Personal Injury Attorney in Kiawah, SC

KIAWAH ISLAND, S.C. (WCBD) – It’s first light on Kiawah Island. Down at the beach, there are 10 miles of sand and hardly a soul on it: just tide, wind, waves, and the marks left behind overnight.

The morning was spent with Kiawah Island Turtle Patrol in the final stretch of turtle nesting season. Hatchlings were just getting started, emerging from their nests ready to make the journey out to sea.

The number of turtle nests is staggering. Last year saw around 200, but this year, we’re nearing 500 and still counting.

Kiawah’s beach is wide, dark at night, and protected; everything a loggerhead sea turtle wants. It’s why this island is one of the most important nesting grounds in the Lowcountry.

Alison Frey, who has spent 14 seasons with Kiawah Island Turtle Patrol, said the year has exceeded expectations.

“We’re really excited for 2026 because it has been a banner year. It’s not our highest year, but we have surpassed our second highest year, which was in 2022. Currently, we have 495 nests,” said Frey.

Each morning before sunrise, turtle patrol volunteers and staff cover roughly 10 miles of beach on foot and by truck, locating and documenting nests under permits issued by the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources. Some nests may be carefully relocated if they are vulnerable to flooding or other threats.

The busy season has generated excitement among volunteers and conservationists.

“We’re coming off one of our lowest years- we were around 200. I was just talking to David, and he’s like, I didn’t even get to do an activity last year. So he’s like, now I have three in one day! So that kind of excitement is fun. But yeah, the energy is definitely up here.”

While nesting numbers are high, the work is far from over. Sea turtle eggs spend about two months incubating beneath the sand, where nests face threats from storms, predators and environmental conditions. Ghost crabs, coyotes, raccoons and seabirds can all impact hatchling survival.

That’s why the patrol screens them, numbers them, and moves those sitting too low or in a bad location. To help protect the turtles, patrol members encourage beachgoers to do their part by filling in holes, removing trash, and avoiding artificial light at night.

“If you are out on the beach at night, please do not turn on your flashlight. There’s enough natural light,” Frey said.

After approximately 60 days beneath the sand, hatchlings emerge and make their way to the ocean. Only a small fraction survive to adulthood, with patrol members estimating about one in every 1,000 hatchlings will make it.

Those that survive may return decades later to nest on the same beaches where they hatched.

According to turtle patrol members, hatchlings are expected to continue emerging through October, keeping conservation crews busy throughout the remainder of the season.

KIAWAH ISLAND, S.C. (WCIV) — A long-running effort to permanently protect Captain Sams Spit took a significant step forward this week after the South Carolina General Assembly approved funding for the state's share of a proposed $37 million settlement that would preserve the environmentally sensitive property and end nearly two decades of litigation over its future.

The settlement calls for $32 million from the state, $3.7 million from the Town of Kiawah Island, and $1.3 million from the Conservancy of the Sea Islands. If finalized, the agreement would permanently prohibit development on the spit and limit significant human impact to one of the Lowcountry's most important wildlife habitats.

“This is an important step in ensuring the preservation of Captain Sam’s Spit and maintaining public access to this extraordinary natural resource,” Kiawah Island Mayor Brad Belt said in a statement. “It reflects the continuing commitment of the Town and Kiawah community to steward our natural environment for the benefit of future generations.”

The funding approval follows a settlement announced in March that emerged after years of legal disputes involving developers, conservation groups, the Town of Kiawah Island, and the State of South Carolina. The agreement was reached after nearly two years of negotiations and would guarantee permanent protection of the property if all remaining approvals are secured.

READ MORE | Kiawah town sues to enforce environmental promises at Captain Sam's Spit

Under the proposed settlement, ownership of the Highland Area of Sam's Spit would be owned by the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources, which would seek designation of the property as a Heritage Trust Preserve. The Oceanfront Area would be owned by the state while remaining open to public access. Both areas would be protected through a permanent conservation easement held by the Conservancy of the Sea Islands.

The parcel containing Beachwalker Park would transfer from private ownership to the Town of Kiawah Island, though officials said the ownership change would not affect current operations or public access.

Despite the legislative approval, the preservation deal is not yet final. The state budget still requires action from Gov. Henry McMaster, and the settlement must receive court approval and satisfy other closing requirements before property transfers can occur and the pending lawsuits are dismissed.

READ MORE | Captain Sams Spit to remain home to wildlife, but not humans: SC Supreme Court

If completed, the agreement would bring an end to one of South Carolina’s longest-running coastal land-use battles while ensuring Captain Sam’s Spit remains protected and publicly accessible for future generations.

