South Carolina’s Myrtle Beach is a loads of fun. For the town itself, picture a beachy Las Vegas and you’re halfway there. There’s a roller coaster in the middle of downtown, loads of neon signage everywhere and continuous high-rise resorts bathed in 1,000,000-watt purple spotlights. It all goes on for more than 20 miles, referred to as the “Grand Strand.” I don’t think there’s a single souvenir shop under two stories high and a good number come with an appropriately super-sized whale or shark monument in front of it. On most every block is a larger-than-life mini-golf course, usually with an aquatic theme. We saw flopping-tail mermaids, towering Egyptian pyramids and downed, smoking aircraft – all actual size. Not to be left out on the gimmicky fun, Holly and I opted to play the Tribal Island Tiki Adventure Golf course, this one with a real flame-blowing volcano. Holly took me on the first round but I redeemed myself on the back 18.

A good part of our visit was spent at our vastly non-touristy Myrtle Beach State Park campsite. The air temps exceeded 80 degrees most days and the water temp checked in at 73 degrees. Not bad for November, eh? The park is sort of a haven of trees for about a two-mile stretch of the shoreline. Just outside the dune-line are a lot of tall evergreens with shapes reminiscent of Japanese bonsai trees. Everywhere else are palmetto trees (think short palm trees with fan-shaped leaves) and thick, twisted oaks with Spanish moss draped from their branches. I guess the stuff is neither Spanish, nor moss, and is actually related to the pineapple. It grows on the limbs with no root system and hangs down, looking sort of like grey horsetails made of cobwebs—kind of a spooky-meets-romantic quality. It’s dang-sure cool looking. Not so cool are the heaps of mosquitoes that seem to like the area as much as we did.