It's 7:15 AM .....Waves crash over the bow of the Palmetto Peddler and Captain Richard is kind enough to pour me a hot fresh paper cup of boat coffee. My Bride, securely situated in the passenger lounge breaks out her newest Dean Koontz novel and I make my way to the open upper deck. The early December air feels unusually fresh and brisk as I make my way aft. Stiff winds out of the North forecast tonight's Nor-Easter and I gaze over the choppy waters. Taking in the awe inspiring crisp beauty that the Sea Gods and Mother Nature have offered without giving nothing in return seems sacrilegious, so I look to the heavens for inspiration. Opening my arms and extending my hands to the crystal clear blue sky, I reach out from my spiritual inner self and offer my thanks for giving me this opportunity to be truly blessed. Yes, blessed at the opportunity to begin another day over the sweet waters of Calibogue Sound.
Now my plans were to pontificate further about our somewhat precarious docking at Salty Fare Marina and my enlightening conversation with a Canadian couple over a McDonald's "senior coffee". But something deep inside seems to entice me to end this oratory and disregard my Acer's blinking light edging my anxious fingers on. Strange as it seems, the new age music streaming from overhead speakers full of light flute melodies draw me back to Calibogue Sound, a body of water I have crossed hundreds of times before. A body of water the Yemassee Indian tribe called "sweet water". A body of water revered and worshiped by shamans. A body of water that inspired Pat Conroy in his epic novel "The Water is Wide". A body of water that soon will show its ornery side, tossing and churning in gale force winds. A body of water that each day offers up to all that cross the opportunity to begin to understand the true meaning of life. A body of water that seems to say "gaze over my sweet waters, let my spiritual energy enter your soul, let me help you understand".
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