Royale with Cheese

Destination of the week: Port Royal, SC. Situated near Beaufort and about 90 miles south of Charleston, Port Royal is one of a countless number of small Low Country coastal towns revolving around easy living. It was recently voted one of the top ten "coolest small towns" in America by one of these worthless internet polls. Having been there before, I could agree that it is a quaint little town. Coolest towns in America? I think not. But since I was in town for some bike racing, I decided to make the most of my once a year visit.

The drive south of Charleston on US-17 is one of my favorites. It is a stretch of the American landscape filled with small towns, open brackish marshes, coastal creeks, and ancient forests. I arrived with a few hours to spare before my race, so I decided to check out some of the town and talk to the locals about how to spend my twelve hours in Port Royal (which is all anyone would ever need). The staff at the Old Village Coffee Haus were more than accommodating. They said I had to have dinner at the Dockside Restaurant and be back by 6:30 for the Saturday evening concert series. Decisions made easy.

After my race, I bummed around town for awhile checking things out. Port Royal is on a small peninsula surrounded by intercoastal waterways and just north of Paris Island. The town is shielded by massive Live Oaks and draped in Spanish Moss. The shrimping industry and Marine Corps presence can be seen everywhere. Every house and business has a large, welcoming porch. I was immediately struck by the shanty shacks next to new construction homes, the older local crowd next to the shirtless, mulletted yokels. A sign of a town growing in no particular direction.

I stuck around to watch the Pro race before heading back to my hotel to get cleaned up for dinner. This was a mistake. By the time I had returned, the Dockside restaurant's parking lot was packed, and by all accounts, I wasn't getting in anytime soon. Luckily I had been eyeing a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint on the edge of town (quite a step down, but I was hungry enough to eat the hind-end off a hobby horse). I decided to waive my other options, a Thai place in an old one-room schoolhouse or a sandwich cafe, for calzones and beer. Another mistake. I make better calzones. At least I could make it to the street concert for another beer, some dessert, and good music.

The street was filled with Port Royalty. Lawnchairs, kids, and the smell of steamed shrimp (quite a contrast to the burgers and potato salad of my Midwestern youth). The sounds of John

McCutcheon's folk and children's music were entertaining and a great endcap for the evening. Retiring for the night, I vow to be back next year, family in tow.