds of nature that my parents relax to. ~ It was humid; something similar to the feeling of a constant sweat after a mild sunburn. There was a choking thickness to the air. The water was unsettlingly calm. The shaded sky seemed to be taken directly out of a Winslow Homer Painting. Our English Crocodile Dundee guide helped us embark on the tour out of this shallow shell and sediment beach that looked like a mural itself. The white beach seemed peppered with different creatures such as crab and natural debris. Observation: Bald Eagle “There’s your bald eagle,” Paul said, as he pointed into the nearby woods. I slowly scanned the surrounding area until my eye caught the white-headed, yellow-beaked bird perched on a branch. A photographer stood watching the bird patiently. Occasionally, he would bring the camera up to his eye, the long lens sticking out pointing at the trees, and then drop it in disappointment. “They love to mess with the photographers,” Paul said. “They sit there waiting for the bird to do something exciting, and then eventually leave when nothing happens. It’s once they leave, that the bird usually does something.” ~ A Bald Eagle heralded our journey with a cry we were very unused to. The Bald Eagle, a heavy and brutal mugger of birds, turned out to have a weak, garbled cry. Like you had taken a recording of a hawk and shoved underwater, so that it was warped and began to short out. ~ A bald eagle sat in the distance waiting for careful observers to leave as to continue its life in secrecy. It held itself seeming paused in time, as everything else continued to be in play. Navigation: The Water As we started paddling I just looked up to the horizon line and could see nothing but the salt marsh grass with tall pine trees in the background. ~ In some parts of the marsh, the water was at the shallow end as I felt my paddle touching the thick, marshmallow-like muddy bottom. Each time my paddle hit this bottom the yellow tip of the paddle become lightly coated with the grey-black mud. The water was sort of a dark seafoam green color. Unlike the river, one could actually see the paddle a few inches below the actual surface. The water made a light hissing sound like a small snake, but there were no snakes to be found ~ The open area of the calm rippling water gave a certain sense of freedom. Unlike the river, which winds and curves, often leaving its victims clueless as to what lies ahead, the marsh was like a flat plain, everything visible. The calm water seemed to only be disrupted by an occasional scaly silver bellied fish jumping out of the water. ~ The gentle cold ripples in the water blended hues of green, grey, and dark blue. The gloomy day was reflected on the water’s surface, but this didn’t affect the wildlife’s agenda. Small fiddler crabs scurried about frantically on the shore, bobbing and weaving traveler’s around their burrows. Moorhens (marsh hens) roosted on the small islands the tide uncovered as it got drug out to sea. In a shallower part of the marsh, tiny mud covered looking balls laid below the surface. I reached my hand into the crisp clear water to pick one up. At first, I thought it was a rough shell, but the muddy formations turned out to be hundreds of slimy snails. ~ As we started to paddle long, the water caught my eye. It was a cool green-grey-blue that I wanted to use to paint my bedroom walls. It was so calming to me that I couldn't keep from reaching over the kayak to touch it once I stopped paddling. Before the tide started going out, it looked so clean and clear that I could see the ground underneath me; when the tide went back out, the water got cloudy, with visible particles floating around. Challenge: The Mud The grass grew in the grey-black mud. In some areas, there was no grass. It was just a small barren wasteland of mud. ~ Three of my fellow kayakers got out of their kayaks and stood in the mud to try to walk in it. The mud quickly swallowed their legs as they struggle to move in it. Not only that, but the mud stuck to their legs as if it was some type of cement. The smell of the mud was rancid in all sense of the word. The smell was a crossed between bad seafood and rotten eggs. ~ There was a challenge presented to cross the plough (pluff) mud and touch the spartina grass on the other side. I got out of my kayak slowly and stuck my legs into the rancid smelling, oozy mud below. My legs were instantly suctioned into the shiny brown sludge, becoming one with the salt marsh. Moving seemed impractical as the mud fastened me in place. With a few jerks and twists, I would wiggle a leg free enough to swing it forward into a new patch of plough until I reached the rough spartina grass. There were bubbles on top of a green film near the grass that left a distinct grotesque smell when they busted. My legs were covered in a dark brown paste when I found my way back to the kayak. Brown muddy smears insulted the bright yellow kayaks interior as I carefully got back inside. The rancid stench of plough mud lingered in the air as we floated back upstream. ~ The sand and mud was certainly soft, but we encountered a peculiar patch of mud. Murkier than the rest of the mud, and possessing an acrid odor, our guide challenged us to walk up to the grass. “You’re here for the experience,” he said, “Right?” Never one to back down from a challenge, I exited my kayak and