If given the choice, I prefer to write with an ocean view and soundtrack.
On Tuesday, It got up to 69 degrees. And we got coatless.
Days in the South have a way of rolling in like a wave. Always being the first riser, I take Trixie on her first walk of the day. The beach is basically deserted. Out of the dozen people we see, six of them get the enthusiastic golden retriever attack. I try to steer her clear of the unsuspecting but she has enough Walsh in her to yank me to her target. Leaving the beach will be hardest on Trixie.
I’m doing a little writing, a little reading, a little walking and my sun salutations. By the time everyone is up and showered, I’ve already accomplished my To-Dos for the day. I’m relaxed and ready for a group activity.
Tuesday’s adventure takes us to Pawley Island. It’s a beautiful isolated spot where the houses are on stilts. The narrow community has big houses on one side facing the ocean. On the other side of the street, long wooden piers stretch into the marsh. At the end of the residential strip is the public beach. And it’s a huge oasis cocooned by gentle dunes. I’m digging on South Carolina beaches. The sand is the firm walkable kind. And they are pristine. No trash anywhere.
On our way to meet Joey and Kylie for dinner, we decide to go full-on tourist and ride the ferris wheel. Fortified with liquid courage (Royal Butts = Crown Royal and butterscotch schnapps), we brave the Skywheel. It’s located on the beach in another amusement park zone. A large percentage of locals must be employed by restaurants, miniature golf, or attractions like the wheel. Myrtle Beach wants visitors to enjoy themselves by eating, drinking or playing.
As is everything in the South, the Skywheel moves at a leisurely pace. We can see the splendor of the ocean and all the commercial attractions prepared to welcome tourism in the next couple months. We get in 5 revolutions without hitting the panic button.
We end our day at Finn McCool’s. An irish pub down the road from us. Southern hospitality with a side of Irish charm is the speciality of the house. Abs and Grace drink the local punch. The rest of us sip more conservatively. With the exception of Norm, the service in South Carolina has been exceptional. At Finn’s, they even bring us chocolate dipped cherries that look like little mice with the bill. Sweet! 