I have walked Daufuskie Island many times, my eyes scanning the beaches for an intact sand dollar or other gift planted by the tides. But what a difference a little bit of elevation makes. Sitting tall in a saddle, I am struck by the transformation of this familiar terrain into something novel and wild. Even the gulls seem pluckier, dipping and swirling on winds that feel gustier than they did before I mounted.
Being a few feet closer to the sky offers a fresh perspective. But my focus on what’s up in the air is broken by a stirring beneath me—a reminder that I am still connected to the ground and, by virtue of the gentle beast that bears me, to the history of this place.
It’s a vantage point that can only be gained on this island while on the back of a Carolina Marsh Tacky…