Due to uncontrolled rampant dust covering every square inch and nook and cranny of our house…
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Another plastic walled room was erected.
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This time carefully avoiding the furnace’s air intake…
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Which had been sucking in dust and evenly distributing it between rooms.
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The contractor also added a zippered door so His Royal Highness could access the room at night without tearing giant holes in the plastic like he did last time.
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I have to be honest…
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I’m beginning to forget what a clean house looks like.
Day 7, the last full day of our southern anniversary vacation started like the previous 6… with a card.
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This trip was our gift to each other so I opted for a card a day instead.
I’m thoughtful that way. 😉
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It also started with the malfunction of my very last can of (the now reformulated and totally awful Aussie instant freeze… may a pox fall upon their houses and render every last one of the executives bald) hairspray.
Oh, the horror!
With my drastically unsecured hairdo, we headed out that morning to buy a thank you gift for our neighbor who was caring for Lord Dudley Mountcatten in our absence. On the way out of the store I chuckled at the appropriate license plate of the elderly owner.
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And speaking of moss…
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We decided to make the most of our last day and return to the Botany Bay preserve to fully explore Boneyard Beach at low tide.
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Passing under that gorgeous canopy of trees again on the way in.
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It never got old.
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Our previous two trips to the beach were shortened first by loss of daylight and then by rising tide.
We hoped for better viewing this time.
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I know the pictures don’t do it justice…
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But you have to trust me, this place was amazing in person.
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Even with bad hair and high winds.
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The skeletal remains of all those trees made it feel like another planet.
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Or maybe this one after some kind of Planet of the Apes scenario.
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Look…
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My husband smiled, so you know it was special.
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I swear if I lived in this area I’d be here everyday…
After an interesting but not nearly long enough tour of Fort Sumter, we disembarked the ferry and spotted a resort with a highly recommended restaurant called the Fish House.
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Arriving at 4:00pm since we’d skipped lunch…
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We had the place to ourselves for a short while and moseyed up to the bar.
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One Harborview with Cathead Honeysuckle Vodka, Lemon Simple Syrup, Prosecco, and fresh basil in… things were looking good.
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The view on one side was the USS Yorktown… which I wanted to tour but with only an hour before it closed and $100 for two tickets the husband said no. He’s lived on those ships and had no desire to pay to see another.
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Low country shrimp appetizer? Yummy.
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A Siren’s Mule with Mount Gay Rum, Ginger Beer, Lemon Simple Syrup, Mint Leaf, Lime and Blue Curacao?
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Even better.
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We had to laugh at the menu typo and passed on the She Carb soup.
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Husband had the lobster ravioli which he said was wonderful and silly me… who thought since I was down south I should try local seafood… ordered the tilefish.
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Word of advice – do not order the tilefish.
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The sauce? Flavorful. The risotto? Creamy. The charred lemon broccoli? Perfect.
The tilefish?
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I think this fish made out of actual tile in the rest room would have tasted better.
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This one as well.
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Yup. Those too.
Lesson learned? If you don’t know what it is, don’t order it.
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Bad fish aside, it was a nice place.
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It must have been because we stayed until after dark and the beast of a Lincoln was lighting our way when we left.
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At least we had good timing for some beautiful Charleston skies on the way back.
As you know we started the home renovation projects last summer…. and by now? I fully intended to be done, feet up and comfortably seated on our new furniture.
Meanwhile back at Casa River –
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten explores the changes…
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And while our contractor is prepping the floor…
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My husband was roped into cutting in the ceiling paint along the edges of the wall.
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Taking up the damaged sub floor sections, the contractor discovered tar paper …
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And one seriously, not even close to level, major hump in the middle of the room.
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Of course he did.
It’s our God forsaken cursed house after all.
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At this point? If he dug up a blackened corpse in a coffin covered in satanic symbols…
I’d just see it as explanation.
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That hutch is heavy, it’s easier to paint around than move.
As work started on our next living room projects, (new flooring and ceiling repairs) it was time for the familiar refrain to begin chiming in my head.
More work.
More time.
More money.
