BULL ISLAND, S.C. — Time moves slowly and sundial-quiet here.

This is the domain of deer, turtle and birds — especially birds — but the jumble of palmetto, pine, oak and shoulder-high grasses gives it an other-worldly look.

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"Jurassic Park" oviraptors could bask on the rocks instead of alligators. Adam and Eve could peer through the fronds, though not in their birthday suits: Mosquitoes and black flies would eat them alive, their bare feet would tire on the hard-pack roads, and without wristwatches they might miss the 4 p.m. ferry to the mainland.

Visitors can't stay overnight on Bull Island, and sunup and sundown is when many creatures howl and cackle, proclaiming that this outpost of Cape Romain National Wildlife Refuge belongs to them.

The massive ferry pier — near Awendaw, north of Charleston, juts from an access road off U.S. 17. You'll find it at Garris Landing on Sewee Bay, where the seaward view is an obstacle course of spartina grass rising from the salt water. Bull Island is between 10 o'clock and 1 on the horizon, 3 miles east. Getting there is tricky, requiring a pilot who knows the 30 minutes' worth of deep-enough channels among the shifting mud flats.

Isiah Geathers, a 15-year man with Cape Romain, is at the helm today. He's from nearby McClellanville but hadn't set foot on Bull Island until he came to work for the Fish & Wildlife Service after Hurricane Hugo.

"It's just one of those places you wouldn't ordinarily know about," says Geathers, now 36. That was also the case for Wayne Tucker, the other and older maintenance staffer aboard for this Bull run. "I didn't know about it, either." And he's from Charleston, just 15 miles southwest.

Hiking Web sites call Bull Island "remote" and "hard to find." That's a big reason why this is one of just several wilderness areas on the East Coast with a Class 1 classification: most pristine and unchanged.

The western end rises from Price Creek into a trail-free marsh; the eastern tip, on Bulls Bay, is marsh and lagoon. What passes for high ground is in the middle and facing the sea, to the southeast.

Like the bay, the isle is named for Stephen Bull, the English mariner who was one of the first to visit — and one of the few in the 1670s to take a fancy to it. Pirates and Civil War blockade runners hid in these backwaters. Gayer Dominick, a New York senator who wanted his own hunting preserve, bought the whole 7.8-square-mile island in 1925; he gave it to the Fish & Wildlife Service in 1932. There have been no human residents since.

Dominick's not-too-fancy lodge is one of the few things here not directly tied to preserving wildlife. It is inland from the ferry pier on a swatch of mowed high ground that also holds a pair of rustic restrooms and some picnic tables. Not that it gets crowded here.

The ferry that leaves the mainland at 9 a.m. and half past noon can carry 36 or 37 passengers.

"But if 38 show up, the operator is required to go back and pick up the last person," says refuge ranger Larry Davis.

Those folks are apt to be birders, photographers or hikers. Sunbathers have to scamper a bug-infested half-mile gantlet to reach Bull's oceanfront.

"Most people who come in their own boats go to the south end of the island — just to be on the beach, or to fish," Davis adds. And on a prime Saturday, he says, there may be 200 visitors here.

That works out to 2.6 humans per square mile — the density comparable to Minidoka County, Idaho. A far and solitary cackle from Myrtle Beach.

And the gator population?

"About 450 to 550, primarily around the impoundment."

One surprising touch here are the wide, sandy roads that traverse the eastern half of the island. Davis says they were here in Dominick's day or earlier, and have simply been maintained so staff and guests can more easily get around.

And they are helpful: about 10 feet wide, mostly topped with sand, lightly marked with tire tracks. Walk for miles, and you'll see no human debris. Only nature's litter is here: acorns, pine cones, dried and fallen palmetto fronds and Spanish moss.

Both sides of the road often have about another foot of dirt or grass cut from the jungle. This helps keep insects at a distance and further opens the sky to view. More than 300 species of birds have been spotted here; there's always something airborne. Most common is the coot. Spring and fall bring migrating warblers and other songbirds. Wading birds include species of egret, heron and ibis. There are pelicans on the shore. Easiest to spot are the prowling falcons slowly circling overhead.

They may be looking for black-tailed fox squirrels that dart across your path. When stretching, Geathers says, they can measure 2 feet end to end.

The impenetrable-looking wild starts 12 inches from the roads. Plunging into the bush is allowed but time-consuming. There are several footpaths on the island, too. Vegetation is thick, though the trees aren't old-growth. Botanically, Bull is in therapy from Hugo.

"The eye went through downtown Charleston and Mount Pleasant," Davis says of the 1989 disaster. "But the worst damage by a hurricane is outside the eye, especially the northeast quadrant. From what I've seen, I can safely say Bull Island and the mainland behind it was probably hit the hardest of any area around here. A tidal surge over the island was at least 20 feet high."

Nature's non-negotiable ways are also responsible for Bull Island's single most-popular draw: Boneyard Beach, at the island's southeast corner, a lengthy hike from Dominick's lodge, where several roads begin. The Old Fort Road that cuts through the interior eventually brings you within earshot of waves, then the sight of shore dune; cross over the dunes to see the spectacle: hundreds upon hundreds of oak, loblollies and palmettos on the beach, some upright, some uprooted and laid prone by wind and tide. All dead, bleached elephant-bone white by sun and salt air.

The wreckage is wildly beautiful; add the view beyond them — an empty, churning ocean launching green waves at the gray-sand beach — and your complex life implodes to the size, significance and projected longevity of a sand flea.

And think back a quarter-hour or more to the marker you passed at the Old Fort, actually a knee-high circle of stones in an inland clearing besieged by ever-growing underbrush. It's all that remains of a colonial lookout tower that even a century ago was long gone.

The 8-foot concrete marker next to it reads, "Near this site the first permanent European settlers of South Carolina landed on March 17, 1670 on their way to establish the settlement of Charles Town ..."

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IF YOU GO:

Bull Island, part of Cape Romain National Wildlife Refuge, can be visited sunup to sundown daily.

The ferry leaves Garris Landing at 9 a.m. and 12:30 p.m. Tuesday, Thursday-Saturday; it leaves Bull Island at noon and 4 p.m. Ferry cost (round trip): $30; 12 and younger, $15. Pay for the ferry at the dock, with cash or check (no credit cards).

Pets are not allowed on Bull Island; fires are prohibited.

An NWR staffer remains on the island while visitors are there.

TIPS:

—Wear comfortable shoes; wear something waterproof on your feet if you plan on exploring marshy areas of Bull Island.

—Wear a long-sleeve shirt and bring insect repellent.

—Be sure to wear a wristwatch: Overnight visitors are not allowed on Bull Island; if you're not at the island's dock at 4 p.m. for the return to the mainland, the ferry will be delayed until you are found.

—Bring your own snacks and beverages There are no vending machines on Bull Island. Bring plenty of drinking water.

RESOURCES:

Before or after your trip to Bull Island, visit the Cape Romain NWR's Seewee Visitor Center, on U.S. 17, 4 miles north of the Garris Landing turnoff. It's at U.S. 17 at S.C. 432. Center hours: 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Tuesday-Sunday. Refuge office and Bull Island details: (843) 928-3368, 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Tuesday-Sunday. Info via Internet: Cape Roman; Sewee Center.