Tag: south carolina

Exploring Beaufort: A Cyclist’s Paradise in South Carolina

March 24,2025


We drove south to leave the winter of Ottawa, even though we enjoy snowshoeing. Escaping springtime offers a welcome reprieve from the winter’s cold and snow. Despite my pollen allergies (managed by Claritin), late March in the Carolinas offers ideal cycling weather.

Driving south towards Beaufort, South Carolina, I sighed in relief at leaving the crowded, monotonous, and speedy Interstate 95 behind. Driving for hours had numbed my feet, so I hoped for less, slower traffic on Route 21 East. Although slower, the traffic picked up closer to Beaufort on a four-lane highway.


The expansion of military bases (Parris Island and Beaufort), resort construction (Hilton Head Island), and a Northern retiree influx have driven development along South Carolina’s east coast.
We learned from a hotel employee at check-in that Beaufort’s population has almost doubled since the pandemic, nearing 15,000. It is not only retirees but also people working remotely who have arrived to take advantage of lower housing and living costs.

When Kathy stayed here thirty years ago, she stayed in one of the huge antebellum houses on the waterfront, used as a B&B in those days. Today, developers meticulously redeveloped the waterfront, and they restored the antebellum homes along the waterfront to their original designs. The city designated the downtown area a historic district, and we enjoyed a quiet walk admiring the architecture.

Cycling the Spanish Moss Trail from Beaufort to Port Royal was a smooth ride (it follows the old Magnolia rail line). The paved, twelve-foot-wide trail was flat, crossing marshes with many boardwalks and with the temperature in the mid-twenties (in the seventies in Fahrenheit), was ideal for a bike ride. Much of the Trail crossed areas with oak trees from which Spanish moss hung. I assume the source of the name for the Trail. Although the hanging moss is attractive, avoid touching it because it might contain chiggers.

The paved trail was great for riding, but I knew that falling off the bike would be rough, experiencing injury if going at the maximum allowed speed of 15 mph.

We sped through the twelve-mile trail, pausing to talk with people going in the opposite direction. We avoided talking about politics. We did not know how local people would react to talking to us Canadians, in view of Trump’s desire to annex Canada.

I noticed different organizations took responsibility for maintaining sections of the trail, which included benches at viewing sites, including the military that were in abundance in the area.

In less than a couple of hours, we arrived at Port Royal, at the other end of the trail. We were ready for a cup of coffee and found in the center of Port Royal a home converted to a restaurant with a name Corner Perk that offered fancy coffees. Their muffins were so special we couldn’t resist.

Next, we saw a sign for the Cyprus Wetlands rookery, home to hundreds of local birds (egrets, cormorants, bats, herons, etc.), right by the coffee shop. A boardwalk crosses a lake, going by an island with small trees that provide nesting grounds for birds. We noticed many turtles and alligators also slept on the shore of the island.

Returning to Port Royal, we found a small house converted to a restaurant boasting a sign for Griddle and Grits and the menu included grits with shrimp, with chorizo and grits with different ingredients. I like spicy foods and chose chorizo on grits, which turned out to be excellent. Kathy chose she crab soup, which also turned out to be a good choice.

On the return journey, we paused on a bench and were approached by a man who looked like a bear of an angler, who sat down, smoked a cigarette and started a conversation. He wanted to know all about us and then described his entire life story, including where he was born, where his family members were born and all the ailments they each had. I gathered he has been a floater with jobs in many states before settling in Beaufort. We could not resist listening to him; overall, it was an enjoyable social engagement.

We stopped at a Publix grocery store on the way home to pick up dinner. The Spanish Moss Trail is a nice, paved trail, but it was a bit too tame for us. We like longer and wilder trails with fewer refinements.

2022: from Covid Lockdowns to Travel Freedom

January 1, 2023

When we crossed the border to Canada from the United States, driving north on Interstate 81, I asked the Canadian border guard: “no ArriveCan?”. He just laughed and let us through with a quick look at our passports. A few months ago we had to fill out the ArriveCan forms to cross the border and even with a correctly filled out form, which was a challenge to do, it still took a substantial amount of time to get through. And we had to have proof of vaccination and a negative Covid test taken within a day of arriving in Canada.

We have traveled to the US five times in 2022 and this trip was our sixth, to visit family for Xmas.

We used the ArriveCan form until the Canadian Government abandoned its use, partially because of public opposition to its use, and partially because it was a bureaucratic nightmare to administer it. And the Government also ditched the required vaccinations, and a negative Covid test, reflecting the low rate of Covid infections. Both barriers disappeared by the second half of 2022.

But it was not the ArriveCan and Covid requirements that stuck in my mind as a significant feature of 2022; it was the freedom to travel and the ease with which we could travel in late 2022. Traveling gives you the freedom to see different venues, meet people and, of course, visit family.

When the barriers disappeared, we were free to travel again.

Why is travel such an important and motivating activity for me? I found that if you stay home and follow your daily routine; which includes taking the garbage out, paying bills, and shoveling snow, you lose the excitement of living. Of discovering new ideas, fresh places, and meeting people, which keep your mind alert and body in physical shape.

By March 2022, we got fed up with being isolated in Ottawa and decided on the spur of the moment to visit family in North Carolina. So, we packed a suitcase and drove south. We followed up with a trip to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, in May, where we attended our grandson’s high school graduation. It was a lively experience in the basketball arena at Louisiana State University, with hooting parents celebrating their children’s graduation.

In July, we took our granddaughter back home to Durham, North Carolina, after her soccer camp at the University of Ottawa. End of August we spent a week in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. with my brother-in-law and his family. And, of course, we spent Thanksgiving and Xmas with family in North Carolina.

Our Honda CRV accumulated enormous mileage this year, compared to 2021, when we filled the car with gas maybe once every two months.

