In and around town when Beaufort bound

I had a new bike and a lunch invitation in Beaufort, South Carolina, so it seemed like a great opportunity for my friend Mary and me to visit Hunting Island.  

Years ago when my husband and I were looking for a place to relocate from the cold north, we rented a cabin on Hunting Island and felt the allure of South Carolina. That cabin and all but one of the others have been lost to continuing erosion of the island’s shoreline. 

Nonetheless, Hunting Island State Park attracts over one million visitors a year, making it the most visited in the state. The park has a lot of recommendations. But the bike trails – maybe not. 

There are 125 campsites, which fill as soon as the 13-month reservation period opens, a well-stocked camp store, picnic areas, a visitor’s center with exhibits, a boat landing, and a fishing pier. 

Park manager Kirby Brady said, “My favorite spot at Hunting Island State Park is the fishing pier at sunrise. The experience is nothing short of breathtaking, and it leaves a permanent impression with its pristine landscape and abundance of wildlife.”  

Most visitors make their way up the beach to the lighthouse, which has been on the National Register of Historic Places since 1972. It flanks the four-mile shoreline. Bicyclists can ride the entire beach at low tide. Maybe I should have considered that instead of choosing to explore the 10 miles of bike trails. 

I used the official park website to plan my trail ride and saw that most of the routes were rated easy except for Diamondback Rattlesnake Trail, rated moderately strenuous (as if the name were not off-putting enough!) 

From the Visitor’s Center I got on the Maritime Forest Trailhead to begin. My plan was to combine trails to make a loop, but it didn’t take long for me to not know which trail I was on due to the lack of signs or blazes. Had I wandered into rattlesnake country?  

My wide-tire bike was often mired in sand and had to be pushed. Surprisingly, there were a few sandy hills. Although it was a cool October day, mosquitoes were swarming. Eventually I made it to the Lagoon Trail and encountered a friendly park ranger who pointed me back to the trailhead.   

Back in civilization at the lovely Beaufort Inn, Mary and I were greeted by the friendly receptionist, Pebbles, who checked us into our spacious room overlooking what she described as the “most photographed street in Beaufort.” From our veranda, we could hear neighbors' friendly chatter and the commentary from tour guides in horse-drawn carriages as they clip-clopped below.  

The inn includes several buildings. Between them are lovely courtyards bedecked with twinkle lights and filled with chaises and couches. It was a comfy place to spend the afternoon visiting our friend the next day.   

The Beaufort Inn provides guests with a voucher for breakfast across the street at the Blackstone Café. When we arrived just before 8 a.m., the tables were filled with workmen and groups of older men who looked like regulars. Banners from sports teams and a large American flag hung on the walls. It smelled like freshly made biscuits. 

We were distracted from our breakfast of fluffy pancakes by a loud bell ringing at 8 a.m. Suddenly everyone in the restaurant stopped eating, stood up, and put their hand on their heart. So we did too, wondering what was happening. Then everyone solemnly turned towards the flag and recited the Pledge of Allegiance. Maybe that’s a Beaufort thing. I don’t know. 

I often advise my Charleston friends who are looking for a quick getaway to go to Beaufort. It’s an easy drive, less than two hours, and the downtown waterfront is wonderful. 

You can stroll along looking at the boats, sit in a porch swing, have a picnic, or try one of the many restaurants that have seating along the water. One time we travelled there in a friend’s boat. 

Hunting Island is just across the causeway. You can stay at one of the charming inns or B&Bs and wander the historic neighborhoods. The town made a strong impression on favorite son Pat Conroy, who settled here. He wrote, “When I came to Beaufort, I had struck upon a land so beautiful I had to hunt for other words."