SCAR Day 3: From Salt Air to Sand Tracks — Riding Across South Carolina Toward the Georgia Border
My KTM 890 loaded up and ready for day 3
After a solid night of sleep in real beds (a welcome luxury after camping), hot showers, and strong coffee, we eased into the morning at a slower pace than we probably should have. But eventually, we packed the bikes, said goodbye to our cozy Folly Beach Airbnb, and rode into town for breakfast at the well-loved Lost Dog Café. Every seat was taken, plates were stacked high, and the smell alone brought us back to life. A hearty breakfast here is exactly the kind of fuel you want before a long day on the SCAR.
Heading out after a great breakfast at Lost Dog Café
The Angle Oak on John’s Island
The Angel Oak: A Must-See Before Leaving the Coast
Before heading inland, we made a stop at one of Charleston’s most iconic natural wonders: The Angel Oak on Johns Island. Even the approach felt magical — oak limbs arching over the road, draped in Spanish moss. A gravel road led us the rest of the way.
Standing beneath the Angel Oak is something words will always fail to capture. Estimated between 300–400 years old and towering 65 feet high, its massive 25-foot circumference trunk anchors a web of sprawling branches, some dipping to the ground before rising skyward again. It’s peaceful, humbling, and absolutely worth the detour.
Into the Sand — Lots of It
From there, we headed out for a long day of riding toward western South Carolina near the Georgia border. This stretch is known to have the highest concentration of sand between I-95 and Columbia, and it lived up to its reputation immediately.
We rode past quiet inland waterways with early-morning fishermen before hitting our first off-road stretch of the day — a long, straight run of sand and gravel with a river on one side and farmland on the other. The kind of section that begs you to roll on the throttle and let the bike breathe.
Throughout the day, we zig-zagged across the state, alternating between hard-packed clay and loose sand that kept our focus sharp and our bikes dancing. Cattle farms, horse pastures, cotton fields — South Carolina’s countryside unfolded mile by mile, quietly beautiful and endlessly varied.
The Long Push West
With such a big breakfast fueling us, we skipped lunch and kept the momentum. As the day went on, the landscape shifted again — gentle hills returned, sweeping corners flowed into more gravel, and the miles stacked up.
But as the sun began to dip, so did our fuel levels. We made a final gas stop near our campsite, grabbed a few beverages for the evening, and pushed on for the final stretch of the day.
Getting in to camp along the Savannah River just before sunset
A Perfect Campsite on the Savannah River
After more than 250 miles, we rolled into camp right as the sun was setting over the Savannah River on the Georgia border. It was stunning — quiet, spacious, with trees perfectly spaced for hammock camping and a soft glow reflecting off the water.
We set up camp as the light faded, got a fire going, and broke out the evening’s gourmet spread: MREs. Heath had come prepared, and — to our surprise — they were actually pretty good. Beef stew for TJ, others choosing their own mystery bags. Not exactly fine dining, but after a long day in the saddle, it hit the spot.
We wound down by the fire, swapping stories from the day until one by one we retreated to our tents and hammocks. Another epic day on the SCAR in the books — sand, scenery, and serenity all rolled into one.
