November 21:
I was so excited to leave for the beach that it was no effort to get out of bed and on the road by 9:00AM. Those of you who know me can laugh since I usually get out of bed no earlier than 8:30A.M. The day was crisp and sunny. The cats were surly and aware that we were leaving them home alone. If they follow true to form, they will save food for fear that no more will be forthcoming. Little do they know that the neighbor will be there every day.
Traffic was light and we sailed into Shelby too early for lunch at Bridges’ BBQ. No problem, on to Gastonia and RO’s. This is an institution in Gastonia since 1946. The building has been updated but the menu and the music hasn’t changed. If you have not been to RO’s, there are no signs and the location is in a rather questionable section of town so ask a local. The menu features breakfast items, burgers, dogs, livermush and barbeque. Livermush is a Southern delicacy that has not and will not touch my tongue. Yes, the husband likes the stuff and declares that I should at least taste one bite. Don’t think so. Anyway, the thing about RO’s is the sauce, applied to all sandwiches. It is a mixture, not unlike Thousand Island dressing, with A LOT of black crushed peppers; the details are a family secret. The buns are pressed and just soft enough to melt in your mouth. It is always a disappointment to realize that I have eaten my sliced pork sandwich in record time instead of slowly enjoying it. www.rosbbq.com
Highway 74 E is our next adventure and we will follow this for a few hours until connecting with Hwy. 211. 74 is a wonderful stretch of four lane with a reasonable speed limit and miles of undeveloped land. This highway will become I-74 at some point and then all that nothingness will change. Southport is the end of the line for hwy 211, literally. You can only drive into the Cape Fear River if you don stop. Our inn, Lois Jane’s Riverview, is across the street from the river where you can watch the Fort Fisher Ferry sail on its journey to and from the fort.
We arrived in Southport around 4:30 and thought the main street had some cute shops, which we might explore on Sunday. Little did we know that Southport is steeped in some serious Southern tradition regarding shopping on Sunday and after 5:00P.M. any other day. Even many of the restaurants are closed on Sunday. Spending opportunity missed!
Lois Jane’s is a historic home on E. Bay Street and is still owned by the Herring family. The innkeeper was a charming lady who lived on Oak Island (15 minutes away) and worked 12-7 shift with every other week off. Joanie, a Southerner from the Charlotte area, had moved to Southport seven years ago and could not bring herself to leave.
Her two dogs, Lenny & Ollie, would not have approved a move from their coastal haunts. Joanie wins our Zappo customer service star for going above and beyond the required duty. Not only did she answer all my questions on the phone without the slightest irritation but she was even more delightful in person. Joanie took time to “visit” with us and tell us the stories of the Herring family house and other tidbits about Southport. It was obvious that she not only enjoyed her job but that she loved her new hometown. The job of an innkeeper requires explicit diplomacy, discretion and a calm disposition; qualities that Joanie possessed. In addition, she was an excellent cook as evidenced by our bountiful Sunday breakfast replete with homemade biscuits, sausage gravy, grits, sausage, bacon, fruit salad, panned apples, egg casserole, juice, coffee and tea. We call that a true Sunday Southern breakfast. The table was set with lovely china, linen and crystal. Any questions about the foods, just e-mail me. Below is a watercolor of the house, a photo of Lois Jane and a photo of her children, Meezie and Davey, who live in Southport. Davey is better known as Captain Dave.
Staying at a bed and breakfast inn is always an interesting experience. Sometimes, you are mislead by advertising and discover too late that rooms are not at all like the pictures online or in the magazine or the house may be in a terrible area but photographed from its best side. The menu may have stated full breakfast but in reality is juice, coffee and doughnuts as in Ogquit, Maine. Some are haunted and the owners refuse to inform you of this, which happened in Beaufort, South Carolina. But nothing can prepare you for the guests who will be sharing the inn. How innkeepers manage to maintain their wits when encountering a myriad of guests on a daily basis is beyond me. I am not that nice. As former students often said, I would not qualify for a greeter at Wal-Mart!
There were two other couples staying at Lois Jane’s, from Ohio and Atlantic Beach, N.C. The ones from Ohio had arrived by boat; were in transit to Florida and that is all we know because the beach couple never allowed anyone else to talk. They started talking as they entered the dining room interrupting the four of us. He bragged incessantly about his riches or religion while she chirped on and on about religion or her job. At one point, she invoked a comment about “the Lord’s return” and I really hoped it would occur at that instant, if for no other reason than to stun her into silence. It was obvious that the lady was at least ten years older than her husband and he was “too devoted” to her every demand. Dr. George Glosson is an optometrist who was making a movie about himself. “The World According to Dr. George Glosson” will premiere in two years and should contain some X-rated scenes (his words) about his “incredible” life, which has been filled with “barns full of blessings”. All this from a man who devoured his breakfast; consumed three beers for a breakfast chaser and drove a Buick Park Avenue. I think what really ticked me off, in addition to his incessantly loud chatter, was the fact that he thought I was sixty years old! (Never a wise idea to guess a lady’s age, much less to guess older.) Really wish I had taken a picture of George.
