Isle of Palms Winter/Spring 2019-20

16 www.IsleOfPalmsMagazine.com | www.ILoveIOP.com | www.IOPmag.com island-wide cookouts over the holidays. We had a nickel carnival where kids could be kids and play games run by the adults from the island. In the summers, the rec center showed movies outside on a sheet or on the side of the building. The police were our friends and gave us rides home when needed. At the age of 12, us kids had the run of the island. Little did we know how special our way of life was; we were like princes with keys to a kingdom we didn’t know existed. We often found ourselves near the fishing pier on our bicycles. When someone noticed the hard-packed sand left by the falling tide, they pointed it out and, without a word, we all ran for our bikes. We knew that if the tide was falling, the current in the creek would take us where we wanted to go without much effort. We raced to the Campsens’ house, leaving our bikes scattered around the driveway as we ran down and jumped off the end of the dock, hitting the water of Hamlin Creek one after another. We surfaced in the same order we jumped in, then lay on our backs as we looked at the sky and let the tide take us the half-mile down the creek to another dock. During this float past the oyster beds and other docks, we talked about our plans to go camping that night, who liked what girl, who kissed who and what animals we saw in the clouds, all while the hardback shrimp were popping in our ears. After about an hour, we reached our destination and crawled out of the water at the Shaffers’ or Martins’ dock, then made our way back to our bikes. During this walk, you had to choose between burning hot asphalt or sand spurs. Every yard had them back then and they were everywhere – along with sand. Only a few yards had the manicured lawns of today’s island. Palm Boulevard was a road that the sand dunes met. Back then, the rule was to leave two tires on the pavement when you parked or else you would get stuck. Whichever route we chose to walk back to our bikes – asphalt or sand spurs – about halfway we would change our minds and think the other was less painful. Then we would get to the nickel carnival lot and take a shortcut by jumping the ditch behind the Red & White. Once we were back to our bikes, we headed to the mud hole. Most places have swimming holes, but most places don’t have pluff mud. At the end of 26th Avenue, there was a rope swing that took us out over a pit of mud. We would swing out, let go and drop 10 to 15 feet through the air, then disappear into a pool of mud. It was a soupy slurry that wouldn’t support our weight so we swam just like in water. When we re-emerged from the mud we looked like monsters from the black lagoon. This was a rite of passage on the island as you approached your [ Feature ] “Most places have swimming holes, but most places don’t have pluff mud.” Aerial view of how the Isle of Palms looked in the ‘70s.