Edingsville Beach: The Lost Riviera of the Charleston Lowcountry

Edingsville Beach across from Botany Bay

As the legend tells, in the hazy cast of a summer’s blood moon—when the ocean air hangs heavy with salty mist—you may glimpse the glazed shadow of dim lunar light dancing its somber waltz across the windowpanes of the once‑upon‑a‑time sea‑island planters’ homes. They stood an oyster toss from Botany Bay, along a stretch of deserted island sand where the Atlantic still broods. And if you listen carefully to the tempestuous breeze sweeping over the beach and through the scattered relics washed ashore by the agitated surf, you may hear faint laughter, decadent chatter, and the ghostly echoes of those who passed their idle summer months here, fleeing the malarial heat of inland Edisto. But do not linger. For out of the translucent shadows, you may find yourself conscripted by an illusory woman walking the shoreline—mournfully searching for a husband long overdue from a distant land.

Today, this hauntingly seductive shoreline is a windswept, sea‑shelled ribbon of solitary sand between Edisto Beach and Botany Bay Beach. You would be looking from Botany Bay for a glimpse, because there is no public access. The beach lies behind a salt marsh and is reached only by a private causeway used by residents of Jeremy Cay—a gated community tucked at the end of Edingsville Beach Road. That moss‑draped, oak‑lined road is the very same path once traveled by the aristocratic planter families of Edisto as they made their summer pilgrimage to their beachside resort, then known as Edingsville. And that is where the story begins.

Edingsville Beach Road

As the eighteenth century gave way to the nineteenth, Edisto’s planters were becoming the wealthiest agricultural elite in the South. Their prosperity rested on Sea Island cotton—silky, lustrous, and coveted worldwide for its extra‑long fibers. The crop’s extraordinary value created an aristocracy fortified by bloodlines, marriage alliances, and staggering wealth.

They built grand plantation houses, purchased elegant townhomes in Charleston, and entertained lavishly. But summer brought oppressive heat, swarms of mosquitoes, and the dreaded “country fever”—malaria. Seeking refuge, they discovered that the barrier‑island beaches offered cooling ocean breezes that kept the scourge at bay. With that revelation, Edingsville Beach was born.

Edingsville Beach lots and owners

The island was accessible only by water until around 1800, when Benjamin Edings constructed a causeway from Edisto Island and began selling or leasing beachfront lots to planter families. By 1820, Edingsville Beach had blossomed into a refined resort of sixty stately, two‑story brick houses wrapped in terraces with sweeping views. Each home boasted gardens, carriage houses, and servant quarters. They stood in two rows—one facing the ocean, the other the marsh. Two churches tended to their spiritual needs, while an academy kept the boys educated. Locals called it the “Riviera of the Lowcountry.”

Every May, the largest concentration of plantation nobility between Charleston and Savannah packed their furnishings, servants, and children into wagons and carriages and made the sandy trek to their oceanfront haven. Summers unfolded in a whirl of elegant parties, boat races, horse races, elaborate banquets, and leisurely dips in the Atlantic. They stayed until the first frost of autumn. It was a life of ease, privilege, and indulgence—until destiny intervened.

An illustration of Edingsville Beach

Long before the Civil War’s first mortars lit the skies over Fort Sumter, Edingsville Beach's protective dunes began to surrender to the Atlantic’s relentless appetite. Around twenty houses were claimed by the surf. Then came the war, followed by the boll‑weevil infestations of 1917, which decimated the Sea Island cotton industry. The royal crop of the sea islands vanished almost overnight—never to return.

After the war, the ocean that once brought relief became Edingsville Beach's undoing. A series of hurricanes beginning in 1874 gnawed away at the golden‑era resort. The final blow came with the hurricane of 1893, which erased all physical evidence of its splendor, leaving only a tabby‑brick fireplace and scattered fragments. Even today, the occasional piece of china or brick appears on the beach, delivered by a passing wave—a fleeting reminder of the vanished aristocracy.

And as for the illusory woman who wanders the shoreline under the blood moon—her name is Mary Clark. She was the daughter of one of Edingsville Beach's wealthy planters, spending her summers in their waterfront home. Her story, like the resort itself, is a blend of history and haunting legend—an echo of a world swept away by time, tide, and the unforgiving Atlantic.

