Turning Back the Calendar

It was like stepping back into the 1700s. Mike and I were leisurely traveling north from Charleston to Pawley’s Island recently, when about two-thirds of the way there we saw the sign for Hampton Plantation. We’d seen that same sign on several occasions in past years but had never stopped. 

This morning we had time to spare, and took the opportunity to go see the beautiful place that time appears to have left behind. Hampton Plantation, built between 1730 and 1750, is associated with several illustrious names from South Carolina history: Horry, Pinckney, and, since 1830, generations of the Rutledge family--as in Archibald Rutledge, our first state poet laureate. After his passing in 1973, the property was sold to the Department of Natural Resources and is now in our state park system. 

 The place was empty when we arrived mid-morning. We made our way past the visitor center entrance and several massive old magnolias and Spanish-moss laden oaks that had been standing guard for multiple centuries. Immediately we had an unobstructed view of the stately old home. We walked past a small rice field and read a sign describing how Carolina Gold rice was the huge moneymaker for early settlers in our state. (A bird note here: bobolinks were also called rice birds, because as they migrated north each spring they often decimated those rice fields along the coast.) 

 We would have taken a guided tour of the inside of the home, but it was not available then. So we just rambled around the outside. The cabin where food was cooked was close by the main house (kitchens were separate in those early days to prevent fires). We looked in the windows and checked out the layout. 

 The quietness of the grounds accentuated the feeling of being back in the 18th century. No power lines were visible. The walkway to the little family cemetery was surrounded by overgrown gardens, and hushed except for a few bird sounds. Everything was peaceful as we paid our respects to the Rutledge family. 

 Mike took another walkway to look at Wambaw Creek and the crossing where centuries ago slaves were taken every day to work the rice fields on Hampton Island. Meanwhile, I headed back toward the quietness of the big house. Then the loud sound of a swarm of bees made me wonder what was going on nearby. 

 I rounded the corner of the house and discovered that the buzzing noise wasn’t from bees--a man and his three sons were using the open lawn to play with their drone. Immediately I was snapped from the 1700s back to 2023. Oh well, that historical feeling was nice while it lasted. 

 Hampton Plantation provides a great and lovely look at the early history of our state, and we highly recommend it as a worthwhile side trip for beachgoers this summer. (Just bring bug spray.) And I certainly hope no drones will be hanging around to ruin your own feel of stepping back in time.