Palmetto Trail Perambulations: Eutaw Springs Section 1 and Lake Moultrie Section 2

A Cold Winter’s Ride

With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

‘Twas two days post- Christmas, when down in the state

Two ladies decided to bike was their fate;

Eutaw Springs 1 and Lake Moultrie Sec. 2

Were Palmetto Trail passages they would go through.

The temp was quite chilly, ‘twas well below freezing;

But visions of miles in their heads were a-teasing.

And Cathy on her bike, and I with my pride,

Had settled our buns for a long scenic ride,

Down dirt roads and paved and over canal

We pedaled and pedaled throughout the locale.

As we reached Sky View Road, we saw a few turkey.

(My knee at this point was feeling quite quirky.)

Nine miles we had gone, ‘twas young in the day,

Eutaw Springs 1 and done, new passage we‘d slay.

We sprang to our car and loaded our bikes.

To Lake Moultrie Sec. 2 we’d ride o’re the dikes.

Along the canal, then over the bridge

(My knee, it was screaming much more than a smidge),

But bikers who passed us were a hundred miles gone

And their Iron Man shirts spoke more of their brawn.

So, fiercely we pedaled as fast as we could

While all the time thinking that maybe I should

Have practiced and prepped a bit more than I did.

Not young anymore, who am I trying to kid?

The sun on the lake by the path we did ride

Gave a lustre of diamonds to act as our guide.

Then over a trestle and into a wood,

O’er boardwalks and bridges, but “Oh, this is no good!”

A train crossed our path, stock still on the track.

This far we had come, we couldn’t go back.

So up the train car our Cathy did climb;

We hoisted bikes over, our hands clad in grime.

We did a fist bump, our egos did soar.

We prevailed o’er that train: ob-stacle no more!

Mostly pushing our bikes, we continued our trek.

My knee now was screaming, but oh, what the heck!

Right through a logged forest with three miles to go,

But Sunday no workers, thus passed with gusto.

Mile one-four my knee couldn’t make it, was clear,

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But dear Cathy a’driving our truck, gone ahead,

And saved my poor self (tiny tears might have shed).

So on to our campsite, we set up in the dark,

Had some hot soup, then our buns we did park

Right by the campfire. With feelings of pride

We rehashed our long journey of a cold winter’s ride.

(And I heard Cathy say, ere she turned out the light—

“Happy P-Trails to all, and to all a good night!”)

Locations

Lake Moultrie trailheads:

Amos Lee Gourdine Boat Ramp,  Russel Store Rd, St Stephen, SC 29479

Eadie Lane trailhead:  9VJ8+P7 Cross, South Carolina

Eutaw Springs trailheads:

Eadie Lane trailhead:  9VJ8+P7 Cross, South Carolina

Skyview Lane Trailhead: 9Q76+PF Eutaw Springs, South Carolina

Palmetto Trail Perambulations: the Santee Passage

There is not a season of the year that I don’t like peach trees. In the spring, the pink blossoms make a stunning sight.  In summer, they are loaded with those juicy fruits.  Fall leaves on the trees drip golden yellow.  Even on the cusp of winter, the deep burgundy of the buds gives the promise of cobblers, pies, jams, and other deliciousness.

Peach Leaves

It’s a good thing I like peaches, because we passed through orchard after orchard on our Santee Passage hike.  Had it been summer, we could have stopped for fresh-picked fruits.  As it was, we were content with peach trees…and pines…and pecans… and soybeans….and corn.  I was about to be schooled in Low Country Farming.

Walking through the peach orchards, my dog channeling her inner Yoda.

This was our second day camping at Santee State Park.  And the second day that Cathy woke up in her tent flat on the ground, her new air mattress deflated under her.  But optimist that she is, her only comment to my consoling noises was that she was thankful for the soft Santee sand!

We saw a lot of Santee sand on this hike.  Most of this Santee Passage had us on dirt roads and back roads through farmlands. We started in downtown Eutawville, heading toward Santee.  We soon found ourselves walking through peach orchards.  I couldn’t resist the chance to walk down the rows, taking in the careful pruning that allows peak peach production.  I do like alliteration.

