Going to Church

Old Sheldon Church ruins, Yemassee, South Carolina, USA

I was off course, but not lost. I pulled the motorcycle into the gas station and fueled up. The hour was getting late, and I had some miles to go to get to a hotel. Lifting the pump nozzle away from the tank, I was careful not to drip and fuel on the paint. My phone rang somewhere in my riding jacket. I patted all my pockets to locate it. It was work.

“Are you in the office?”

“No. Actually I’m somewhere in South Carolina, not exactly sure of my location. I have this week off.”

“Oh that’s right! When will you be back?”

A year earlier, I was surfing the web for some destination wedding locations, and happened upon an image of an outdoor wedding at a fantastic looking old church. Your old buddy Jack is not a religious person, but knowing I had a road trip into the south planned for next year, I realized I had to go here, just to photograph it.

Here I was a year later. It’s hard to follow directions on GPS when you are on a motorcycle and your phone is in your pocket. I wasn’t far from my destination, but I needed to hurry. Light was running out and the sky was clouding up.

Finishing my work call, I mounted the bike and thumbed the starter. Soon I was moving carefully down Old Sheldon Church Road, and spied the church ahead. I pulled over and killed the engine, shedding my helmet. It was very quiet. I walked the grounds imagining the church back in the 1700’s, it’s rich history and the countless generations that had been baptized, married or been given a final farewell here. The lawn was trimmed inside the church. The roof was gone, but the walls were surrounded by gnarled trees draped with Spanish moss.

I made several images, but only one survives to this day. In the deepening gloom, I brushed past the phantoms of past parishioners, seeing them gathered in their pews. The shadows were growing long, and it was time to go. The bike rumbled to life and I pulled into the green tunnel of trees, picking up gears as I accelerated away.