The Story of The Hike.

Remember our family camping campaign?

Well, ever since we had the idea to camp monthly and to specifically visit South Carolina state parks, Edisto Beach State Park has been high on our list of must-visits.

Somehow, though, it never happened.  Mainly because it’s a super popular campground, apparently.  It is frequently booked and reserving a campsite has been a challenge.

Which is why we were extra excited to check Edisto off our list this past weekend.

One of the many reasons we had been drawn to Edisto was the description on the state park’s website about the abundance of shells and fossils on the island, as well as one particular shell area – the Spanish Mount Trail.

The official state park website says this: Follow the Spanish Mount trail to the wetland area along Scott’s Creek and visit the second oldest Native American pottery site in South Carolina, Spanish Mount, a large shell mound dated to around 2,000 B.C. Remember to stay off the mound and leave the artifacts as you found them.

That sounds cool, right?

I mean – it implies the existence of artifacts that one would have to choose to leave in their original location. Are you reading that too?

2,000 BC sounds like a long time ago and “second oldest” screams legit to me.

All of this information is found at the trail’s beginning where we gathered – three grown ups and nine children.

 

Perhaps it is worth mentioning here that of the twelve of us, only about three of us were enthused about the morning hike.  (And those three were all over twenty, if that helps paint a picture of the vibe of our hikers.)

The sign said the hike was 1.7 miles.  Grown up Jacob suggested taking the time to park a car at the other end of the trail so we wouldn’t have to walk 1.7 miles there and 1.7 miles back.

But grown ups Hilary and Lacey scoffed at this convoluted time-consuming idea.  We knew our kids.  We’ve taken plenty of hikes together – longer treks in hotter weather with more kids.

And so we began to walk.

It was a broad, clear path with no obstacles.

Bergen did not find this challenge enough.

“I don’t know how to walk on all this straight ground.  I need roots,” he said.  Repeatedly.

The flat terrain, however, did create in my wild haired, wildly adventurous fellow, a simple desire to walk close and hold my hand.  Pretty much for the entire 1.7 miles there.  A gift I did not take lightly and chose not to question but just to enjoy.

 

In transit we saw a copper head and a garter snake.

Mosely’s screech alerted us all to the dangers.

We grown ups did a lot of talking up this mound of shells and fossils which was our destination.

Drawn in the sand, on the path, a previous traveler had scratched out the words “no bueno”.

The kids were plenty amused by this phrase, which they took as gospel truth about our destination, begging us to turn around from the no bueno trail.

We would not turn around, we three grown ups.  We would not relent.

The complaining grew long and loud and Jacob made up a rule that when we reached the trek’s end, the kids would be allowed five minutes of complaining.  They could not, however, complain any longer while we walked.  The idea mostly worked.

Finally, after that 1.7 miles that kind of seemed a lot longer, we reached the infamous shell mound.

Before you turned the corner to see this mound, another sign told us a few more details. This sign left out words like 2,000 BC and second largest and instead prominently featured words like trash heap and used to be more impressive before erosion.

 

Frankly, it seemed to me that this sign should have been at the beginning of the 1.7 miles instead of at the end.  In light of full disclosure and all.

Trash heap, you guys.

The Spanish Mound was pretty much a dumpster for their dinner of oysters.

We walked 1.7 miles for a dumpster.

It looked just like this.  (I’m saving you 1.7 miles, friends.)

 

What?  You’re not impressed with this?

Yeah.

Neither were they.

 

And, let me tell you, when Jacob set the timer for five minutes of whine fest, these kids unloaded.  It was some pretty class act complaining going on.

We all sighed, turned from the trash heap of leftover seafood dinners, and tried to prep ourselves for the next 1.7 miles back the campsite.

But then Jacob said something crazy.  Crazier than his original idea of having a car parked at the end of the trail.  (Which, of course, sounded less crazy to Hilary and I at that point.)

He said, “What if I run back and get the car and meet you guys at the parking lot?”

We probably should have said, “No.  That’s crazy talk.  We can all walk together.”

Instead I think there was some chanting from the shorter set of humans and some shrugging of shoulders from the over twenty crowd and a little, “Well, if you’re sure.”

And, next thing you know, Jacob was off sprinting 1.7 miles back to the campsite.

I hope he warned every hiker he ran by.

“No bueno.”

But, if he didn’t, no need to worry, because London took care of that for him with her own message on the trail.