Edingsville Beach's Mary Clark: Love and Loss

Five Top Places For Being Knee Deep In The Water On A Beach Somewhere In Charleston

There has recently been a host of songs topping the Country Music Charts praising the gratification of putting your toes in the water or sitting on the edge of a pier drinking a beer or being knee-deep in the water with blue sky breezes, or picturing yourself in the salty evening air on a beach with cold margaritas. The only worry in the world is whether the tide will reach your chair--paradise served up on a guitar and a quarter note.

With three beautiful beaches in close proximity to its downtown district and a harbor connected to waterways lined with numerous edge-of-the-water bars, Charleston offers an endless array of prospective venues where a person can appease all of the previously mentioned saltwater comforts. You no doubt have your favorites.

So, let us shake off the stress of the day, kick off our shoes, and follow the way of the opportunistic pelican and frolicking dolphin to five water's edge destinations I place on the top of my list of favorite toe-dipping locations. Places where palm trees are growing, a warm breeze is blowing, a beautiful sunset is burning up the atmosphere, and there's music and dancing and lovers romancing in the salty evening air.

1) Folly Island, Morris Island Lighthouse--"knee-deep in the water somewhere."
On the north tip of Folly Island is a secluded stretch of beach with a scenic view of the Morris Island Lighthouse. It is a considerable walk from the parking area to the beach, and because of the currents, it is not a good place to swim--reasons why you will not see large numbers of people. On the walk to the beach, you will pass remains of building foundations left by Hurricane Hugo. Old, graying trees line portions of the inlet beach and make for great pictures with the lighthouse in the background. It is a great place to wade out into the water and cast your fishing line to catch a variety of fish.

2) Botany Bay Beach--"the only worry in the world is whether the tide is going to reach your chair."
Botany Bay Beach is part of Botany Bay Plantation. The beautiful beach is a pleasant half-mile walk from the parking area. Weather worn palmetto trees grayed by the salty sea breezes and age line the sea shelled beach. Visitors indulge in a peculiar custom of lining the trunks of downed trees with seashells and hanging them on their branches. Some people come to swim, some come to fish, some come to look at the shells, some come to take photographs, and some spread out beach blankets under beach umbrellas. Walking into the waters close to the shore can be precarious due to the numerous sharp shells in the water. Botany Bay Plantation personifies the reasons why I love Charleston and the Lowcountry. It is idyllic.

3) Breach Inlet, Isle of Palms and Sullivan's Island--"toes in the water."
During the day, you can spot me standing on the shore with baited hook drifting in the currents of Breach Inlet--an ideal place for surf fishing and watching the dolphins splash around. It is never crowded. There is no swimming here because of the dangerous currents, but it is only a short walk to where you can swim. You don't have to pay for parking as you do near the connector and Front Beach. Great place to view the kite surfers across the inlet on Sullivan's Island on a breezy day. It is also my favorite location for releasing wine bottles into the outgoing current with messages inside. I have a great story about one of the released wine bottles. At sunset, you may find me at the rooftop bar of the Boathouse Restaurant.

4) Front Beach--Isle of Palms--"picturing yourself in the salty evening air on some beach, somewhere with cold margaritas."
Isle of Palms was the first beach I went to after moving to the Charleston area. During Spoleto Festival, it is the location of the sand sculpting contest. I have fished by the beach's pier in the past, but I come here mainly to people-watch. You will often find me sitting on the upper deck of Coconut Joe's overlooking Front Beach and the pier drinking a Corona or an alcoholic concoction. Ice cream stands and shops are nearby on Ocean Blvd.






5) Red's Ice House, Shem Creek--"sitting on the edge of a pier to drink a beer."
Red's Ice House on Shem Creek is a popular restaurant/bar located in Mt. Pleasant. The views from its water-side decks on the boat busy Shem Creek are spectacular, especially around sunset. It attracts a high-energy crowd with only one objective on their mind, fun. It has its own dock where boats can pull in and out throughout the night, a full-service bar close to the action inside and out, and an upper deck for the ultimate view of Shem Creek. It also has a dog-friendly policy, which I soon became quite aware of from the slobbery licks on my hand as I walked on the outside decks. I like sitting on the edge of the pier/dock and sticking my feet into the water near the Palmetto Breeze. During the day, you will see plenty of paddleboarders and kayakers, along with plenty of pelicans and dolphins.