CHARLESTON — It begins with bands of rain, and for a while it looks and feels like a bad thunderstorm.

But the roads are empty. The only people left are holdouts who didn’t evacuate. Emergency management teams and National Weather Service employees are holed up further inland, in buildings designed to withstand major hurricanes.

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The storm has grown to be roughly 400 miles across, about the scale of 2025’s Category 5 Hurricane Melissa. It has eclipsed South Carolina in size. A hurricane, especially one of this tier, provides no single moment of clear impact, no dramatic culmination to the days of preparation. It just builds to a frenzied, screaming peak, then slowly subsides.

As the outer arms of a Category 5 storm brush the coast, waves along the beaches begin to build. The wind picks up, and it doesn’t stop.

Calls to 911 may be coming in, but emergency responders can’t venture out. Whatever happens next will have to be dealt with after the storm has passed.

The prep is done. As the storm bears down, all anyone can do is watch. Utilities, government officials and emergency responders sit for hours, staring at screens and monitoring their calls. The last thing the National Weather Service does is issue an extreme wind warning.

“If you didn't evacuate, you have to get to a very sturdy building right now, or there is imminent danger to your life,” says Carl Barnes, a meteorologist with the National Weather Service in Charleston.

Rain is almost falling sideways. It forms a vision-obscuring sheet. The outline of palmetto trees is barely visible, their fronds completely bent by the wind. Most big trees in the area soon will be knocked down.

Once the hurricane reaches the shore, water that had been circulating with the storm strikes the ocean floor as it gets shallower and then is forced upwards, creating a storm surge of 18 feet, give or take a few inches.

The wall of water crashes into the city, and overtops the Battery by at least 5 feet.

In their bunkers, the city, county and National Weather Service are watching as conditions change across the metropolitan area. They’re transmitting weather data and watching traffic cameras, as long as they remain operational. There isn’t much to do but wait and watch.

Those who have lived through major hurricanes describe the sound as a roar, like a low-flying jet circling overhead for hours. It’s joined with the banging, clanking and pounding that comes from the sound of debris whipped around by the wind.

South Carolina’s barrier islands bear the brunt of the hurricane’s initial wrath as it comes ashore just south of downtown Charleston. Edisto, Kiawah, Seabrook, Folly, Sullivan's, Isle of Palms, Dewees — all face “ catastrophic storm surge, wave action, and erosion,” says Justin Pierce, Charleston County’s Emergency Management director. “These communities would be well under water.”

The worst of the wind hits, and many, perhaps most, framed homes are destroyed, with “total roof failure and wall collapse,” NOAA predicts. Entire neighborhoods are cut off by falling trees and power lines.

The sea islands would shield against some of the inshore flooding and tidal surge. Pushed along by a churning system, the storm surge floods into Charleston Harbor and its surrounding estuary.

In 1989, Hurricane Hugo made landfall near Sullivan’s Island, sparing the rest of the city from the worst of the storm surge. In some places, Hugo’s surge hit 12 feet, inundating much of the peninsula.

Only the highest ground remains dry. This is the current “worst-case scenario” situation that Charleston still plans for in its infrastructure and resilience projects.

But this hypothetical hurricane comes ashore at Kiawah Island or Folly Beach, so the worst of the storm surge overwhelms the entire peninsula and much of James Island, West Ashley, North Charleston, Mount Pleasant and Awendaw.

“The Cooper, Ashley, Wando, Stono, and all of the little hundreds of other smaller waterways connecting Charleston County to the Atlantic would be inundated,” Pierce said.

Downtown, water overtops the Low Battery. Rainbow Row, built on top of a filled-in wetland, is hammered.

Houses are shredded and knocked about by the winds and waves. Their roofs are stripped off, tearing as easily as paper.

Trees fall, branches fly. Hugo was strong enough to level more than a third of the Francis Marion National Forest. This storm is worse.

Marinas around Charleston are destroyed, their docks broken or pulled from their anchors below. The boats find themselves in unlikely places, washed by the high tide and strong surge into streets, yards and parks. Vessels pile up where high ground meets the marsh. Fiberglass shards are scattered everywhere.

Finally, the winds die down, and the storm passes. Those stepping outside to assess the damage are disoriented at first. Many landmarks that help them navigate and understand the city are gone. It looks apocalyptic, like a landscape you’d see in a disaster movie.

“A Cat 5 would be capable of changing the physical and the economic landscape of Charleston for years,” Pierce said.

Surviving this storm is just the beginning. Now comes the yearslong clean-up.