The top picture is looking down the Waccamaw river the next one a little sandbar and then my shadow in the water. The last picture should be first its the cut with it's stone banks. The Waccamaw dumps out into Winyah bay. This whole area is breath taking in it's beauty. This is, Gone With the Wind plantation country. Take a look at Georgetown and close you eyes you may see ladies with parasols and young men in white suits riding Tennisee walking horses and elderly couples in carraiges. It's all there behind the darkness of your eyelids. Now and then you may see a for real paddle wheeler round a bend of moss covered trees along the river. Now that's a thrill.
Nov. 5 Wed.
Well it was up early this morning., Last night we anchored on the Ocean side of the inland waterway, in Little River. A beautiful place with Spanish moss hanging off the trees and a few small white houses along the southern shore line. Shrimpers were coming and going early this morning to and from the ocean. We were in the shallows and they rolled us hard. Sleep was out of the question. There was a little fog as I guess there is everywhere along the coast in the fall of the year.
Today was a long canal run, known as the cut, down to the Waccamaw River at mile 375. We had run on engine through high banks with black peat jutting out from the dark rich soil along it's edges. As you go along these channels the scenery changes every couple of hours. For a time you feel as though you are in wild country and then there are homes of the type found along the suburbs of any American city then you break away into a near jungle like swamp. With trees hung in moss and cypress knees all around. Every half submerged log has Tiel Pot turtles lined up on them. They slide off into the black water to be gone.
We bump bumped our way down the river in light rain that seemed so fitting to the southern swamp we made our way through. We were now out of the Waccamaw and into Winyah bay. With sail up we sailed across the bay to Sampit River that winds it's way into Georgetown. We came into the river in front of Georgetown and anchored. We found ourselves in plain view of a steel mill and a town that reminded me though on a much smaller scale of Dundalk Md. Where I grew up. With it's nigh time glow of steel making and the sound of trains shuttling back and forth with loads of glowing red steel. A couple of ships were tied up and were being loaded with steel. They almost looked to be trapped in such a small river port. An old clock tower peeled out the hours day and nigh mixed in with the sound of squalling tires and roaring V eight engines straining to do 0 to 60 on main street in town. Then the sound of a police siren as some teenage boy got himself a summons to go see the judge.