A Magical, Mystical Place With An Unsurpassed Beach And Southern Plantation Legends

Bleak Hall, Sea Cloud and Botany Island are names that stir ones imagination. They bring to ones mind images of foreboding estates surrounded by half-dead, moss covered, aging trees wrapped in a perpetual state of gloom, portraits of salty, blue waters and wooden tall ships and pictures of far-away, palm tree-laden inlets on secluded islands visited by treasure hunting pirates. Apocryphal and fanciful places you would expect to read about in stories and poems written by the likes of Emily Bronte, Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Louis Stevenson, and James A. Michener. In some respects, these are very real descriptions of a place on an Atlantic coastal island not far from where you live called Botany Bay Plantation.

Botany Bay Plantation is a wildlife preserve on Edisto Island consisting of 3,363-acres under the
management of SC Department of Natural Resources. Formed in the 1930's when Dr. James Greenway combined the two previous plantations originally owned by the Townsend family, Bleak Hall and Sea Cloud, it got its name from the barrier island that was near, but not a part of the Bleak Hall property--Botany Bay Island. Some of the island's previous names were Tucker Island, Watch Island and Clark's Bay. The last owners, John and Margaret Meyer, deeded the property to the state.

Botany Bay Island was much larger in the early days of Bleak Hall Plantation--covered with an impenetrable tropical jungle of wild oaks, palmettos, and cedars just twenty yards from the shoreline. Over the years, the ocean has encroached on the land. Now, only a narrow, pristine strip of beach two miles long and lined with a sun-bleached boneyard of weatherworn dead timber remains--loved by photographers. It was separated from the large plantation by an inlet and a smaller island named "Porky," a shortened name from "Pour-quoi." While crossing the marsh to the beach, you will pass an outcropping of trees and plants called Hammock Island.

 

So-called Bleak Hall because of its proximity to the gales of the Atlantic, just a mile away, its name was also inspired by the title of a book written by Charles Dickens, "Bleak House."--John Townsend was an admirer of Dickens. The original great mansion of Bleak Hall was two-and-a-half stories high on a raised basement. A distinguishing feature of the mansion, a cupola, was later added after the house was built so the homesick bride of one of the Townsends could look across the river to her former home on Wadmalaw Island. It towered over the surrounding oriental gardens and the now famous ice house, which still exists and is an outstanding example of Gothic revival architecture. The road into the plantations came to a fork where a turn to the right went to Bleak Hall and the one to the left went to Sea Cloud--sometimes called "Seabrook's Folly."

At the outset of the Civil War in 1861, by orders from the Confederate government, the steamboat "Beauregard" evacuated everyone from Edisto Island and the plantations. Both Confederate and Union troops used the cupola on Bleak Hall as a lookout. At the wars end, the plantations laid devastated. The valuable silver, china, and furniture that was left behind by the Townsends were carried away or destroyed by Freedmen and the Federals. When the Townsends returned in 1866, the house was occupied by former slaves. Shortly thereafter, it burned down. A new one was built in its place, but later torn down and a modern house was built nearby. Neither houses of Bleak Hall and Sea Cloud remain.

Like all Southern plantations legends abound. One involves a "bee hive well" called Jacob's well--a well surrounded by a wall of tabby with a steeple-shaped roof and the name "Jacobus Fecit" cut into one of its sides. In its early days, it was rumored to be a place where lovers secretly rendezvoused. It is believed a little gray man stands guard over the well to keep its waters pure and only allow the "pure in heart" drink from it.

Another story involves the plantation cemetery located at the fork in the road where you turn right to go to Bleak Hall or left to go to Sea Cloud. After leaving a clearing, you enter a narrow road surrounded by dense undergrowth and trees. Here you will feel the first wave of hot air hit the back of your neck, then again and again until you leave the area. The slaves believed this hot air to be the "Hags breath" and if you linger, she will cast a terrible spell that could even cause your death.

A third legend speaks of a Portuguese man wearing large gold earrings and a red bandanna fashioned into a turban who roams the shores of Botany Bay. Seven of his victims were discovered on the beach--all of them standing straight up in the sand.

