Givhans Ferry State Park

Ok so here are a few pictures, but really there is much more to this whole story. Even what I do have down below, it's only about half of what I really felt and what I was going through. If you have a boat, and are lucky then you might want to take your chances, otherwise stay away...

This is the Edisto River, nice huh? This was taken as we were leaving the park.

A tree next to the Edisto River.

A cardinal decided to make itself available for pictures.

This is a bridge, next to the Edisto River. Not on it, just next to it.

We got a wild hair up our ass and went camping at Givhans Ferry State Park. I say wild hair, and I'll explain why. You see I used to love camping and my wife did too, but not anymore, at least I don't think so. We start out by the wife picking me up straight from work. And we drove up 95, to get off on hwy 61. All pretty much cut and dry, right? Up until now it is.

We got our number/reservation and went to our spot. Which was situated between the the good, and the somewhat evil. Yeah I know. The good was some kind of church youth group, in Spanish or Portuguese. The evil was some rednecks playing the radio so loud that the last place you thought you were, was the woods.

But I understand, different people, different goals. That's what makes this country great. But we were subjected to it all. From the kum ba yah or I want to be holy, to the Lynnard Skynnard Freebird playing people, it was a great time to people watch, but we weren't there to people watch. We just wanted a little peace and quiet. Well, that wasn't going to happen.

And as if that wasn't enough, thunderstorms arrived at about midnight and it rained on us throughout the night, making us rather devastated by the time morning came around. And when we looked back on the whole affair, I think I'd rather be with a bunch of rednecks than Jesus freaks anyway. I mean don't get me wrong I'd rather just be by myself. Or at least around people that can appreciate quiet and who would want to go outdoors to be outdoors, not to whoop and holler, not to play Van Halen on 11, just "be."

But I obviously am in the minority, so I would have been better off just putting up a tent in my backyard. We experienced all the singing and prayer, and we endured 3-4 hours of classic rock/country. We were ready to call it quits, especially after all the thunderstorms of the night. And just when we thought it was over. The mosquito makes it's presence known. Like clouds of them, they bit me while I was packing, almost to say, "Hey, get outta here". Which we did. Trying to salvage something from that morning, we stopped to eat some Cracker Barrel, that was quickly scratched off, or added to, the Do Not Eat at that place ever again list. Oh well...sometimes...there's no place like home.