If you don’t want to golf, fish, water ski, bike, hike or swim, think again about Marion, at 110,000 acres, the biggest lake in South Carolina.

All the above are there by the boatload, but for you kind-of-lazy or take-it-easy tourists, some treats and adventures await. For instance, how about the “lake that disappeared.”

Nathan Maiwale, Santee State Park manager, tells the story: In 1992, a 30-acre pond near one of the campgrounds began getting lower and lower — fast. A visitor spotted it and told a park ranger who reported it. Then, with a lot of campers, they watched it drop down 20 feet, then more.

Many of the rangers already knew the culprit — that section of South Carolina, for miles north and south, has a unique geological feature, huge deposits of limestone rock and soil. Once in a while some of it gives away, creating a hollow sinkhole and draining it dry. But 30 acres! Not often. A day and a half later, there lay a big empty pond site you can hike or drive to.

Then, of course, there’s alligator spotting, boating around Marion’s quieter sites, trying to spy a sunning or swimming 10-to-12-foot monster. They’re all over the place, but don’t bother anybody.

The coming of Santee-Cooper

Actually, Lake Marion almost didn’t get there.

First, our forefathers dug a 22-mile canal between 1795 and 1800. The next 50 years, planters barged their cotton, rice, timber, etc. down to Charleston. Then came the fast, efficient railroads and swamp and vines reclaimed the waterway. Not until 1934 did Governor Blackwood sign a bill that authorized the damming of the Santee in order to build a gigantic power plant and reopened Columbia to Charleston navigation.

In 1939, 15,000 men, most from relief rolls, began digging and constructing. Could any of them have envisioned the endless autos and pickups that bring Canadians, all-state Americans and even New Zealanders down U.S. Highway 301, Interstate 26 and Interstate 95 year-round?

Mary Shriner, director of the Santee-Cooper Counties Promotion Commission, oversees a bee-busy visitors center on Highway 6, a mile east of I-95. A treasury of information on area sports, camps, motels and points of interest await the multitude who pass through annually.

First on the scene were the Florida-bound overnighters to the new motels. For decades this stream increased. State fishermen, then others, found the huge, fish-loaded lake fast and moved in on the bream, catfish and striped bass. When Santee State Park opened its gates in 1949, its facilities offered this sport to everybody. Land owners along the shore began selling off lots. Today homes run the gamut from camp cabins to retirement cottages to gated vacation domiciles.

The ‘jock inexhaustibles’

Today, hundreds of the latter surround three elegant, 18-hole golf courses, all open to the public. Players call in tee time reservations for more than 200,000 rounds a year.

“There’s no longer a ‘season.’ Our weather begins warming in late January and offers good golfing until Thanksgiving,” she said.

The “jock inexhaustibles,” most of whom come from 500 or less miles away, drive down in sets of four after work Friday night. Often, all Friday night. By ten next morning they are out whacking away until suppertime at one of Santee’s succulent eateries. Then straight to bed? No way! Out come the cards and poker chips for standoffs until midnight or later. On Sunday, they rise, wearily but full of spunk, go out and tear up the greens again, til time to head home.

By full spring all the courses are booked solid including a dozen from surrounding towns.

We’ll leave here at 6, get some catfish

Meanwhile, fishing has splashed in strong and Santee State Park often launches a 100 boats off its long dock every day. This doesn’t include the fishermen from the five counties that surround the big water: Berkeley, Calhoun, Clarendon, Sumter and Orangeburg. Many come in winter. And nearly every day one man (sometimes woman) lands a striper worth taking home for a wall plaque.

At the park, summer vacationers can swim anywhere along the long sloping shore. Some of the 30, six-guest cottages actually sit in the gentle water. When the cabins and the 50 sites in the campgrounds are full, up to 1,000 guests can stay a night.

The park welcomes daily visitors, too. Church members and clubs gather for a day of picnicking, swimming and hiking. Admission is $2 a head for adults, no charge for kids, with tables and facilities free. To work off 3,000 calories of chicken pilaf and pecan pie, there are three hiking or biking trails from one to seven miles long.

Lastly, for the non-athletes, the park offers several unique events. The “Snake Study” is one. An expert who displays at least five serpents, such as poisonous copperheads and nonpoisonous kings and corn snakes, tells what they eat, how they help the environment and how they live. Remember, “a good snake is a dead snake,” is not true, he says.

Often some self-made fun goes on. Nathan recalls a check-around walk last summer when he heard banjos, guitars and a mandolin strumming up a hoedown. Coming to the clearing, he found a sizeable group of campers standing or sitting in the chairs they brought, clapping and foot patting to country music. It went on for hours as everybody rejoiced.

“Hand me down my bottle of corn, for all my sins are taken a-waaaaaay.”

Retired editor and public relations executive Thomas Langford’s column is titled “Some Edisto stories.” Let him know if you have stories to share: 803-534-2097.

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