Botany Bay Plantation is a magical place with a secluded beach unsurpassed on the Atlantic coast and located on Edisto Island not far from Edisto Beach. In fact, from Botany Bay's shell-covered beach you can see Edisto Beach to the right and Seabrook Island to the left. You can take a tour of the plantation featuring 15 points of interest by car. Keep an eye out for the Portuguese man and do not linger near the cemetery if you feel a waft of hot air on the back of your neck--Botany Bay Ecotours. Location: Botany Bay Rd., Edisto Island, SC--Map

 

Botany Bay Plantation Personifies The Reasons Why I Love Charleston And The Lowcountry-A Must-see

A 4,687 acre wildlife preserve tucked away on the mossy oak draped roads among the marshy tidal creeks of Edisto Island is a pristine step away from civilization. Even its name summons an air of resplendence, as do the two plantations that were combined to make it, Bleak Hall and Sea Cloud. However, having been established after the Civil War, it is not officially a plantation. But that is of little import when compared to the beauty and splendor of Botany Bay Plantation.

The original homes of Bleak Hall and Sea Cloud Plantations are but a whisper of the glory days of Edisto Island's Golden Age. The sea island cotton raised on these plantations was famous for its high quality and highly prized throughout Europe. It all ended when they become occupied by Northern troops during the Civil War and were devastated at its end. Bleak Hall was burned in a fire and barely traceable ruins are what's left of Sea Cloud. What remained after was finished off by the boll weevil. That's Botany Bay's history in a sea shell. If you want the full historical details visit Edisto Island Museum.

This would be my first visit to Botany Bay. I have seen photographs and read articles, which only heightened my desire for a visit even more. I have been to Edisto Beach in previous years, driven past what has become known as the mystery tree, but had no idea the entrance to Botany Bay was right there. That realization came to me when we turned off of Highway 174.

The drive on Botany Bay Rd was magical. A dense canopy of old oak trees covered the dirt road. We passed cultivated fields of sunflowers and corn before arriving at a kiosk manned by an older gentleman who requested me to sign in and gave me printed material. It was a guide for taking a driving tour of the preserve with 15 marked locations of interest and an explanation of their significance. I am a beach person, so my focus was on the two miles of unspoiled shoreline accessible only by foot. From the kiosk, it was another two mile drive to the beach parking area where a sign reminded patrons of what was prohibited on the beach-notably shell collection.

 

 

From the parking area, it would be a 1/2 mile walk through a sprawling salt marsh to the beach. It was high tide, so the creeks and marshes were filled with the salty waters from the ocean. At the halfway point of the narrow path, we came to a patch of treed land called Hammock Island, but no hammocks did I see nor should I have expected to. Islands located landward of barrier islands are called hammocks and are typically inhabited only by plants and animals. South Carolina has 3,500 such islands. Always something new to learn.

We continued down the marsh path toward a thick line of trees common to the barrier islands that opened up onto Botany Bay's beach. The resulting view was everything I had envisioned and more. Weatherworn palmetto trees grayed by the salty sea breezes and age lined the sea shelled beach. As we walked, looking for the ideal spot to plant our chairs, we soon became aware of a custom peculiar to the beach. Visitors indulge in a practice of lining the trunks of downed trees with sea shells and hanging them on their branches. I saluted this custom by honoring it with a gesture of my own. I hung a couple of hand-picked shells on my ears while we sat.

We let the whole experience wash over us like the waves rolling onto the beach. I stepped into the warming surf for a swim, but walking into the waters was precarious due to the numerous sharp shells. Some people came to fish, some came to look at the shells, some came to photograph and some laid out blankets under beach umbrellas. I came because Botany Bay Plantation personifies the reasons why I love Charleston and the Lowcountry. It was idyllic.

 

 

 

We later drove into Edisto Beach and had lunch at the Seacow Eatery located at 145 Jungle Road. Nothing fancy, just a typical beach restaurant with the smell of beer batter soaked fish and french fries. It had decent prices and hospitable service. We sat on the beach near the Pavilion Restaurant and took more memorable pictures. Enjoy the photographs. They tell the whole incredible story. Botany Bay Plantation and beach is a must-see.