A Lake Keowee Getaway
By Greg Evans
It is one of those moments in life when you and your family decide that the uninterrupted chaos, better known as your daily routine, reaches a crescendo, and it is time to act. Those that work hard and grind have to find a balance, or you become one of the masses, one of the thousand-yard stares stuck in traffic, mumbling disengaged over the plate of biscuits and gravy with extra cheesy fries, a regular Coca-Cola, and a side of cheesecake. You have been down that highway before, so you recognize the signs and realize it’s time for a getaway, stat!
Luckily my girlfriend (at the time) is the definition of efficiency with a large helping of get-it-done, and within maybe a half-hour, had scoped out a location on Airbnb that would be perfect for our modern family, Lake Keowee. Honestly, I had never heard of the place.
Lake Keowee, just the catchy name screamed Utopia. I barely had to glance at the pictures and description, previous vacationer reviews, and sold. Lose yourself in the expanse of rippling lake water adorned with giant pines and even larger Lake Houses one might expect to see a stone’s throw off of Rodeo Drive or Indian Creek Island Road. I’m in! When I first heard the mention of a Lake, horrible visions of mosquito welts, and leaky tents, and a throbbing back from sleeping on the cold ground bounced around my head like an uneven pinball machine. But the description of a nice warm condo, a hot shower, and even a balcony put my perpetual anxiety to a momentary rest.
We arrived in Seneca, South Carolina, leaving the interminable congestion of I-26 behind, a repressed memory. It was dark, balmy, rural, away, and thanks to GPS, we arrived at the gated community, easily accessed the property, and meandered along the narrow, winding road toward Wonderland. After a few minutes, out of the darkness, through the streets, an oasis of lights materialized, condos, cars, humanity, and an empty parking spot right before #336. My girlfriend and her two boys had arrived first and were waving to us. My daughter was singing a K-Pop song, and in my escalated mood, had I known the words, I would have sung along.
We parked and leaped from the vehicle. We all embraced, and the boys took turns petting the ornery beagle-dalmatian, Hank. “This place is amazing,” I said.
“Wait until you see inside,” my girlfriend said. We grabbed our couple pieces of luggage and hurried to the door. Stepping into the condo was entering vacation bliss, a warm wave of nothing pressing to do washes over you. We live busy lives, with fast-paced careers, and we are perpetually on the move.
Stepping into the condo, I smelled the fresh scent of vacation, cleanliness mixed with a hint of lemongrass and bleach. The inside was spacious, retro, hip, sparkling with a large Master bedroom five steps to the left, with an equally large bathroom complete with a whirlpool bathtub, his and her sink, and my favorite, a shower with a lazy bench to sit and let the hot water wash all worry away. The condo included a smaller room for the children with their bathroom, and a sunroom, enormous living room, dining room (table and chairs included) and stocked kitchen. And of course, there was a balcony looking out into the darkness.
I was walking down the stairs into the condo when Hank blasted past me and everyone else, sprinted into the living room and took a giant number 2 right on the rug. “No!” I heard someone holler. Maybe it was my girlfriend or maybe my daughter, I wasn’t sure. The beast then sprinted toward the sunroom and I wondered what was coming next, possibly a marking of his territory? Instead of the scent of vacation we will have the scent of most vestibules in New York City in mid-July.
“Luckily I brought cleaning supplies,” my girlfriend said. Life with an OCD’er has its perks. We unpacked what little we brought and thought about settling in when we realized the kids still needed to eat. “What do you kids want?”
“Pizza!”
“We are in the middle of the woods,” I said.
“Pizza!” They shrieked, not one of the three looking up from their electronic devices. Google, enter, pizza place, no not New Zealand! Not that kind of Kiwi! Keowee! Nearby pizza place, within driving distance. Order. “Hi, I would like one large pizza, ½ cheese and ½ sausage and pepperoni.”
Well I nearly got what I had ordered, at least it was a large! ½ sausage and ½ pepperoni. The kids probably won’t even notice, if they even glance up in between bites.
The morning arrived like a dream, the sun rising gently over a calm lake with the November orange leaves falling onto the forest floor with nostalgic repetition. The smell of autumn, the heavy air and smoke from nearby fireplaces ignite memories of wonderful times past and the prospect of creating new memories to relive.
The crisp air was refreshing and my feet on the cold wood reminded me oddly of childhood, up in the mountains of upstate New York as the summer wore to a close. Those moments sitting on the bench on the beach at dusk, wrapped in an oversized sweatshirt, and watching the wind blow ripples across the quiet lake. Those were some of my favorite times as a youth, sitting there being able to reflect, my family nearby chatting quietly, planning a dinner of corn on the cob, sausage and peppers on a hero with burgers off the grill and baked beans.
Those feelings I had back then, I feel now, once again, here along the wooded shoreline of Lake Keowee. The reverie was shattered like a cannonball from the top of the slide, the howling, skin-crawling bark from the ornery beagle-dalmatian accompanied by the wild laughter from two of the children after pulling a prank on the third whose high-pitched squeal belabored my discomposed nerves. Yet, despite the dire need for another double shot of caffeine, the commotion was oddly comforting and welcomed. The sounds of my family and my world, here in this beautiful place was Mozart to my ears…well maybe not Mozart, more like Pantera, but it was music, nonetheless.
What better thing is there on a vacation getaway then the smells of morning breakfast, the sauteing tofu, mushrooms, serrano peppers, garlic, and onion in extra virgin olive oil over scrambled eggs. Ok. That was for us adults worried about our 40-year old midsections. The children had the good stuff – sausage, egg, and cheese breakfast burritos dripping with taco sauce washed down with hot chocolate with an inch-layer of mini dehydrated marshmellows. After breakfast we all sprawled out on couches and the daybed and that is when you know that life is good.
The walks along the lake and watching the sunset on the little beach. Having family pictures taken on the dock with the boats, and the magical views. Dinners of deep-fried whole tilapia, and my twelve-year old’s first experience eating an eyeball. Turning my cellphone off and sitting around sipping wine, and watching romcoms, just us, without a care in the world, and come Sunday morning at 10 at checkout a feeling a rejuvenation. Sometimes just two nights and one and a half days is all that is needed.
When it was time for us to leave, nobody wanted the mini-vacation to end. But we all agreed to make a return trip back soon.
Originally Published in the Sentinel-Progress
Wednesday, November 25, 2020