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Because when carpet and padding was removed in the bump out addition section of the room…
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Damaged floor was discovered. At this point in the continuing saga our renovation nightmare? I expected no less.
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One section was particularly troubling.
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It’s a complete mystery to how or even when this damage occurred.
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The door we just replaced on the right leaked at one time so that would explain water damage on that end…
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But we found bad spots here and there under the windows as well… which could have been caused by the old windows we replaced years ago because though it was damaged, it was completely dry.
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But while the bad spots to the right were dry, that nasty black spot on the left was damp.
I’m a history nerd buff with a specific interest in the Civil War and was really looking forward to exploring Fort Sumter.
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But there was a problem.
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The only way on and off the island is by ferry and even though it was the slow season and there was just one trip a day from Patriots Point? Our time limit was an hour.
60 measly minutes wasn’t nearly enough and to be honest it ticked me off. I understand during the tourist season they have to move as many people on and off as they can, but with only one lousy trip scheduled in the winter you’d think they would allow us more time… but no.
This meant kicking my husband into high gear and almost jogging around the fort to make sure we saw it all. No lollygagging and absolutely no chatting with strangers!
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This is the old battery that they’ve turned into a museum… so we started there.
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The Fort as it looked pre Civil War.
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During the war…
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And after.
The museum itself was small, with lots to read but very few artifacts.
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But a Civil War toothbrush? That’s history nerd buff gold.
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I won’t bore you with a lot of history but this was especially poignant to me.
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Those Who Would Be Free African-Americans and the Fight for Fort Sumter.
Thousands of African-Americans were involved in the Civil War, either by force or by choice. The South used slaves as laborers at war points within the Confederacy. The North enlisted more than 170.000 free men of color in the Union Army. These willing soldiers saw action in virtually every theatre of the war, including Charleston. As soon as war commenced in 1861, slaves were gathered from Southern plantations and sent to such Confederate strongholds as Fort Moultrie and Fort Sumter. Amid the chaos of battle they repaired the forts, built batteries, mounted guns, waited on officers and acted as messengers. At Fort Sumter, slaves worked in constant danger to help defend the fort against the very forces seeking to win their freedom. African-American soldiers in the Union Army served voluntarily distinguishing themselves at such battles as the assault on Fort Wagner on Morris Island. Here, the 54th Massachusetts made history as the first African-American military regiment to ennoble themselves in battle. As word of their courage spread, thousands of other African-Americans volunteered in the war to reunite the country.
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Imagine being forced to defend an installation that’s fighting to keep you enslaved.
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Soldiers were basically living like tunnel rats.
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And the armament that was used back then?
Wow.
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Unbelievable.
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Too bad they didn’t have duct tape.
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Short on time, my speed reading came in handy. Not so my husband who read one placard to my 6. That’s him in the background way back at the beginning.
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In 1858 Fort Sumter became involved in one of the most notorious episodes in slave smuggling. On August 21 the U.S. Navy captured the slave ship Echo and brought it into Charleston Harbor. Of 450 captives, mostly young African girls and boys, 144 had already died. Initially held at Castle Pinckney, the Africans were moved to the larger Fort Sumter still under construction. Following sensational descriptions of their emaciated state, entrepreneurs arranged harbor cruises to witness the grim spectacle at Fort Sumter. Thirty-five captive Africans died while kept at Castle Pinckney and Fort Sumter. Although some Charlestonians provided food and clothing, oth- ers argued that the captives should be sold into slavery. On Constitutional grounds, President James Buchanan ordered the Africans transported home onboard the steamship Niagara. Even with medical care, only 196 of the original 450 captives were still alive by the time they reached Monrovia. The captain and crew of the Echo were tried and acquitted on a technicality.
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That’s a horrible story I knew nothing about before this visit.
One half of the museum was devoted to the Civil War, the other to its previous life.
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Yes, this cross eyed gentleman is the Fort’s namesake.
Sadly I had to drag the husband outside before we’d even glanced at the second half of the museum but my watch said we only had 18 minutes left and missing the boat was not an option.
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To be continued… quickly.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 