RIDGE A VIEW FROM THE
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peaking of boats, through my unscientific survey (I have not been down all the side roads in RRR), I would wager (something that is also done at the “salons”) that there is a boat in the front or side yard (or both) of every third house or mobile home throughout Jasper County, a freedom not experienced by our brothers and sisters in Southern Beaufort County’s planned unit developments. At one of the “salons” I recently attended, I mentioned the boats and the attendant wisdom of having one “at the ready,” so to speak, due to rising sea levels caused by global warming. It was at that moment I realized that at certain “salons” there were topics best kept to one’s self. But the “good idea at the time” started to keep me up at night. It wasn’t writer’s block (that usually happens in daylight). Over time, I discovered I might have been suffering from a condition not uncommon among Hilton Head Islanders, usually those who are newly settled retirees. I discovered I
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was turning into a “bridge burner”! You know the malady. It shows up almost weekly in The Island Packet’s Letters to the Editor section. “I’ve got mine, so burn the bridges and keep those riff raff off the island!” I was uncertain if I wanted to expose the extraordinary beauty and charm of my new neighborhood. My fear was that I might make it sound attractive enough and more people would move here! Bravely (though still with some hesitation), I will start with some facts. 1. This rumor is not true. You do not need your U.S. passport in any part of Jasper County. You will need your driver’s license, proof of insurance and registration when the officer pulls you over for (usually) speeding (usually on SC 462 or the stretch of I-95 from Exit 33 to the Georgia border). 2. This rumor is true. Neither Siri nor Google Maps can be completely relied upon to get you where you want to go in Jasper County, and you can find yourself wandering endlessly on back roads that lead to other back roads. (Exit 18, Bees Creek.)
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(Author’s note: In the late fall of 2012, after residing on Hilton Head Island for 30 plus years, mostly at the beach, I heard the siren call of “greener pastures” (i.e. budget considerations) and moved my kit and caboodle to a Really Rural Ridgeland home on the tidal waters of Boyd Creek. That would be 50 minutes (on a good day) northwest of Coligny Circle. Ridgeland, South Carolina. Seemed like a good idea at the time, writing about my (relatively) new neighborhood. There are what I refer to as the “salons” of Really Rural Ridgeland (RRR) where local illuminati gather to exchange views on such topics as world hunger (“You got any ribs left, babe?”) to Second Amendment rights (“Don’t go walking in the woods ’til after 10 a.m. Some of them [hunters] think that anything moving that’s not wearing camo is a deer.”) In fact it was at one of these gatherings I had my first taste of a delightfully flavored distilled liquid (Corn is not just grown for Kellogg’s and ethanol production. Speaking of ethanol, never use that [expletive that rimes with “wit”] in your boat engine.)