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Hilton Head Island, South Carolina awash in a beauty which has been enjoyed by islanders and visitors alike for at least 10,000 years. As I walk along the beaches near the Leamington lighthouse or on the nature trail in the Sea Pines Forrest Preserve, the shell rings of Native Americans are still there.

It was English Captain William Hilton who was so struck by the beauty of the island and her bluffs that he named it after himself. This was in 1663 and it remained a place inhabited by birds and turtles but rarely visited by humans until1 1717.

Plantations arose, hardwoods such as the live oak were a shipbuilder's delight. Except for raids from the neighboring island of Daufuskie during the revolutionary war the island was a prosperous place for planters.

Then came the Civil War with South Carolina the first to succeed. The Union army wasted no time in sending an armada of ships down the coast and in a matter of half a day overtook Hilton Head and freed the slaves. These freed men were then enlisted in the Union army and became the first black units in the Civil War.

As the war was ending Mitchellville was beginning. It became home to around 1500 freedmen. A few of the former land owners settled with the government on back taxes and regained their land but the rest was either owned by the Gullah (freed slaves) or the federal government. The island remained a quiet place for fishing and farming until the 1950's. There was some logging and milling and a couple of oyster plants but no bridge to the outside world.

In the 1950's several groups began buying up land on the island with an eye on development. By the 1970's it had exploded. Even with the explosion of development the eye for the beauty of the island remained and much of it has been preserved. Today there are strict building and development codes. Strict laws in place to protect wildlife are consistently enforced.

Some how every time I walk the beach or challenge myself to a crabbing duel I am able to breath in the beauty of Hilton Head's past. Family walks hand in hand. Lazy days in shorts and sandals even in February. I dream of eating enough oysters to make a nine foot tall shell ring just like the first people who visited here.

Learn more about this author, Betsy Young.
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