But our travel this year has been much more than seeing family; we did sightseeing and learned about the Moravians’ arrival in North Carolina. and their historical settlement in Salem; hiked in West Virginia. along abandoned rail lines that served coal mining and learned about mining history. Also enjoyed and walked in a gigantic park in Clemmons, North Carolina, donated to the community by the Reynolds family of tobacco fame. A highlight of one of our trips was attending a Baptist church service  – a first for me – in Clemmons. I found these “discovery” trips and experiences stimulating compared to my usual routine at home, which includes taking the garbage out, paying bills, and shoveling snow.

No question in my mind that the trips and the ease with which we took these trips were the highlights of 2022 for me.

How Did You Meet Your Spouse

November 12, 2022

That was the question at a celebration of a friend’s sixtieth wedding anniversary. We were looking at pictures of the couple’s past activities going back decades when someone popped the question. After the wife related how a “blind date” experience in Montreal led to an amazing sixty years of marriage, somebody spoke up and wanted to know how others, present at the celebration, met. I had no chance to relate my story; the conversation turned to how long it took from meeting your spouse to the wedding.

So here is my story. It started with my first car: a Peugeot 403 that I bought in Vancouver, in the early 1960s. I drove my car to North Carolina to attend graduate school in January 1965.

During the summer of 1965, I, along with two other graduate students studying city planning at the University of North Carolina (UNC) at Chapel Hill, had summer jobs in Washington, DC.

Ray rented a cheap apartment painted all black; it was unbearably hot with no AC. Another classmate, Alvaro, and I rented a room at Hartnett House off Dupont Circle. It was a bit of a flophouse. Our room had a window facing inwards onto a courtyard, with no air-conditioning and no fans.

If you know Washington’s weather during the summer, you know how steamy and hot it can be. Going to the beach one weekend was a wonderful idea, and since I was the only one with a car, I drove all of us to the beach in my Peugeot.

Alvaro invited Kathy to come with us to the beach. Kathy was a graduate student as well, studying economics and political science at UNC.

As soon as we arrived at the beach, Ray and Alvaro went to play the slot machines in the arcade. Kathy and I started talking about school life and hit it off immediately; we discovered we were both newcomers to North America and shared details of our growing up here. In those days we called stealing your friend’s date “birddogging”.

During the summer, Kathy and I got to know each other while discovering Rock Creek Park, going to nightclubs with blaring music, and eating at fish bistros along the Potomac. Our relationship hit a high point when her mother invited me for dinner. She was an experienced cook; the chicken meat just fell off the bones. I enjoyed the dinner and told her so. That pleased her. I was in.

I asked her to marry me three weeks after meeting her and bought her a skinny ring that I could afford from my meagre earnings that summer. But promised that I would replace the ring with a much larger ring as soon as I could buy one; I did so later when my job took me to the Yukon, where I bought her a wide gold ring.

The summer ended, and we had to go back to university. I suddenly got worried that if I spend so much time with Kathy, my studies will suffer. But as soon as we were back at school, we saw each other every day, starting with breakfast at Lenoir Hall, the student cafeteria.

We planned the church wedding for June 7, 1966, right after graduation, in Chapel Hill. But I had a suggestion; let us get married in a civil ceremony before the church wedding. We hustled off to South Carolina so that no one would know of our marriage and got married in the courthouse by a Justice of the Peace. I did not think the props in the courthouse measured up to the significance of the event; a couple of flowerpots did not provide the right background for taking a vow for life. But it was a marriage, and we had the certificate to prove it.

Our courthouse marriage burned an unforgettable memory in my mind; two grad students in a small South Carolina town, far from family, getting married, with nobody around who knew us, casually dressed, and making a contract for life. I thought it was surrealistic but deeply emotional and tremendously exciting.

This unique experience overwhelmed us, and nothing could break our spirits, not even when my faithful old car, the Peugeot 403, broke down on the drive back to Chapel Hill and we had to hitchhike back home. We just left the car on the highway; I took the license plates off it so people could not trace the car back to me. Disposal of the car was the last thing on my mind right after our union.

I cannot describe in words how excited and happy I felt being married, nobody knowing about it, not even my family, and going back to my dorm and Kathy going back to her dorm where she was a student councilor (her dorm students would have been flabbergasted to know what their advisor/councilor just did. This was in the sixties!).

The preparations for the church wedding took some other interesting turns; the pastor at the  Chapel of the Cross Episcopal Church who was to perform the wedding ceremony asked if religion would cause a problem for us. Kathy is Episcopal and I am Catholic. I assured the pastor that religion would not be an issue; I was a non-practicing Catholic and could not see myself launching into heavy arguments over religious doctrines.

Kathy’s brother Huw, whom I just met the day before the wedding, and my friend Ray, took me out for a few drinks; explaining that it was a custom to do so. On the day of the wedding, I got up a bit groggy and searched around for my formal clothing only to find I did not have a tie. I walked down the dorm corridor hall knocking on doors until I found a classmate happy to lend me one. I was ready to marry the second time.

My entire city planning class showed up for the wedding and had a great laugh when I tried to drive off in Kathy’s car. They put rocks in front and back of the tires, and I could not drive off until I got out of the car and cleared the rocks to the laughter of all. And when I drove off, a terrible racket came from the hubcaps; my friends put rocks into them as well. I drove off and stopped a block away to take the hubcaps off to get rid of the stones before driving off to our honeymoon.

Although I did not have the opportunity at the celebration to relate my story, I reflected on a marriage that lasted over sixty years. What I found more significant is that only one percent of couples in the U.S. can celebrate 60 years of marriage. I could not find similar statistics for Canada. I also found that an average marriage lasts fifteen years in Canada. So, a sixty-year marriage is an incredible achievement. Congratulations.