stepped onto the mud... and sank immediately. It was like my foot was an Olympic diver, sinking into the mud with practically no disturbance to the surrounding area. Even the little slugs and the ground were unperturbed by my invasion. And yet, I committed. I trudged through this ‘Pluff Mud,’ as our guide called it, and reached the grass. The mud stained my legs black, and later I had to wash my legs in the river. My jeans, however, still need a couple washes to get the mud out. ~ I thought the smell of the plough mud was recent and going crotch deep in it was definitely an experience I would only recommend to those not faint of heart. I feel of the cool salt water felt great however when I had to wash away the muck matting my hair to my thighs and leg Observation: Oysters In the shallow end of the water, oysters could be seen, all cluster together like a pack of wolves trying to keep warm. Paul, the tour guide, explained that they like to spend their time in the mud and filter feed the bacteria out of the water. ~ On the way back, clusters of oysters were seen spitting water up like an elaborate fountain to keep themselves wet. The tide was getting lower and they were trying to preserve themselves. Navigation: Current Right before we landed we encountered another strong current, but this was different. It was stronger and more powerful than the last. It took a lot out of me, but I eventually got past it. ~ The coastal breeze that blew over the banks and marsh rippled the water leaving a consistent image of a wrinkled flag waving horizontally. The tidal pull was stronger as well. It was a magnet that either made paddling much easier or next to impossible to get to your destination. ~ Navigating the currents was a difficult part of the journey. The water moved fast, and made paddling difficult when fighting the current. And yet there were ways where the current wasn’t so strong, where our guide took us. Like at curves and bends, where the water would come down the far side fast, and return to fill the other side, keeping the water level but also creating an area where the current wasn’t so harsh. Still, it was a workout. Departure: Mediation After coming ashore, the shoreline were covered with small crabs that were scurrying around as if they were spiders. My mind instantly went to T.S. Eliot’s poem, “The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock,” where the speakers says, “I should have been a pair of ragged claws / scuttling across the floors of silent seas.” ~ The water, that I once thought to be still, was actually flowing in all sorts of directions. No matter how hard I tried, my kayak would drift in whatever direction the water wanted to take it. Just as life often does to us. For anyone thinking of going on this trip, I would suggest getting some good rest because fighting the current is quite the workout. What I found interesting was that the marsh and river were more similar than my initial observations, due to the fact that each had an uncertainty. With the river, it’s a path laid, telling you the direction you’re going, but the curves of the water highway can leave anyone in the dark as to what lies ahead. The marsh’s plain-like nature made it easy to see what’s ahead, but an unexpected turn from the current still leaves one feeling as if they’re in a maze. No matter if it’s the river, salt marsh, or life, there must be an accompanied faith to go with the uncertainty. It was a warm day with some gusts of wind, and with beams of sunlight coming down on us. ~ Not too hot yet, with a nice breeze. ~ The first thing that caught my attention was the color of green from the trees that shown with extreme brilliance on the banks of the river. ~ I noticed the odd-looking tree formations, which I think of as stalagmite tree stumps. They remind me of rock formations found in caves, which also led me to notice the opposing stalactite moss hanging from the tree tops. I was awed to see nature echoing itself in different forms in different environments. ~ It must’ve been 10-15 minutes before our tour guide, Paul Laurent, found wildlife. “And here in the trees we have the most dangerous animal on the river,” he said. I looked, expecting to see a snake or alligator, but what I saw was nothing of the sort. This particular animal was a slimy, lime green amphibian squatted on a leaf that was identical to the color of its slimy skin. According to our guide, the tree frog that he now held in his hand was a species unable to swim. This was obvious once he lightly placed the frog on the surface of the black water and, instead of swimming, the frog skipped across the water, like a rock, until it got back to its tree. ~ The water itself was blacker than the night sky; it was so dark that you could only see what is at the very surface. ~ The guide said pirates would come into these areas and soak their sails in the water, so that they would actually become dyed black. “Bright orange sails,” he said, “kind of stand out in the night.” ~ I observed the black river and how my oar went from piercing black to orange back to darkness as it sank lower into the water within every stroke. There was a dead catfish that smelled rancid and was missing eyeballs. ~ I felt a sense of calmness in the cold crisp water. The river just slowly takes your kayak and smoothly carries it along the current. ~ I looked down