No Love for Lovebugs

Lovebugs on our isenglass

We left Beaufort Saturday morning (May 3) on a rising tide for our 65-mile cruise to Charleston. The weather was beautiful, but it wasn't long before we noticed that we had numerous "hitchhikers" aboard the boat--lovebugs. We are familiar with these pests from our time in Florida. The nickname comes from the lovebugs' habit of mating while coupled in midair. However, the lovebugs on our boat seem to be playing the field rather than mating, as we have mostly been bothered--a lot--by lovebugs flying solo.  They like to land on us at the most inopportune times.

A small grouping of lovebugs on deck

We used our dinghy for the few-mile commute to downtown Charleston on Sunday.  We docked at the city marina, then spent the next few hours walking around and looking at the incredible buildings that remain from the Colonial and Plantation eras.  The level of restoration is amazing, especially when one considers historical events that devastated the city: over 500 days of Union bombardment in the Civil War; a massive earthquake in 1886; and Category 4 Hurricane Hugo in 1989.

An entry door to the porch on the first level is typical Charleston architecture, designed to provide privacy from passersby on the street.

Oldest building c. 1694

Not so old, but MUCH larger

. . . even bigger

The South Battery

Sometimes the loveliest things were not the over-the-top houses, but the small touches such as beautiful window boxes.

Window box

GW was here!

You would think that with all of the wealth of history in the city that it wouldn't be necessary to "stretch" to create an event of significance. Apparently that's not the case.  A sign on a house proclaiming "President George Washington was entertained in this house" seemed to us to be just a little bit ridiculous.

Not everything was houses.  We walked down King Street, the center of shopping Charleston; saw the site of the largest indoor slave market in Charleston just before the Civil War; and passed by Fort Sumter--where the Civil War began--on our way out of Charleston Harbor this morning.

Old Slave Mart

Fort Sumter

King Street

After Savannah and Beaufort and Charleston, we were happy to tie up this evening in the town of McClellanville, which makes no particular claim to historical significance (except perhaps for the presence of the "Deer Head Oak", said by some to be over 1000 years old).  It is simply a small village where the traditional livelihood has been shrimping, fishing, and oystering.  We enjoyed cycling through the streets shaded by live oaks. The business district is so small that if you shut your eyes when driving through you might miss it.  We found it charming, but understand that it may have been more picturesque before Hurricane Hugo passed through in 1989, bringing with it a 17-foot storm surge that decimated homes and the fishing fleet. 

Lon bikes under oak canopy

Shrimping fleet in the McClellanville  harbor

Deer Head Oak

McClellanville home

We'd read that the local restaurant serves great seafood. Unfortunately, it wasn't open on Mondays. But we did find evidence downtown regarding just how seriously the residents treat their livelihood . . .