The brown sign that reads SANTEE COASTAL RESERVE stood overlooked time and time again as I made my way north on Highway 17, just past the quaint fishing village of McClellanville, SC. I was never the one driving, so the slight yield to my right was never taken, and I had no idea of the allure that existed beyond that point. But when my adventure group chose this spot as their Saturday morning cycling destination, I tossed my bike in the back of my SUV and set out to experience what lay beyond the asphalt.

     It all began as a shady country road. Then one sharp turn transformed into a long and scenic dirt lane bordered by tall, longleaf pine trees. The underbrush was low, so the view continued deep into the forest. Slowly, the pines became interspersed with oaks, and just like one would imagine, the oaks began forming a distinct pattern on either side of the road.

     We parked our cars by a designated camping area and unloaded our bikes. The sandy soil made riding a little difficult at first, but soon we purposefully stopped in our tracks to watch two bald eagles just a short distance away. They created a majestic dance through the sky as they passionately soared towards each other - briefly interacting and only parting to begin the ritual again. This rare opportunity of nature was just the beginning of our wildlife sightings as we rode across the dikes of former rice fields and watched the oversized lethargic alligators slide into the waters just ahead of our bikes.

     About halfway through our eight-mile ride, we dismounted and climbed 61 steps to the top of an old lookout tower once used by the forestry department to watch for wildfires. As two owls darted into the trees from a nesting box at the top of the tower, I suddenly remembered it was the beginning of spring. Mating season. And for the first time in years, I realized I was perfectly okay without having a mate. Even if this feeling was temporary, I was actually enjoying the simplicity of life by myself. There were no expectations, which ultimately resulted in no disappointments. I stayed a few minutes and took in an artistic interpretation of the Santee River to my left and the Intracoastal Waterway to my right. The canvas had no edges, making the image very difficult to leave behind.

     Before long, we had successfully completed our way across the dikes and were sitting in rocking chairs, enjoying our lunch on the porch of the former gun club. It was perfectly suited to the site as the colors of the wood subtly blended into the landscape of moss-laden oaks. And the design provided a view of the river from the large, open living area, complete with oversized leather sofas and a huge stone fireplace. We lingered awhile after lunch and savored the cool porch shade after our day of a sun-filled bike ride.

     Our final treat in the reserve was a short walk in the woods that suddenly transformed into a green carpet of duckweed, entirely camouflaging what we knew to be dark swampy water below. A long wooden boardwalk beckoned us across if we were curious as to the view it offered over 500 feet away. We each cautiously took the dare and marveled at the contorted shapes of the cypress knees that popped up through the millions of tiny plants and laughed about all the vintage wooden lamps that quickly came to mind for those of us who had personally experienced the 70s.

     After a few photos in our lush environment, we made our way back to the campsite and loaded up bikes to head home. We had all experienced a great deal of beauty in these few short hours. Organic beauty. The kind we all possess but oftentimes lose sight of in such a competitive body image-driven world.

     So I left this natural wildlife reserve, mentally taking some of nature’s beauty with me. I plan on letting it spread through my body and my life...organically…the way it was naturally intended. And if I ever need to replenish my supply, I know I only need to take a slight yield beyond the asphalt.