84: Mind the Kiosk

E D I S T O,  S C


    On the second day of February – the most numerically unique date on the 2022 calendar – we’re cruising along national scenic byway route 174 toward Edisto, South Carolina.  It’s a unique driving experience slicing through Lowcountry, especially so where the road surface is mere inches above the water.  The tide is high, and the road is only slightly higher.  I guess that’s partly why it’s called Lowcountry down here.

A few miles before entering the commercial buildup to the beach town of Edisto, we turn left onto the graveled and sandy Botany Bay Road.  It’s a classic Lowcountry experience - the thick canopied passage tunnels through a forest of loblolly, palmetto, and live oak adraped in epiphytic Spanish moss and resurrection ferns.  Sun streaks burst through adding even more vibrancy to this visual treat of a drive. 

But this Lowcountry experience isn’t just about an iconic drive under draping Spanish moss.  We’ve come to experience a special place – one that The Nature Conservancy (TNC) helped establish and continues to protect.  Botany Bay Island is a hard-to-reach pristine island that includes a large stretch of undeveloped coastline… and a graveyard.  For trees.  Known as a boneyard beach, it’s where an island’s forest intersects the ocean.  The salty water and tidal action kills trees one at a time.  They collapse onto the sand to slowly erode creating an apocalyptic landscape.

To reach the island requires coordination with the tides.   The path from the mainland leads first to a hammock island, then on to Botany Bay Island.  The challenge, though, is that high tide swamps the trail.  And so, a tide chart is your guiding light.  Located precisely where you take your first step onto the trail, a kiosk displaying the day’s high tide is presented.  To avoid entrapment, timing is everything.   Don’t overlook the kiosk.   

When Allison & I arrive, we’re a tad early - parts of the trial still under water but low tide is arriving soon.  To stall, we drive the nearby six-mile auto tour loop allowing for a more holistic Botany Bay experience.  The tour wends through a variety of picturesque environments and elicits several wildlife sightings including brown pelicans, Great Blue Herons, hooded mergansers, and fox squirrels.  The slower you drive, the better the experience.

When we attempt the trail again, all is dry.  The first stop is the hammock island – an oasis halfway out.  In warmer times, the shade and meager lone bench here would be a respite, but in mid-Winter we trek on.   In the openness again I spot several Great Egrets, pure white in color, standing out starkly among the marsh grasses.  Standing out too are the bleached tops of dying trees, visible as we approach the backside of Botany Bay Island.  The next trees to fall, perhaps.  When we reach the shore, carnage is everywhere - a graveyard, indeed.   We weave around and under the bleached trunks and branches.  Shadows and reflections add even more intrigue to the truly unique imagery.  How many thousands of photos have been snapped here?  And we waste no time adding to that total, strolling around looking for perfect angles and filling up memory cards, both digital and cerebral.  

 

Botany Bay Island is just one example of how TNC impacts this area more broadly known as the ACE Basin.  It’s an important area where the tidal rivers of Ashepoo, Combahee, and Edisto come together forming an interlocking web of ecosystems including forested uplands, tidal marshes, barrier islands, and peatlands.  The ACE encompasses 1.6 million acres and TNC has helped for decades to protect over 200,000 by acquiring and transferring lands, holding and arranging easements, fortifying nesting sites, providing expertise with controlled burns, and surveying plant and animal populations. 

On our return, an otter scampers across the trail darting quickly for cover into the cordgrasses.  The vastness of the marshes here gives plenty of space to hide and thrive.  Just before the parking lot, a bridge crosses a small artery of this marsh.  The low tide exposes hundreds of mussels, clams, and oysters which are vital processors in the cleansing of these waters.  When the tide rises again, these critters will get to work. 

In a sense, Allison and I are vital processors too.  Our visit - and the research done beforehand - bring awareness to TNC’s work in the ACE Basin.  When we get home, deliberate or not, we’ll be sharing our newly gained knowledge and stories along with cards full of images…

of graveyards,

scampering otters,

draping mosses,

graceful pelicans,

hard-working mussels, clams & oyster,

and many other jewels worth talking about and protecting here in the ACE Basin.



LEARN MORE ABOUT TNC'S WORK IN THE ACE BASIN HERE.

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