The Marathon from Marathon: Part 8

The Stops Along the Way

This is installment part 8 of our trip from Marathon, FL north to Beaufort, NC.

To keep our sanity, we stopped a couple of times to recuperate.  After motoring 10-12 hours for 5 days, we needed breaks.  The nice part about heading north compared to our travel south was that WE chose the places to stop rather than having Layla choose.  We revisited some of the places we stayed previously, and looked at them differently.  We were no longer trapped in these places waiting on a part or a repair, and it made all the difference.  We still had our chores to do including restocking the pantry, refueling, refilling water and, getting Bud’s hair cut in Beaufort, SC.  When we weren't satisfying Layla's needs, we caught up with old acquaintances, met other cruisers, and locals. 

One of our favorite stops was Beaufort, SC (pronounced Bu-fort, not to be confused with Beaufort, NC, pronounced Bo-fort, Layla's hailing port).  These towns share, in addition to their similarly spelled names, quaint charm and authentic southern hospitality of these small coastal communities.  Below are selected pictures to give you a feel for the week we spent in Beaufort, SC.

Walking back from the grocery store in Beaufort, SC.

Bud got a much needed haircut, military style (not his favorite, and much shorter than his normal cut), at the barber shop in Beaufort, SC.

We were in watermelon country over the Fourth of July.  This is one of the many 'watermelon' buses (converted school buses with the windows removed) used to transport watermelons from the farms.

There are many cemeteries as peaceful as this along the walk to the grocery store.

 
The Locals

We were re-acquainted with the iconic southern hospitality when we were offered a lift back to the marina after shopping at the Piggly Wiggly grocery store in Beaufort, SC.  A woman in a beat-up pickup truck told us to hop in the back while she ran into the store for a minute.  As we climbed in, we noticed grocery bags filled with canned goods from other stores in the bed of the truck.  She explained the grocery stores had damaged goods for sale on Monday, and that she only eats whatever is on sale.  After she dropped us off at the marina, we thanked her for going out of her way.  She explained she had been a cruiser for ten years, and she knew how challenging it can be.  As we walked down the dock to our dinghy, she called us.  We though we had left some groceries, but she just wanted to tell us to look her up in the phone book if we needed anything.  She slapped her knee and said, “Pat me on the pink knee…..That is how you will remember my name, Pat Pinckney”.  We thanked her again, and I cried.  Pat was clearly getting by on more modest means than we were, and yet she insisted on more giving.  I recalled that we were offered a lift when we passed through Beaufort previously on the trip south.  Laden with far too many grocery bags (again) walking back from the store, a woman pulled off the road and insisted on giving us a ride.  “That’s what we do in Beaufort.”, she said proudly.  The pace of cruising on Layla rewards us with deeper interactions not typically available otherwise.

In the back of Pat Pinckney's old pick-up truck.