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Although I certainly don't know all the details and can only write about it
from an emotional (i.e. preservation) or sentimental point of view, it's
pretty clear that battle lines are being drawn over plans to develop one of
the last areas of Kiawah Island that remains in raw, pristine condition:
Capt. Sam's Spit.
Located at the southwestern terminus of the island, the spit is connected to
the main body of Kiawah by a narrow isthmus and is otherwise flanked by the
Kiawah River, Capt. Sam's Inlet and the Atlantic Ocean. (Who was Capt. Sam?
Don't know other than his being a pirate with a far-reaching reputation,
influence and personal holdings.)
On the one hand, you have developers holding on to a very expensive property
while looking for a new revenue stream in a tight economy -- property that
was bought for development as a return on investment. If you're the
developer, the idea of being forced into a no-go situation might strike you
as sickening and infuriating with no possible way out other than giving the
land away for a huge tax write-off. Any reasonable person can understand
that.
On the other hand, if you're interested in preservation, you're equally
sickened and infuriated by what has happened to some of our barrier and
inland islands, whether it be James Island, what's starting to happen on
Johns Island, the Wild Dunes section of the Isle of Palms, parts of Folly
Beach, Kiawah, Seabrook, Hilton Head, or what have you. The ACE Basin
offsets some of that frustration, of course, along with preservation efforts
on the Santee Delta, Wadmalaw, Edisto and other places.
If Kiawah and Seabrook were presently undeveloped, it's reasonable to wonder
if, during this day and age, the extent of development that we see now would
be permitted. Either way, in this day and age, it's not unreasonable to
wonder why a relatively small spit of land of unquestioned beauty and
ecological diversity shouldn't be preserved as a token reminder of what once
was a natural Sea Island paradise. Or do we just want development margins
that surround everything?
I was out in the boat a couple of weekends ago and was amazed by the
vibrancy of life on the spit and surrounding waterways: multiple species of
shorebirds everywhere, the waters teeming with shrimp and bait fish,
porpoise swimming every which way, wild sweetgrass waving lustily in pink.
And the human element very much enjoying the nature's bounty either on foot
at the spit or aboard various small watercraft.
Protest literature distributed by the folks at Rosebank Farms (and also at
www.KiawahRiver.org) paint a dark picture: a beach clubhouse
and up to 50 houses on the narrow strip known as Capt. Sam's Spit. Access to
the spit would be via Beachwalker Park, which is not owned by the county,
but leased from developers, who plan to extend Beachwalker Drive through the
current Beachwalker parking lot.
This could mean that the park will be moved nearer to other buildings and
away from the beautiful natural landscapes of the river and its inlet. The
parking lot no longer would be next to the Kiawah River, and traffic density
would be significantly increased.
Most disturbing, the natural bank of the Kiawah River forming the northwest
border of the spit would be covered over by a half-mile-long bulkhead, thus
disrupting habitats for birds (including the endangered piping plover),
fish, the dolphin who feed on them (in the fairly rare manner of driving and
stranding them on the bank) and the diamond-backed terrapin, whose numbers
have already sharply dropped.
Now, granted, this is a one-sided presentation, but there are few places
around here that offer such a multifaceted look at wildlife over a
relatively small amount of area. As a friend of mine observed, it's almost
like looking at the Grand Canyon. Words don't capture it, and neither does a
photograph or the canvas. You have to smell it, feel it, hear it and observe
it in order to understand it.
And that's why some people are "concerned."
Another friend of mine, Walter Duane, says he enjoyed the column about
camellias and writes (in part), "To me the most overlooked flower is the
four o'clock, which comes out promptly at six o'clock. It blooms all summer,
has a sweet smell, and doesn't need any care. It dies down in the winter but
comes back in the spring.
"The four o'clock comes in many colors. As children we would pick them and
place them on strings to make Hawaiian-like leis. Only when we got bigger
were we allowed to kick tomato cans in the street or play 'Fox and the
Goose.'
"Shelley put it best when he said, 'I bring fresh showers for thirsty
flowers.' I get upset when I hear some folks complain about the rain. I will
always accept some flooding in return for the beautiful gardens Charleston
has.
"May Charleston always be in flower!"
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My
Scribe