Hunting Island, SC — July 12 – 14th 2002

So I left work on thursday evening, met up with Matt, Andew and E-Rawk, and played racquetball for two hours. Then E and I headed back to the crib where I packed, we loaded, and we headed out to South Carolina at 12:30 friday morning. Turns out the triptiks we got from AAA were all screwy, and Mander got a ticket for flying too low in Henry County.
We finally found the island, and the ‘campground’, around 6:30 in the morning. We had to wait in line for longer than I prefer to remember before getting a spot to get our camp on.
We didn’t get a whole lot of pictures of exploring because, well, not a whole lot of exploring went on. The place was slap-ass packed, filled with people sporting RVs with satellite dishes and tents fitted with window unit air conditioners. The pictures below are screen grabs from Amanda’s videoing, and at least outline the construction of the tipi pretty well. Were we to capture much else on film it woulda been the 84 billion mosquitoes.
On this trip more than ever it seemed like the dogs, and the lack of a truck, got in the way. It was fun, but surreal, and the combination of the weather, the dogs and our fellow ‘campers’ really started to wear away at the pleasure. Still, an adventure’s an adventure. I’d love to go back without the dogs and the RV denizens.

Lets construct a tipi! First you gotta get the three support poles roped together…

   

and get ’em stood up all nice-like.

Eric The Lionbottomed imparts wisdom.

   

“All will be answered, in time…”

Ernie, he prefers to watch rather than work.

   

Getting the rest of the poles in place.

E-Rawk contemplates how often tipi’s tend to ‘fall down’…

   

and decides it’s possible. Maybe.

Voila! The framework is in place.

   

Now we spread the outer canvas across the poles…

and get it into place… we hope.

   

Pin it up, and start straightening the bottom out.

Our bottom, it is crooked. E-Wooly’s look of consternation. Why does this always happen to us?

   

Getting the front laced up above the opening.

Using a homemade hammer (a maul? a mall?) to drive the stakes.

   

Erninator and Count Sophula would like us to hurry the hell up.

The inner liner. This helps create the updraft in the tipi, and lends extra privacy and noise reduction to boot.

   

Hanging the liner with the rainsticks, which create a channel for rain to run through to prevent the liner from getting wet
(or the tipi’s inhabitants from getting dripped on).

Damn ya’ll! Itsa wigwam! And about bloody time, too.

   

We’ve been up for how long now???

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A car trip back into ‘town’. Ern’s a wore out mutt.

   

E-Shabazz is a wore out mutt too.

Marshy. Overcast. Hot. Yeah.

   

Joe does a ‘tarded dance. Nice. Tattoos and a mullet. I’m fittin’ right in, dawg!

Gettin’ our fire on.

   

Sophula don’t dig the red flower. Nope. Not at all.

Do WHUT?!

   

Look! Eric’s bottom is crooked too! And sweaty! Mmmmm….

Sophie tries to hide under E-Rawk. She’s ready to get home, and to the couch, already.

   

The lighthouse. They’ve already had to move this thing inland once because of the mad erosion eating away at the island.

Hot fellers. Is that a dunlop?

   

Hot chix. Rabid hula larva on the rampage.

Inside the lighthouse. Where’s the elevator?

   

Eyorr and his aura, hangin’ atop the lighthouse.

The trail. The surf. The rednecks. The glory.

   

Them’s a lotta treez.

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The ocean, from the lighthouse. Canya see that hump in the ocean? That there’s a dolphin.

   

Me? I got left down on the ground with the dogs. Is that a dunlop? Ernie impressed me by trying to kill a park ranger while we waited. Goooood.

Another view from the lighthouse.

   

A drain? Dunno. It’s cool lookin’ though.

Head back down… hey; where’s that damn evelater?

   

And why call it an elevator when it goes down as well as up?

Spyin’ on Chaka.

   

A Sears Catalog smile.

Another shot of the lighthouse.

   

The dawgs wonder what the deal is with the bad tasting water.

Ernie likes it. Sophie… she still wants to go home.

   

Mander gettin’ her kite fly on.

See? Kite.

   

Kite.

Some things the camera didn’t catch;
A whole RV park full of rednecks.
A whole RV park full of tiny leaf frogs.
A tiny redneck kid flipping me the bird.
A shit-ton of rain saturday night, and a shit-ton of mud sunday morning.