Our hearts dropped when we came on another roadside memorial.  This one was so fresh, there were still car parts strewn across the embankment and ruts from the tires.  We will never know the story behind this tragedy, but felt the pain left behind by their loved ones.

Onto a dirt road lined with more peaches—these not irrigated as the ones before were—and then we were in longleaf pine heaven!  Is there anything more lovely than longleaf?  I may be biased.  Across the road, a lone oak struggled to survive a fire that took out its core.  The resiliency of trees never ceases to amaze me.

Even the ditch held wonders.  Drawn in by the bright yellow fruit of what I later discovered was a horse nettle, I glimpsed a frog dive under the debris.  No amount of stirring could persuade froggy to emerge.

My dogs play a game with us when we’re walking.  They try to spot roadkill before we do so they can have a nice crunchy snack. Fun fun.  Luckily for us, we saw the dead deer before they did and were able to stymie their efforts, winning this round.  Just down the road from this, a man pulled up alongside us and rolled down his window.  He asked if we were walking the Palmetto Trail and said that he also was doing the same.  We exchanged names and when I got home I had a Facebook message from him explaining how that deer had been poached from his property solely for its antlers.  This makes me sick.  Although I could never kill a wild animal, I recognize that hunters are for the most part some of the best naturalists around and can play a vital role in keeping populations at a healthy level.  But killing an animal just for a trophy?  There are no words.

As it turns out Stephen Thomas, our new acquaintance, is a very serious birder, native plant enthusiast, and photographer.  Check out his inspiring photographs of the Palmetto Trail. https://www.flickr.com/photos/birdshot/albums/72157629303385052

If longleaf pines are my favorite, sweet gum has to be pretty near the bottom of my list.  It grows super-fast and will take over a forest before you can blink.  But this lone sweet gum made such a striking silhouette against the sky that I might just have to make an exception in its case.

Sweet gum with mistletoe

As we came to the end of our dirt road, we saw a disturbing sight.  In the water-filled ditch amidst the floating bottles and other debris was a loveseat.  What’s going on?  I have a theory: I think someone loaded it in the trunk of their car, zipped off the highway onto the quiet dirt road, and dumped it where nobody could see what they were doing.  I tried to imagine what I’d do if I lived out in the country, far from a landfill, and had limited options for disposing of unwanted items.  There’s got to be a better way.  Come on, South Carolina! 

Around the corner, this suburban girl got her first up-close-and-personal introduction to soybeans.  I had seen these brown fields of dead plants as I zipped by at highway speeds, but never knew exactly what they were.  Actually, they’re quite cute  little fuzzy wuzzy pea pods!  Later on our hike we watched a harvester from far off, clouds of dust surrounding it like Pigpen of Peanuts comic strip fame.  It blows my mind to think how someone invented a machine that would pick and shuck all those legumes at the same time.

Who the heck is Mike Williams?  Every road leading into the town of Vance sported a beautiful new sign welcoming all to this fair village, the “Home for Family Reunions,” and touting Vance as the home of the aforesaid Mike Williams.  I bet if I had asked any of the 170 residents (per the 2010 census), they would have been glad to enlighten my poor ignorant self.  Mike Williams is the former Clemson football star and current Lost Angeles Chargers wide receiver.  Duh.  For a town with a poverty rate hovering around 40%, Mike Williams is hope.

Heading out of town, we saw a sign in a yard proclaiming Pecans for Sale.  The family was milling around outside, so we stopped by to see about getting some pecans. The woman of the house, Connie, was happy to sell us a gallon bag of shelled pecans, and as a Christmas bonus threw in another bag of unshelled nuts. Curious: Do you say “pee can” or “pee kahn”? 

Happy with our purchase, we walked down to a small white church where we took a load off our tired feet and ate our PB&J sandwiches.  I do have a smart hiking buddy:  Cathy packed some Cheerios, which served as a welcome distraction for our dogs while we ate!

