Camping on Hunting Island State Park: Part Three

If you haven’t read Part One or Part Two of our Hunting Island Adventure, you may want to start there first.

One of my biggest fears with the whole public restroom situation was that I’d have to wake up in the middle of the night and take Baby-girl to the bathroom. There’s just something about having to get up and walk through the woods in the middle of the night just to relieve oneself that makes me think, “Wow, I’d be hard-pressed to have less fun right now.”

Baby-girl, good girl that she is, slept for the duration, but one of the boys had the audacity to wake up and need to go.

It was pitch-dark out. I lay there and watched him put his shoes on while his brother woke up and decided to join him. Naturally, I waited for LCB to wake up and do right by his sons. Instead, he lay there, dead to the world.

I gave a loud groan. LCB remained motionless. So I stood up, acting manly when my spouse clearly would could not, and put on my shoes. Someone had to load the flashlight and face the ‘coons.

Baby-girl woke at this point and asked to join us. Then, as the four of us exited the tent, we witnessed a miracle.

LCB awoke.

And so, the Island family all journeyed to the loo together. Except somewhere along the way, we lost LCB and my eldest. I was so busy dealing with the other two small people that I didn’t notice at first.

Baby-girl and I finished our business and met up with my younger son. Y’all, I laughed as I left the restroom. In our short time of refreshment, the pre-sunrise light had emerged and was growing fast in the sky. I looked at my watch. It wasn’t the middle of the night; it was seven o’clock. I felt markedly less like a martyr.

When LCB and my older son were nowhere to be found, we headed back to the tent. Yes, there the two of them sat, laughing their fool heads off.

Apparently, I had been using a restroom several campsites away when there was one located right beside the souped-up camper next to us.

So sue me. Forgive me for not seeing an outhouse cloaked in trees and darkness when it’s also hiding behind the blinding glare of a Taj Mahal on wheels.

Anyway, the men ran around the campsite assembling fire provisions and kicking dirt around while grunting. I returned to my sleeping bag, desperate for any measure of warmth. An hour later I emerged, smurf-blue, resigned to the cold and ready to break my fast. Breakfast consisted of cold cereal and coffee LCB bought at the camp store. You know what’s awesome about hot coffee? If it’s forty-two degrees out, even when it’s bad, it’s good.

IMG_6143 CompressedIMG_6181 CompressedAfter breakfast, the small people discovered a large vine on our site and took turns playing on it.

The rest of the morning was basically all about the fire. You know what boys love more than fire?

IMG_6114IMG_6121IMG_6126Nothing. I tried to coax them to take a walk on the beach with me, promising a stop at the playground.

They looked at me, insulted by my sophomoric attempt at enticement. I might as well have offered brussel sprouts and an extra side of chores, so ineffectual was my lure.

So the boys stayed to tend the fire while I walked the beach. Even Baby-girl wanted no part of any safe form of nature, so I walked alone.

IMG_6157For the most part, the beach was wide and flat and only infrequently sprinkled with campers.

IMG_6164IMG_6165IMG_6169IMG_6172A section of the beach reminded me of Driftwood Beach, a beach I visited last year on Jekyll Island, with its rows of live oaks lying across the sand, their roots exposed. The island’s lighthouse stands in the distance. A string of campsites lines the edge of the beach.

IMG_6186After lunch, we drove to the nature center located near the lighthouse. We stood like dummies and watched an alligator for a minute, since our alligator sightings are so rare. (As if: After once publicly lamenting that I’d lived here this long and never seen one in the wild, I’ve now seen several.) While we watched the alligator, some lady with a dog sat and watched us. (Maybe she doesn’t have opportunities to watch people where she’s from.)

(Just saying. You never know.)

Then, we headed to the Hunting Island Lighthouse. For two dollars apiece, you can climb the lighthouse.

I kid you not, my younger son’s face lit up when I told him we were going to climb it, and he asked, “Are we using ropes to get up there?” 

“No, Spidey, not this time. We’re fully relying on our web powers for this one,” I answered. No, not really. I was too busy doubled-over, convulsing with laughter, to say anything for a while.

IMG_6208So we paid our money and began ascending. After two flights of stairs, LCB began grumbling and exchanging “Wow, I forgot how old I’m getting!” comments with some like-minded tourists in descent. These comments, however, reminded me that I wouldn’t need to do any glute or leg work that night, so I climbed the next few flights of stairs sustained by happy thoughts and a brief flashback to my short-lived Buns of Steel days.

 It was about halfway up that I stopped for a minute, and suddenly it hit me.

 To be continued. 😉

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