Breakfast on the Beach, Day 1 Beaufort, SC & beyond
Let the journey begin…though originally destined for Savannah {or so I thought}, my plane landed in Charleston, SC. I navigated my way through a small baggage claim area, conquered a car rental counter, then pointed my sporty vehicle south to Georgia.
A map would have been helpful…or blinders. I was delusional in thinking I could traverse Charleston to Savannah without getting distracted. The Colorado blizzard I abandoned quickly faded to a bad memory as bright colors and Southern sunshine greeted me. Green screamed at me…trees, shrubs, lawns all reminded me that it really IS spring! Spanish moss danced on every tree. Azalea bushes the size of my old Russian boxcar turned my head at the speed of whiplash. Charming communities in abundance dotted landscapes and avenues teemed with locals soaking up warm rays. In stepping out of my cave…a 50-seater Regional Jet… I’d emerged from lengthy hibernation. With senses overloaded and I persuaded myself to slow down and soak in the beauty. I am embarrassed to admit that I cannot even journal where I’ve been so far because I have no clue…country roads and back highways led me to sunset and growing darkness. Despite my desire to wake up next to a Georgia coastline my first morning in the south, exhaustion overtook and I settled in at Beaufort, SC. Tired of driving around lost, I discovered a B & B too inviting to be missed.
I awoke this morning to the scent of freshly baked goods tantalizing my nostrils. Stepping out into the salty ocean air, I sensed something divine awaited. The weather is cooler than expected but still nothing compared to the bone chill I left behind out west. Does my countenance of elation betray me as a tourist? Probably. I strolled waterfront walkways of this sleepy town, a stupid grin across my face. Though I invited the Lord to speak, my mind’s racing stunted any ability to receive His words. Instead, I wandered aimlessly about, embraced His magnificent outdoor art gallery and found myself repeatedly exclaiming, “Nice job, God!”
Eventually, I was again discovering the joys of 2 lane roads leading me in circles. I lost count of how many times I asked kind strangers…and one very realistic looking fire station dummy with his back to me…for directions, often berating myself for not claiming a map at Charleston’s Tourist Info Center. No matter, I am on an adventure…getting lost comes with the territory. Right? Somehow I navigated to a private entrance of Fripp Island where a grazing deer greeted me, and a security guard questioned me before grinning and allowing passage for a brief detour. Though I felt mostly like an adult poster child for A.D.D., in my saner moments I began to purpose in my mind to return to the highway in order to arrive at Tybee Island tonight. And so I have…don’t ask me how…I couldn’t tell you. All I know is through a weathered, open door of my balcony at this quaint Victorian Inn, I hear the faint lull of ocean waves. Tomorrow morning when I awaken I plan to follow the sound until I squish wet sand between my toes.
Livin4Jesus 