Refreshed, we went down Avinger Dr. where we were greeted by two beautiful horses.  They didn’t seem concerned when my dogs didn’t return the friendly overture.  Of course, these horses lived on an iconic country farm, complete with weathered barn, huge spreading oak tree, and even a windmill, so maybe they felt they didn’t have anything to prove.  Anyway, apologies for my dogs’ behavior!

I got another lesson in Low Country Farming when we came to a corn field that had recently been harvested.  Again I was impressed with the skill of the engineers who built a harvester that would chop off the stalks, break off the ears, cut off the kernels and spit everything else back on the ground, thus protecting the soil from erosion while returning nutrients to the soil. I had never before thought about how corn was harvested but will never again eat corn without appreciating the work that went into getting it on my plate.

The next part of the trail was my least favorite and most unnerving.  After following a fence line to a spillway, mountain-goating across the rocks, and walking on the shoulder of Highway 301, we crossed a bridge over I-95. Talk about getting the heebie-jeebies!

Our hike almost over, one spectacle remained.  Although not as fancy as the Gaffney Peachoid, this water tower had all the eeriness of the monolith found in the Utah desert, especially when seen up close.

After two days and almost 28 miles of walking, I was relieved to reach the trailhead at the Santee Town Hall Complex.  My feet were talking to me, words I didn’t know that they knew!  And my dogs were tired.  But this weekend had been a lesson in farming techniques, having seen South Carolina fields at a walking pace instead of zipping by at highway speeds.  And slow is the way to go when you’re learning the state, one foot in front of the other on the Palmetto Trail.

Palmetto Trail Perambulations: the Eutaw Springs Passage, Section 2

It all started when my husband asked if I wanted to go camping at Santee State Park.  I was immediately suspicious:  this was the first time in over 33 years of marriage that he had ever suggested a camping trip.  Usually I am the instigator.  Come to find out, his friend wanted to bring his RV and boat down there to do some fishing.  Ahhh.  It only took a moment for me to figure out that I could do two parts of the Palmetto Trail in one weekend with this trip.  Only thing was, I’d have to take my dogs on the hike since they haven’t yet learned how to take a fish off a hook.  Cathy, ever the trooper, agreed to come along and camp in her small tent alongside our smallish pop-up trailer.  Plus I had my new phone with the Avenza maps downloaded.  We were set.  

Sunset on Lake Marion from Santee State Park

So Saturday morning Cathy and I drove down to the Eutaw Springs Passage Section 2 trailhead at Sky View Road.  Well, trailhead may be a bit of a stretch.  It was the last spot listed on the Avenza map and kind of a sketchy place to park our car.  The road was more of an overgrown dirt driveway. Used personal protection equipment, cans, and snack wrappers littered the ground.  It probably would have been safer to park our car at the other end in downtown Eutawville and start there but it all worked out, so no worries.

Hiking under a beautiful waning gibbous moon

We headed down Richardson Street and soon were on a quiet dirt road, quiet except for the dogs who voraciously guarded their territory but thankfully kept a distance.  We kept a tight grip on our dogs, who behaved nicely in spite of the antagonistic behavior.

Crossing SC Hwy 6/45, I was intrigued by a sign promoting the Eutawville Fliers.  Some quick Internet sleuthing told me that this was a group of model airplane hobbyists that has been around for some 30 years.  I remember as a kid watching model airplanes fly in a field near my home, but today’s crafts have evolved into something quite spectacular.  You Tube videos show giant model airplanes hovering and doing all sorts of tricks.  It would be interesting to come back again to see them in action!

Another sign on the road expressed irritation at a common problem we have witnessed all over our state, that of littering.  While I don’t agree that the cause is to be found mainly in “the hood,” I do think we can do better.  It seems to me that littering is not the problem itself, but a symptom of a deeper issue.  Signs and citations and anti-littering campaigns are band-aids.   Perhaps a solution might lie in giving more options for trash/debris pick-up to those who live outside city garbage disposal routes.  I’ll step off my soap box and get back to the hike.

