Wednesday 5/20  Wadmalaw Island, SC stay over to fix the generator.

We had an appointment on the next island over at 9am at Marine Propulsion, the boat yard where Harry had had extensive work done many years ago when he bought/fixed up the boat.  These guys (well, Anthony) were the ones that put the generator in in the first place.  What was the problem?  It just wouldn’t stay on.  sometimes it would stay on one hour, sometimes five and sometimes it wouldn’t turn back on and sometimes it started back up just fine….a very big mystery…but Harry knew Anthony could fix it.   

Spent the morning wondering around the boat yard.  Harry loves boat yards but after a walk through to see some of the boat being worked on I’m no longer intrigued like he is…I enjoyed meeting both Anthony and Susie (his ex-wife), the owners and their son who reminded me so much of Russell.  Good, good people.  Their business was on this little, exclusive island and everyone knew them and they knew everyone.  It was exclusive in the fact that new comers didn’t come here - the people living here had been there for many generations, the homes well cared for but not extravagant.  

So i put my bike together and high tailed it out of the boat yard to see what i could see.   I took every side street i could find and went up and down everyone of them i do believe.  Once you turned off the main street the side streets were packed sand.   It seemed folks knew i didn’t belong there and when i met a few they always asked, where you from?  The homes were settled, the trees and flowers and bushes mature, the folk slow moving and old - all had been there for quite awhile.  i talked to one woman in her yard, telling her she had a lovely home and she was pleasant - said she lived in the house, just her and the beagle.  She was tending to her flowers which i thought might be the passion that keeps her going….as i rode away i kinda day dreamed about her inviting me in for a sandwich and iced tea, sitting at a kitchen table with a stained tablecloth with crumbs from breakfast toast, no air conditioning - just the fan in the window…imagining my grandmother’s kitchen - a kinda sad, melancholy thought.

Okay wake up....  i was gone about an hour i guess and when i turned back into the marina road, Keith Martens (Harry’s son) and Harry were driving out the road - they were coming to find me.  Keith lives about 15 minutes away and he was taking us to lunch.  yea!!

It felt strange to be plopped into a town from the water - you just can’t get our bearings - where are we?  the town seemed to be bustling.  Lunch was a crowded cafe at the end of the marina road but where were we?  We weren’t in Kiawah, or Seabrook Island, or Bohicket,  Keith says it’s Johns Island and he should know - he lives there.   Keith is as sweet as he can be and would do anything for anybody, so he tooled us around to places we needed to go, finally he said, why don’t you guys take me home and you can borrow my car and come back later.  I was glad we were going to get to see Keith’s place because i wanted to see his chickens.  He’s building coops and also has many chicks, hens and some fine roosters.  and they just play and peck around in the yard….and he’s got two dogs who seem to corral the chickens and keep them safe.  Keith gave me a light blue egg, warm from the nest.  

We finished our errands and came back to Keith’s and on our way back to the boat yard we stopped by a place famous for fresh shrimp.  well, i’ve never in my life stopped by a place like this to get something that i would later eat.  seems like the health department may have a thing to say about this but i will say it was fascinating.  Up close and personal with the shrimpers way of life.  And i guess one gets used to the smell.  Somehow Keith and Harry both knew these folks and talked about old times.  The husband was out and the wife, Linda was tending shop.  Young hands were putting ice into a boat that was docked outside the door of what kinda looked like a barn.  I’ve never seen so much ice — it was being sucked through a huge pipe into the belly of the shrimp boat.  I’d never thought about it but  realized in a second just how important ice is to a fisherman.  I told Linda I’d never had fresh caught that day shrimp and she said just add some salt and pepper and that’s it.  She thought i was cooking them….i had a top notch chef with us and i pleaded..you cook them Keith…I’ll watch and learn.  Of course he agreed.

I was informed that the US shrimpers have been hard hit by the low cost of imported Asian shrimp.  Putting them right out of business.  The price of these shrimp were 7.99 with the heads on or 12.99 with the heads off.  Since we didn't want the heads to make fish stock (ugh)...we got them headless.  

Keith took us back to the boat with the goodies and said he’d return a bit later.  Anthony the owner and friends came by the boat for drinks before going out to dinner.  Our first cocktail party.  Soon Keith arrived with a small feast.  We had fresh shrimp stuffed with crabmeat over angel hair pasta and a wonderful salad. DEEE licious.  

we may be stuck at a boat yard but on the other side of the waterway are salt marshes as far as the eye can see which is sweet around sunset!  sights that compel one to paint.

Oh, and the generator problem was not figured out….more work needed tomorrow.