When you swap 10 hours of desk and commute time for 10 hours of activity and adventure time, the body gets shocked and sore, but the mood and mind lifts and expands, where new ideas and possibilities unfold.
We pulled into HHI Motor Coach resort on Thursday afternoon, after 220 miles of rainspurts, reflections and random encounters on pitstops for Ceorgian gas and groceries. There’s a story in every turn, many that leave us in disbelief, but proof that there is a bigger world than what we know to be true and it will be fun to be more in it.
I didn’t want to like Hilton Head, with its stores tucked behind tree-lined roadways and commerce housed in varying shades of island brown, where only the logo reveals the offering. The buildings look the same, so if you want to eat at the golden arches, shop at the bullseye or work out in the cross-fit gym, look quickly and know your logos. If we had to pick one word to describe this high-end golf, tennis and beach resort island, it would be Manicured. No trash, no vagrants, no run down or shuttered businesses. It was thriving, filled with families, leisure seeking retirees and a DC couple in search of authenticity and stress release. The numerous public access points to the beach also look like private resorts with extensive shower and bath complexes and all the amenities to make your beach visit pleasant.
The HHI Motor Coach resort was tent, camper, and fifth wheel free. Catering only to Class A and C motorhomes, this private enclave has 400 owned pads ranging from $50k – $130k. It is like going to a condo resort, with 6 tennis courts, pool, clubhouse and other amenities but instead of staying in a condo, you stay in your motor coach.
The club house was full of comfy leather furniture, big screen TVs, DVDs to borrow, board games to play. The pool was large and surrounded with lounges under umbrellas. When we had down time at the MC, we played tennis, lounged at the pool, and caught ten minutes of CNN.
I also didn’t want to like it, because I had previously declared I would only stay in private parks if no state or federal park was available, but by the time we left I was selling our home, making an offer on lot 226 and Eric was lining up RV hunting tours to purchase our new home on wheels.
Along with the HHI mani, you get pedi, pedi-power that is. With 22 miles of bike trails and 12 miles of sandy beach, Eric outfitted the bikes so we could be touring, paddle balling or wave jumping in minutes. We left with our umbrella, beach paddle ball gear, towels, provisions, and sunscreen strapped to our rides. The best way to get to know the island is on bike. Hilton-ites watch the tides closely and love to bike when the tide goes low and the beach doubles in size and opens up a four lane bike-highway of hard sand.
We looped all 22 miles, and in one trek joined the bike portion of a triathlon and rode 6 miles from public beach #1 to the end of the line at Folly Beach then in the shady loop through the marshlands and over a big bridge to site 110, to enjoy a two-finger spritzer and fresh tomato salad, with a bike back to the beach for soft serve to wrap up the day.
Filled up with $1.94 gas, we left resort living behind for a 150 mile jaunt up the coast to James Island County Park, 10 miles outside Charleston.