We were soon back on dirt roads where the breathing was easy.  A house carcass caught our imagination.  Who used to live here?  What was their life like?  And why was the house abandoned? It reminded me of the cross-stitched verse that hung in my house growing up…still hangs, actually: Let me live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man. The poem by Sam Walter Foss is worth the read. Check it out–https://www.theotherpages.org/poems/foss01.html

Just down the road we came across the two game warden vehicles that had passed us earlier.  They were busy checking out the duck hunters who had parked on the side of the road.  At least, I think they were duck hunters: they had a jon boat and several dogs in cages were  in their truck bed.  Later these two game wardens would zoom past us on a mission of dire emergency.  Or maybe lunch.

As we walked down Fredcon Road skirting the Santee Cooper Wildlife Management Area, we came across a sad roadside memorial.  That this teenager was beloved was not in doubt.  Items in the memorial told the story of a young duck hunter whose life was taken all too soon.  So sad.

If we had more energy, we might have taken the five mile spur trail into the Santee Cooper WMA.  This 3000-acre wildlife management area borders the southern shore of Lake Marion and includes several islands.  I’m sure it would be worth a look-see.   So many trails, so little time!

I was befuddled by several ferns alongside the road.  One cluster had me thinking netted chain fern, but something seemed off.   Come to find out, it was sensitive fern, so named due to it susceptibility to frost.  On the opposite shoulder there was a thick line of southern shield fern, another native fern that loves wet feet and is fortunately deer resistant. 

We passed over several small fingers of Lake Marion, startling herons and egrets into flight as we passed.  The diamond glitters of sunlight on water never fail to fill my heart with joy.

We stopped to look around the Eutaw Springs Battlefield.  Although I’ve taught American history for years, I had never heard of this, the last major battle in the Revolution’s southern campaign.  According to the interpretive signs, General Nathanael Greene (I had heard of him) and his troops routed the British Loyalists, but then his famished soldiers stopped to loot and gorge, giving the British time to regroup and forcing Greene from his newly-won land.  Although both sides claimed victory, it did cause the British to retreat back to Charleston.  Did you know we have a South Carolina State Song?  Look it up–I did!  It contains the line “Point to Eutaw’s Battle Bed” referring to this battle.

If I had seen the sights this Battlefield cedar has, I’d probably be making that face too!

The Lake Marion shoreline is toward the back of the Battlefield Park.  Like magnets, we were pulled to the water.  The dogs enjoyed the fresh water while we looked around.  Pock-marked rock poked intriguingly out of the shallows.  This ancient limestone rock formation is evidence of the shallow sea that once covered this area.  And actually the original Eutaw Springs, now concealed under Lake Marion, was formed because of this Santee Limestone that is the major aquifer for most wells in the Coastal Plains.  My eye was caught by motion out in the waters.  We were excited to see loons diving and then emerging yards away.  The Santee National Wildlife Refuge website says that winter views of the common loon are uncommon.   Common or not, we were enthralled at the sighting.

There’s just something about a cemetery that we just can’t pass up.   The Belvedere Cemetery is not as old as most, but the name harkens back to the James Sinkler’s Belvidere Plantation, the house of which was built around 1800.  The house was emptied and dismantled in 1941 when the flood waters from the Santee Cooper Hydroelectric and Navigation Project covered most of the property.  There is at least one Sinkler buried in the Belvedere Cemetery.

As we left the cemetery and headed down Battlefield Drive, an elderly lady pulled up beside us in a new SUV, rolled down her window and pointed toward us with gnarled fingers.  Our dogs were the focal point of her attention.  She was a dog lover and over the years had bred several different breeds of dogs.  She now has only about six dogs, Shih Tzus if I remember correctly.   We watched her pull up to her house and go inside, greeted by a cacophony of yappiness.   In addition to the new twists and turns of history that I’m learning, this Palmetto Trail experience is giving me an insider look at some of the overlooked residents of our fair state.

One of my favorite parts of this hike came next as we found ourselves walking along the border of a hay field that extended for acres and acres and acres.  Had my feet not been aching at this point, I would have been cavorting in circles singing, “The hills are alive…”  This was a field meant for joyous galloping.

We dove back into the woods and tried to decipher the use of a rusty old piece of farm equipment.  A wooden table with two sandbags on top had us confused until we saw the target set up yards away. 