at my paddle as it started to disappear into the darkness of the water. With a twist of the handle, a beam of sun light hit its surface, and I could see how it was encased in that orange glow caused by the cypress trees on the river. ~ Along the river were cow leaf plants, little leaves with roots deep into the lakebed, that kind looked like cowtails. One of our people actually tested the notion that the roots are edible, and described them as “Good bleach.” ~ Me being the “boy of nature” that I am, I had to try it. And, of course, like the guide said, it did taste like I was “chewing up an aspirin.” It was not very pleasant at all. ~ There were turtles sitting on branches sticking out of the water, sun-bathing and chilling before jumping back in the water out of fear of the travelers making their way along the river. ~ The turtle, the guide said, was easily identified because of the two black dots on either side of its head. ~ Wasps aren't aggressive but if you mess with their nest, they will attack you then. You can spot most of their nests pretty easily. They are light grey similar to newspaper and are usually about the size of a softball hanging on the limbs on the water's edge. ~ In the distance, I saw something strange sticking out of the water. It was massive and very alien compared to the surrounding vegetation. As we came closer to the object it was almost like was looking at the carcass of an enormous animal. But upon closer examination it was the wreckage of an old steam boat that was once a beautiful large ship that was now decaying in the water. It brought the overwhelming feeling of sadness. This once useful boat that was someone’s dream was now lying in the mud, filled with water, rusting and falling apart in the water. ~ Nothing was left of the boat but the tail-end sticking up out the water with brown rust in stripes from being in the water for so long. Beside the boat was another half sunken boat, turned on its side with the words “No Tresspassing” spray painted in black. The owner of the boat misspelled the word trespassing. He spelled in a way a five-year-old would spell an unknown word by sounding out the letters. ~ The wood of the boat had a certain lifelessness to it that made the boat feel like the ghost of a boat. ~ While floating along, I noticed an osprey taking flight from the tree tops, circling around like a vulture with its white head similar to that of a bald eagle. ~ There was a scattered mess of mistletoe perched near the tree tops slowing killing its host as it took over. Three alligators were spotted at different times, sinking back into the water nowhere to be seen. ~ Along the trip, we would often see what we appeared to be a stick floating by; however, the sticks were alligators swimming just at the surface of the water. The appearance of their spine was the stick that we saw. ~ Alligators poked their heads up above the water, looking like little logs and blending in. They actually seemed pretty skittish, and our guide described them as “scaly teddy bears.” ~ We all kept our distance until the alligator was out of sight. As a way to avoiding becoming hurt by the gators and other wildlife the tour guide told us, “Don’t be idiots.” ~ Despite the sunken ship, metal signs, and pieces of rope, I noticed that the further down the river we traveled the river seemed unaffected by the world. This natural habitat left the animals to be themselves, which, surprisingly to me, was entirely unaggressive. I have always had the image in my mind of families being attacked by alligators or bitten by snakes, and the fear of these animals has kept me far away from them for my entire life; on this trip, I felt at ease around these creatures for the first time that I can remember. The animals were not looking to attack us; they wanted to be left alone. After this moment, I started to absorb more of the beauty around us, and I began to appreciate that so much of the land around us seemed virtually untouched by the people who visit. ~ I was so excited when the trip guide found a turtle and a snake! Growing up, my dad and I would go out into the woods and always end up bringing reptiles home. Doing so has made me fearless now. ~ This particular snake was a brown water snake, a murky and dirty brown to blend in with the dirt, trees and blackwater river. ~ Sometimes I found myself mindlessly paddling down the river, barely paying attention to what was around me, as if I were in a car, zoning out on a long drive down the interstate. Make sure you have eaten a sufficient meal and hydrated yourself prior to going out on the water. If you don’t, you will feel like a worm exposed on concrete. ~ I suggest that a fellow kayaker takes snacks, water, and reapplies sunscreen while out on the water. They're going to be getting sunburnt without even realizing it like I did. ~ On our adventure, I got to hear the croak of a bullfrog, I watched dragonflies drop into the water and whiz past my head, and fish jumping out of the water, none of which are something I see on a daily basis. I was constantly in wonder at the green, lush life that grew out of and around black water. Make sure you stop to listen to the world around you and looking into the trees to see what lies beyond the leaves. Without a close eye, there is a lot you could miss. |
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