Filling up in Jacksonville--where only supreme flowed from the pumps--proved that reported gas shortages in the southeast might affect our trip. Fortunately the Marathon station in Hardeeville, SC had gotten a supply just before we arrived.
We followed a sign to Grays Hill Boat Landing, just outside of Beaufort, for a picnic lunch on a tidal river.
Unbeknownst to us at the time, Marcus Graves, a black teen, was found dead at this spot in 2019, a likely murder victim. So sad especially because a chance encounter in the same location brought me so much joy at the time.
While chowing down on our leftover pork loin sandwiches, we heard a boat with a radio playing old school rhythm and blues approach the dock. Ernest told us he had been trapping blue crabs in these muddy waters for 25 years.
A bushel of large blue crabs can bring him as much as $1500 now that the Chesapeake Bay has been mostly depleted by restaurants in Maryland and Virginia.
Oddly enough, we couldn't find blue crab on any menus in Charleston. A waiter at Nico's told us the locals considered them too common. Go figure.
I'll never eat crab again without thinking of Ernest.
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