Mindfulness on Tybee Island

This post was supposed to be about Savannah, our final stop on our Queens of the SE Coast trip. But it’s not. It’s about Tybee Island. Let me explain…

En route from Charleston to Savannah, we made two stops that set the tone for the final portion of our trip. I had read about how beautiful Kiawah Island was, with its pristine beaches and fresh produce farm stands. I convinced Eric to make the extra 45 minute drive out, and what a lovely drive it was. With lush tree canopies over the road and lowcountry farms, I could feel the anticipation building that THIS was the South Carolina I wanted to see! THIS was the place where natural beauty wasn’t overshadowed by elitism or over-development.

Then we got to a gate and my dreams were crushed. Nowhere in all the articles that I read did anyone mention that Kiawah is a private island and you cannot access it if you don’t have a reservation on the island. What the *&$@?

The gatekeeper told us there was a small public beach down the road, but it didn’t open until 10am. At this point I was feeling betrayed and dejected, and if I’m honest, embarrassingly naive. We stopped for coffee at The Hemingway to regroup, and as I sat there listening and observing other customers, I became more unsettled by the minute. Eric and I could easily fit into a place like Kiawah if we wanted to. We have the income, the education, the love for culture and travel and beautiful things. Unfortunately, my sub-conscious always seeks the layers beneath and I can’t turn it off no matter how hard I try. All I could see and hear was a place where unspoiled land is only accessible to the wealthy. A place where people are so clueless to the poverty just down the country road from their immaculate golf course.

And so we left Kiawah Island, a little bit wiser and humbled. If someone were to ask me “should I visit Kiawah Island” I would probably say yes. It’s gorgeous and it’s a dream family vacation. But it’s not for me.

My disappointment didn’t last long, however, for just outside of Beaufort we hit upon the Lowcountry Produce Farmstand on Trask Parkway. Years ago when Eric and I visited Beaufort, we stopped at a roadside cafe where we indulged in our first pimiento cheese hamburger. Since then we’ve tried to remember where we had that hamburger. Lo and behold, it was Lowcountry Produce and that burger was just as tantalizing as we remembered.

Feeling all was right with the world again, we kept on towards Savannah. Since we had visited Savannah before, we opted for lodging on Tybee Island so we could get both city and beach. But as we drove through downtown Savannah and saw the hordes of tourists, an unspoken conversation occurred between Eric and I. By the time we reached our Tybee Island Airbnb, it was settled: we would skip Savannah entirely and spend the rest of our trip soaking up island life.

One of the things I love most about Eric is that we always seem to be on the same page. It’s why it’s so difficult for us to travel with others. Our moods and our interests are nearly always in sync. We know what the other wants or needs from that day without having to ask or compromise. And what we wanted at that moment was to relax on the beach, watch sunsets, ride bikes, walk to the grocery store, and just exist. And so we did just that.