Whether you're blessed to live on the Carolina coast or simply wise enough to know a good place to visit when you find it, sea and shore unite us in a common bond. While the ocean gets more press by far than the ground that kisses it, this land we all love holds countless secrets hidden up its ancient sleeves.
Most people are familiar with the sudden concussion of sonic booms, but only local folk recognize the jolt of Seneca guns. Several years ago, in a small cottage near Holden Beach, I "allegedly" experienced this startling phenomenon:
My youngest son was visiting from college when out of the blue an explosive rumble rattled the windows with a mighty vengeance. I confess I went out to make sure the island bridge hadn't crashed down, but life seemed to be going on as usual. Later we discovered my rear car window shattered to smithereens from the blast.
Calling the insurance company, I worried it wouldn't be the sort of thing they'd cover, but the lady cheerily took it in stride and sent out a guy to fix it. Oddly, he didn't find my story strange at all.
Seneca guns have been reported here since the 1700s, long before jets or military speedsters. It's debated what we hear and feel are geologic or atmospheric crunches resounding far offshore. But that's what mysteries are made of, isn't it?
Even the earth is mysterious here. Carolina bays are unexplained depressions along our coast, always elliptical and oriented northwest by southeast. Most don't even contain water, just spongy bog supporting odd flora such as beloved Venus flytraps.
Which of course leads to our one-of-a-kind ecosystem earning us worldwide distinction as the only place these particular insectivorous plants grow wild. (Even the plant kingdom singled us out as the right place to call home.) Never mind it's our pitifully nitrogen-challenged soil that inspires flytraps to perform their shape-shifting trap trick. We'll take our glory however we get it.
One of our grandest natural areas lies closer than you might think. The neighboring Green Swamp holds secrets galore, which biologists, botanists and geologists are only beginning to unravel. With its black bear sanctuary, endangered bird domiciles, as well as numerous carnivorous flora and other rare plants, it attracts naturalists from across the globe the way the beach beckons tourists.
We all enjoy sea and sand. Now why not explore the other treasures our coast has to offer for "the rest of the story" making this area special? Lake Waccamaw State Park, a few miles east of Whiteville, contains the largest water-filled Carolina bay in the state. It even has a nature trail featuring bug-eating plants for your viewing pleasure.
Be adventurous. The ocean will still be here when you return. I promise. Brave the boggy wilderness for a taste of Mother Nature's other regional specialties. Just don't forget the bug spray.