The Palmetto Coast

The southeast coast of the United States, beginning with South Carolina and extending southward through Georgia and into northeast Florida, consists of an extensive region of salt marshes, bordered on the seaward side by wide beaches and landward by dense forests. The climate is subtropical, and palmetto trees and live oaks hung with curtains of Spanish moss abound. The area has several oceanside resorts, and three interesting cities grace the region. My wife and I visited the area in September of 1997, and we found it a bit rainy, but the air and sea were warm and humid, and the precipitation never slowed us down.

We stayed on Hilton Head Island, in southeastern South Carolina. Hilton Head is a strange place -- as Gertrude Stein once said of Oakland, California, "there isn't any there there." This somewhat damning remark certainly applies to this island or resorts, golf courses, and restaurants. The closest thing to a town that I detected was Harbor Town, in the Sea Pines plantation, which is nothing more than a glorified shopping mall. This is not to say that Hilton Head is unpleasant. It is quite nice, and if you are a golfer, which I am not, it may be heaven. (Well, it probably has more bugs than heaven, but who knows?) Strangely enough, while the island has some great beaches, they can be hard to get to. There is a peculiar lack of public access points, and from where we stayed, we actually had to drive (or bike) to the beach. Because I prefer beaches and quiet times to golf courses and the like, Hilton Head was not quite my speed, but whether one likes the island for itself or not, it does make a great "jumping off place" for travel in the region.

Travel in the region, of course, means Charleston, S.C. and Savannah, Georgia. Because Savannah was close, my wife and I drove there first. My original idea for this trip, by the way, came about because I had read the book Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, by John Berendt. The author creates a remarkable image of Savannah, and when I finished the book, I had a strong urge to visit the city. What I found is a credit to the author, as I genuinely felt as if I had been to Savannah before and all was familiar.

As Berendt describes, as one drives toward Savannah from the north, one passes out of the thick forests of pines and live oaks draped with Spanish moss and into an open area where the salt marsh extends for miles toward the sea. Ahead, one can just glimpse some of Savannah's taller edifices, but what catches the eye is the bridge over the Savannah river. The cables of the suspension bridge are white, and from a distance they appear to be the sails of some great ship. After crossing the bridge, one exits onto Oglethorpe Avenue, which is a green tunnel through the city.

Savannah's historic district occupies most of the city's riverside. Numerous historic houses and public buildings face the many park-like squares that interrupt the grid of the streets, and palmetto trees and live oaks line the roads. The buildings range in style from simple wood frame houses to mansions of the most grandiose appearence, and the city also offers parks and historic cemetaries. One of the larger parks includes this lovely fountain (more to come....)

Cemetary in Savannah
Tybee Island Lighthouse
St. Simon's Light
St. Augustine, Florida

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Copyright © 1997 Scott Carr

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