Of course we were not going to remain in Knoxville after Christmas.
On the day after Christmas we piled into both vehicles. Cletus and the “children” (Jack, Anna, and Fran) into Tony’s crossover; with Tony and I playing adults in my vehicle. Without Cletus’s hair all over my wagon it truly was a luxe ride, even if our planned “leisurely lunch” at a place without a drive-thru window did not transpire on either the outbound or inbound, as we were more interested in reaching our destinations than sitting for lunch somewhere along I-26.
The TDoT team has a sense of humor. They remind me of Vienna’s MA48ers.
The Smokies put on a grand display as we pointed East. As we learned on the Greenville drive in November, once you’re through the Pigeon Forge River Gorge, the drive is mile after b.o.r.i.n.g. mile, and that certainly held true all the way to Charleston.
Our darling three-bedroom bungalow, named for a dolphin that washed inside during a hurricane and just a couple minutes’ walk from Folly Beach was perfect, with plenty of room for all to spread out and seek a private spot to unwind after a long day of sightseeing and beachcombing, more so from the latter.
We arrived too late to do more than wave at the ocean and promise we would visit often. Dinner on this evening came from a local beach seafood shack, naturally. Absolutely amazing Oyster Po’ boys and a pile of Conch Fritters to begin our beach holiday.
Lowcountry, we’re already in love.