By Andy Anderson

As with any adventure, any perspectives regarding this trip are as differing as the participants. This one just happens to be mine.
We were to meet Friday morning and launch our little flotilla from a landing north of Mt. Pleasant known as Gadsdenville Landing. I followed the sign off of Highway 17, which indicated the direction of said landing. The road ended, without the slightest indication of a landing. I went to the right...no landing. I went to the left...no landing. Mike arrived about that time and we commiserated on this perplexing problem. Even though I am a man, I finally broke down and asked a local guy for directions. As it turns out, it was right in front of us. We didn't feel too bad, as the landing was little more than...the end of the road.

In short order the rest of our little band started arriving, and we began the process of stowing an unbelievable amount of gear into a dozen kayaks. (Kate had arranged an outstanding arrangement for our vehicles. There's a lady who lives close by the landing who will let you park in her yard for $5.00 a day. An outstanding investment, considering the neighborhood!)

The three-mile paddle out to Capers was lovely. The high point for me was when we first began seeing the dolphins cruising along with us. I'm sure a great many photographs were taken of dorsal fins as they slipped below the surface. We arrived on Capers about 3:00 PM and set about trying to decide where to set up our nylon homes for the next few days. Some wanted to go around "the corner" and set up there. Others wanted to go to the other end of the island, and camp there. The easiest thing to do, was what we did...stay right where we were.

Everyone then swung into action. Boats were unloaded, tents pitched and explorations were begun. Pam, Brian and Tom even constructed a most admirable lean-to to be used for a cooking shelter. After my campsite was deemed ready for occupancy, I set off to explore the area.

Walking along the shore of Capers reminded me of the last scene from "Planet of the Apes." Devastation as far as the eye could see. Between the beautiful sand beach and the scrub are the skeletal remains of hundreds of palmetto and other trees. A sad testament to the ravages of hurricane Hugo, so many years ago.

As nightfall began to envelop us, we were treated to a lovely pink and orange sunset to enjoy as we began preparing our evening meals. Some folks ate communally, while others dined upon their own goodies. Later we all enjoyed sitting around a robust fire, sharing stories, and the odd lame joke. There was even an experiment into primitive campfire baking.

By midnight we all felt it was time to tuck it in for the night. As I was lying in my tent, I began to wonder why there was so much flashlight activity around me, and that reason suddenly became abundantly clear. A storm had come up and was about to be upon us. The lights I had seen glowing through my tent were the result of lightening, and the rest of the storm was following close behind. Some pretty heavy-duty winds battered us, and a smattering of rain fell. It speaks well of everyone's tent pitching skills, that none of them were blown away.

The morning dawned gloomy and overcast. Kudos to Brian for starting a fire for us, in far less than ideal conditions! A large group took off to explore toward the north end of the island on foot, while the rest of us just puttered around camp. Lunchtime rolled around and with it came the sun. I paddled over to Dewees Island to see what I might discover there. No sooner had I landed (unceremoniously through the surf) than I saw Kate signaling to me. Not having a clue if she was wanted me to come back, was just being social or something was amiss, I paddled out into the sound to join her. As it turned out, she, Mike and Roy were going to paddle over to Bulls Island, and she wanted to know if I was interested in joining them. That sounded like a grand idea, at the time.

We paddled ocean channels, we paddled bays, we paddled inlets, and we cut our own channel through a salt marsh. We arrived on Bulls island (7 miles away, as it turned out) just in time for the tide to start going back out. Now we had to paddle back against the tide to get "home." There was one semi humorous incident on the way back, as we were trying to paddle past a large sailing vessel. A pair of bright-eyed, young boys were on the deck waving to us and enjoying themselves. We would wave back, and then paddle even harder. We paddled, and we paddled and we paddled, but the sail boat stayed right off our port side...and the lads on deck were acting like all of this was some form of great entertainment for them. It was about this time we discovered the sailboat was at anchor. A pretty demoralizing revelation. The four of us paddled back into camp just shy of sunset, tuckered out, but pleased with our adventure and ourselves.

Another evening began with a lovely sunset, followed by a warming campfire and ongoing socialization. Sunday morning dawned bight and clear. Brian, Joe and I decided to take our boats out and play in the surf. I don't know what experience they have with kayaking in the surf, but mine was pretty much nil. For my first exposure, I found the experience quite exhilarating; even if (truth be told) it wasn't much, as far as surf goes. As the morning progressed, the group migrated toward a variety of differing activities. Some paddled toward the north shore, others went shelling on Dewees Island and some just relaxed in camp.

We began breaking down camp and cleaning up our campsites about noon and then enjoyed a leisurely paddle (in the company of the dolphins) back to the landing, arriving around 3:00. I felt this was an outstanding trip and a lovely location. It's hard to beat living on the beach for the weekend. The weather cooperated, the company was great, and the paddling was enjoyable.

Many thanks go to Kate and Brian for their efforts!

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