The Boat Ride

The Boat Ride

            The sign on the dock said $10 for ½ day--$15/whole day.  But you don’t want to be out there all day.  Out there was where we were going—to little more than a mud flat off Edisto Island, SC.  That’s where the terrific shelling was.  Mostly undisturbed by humans, each tide change brought in shell, large and small, pink and brown, rough and smooth, empty or still occupied.  The outgoing tide left hundreds or maybe thousands of them behind, so many that it was nearly impossible to choose which one or one to keep.  Always thinking the next one would be even more beautiful, more perfect, more unique. 

The tiny island had no shade, no water, no food, no anything so desperately needed by humans except for the beauty of the shells.  For visitors, getting there involved renting a boat and guide—the very one advertised at $10 for ½ day.  It turned out that the guide would take you out and then come back for you, meaning that you would be literally stranded out there.  At the mercy of this low-country guide and his shallow-draft boat, not really much more than a rowboat—the kind they call “flatties.”

We paid the $10.  Ten dollars per person it turned out when we got right down to it.  Maybe we looked like suckers, rich suckers, or maybe that really was the price.  We got our gear—sunscreen, hats, long-sleeved shirts and pants to put on over our bathing suits, sandwiches and water, lots of water and a bunch of ziplock bags and a couple of  big black garbage bags.

By the time we’d all loaded onto the little boat, Larry and I and our good friend David plus our cooler and the guide, the boat was riding very low in the water.  No sign of life jackets, unless you counted the boat cushions, and there were just two of them.  The guide pointed out to the northeast where, if your imagination was very good you could almost see the small island to which we were headed.  The water was calm and quiet and shallow near the dock.  You could see the bottom clearly and it seemed almost as if you could wade to the island, if you didn’t mind taking a long time.

We set off for Shell Point as we’d begun calling it, all standing as there wasn’t room for all to sit, and everyone being polite and leaving the seats for the others, so consequently we all stood.   The trip was short, though slow, and smooth and relatively uneventful except for when David said he had never learned to swim and sure hoped the guide came back for us.