Peter and Mark convinced Cat and me to stumble out of bed before first light and photograph Driftwood (or Boneyard – both names are used) Beach. For those of you who follow our travels, the guys like to get out to the location early (translation, in the dead of night while it is still dark). And they usually find a place that requires at least a 20 minute drive to get there.

We arrived to a closed gate and then engaged in a riveting discussion about at what time it would open. No sign was posted. Just as I was about to have a meltdown, and declare an urgent need for caffiene, at exactly 6:05 AM the gate magically opened. Crisis averted. If you decide to visit, make sure you are there during low tide, otherwise the beach is inaccessible.

Driftwood Beach used to be Pockoy Island. Erosion got the upper hand and drowned the dense forest of pines, oaks and shrubs. The forest was hardy and well adapted, but it couldn’t survive a 100% salt water bath.

Walking along the beach during the day’s first light was eerie. Imagine, walking through a forest of tall trees, but they are all dead. Some were still standing but many were toppled. The root systems were much taller and wider than a human body. It was impossible to capture a photo of the scene to convey the tangled maze of downed trees you had to walk through, climb over, and walk around just to get down to the beach.

There were pieces of the trees that were partially buried in sand, but oddly the wood was hard, almost petrified. I was expecting softer, almost rotting wood.

One more stop before lunch, Edisto Beach. I was hopping to try my hand at Crab Flipping today (not cow tipping), but the opportunity did not present itself. There is a sign at Edisto Beach entrances asking you to flip stranded Horseshoe Crabs and provided detailed instructions on how to do so.

I was curious as to how they get turned over in the first place so I read the entire informative and incredibly interesting sign. Apparently they are exhausted after their not-so-frisky procreation activities and about 10% of them get flipped over by rough weather, and can’t get right side up. Males hitch a piggy back ride on the females, and then fertilize the eggs after she leaves. The males can’t be THAT exhausted, she seems to be doing a lot more of the work. Even more curious, it’s the single males that seem more likely to flip over. I guess crawling up on the beach unassisted really is hard, hard, work. I feel the need to understand this more, but I’m still exhausted from yesterday’s rabbit holes.

A long afternoon nap was in order.