State Park Pajamas
Mama always said, “Don’t leave home without clean underwear in case you’re in an accident.” It’s a bit of sage wisdom that was routinely met with a roll of the eyes and an assurance I’d never leave home any other way. Then again, if I’m in an accident, no one will know or even care about the pre-accident state of my undergarments. Those are thoughts for another day. What I will say as a mom of two and somewhat frequent solo traveler is “Always pack your best pajamas for a visit to a state park cabin – and maybe your slippers too.” Trust me on this one.
Table Rock State Park is deliciously cool – a welcome chilly to the often oppressive humidity of the Lowcountry. And in January, the park delivers a multi-week polar blast that makes a trip to Patagonia look like Cancun. I know that because this past January, the South Carolina Land Trust Network chose the popular state park as the site of our annual gathering. It was my first major event as their part-time executive director and I was determined to deliver a precisely executed, multi-day event with many memorable moments. Memorable moments. Joke’s on me.
The first day should have been an omen. The park alerted us that their historic CCC-era lodge was experiencing a problem with the heat. Help was on the way and in the meantime, massive fireplaces and an endless supply of gift shop firewood would help knock the edge off. Not a problem, we assured them. We are, afterall, a group of conservation professionals, folks who earn a living from the land and we proceeded to stock their commercial kitchen with enough drinks and happy hour supplies to keep our members well-inspired. Sun set on the eve of the main event, and we retired to the comfort of our heated cabins.
After what seemed like little more than a long nap, morning came. Eager to start the day, I started the water for a hot shower and stepped on the porch to breathe in the mountain air. A perfect start to a perfect day, until the door quietly shut behind me. Click. It was dark. It was cold and no amount of knob rattling or prayer was going to get me back in to my cabin where the steam was rolling out of the shower. It was just me and hibernating sasquatches. I quickly considered the amount of time it takes one to die from hypothermia, noted that I was at an inflection point, and set out on the long, dark walk to the cabins down the road, in my newish pajamas and wool slippers with, how appropriate, mountain scenes.
Down the little drive and up the main road I shiver-walked, a move that resembles the monster mash on fast forward. With the glow of my cabin behind me, I remembered that this is also bear country. Through chattering teeth, I belt out my best, “hey bear, whoa bear,” occasionally merged with lines from Going on a Bear Hunt. Shuffle, chant, chatter, curse, down the road, up the hill and into the cabin of sleeping board members, who hadn’t even locked their door.
I settled in for some coffee, cookies, and also consumed most of the book of Psalms thanks to the Gideons, before someone awoke. I awkwardly explained the situation, snagged the keys to a vehicle and set off to find a ranger in my new pajamas and mountain inspired slippers. Only 90 mins had passed but I managed to maintain my core heat and scare off every bear in Pickens County. The ranger, not at all phased by my request, let me back into my cabin, offered a lesson in proper door operation and observed that my chances for a hot shower wouldn’t come back around again for another hour. Not a big deal. Wouldn’t want to go out in this climate with a wet head anyway.
The good luck continued when our canned and bottled beverages froze and exploded inside of the refrigerator and our previously balanced budget was thoroughly busted with stacks of six dollar firewood bundles. We’d set out to make this be a memorable event and delivered on that promise.
After returning to the Lowcountry, I shared the stories of our memorable retreat with a close friend who indulged me patiently, paused and offered this valuable insight, “Well, at least you had new pajamas.” Very true and I’ll never leave home without them.