Alligators, oysters and gallons of iced tea: new direct flights to Charleston mean it’s never been easier to enjoy the jewel of the American South
FOR 106 years of age, Grace seems in remarkably good shape. Taking to the thick, green slurpy waters of the May River in South Carolina each morning, she shows a regal disregard for the bottlenose dolphins, egrets and herons that occasionally make her acquaintance.
With a dark, Honduran-mahogany interior, the construction of Grace—a 60ft yacht— began at a time when William Taft was President, the USA only had 46 states and the Civil War, which raged along the banks of this now bucolically peaceful tidal estuary, was still well within living memory.
Today, she drifts elegantly past oyster beds, shimmering white-clapboard holiday homes, bulbous oaks and soaring pine trees, towards Palmetto Bluff—a 20,000-acre former plantation turned residential and recreational reserve.
Our captain, Ed—who takes guests out on the water each morning—waves gently in a manner perfectly befitting the quintessential Southern gentleman.
‘You won’t forget to eat now, will you?’ he suggests.
Captain Ed doesn’t need to worry. Here at Palmetto Bluff, the priorities of the day are the same as in the centre of Charleston, a two-hour drive away. Namely, food and which corners of the quite absurdly rich culinary delights of this region to put on the plate today.
Montage Palmetto Bluff—a charming array of rooms, suites and cottages—is undeniably pretty. There’s also a golf course, spa and firepits, where s’mores (the American campfire staple of marshmallows, crackers and Hershey chocolate) are served.
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