Port Royal may be our favorite spot so far. When eating low county boil at the Dockside, we obtained permission to dock there in the morning, as they don’t open until the afternoon. We were interested in visiting their wetland area which has walking paths. We took off on foot, but became lost, so asked a couple of men in a pickup truck where it was. They had no idea. Strike two, our lovely waitress didn’t know either. Undaunted, we walk on until we see the postal employee loading her truck. “She’ll know!” and she did. It is mostly closed right now, getting ready for the Grand Opening. It is a small area and we saw trees full of egrets
and had a quite walk. Back in town we stopped at an antique and consignment store. It is housed in the old fire hall, courthouse, water department and municipal offices. This made for small room after small room of an eclectic collection of things to purchase. We wandered and poked around for quite a time. The friendly owner, who described Port Royal as “our Mayberry”, encouraged us to go to the local café for lunch and the fried pickles with mild horseradish sauce, another southern treat we had heard about and never tried. “I’m not ready for lunch, yet, but we have to have a fried pickle!” says I. We see the café on a side street, but Reggie wants to walk to the end of the street to see what is there. Then back towards the café, but he now wants to sit down on the bench. I’m a little slow, but I do catch on in time. “Do you not want to go to the café?” He grins sheepishly and admits that a pickle dunked in hot oil and dipped in horseradish, just doesn’t sound very good to him. When I pointed out that he liked all of those things individually, he pointed out that I like chocolate and I like garlic, but did I want them mixed together? Good point, but I’m determined. We walk in and see people eating fried pickles. In fact, I think everyone who came in ordered fried pickles. Much to our surprise, they don’t just dip a whole dill pickle in hot oil. They slice them thinly, dip in flour and then fry them. They taste sort of like a vinegar potato chip, I guess. Quite good.
Since then, we have been winding our way through Georgia.
Most of the time the weather has been “not too hot, not too cold, not too windy, not too rainy, juuuuust right.” Georgia’s stretch of the ditch is more serpentine and has more inlets, which can be rough if the wind and/or current is wrong. We are going through one right now, but it is calm. We topped up the fuel and water and will anchor on the other side of this inlet. All is well. It is a good life.