A River Runs Through It

December 18, 2005

Henry David Thoreau once said “It is pleasant to have been to a place the way a river went.” Now, he didn’t say it directly to me but, I think I know what he meant. When I look out across the May River, I continue to be awed by its beauty and the entertainment that it offers us here in Bluffton. But there is an element to our river that a newcomer would never find on his or her own.

Last week one of my Georgia born and bred co-workers passed along a copy of an article to me. The note that was attached read, “To Yankees who need to know.” The article, courtesy of Southern Living, was about pluff mud. Pluff what you say? Exactly. This Jersey girl certainly did not know that mud came in varietals, but I have since learned otherwise.

Pluff mud is the mud of the marshes and an “elemental characteristic” of the Lowcountry. It seems that the scent of the pluff mud is its claim to fame and to some Lowcountry locals; the smell of the mud is a reminder of their childhood, their home. The distinctive fragrance – a hint of rotten eggs and salt water - is a result of the marsh grasses dying, rotting, and then mingling with the fresh, salty air.

How pluff mud got its name remains a mystery. Donna Florio, author of the Southern Living article says that “the favored theory is that ‘pluff’ is the sound the mud makes as you walk across it – or pull your boot out of it.” The webmaster for the Myrtle Beach Convention Center offers this explanation: “‘Pluff’ is actually the sound you hear when your truck keys fall out of your shorts pocket, while you're climbing over the side to drag the boat out of the aforementioned pluff mud."

Regardless of the origin of its name, the pluff mud offers shelter and food for a variety of tiny inhabitants – fiddler crabs, snails, worms and the like. More interestingly though an age-old sport among local couples is boggin' – running and sliding - in the pluff mud found on the edges of the rivers and marshes. I have not tried it yet but plan to put it on the agenda for the spring.

A trip out on the May River was part of my orientation to Bluffton. And, I was fortunate enough to have a great guide, a Blufftonian for over 30 years. He was able to tell me the stories of Bluffton – stories that you won’t find in history books but rather stories based on the way the river flows. As we cruised the perimeter of Bluffton and peered into backyards, I learned the history (and a bit of gossip) about Bluffton families, land, wildlife and industry.

The May River is a rich resource for us. So too are the locals. Go ahead; ask them to tell you a story.