Leaving Southport, we headed east on Hwy. 17 to Myrtle Beach. Of course, as the driver, I had to detour through Calabash, N.C., for old times’ sake. Calabash was just a street with about ten restaurants that served seafood “calabash style”, which means in abundance and fried. Sister and I found Calabash in the late ‘60’s on one of our family beach trips and could not get enough of those yummy, fried shrimp, scallops, oysters, fish, hushpuppies and slaw. We had three favorite places: Thomas’ (no longer), Beck’s (still looks like it did forty years ago) http://www.becksrestaurant.com/and Capt. Nance’s (right on the water and on a dirt road). Calabash was unrecognizable with shops, restaurants, homes and generally overbuilt. What had happened to that quiet little spot catering to seafood lovers? There was even a four star restaurant…pleeze in Calabash??? The northern end of Myrtle Beach was about forty-five minutes away and the afternoon was gloomy with rain pending as we left Calabash. Beach at Fort Caswell earlier in the day:
Island Vista continues the tradition of an excellent restaurant, beautiful rooms and even more beautiful oceanfront views. All the rooms have an oceanfront view and balcony. There are thirteen floors now instead of just five, okay, twelve floors with a penthouse for those of you who are a tad superstitious. Most of the rooms are owner/condos and vary in floor plans. Our room was a small one bedroom with a lovely balcony and a huge television. Usually, we are more into our books than television but this one had TCM (Turner Classic Movies). Can you say, “addiction”? I was smitten and am trying to convince the husband that we need to add this to our package at home. Internet was free and “Barbie” was in her element. “Barbie” has become a trip essential and was handy for finding directions, locating special shops in the area and reading the all-important e-mails.
Since the rains had begun, we decided to dine in the restaurant and dress for the occasion. The reason our reservation was so easy to change was that we were the only people dining in this lovely room. Hmmm. It was a Sunday night and there were few guests at the hotel but to have the entire dining room was rather romantic. That has only happened one other time and was with the husband when we were dating and had reservations at a “castle”. That is another story. Our waiter had worked for the old hotel and stayed with the new owner. Service was perfect and the food was exquisite. I hate to admit that we had beef at the beach but the filets did not need a knife and our wine was excellent. Oh, did I mention that the hotel had given us a $20 credit to use in the restaurant?
The weather was rather gloomy and wet for our three days. That was perfect for the surfers, whom we watched from the balcony. The last day was cold and foggy but as you can see from the photo, a father and toddler were brave or insane. The two were wearing bathing suits (I had on layers) and actually venturing into the ocean. That water could not have been warmer than 50 degrees and the air temperature was 47 degrees. No self-respecting Southerner jumps into the ocean before June. Jeez, even the birds were closer to the hotel than the water.
birds gone bad! Tuesday, we went to Murrells Inlet for dinner. We spent the day cruising all the way to Pawley’s Island. Pawley’s Island is the home of the famous hammock and the “Boca” of the beach area. Some of you thought Charleston was the “Boca” but you have to be born into a family who can trace roots back to the 1600’s to matter in Charleston. Murrells Inlet is a fishing community in a saltwater marsh with an emphasis on oysters. Used to be a saying that you could only eat oysters in months with an “r”. At the beach, oysters are served when in season and those months do have “r’s”. The local oysters come in clusters and not the pretty little shells served most other places. Our favorite place is Nance’s and you need to dress in jeans and a t-shirt. They serve local oysters in season, Gulf oysters in the summer months and are famous for their oyster roasts. An oyster roast is a huge cast iron pan (think turkey roaster pan) filled with steamed oysters. Your table has a hole in the middle with a garbage can under the hole. You are given a cafeteria tray, plastic bowl, saltine crackers, fork, shuck knife, roll of paper towels and a variety of sauces.
It is advisable to order a large pitcher of beer because you may want two orders of oysters. These clusters could have two to four oysters attached and it is your job to open each lip/shell on the cluster with the shuck knife. Part of the experience is opening the shells with the knife and discovering the sweetest morsel on earth. To describe the taste would be a combination of salt and sweet. The salt is refreshing, not overbearing, and the sweet is a little tickle. There is no other oyster like this coastal treat from the marshes of South Carolina. If you are finicky, the staff will have someone shuck for you but that seems to ruin the fun. This time, I wanted to try steamed clams after our pan of oysters. Clams save you a lot of work because they are like mussels and pop open when steamed properly. They are delicious but my favorite is the oysters.
Did we shop? We tried but just didn’t find much we could not live without. Total expenditures on “stuff” was $75. Hard to believe that Sissy could not find things to buy even at the outlet malls but too true. The shops were already doing discounts in preparation for Black Friday. Guess I was waiting to get home and order something good from Zappos!
Driving home on a holiday is a pleasant experience in some ways. We left early on Thanksgiving day after breakfast at Stacks. It was a good idea to eat because we did not find a place to eat after leaving the beach. All the fast food places were closed in both North and South Carolina and I mean, ALL. Of course, I started craving an iced tea from McDonald’s and maybe some fries. NOT! The traffic was basically non-existent; the fog lifted about two hours from home and the rest of the day was lovely. The car was humming along and little did we know until the next day that our radiator was leaking, the clutch fan had broken and oil was spraying. But that is another short story.
Have to mention a cat tale before ending. Our neighbor had taken care of the “girls”. She is fascinated with our cats and is always hoping to pet Abbi, the aloof one. Lucy has no qualms about being petted. On the night before we came home, the door into the garage did not completely close. Remember that disco song, “there’s a party goin’ on”? Well, these two cats must have partied all night in the forbidden garage. Since they could not get outside, they made the best of this adventure complete with sliding down the windshield and hood of the husband’s truck. Paw prints littered his truck both tiny and large. We were shocked to see the door opened and rushed inside to check on the girls. Imagine our surprise to see them yawning and trying to wake up. Repentant? Not quite. When fully awake, they both went to the “door to adventure” and meowed pitifully as if willing it to open again!
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