Post #35: Georgia on My Mind

Saturday, November 7, 2020 

Yesterday’s passage was uneventful.  Again we motored through sweeping salt marshes with maritime forests of live oaks, palmetto, cedar and myrtle bushes, winding around the back side of Parris Island (the Marine Corps’ recruitment center, i.e., their infamous boot camp) and Hilton Head Island, the famed golfer’s Mecca. Marinas there range from the basic to the luxurious (one even has its own set of locks at the entrance and provides exceptional protection during a storm) and we plan to stop at the island on the way north in the spring. 

We began to see more sand bars and oyster shell reefs.  And when we came to the Tybee inlet we saw—you guessed it—more dolphins.  In the Turtle Island Wildlife Management Area the distinct honking of a Great Blue Heron caught my attention.  He was announcing his arrival and impending landing to a battery (I looked it up) of 10 (!) Great White Herons who had gathered for brunch.

On the way to the Savannah River we motor-sailed the sound by Daufuskie Island, the next barrier island or “sea island” south of Hilton Head. It is still only accessible by boat or ferry and is home to somewhere less than 500 year-round residents—who prize their privacy. It has a long history of over 9000 years from when the Yemassee natives fished, hunted and thrived there. After bloody skirmishes with Europeans, the native population dwindled and by the time of the Revolutionary War Daufuskie was an island of cotton plantations.  Many descendants of African slaves freed during the Civil War still live on Daufuskie. Gullah language and culture pervades the island and some of their traditions have spilled over onto the mainland. Our guide in Charleston explained that the reason the ceilings of porches are painted light blue is to keep the “haints” (evil spirits) from entering your house for these lost souls are unable to cross water.  And here I thought all along that it was a New England tradition.....

As we passed Parris Island we heard the deafening rumble of fighter jets practicing maneuvers. It reminded me of an uneasy night we spent in Iquitos, a city deep in the Amazon jungle, on the eve of the Peruvian presidential election in 1985.  If Alan Garcia Perez won, we were told by our guide, it would be the first peaceful handover of power from one president to another in modern Peruvian history.

What were we doing in the jungle, you may well ask. Well...

In 1984 my great aunt Sue passed away and two female cousins and I were named in her will. We each inherited $900.  My brothers inherited $0. Because, according to Aunt Sue’s will, they never wrote thank you notes and the girls did. Yay, girl power!

That $900 wore a hole in my pocket all the way to the travel agent’s office.  Using a powerful formula known only to fellow travel alchemists, this windfall  turned into a trip to Peru to visit Lima, raft down the Urubamba River to the ancient towns of Ollantaytambo and Chinchero, tour Cuzco, take the train to the incredible Machu Pichu, and finally, spend two nights in the jungle near Iquitos—in what I can best describe as a rudimentary Girl Scout camp on stilts. The presidential election took place the last night we were there. From our perch on the porch we watched as Amazonians from upriver paddled their whole family in dugout canoes laden down with mounds of bananas, papaya, and other fruits and vegetables to sell at the market near the polling station.  Our guide explained that each adult would have to dip their finger in a small pot of blue ink to prove that they had voted.  If anyone was caught not voting, the government could fine them. I remember thinking that might be a good idea and sure would increase voter turnout in the USA.

That evening we were taken back down the Amazon to the airport.  Fighter jets, helicopters, and flares lit up the sky as the military flexed its muscles for all to see. It was more than a little disconcerting as we wondered what the election would bring.  And I remember feeling so blessed that I lived in a country where the results of our elections were accepted as untainted and that the reins of power transferred from one president to the next with civility, grace, and decorum.