Another American Adventure: bowens island

Sunday, January 29, 2012

bowens island

Bowens Island - Oyster place where we met Michael, Jenny, Jack, Luke and Ryan for dinner. Out on James Island (I think) on the way to Folly Beach, one of the 10 "best" dives in America (as rated by some magazine). Somewhat of a contrast to our lunch place

Mounds of oyster shells ...

The rest rooms ...

Fisherman ...

Garden growing on the roof of the rest rooms ... Note mounds of oyster shells ...

Basement room where you had to go pick up your trays of steamed oysters ...

Graffiti in the bathroom ...

Cleaning the oysters just brought in (above). The complex (below)

Small fish to be thrown back ...

Spotted Perch ...

Fishing ...

Brand new 4 week old baby Ryan (above); Jack and Luke (below).

2 comments:

BarbaraJanuary 29, 2012 at 9:42 PM
Oysters are not my thing. Heck, I've eaten raw squid, raw pork, etc. but oysters only on a dare. I've eaten one, but I forget just why. ;) Looks like a colourful, fun place, though.
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beth cioffolettiJanuary 30, 2012 at 8:05 AM
There's plenty of other (mostly fried) stuff, Barbara. I didn't see anything that looked like a fresh vegetable, though.
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"In those first days, people said, a squirrel could run the long length of Pennsylvania without ever touching the ground. In those first days, the woods were white oak and chestnut, hickory, maple, sycamore, walnut, wild ash, wild plum, and white pine. The pine grew on the ridgetops where the mountains' lumpy spines stuck up and their skin was thinnest.

"The wilderness was uncanny, unknown. Benjamin Franklin had already invented his stove in Philadelphia by 1753, and Thomas Jefferson was a schoolboy in Virginia; French soldiers had been living in forts along Lake Erie for two generations. But west of the Alleghenies in western Pennsylvania, there was not even a settlement, not even a cabin. No Indians lived there, or even near there.

"Wild grapevines tangled the treetops and shut out the sun. Few songbirds lived in the deep woods. Bright Carolina parakeets - red, green, and yellow - nested in the dark forest. There were ravens then, too. Woodpeckers rattled the big trees' trunks, ruffed grouse whirred their tail feathers in the fall, and every long once in a while a nervous gang of empty-headed turkeys came hustling and kicking through the leaves - but no one heard any of this, no one at all."

Annie Dillard, An American Childhood.