Then all too soon we were back on the blacktop.  Cars don’t play around on Gardengate Road.  A fast 1.5 miles on this busy highway had us back in Eutawville, where my husband picked us up, aching feet, dogs and all.

And Eutawville?  Eutaw Springs?  Named for an American Indian tribe, we wondered?  We were close.  Eutaw is the Catawba Indian word for pine tree, which makes total sense.  Eutaw Village was established in 1836 and for the past 100 years its population has hovered around 400.  And I’m sure that 100 years from now it will not have changed an iota.  And that’s just as it should be.

Tomorrow’s hike would take us on the Santee Passage.  We’d not done two in a row before.  Could we? Should we?  Stay tuned…

Locations

Eutawville Trailhead: 9MW4+FJ Eutawville, South Carolina

Skyview Lane Trailhead: 9Q76+PF Eutaw Springs, South Carolina

Palmetto Trail Perambulations: the High Hills of Santee Passage

Sometimes where you think you are is not where you really are but is where you need to be.  And sometimes angels don’t have wings but ride horses.  We found both things to be true as we hiked on this cool, cloudy Sunday morning.

We were on the road early, Cathy and I each driving our cars toward Poinsett State Park to hike the Wateree Passage.  Yes, you read that right.  The Wateree Passage.  We left Cathy’s car at the Farmstead Road trailhead of the Wateree Passage and drove on to Poinsett State Park, where we found the Wateree Passage trailhead behind the park headquarters. Or so we thought. 

The trailhead

Now, I thought we had covered our bases, directionally speaking.  My old iPhone 5e was maxed out on storage, so Cathy had downloaded the Avenza app and the offline Wateree Passage map along with it on her phone.  Only, Cathy’s phone battery died as soon as we got into the park.  Not to worry:  I had a paper copy of the map.  And I had been to Poinsett before and knew where the trail started.  We were set.  Oh, hubris!

Poinsett State Park is such a unique place in South Carolina.   This “mountains of the midlands” is at the edge of the Sandhill and Coastal Plains.  Called the High Hills of Santee, this region contains plants found in four different ecosystems:  the Blue Ridge, the Piedmont, the Sandhills, and the Coastal Plain.  You’ll recognize the names of several American Indian tribes that hunted these lands as the Santee, the Wateree, and the Catawba.  And you’ll be quick to recognize that this park was named for Charleston native and Ambassador to Mexico, Joel Poinsett, who brought that ubiquitous Christmas plant back to the U.S.  The park itself was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps from 1934 to 1938 as a part of Roosevelt’s New Deal. Structures were built of locally-mined coquina, that conglomerate of ancient seashells and sand.

 We walked over a small footbridge spanning the spillway near the ruins of the Revolutionary War era grist mill and around the edge of Old Levi Mill Lake.  The path led us up steep wooded hills, thick with oaks and other hardwoods. 

shaggy bark oak

In places, ferns covered the uphill slopes with thickets of mountain laurel below.  A trail-side shelter with steps and supports built of coquina blended beautifully with the autumn foliage.

After about three miles, we took a wrong turn at a utility line marking the boundary of the park and discovered what I later found out was an old skinner’s shed.  A curious poem routed out on boards had us wondering.

the old skinner’s shed

J Skinner

Jacob was a good man

When cold steel was not at hand

He honed his skill fighting

Man to man

Steel fit in hand, blade

Ready for command

Be warned, if you

Hear grinding steel

Click down lower the gear

Steer away from here

Later research uncovered the disappointing truth:  The sign is fairly recent and is kind of a joke, aimed at mountain bikers who are coming up to a steep hill.  I so wanted a ghost story.

We backtracked, found our Palmetto Trail marker and continued on our way, but I was becoming more and more confused.  According to my map, we should have come to a rail-trail by now.  Maybe it was just around the bend?  We crossed several dirt roads including one whose name caught my fancy: Fullers Earth Creek Road.  Come to find out, Fuller’s earth is a type of clay that textile workers called fullers used to absorb the oils in wool cloth.  It must have been mined around here.

And then we saw the angels.  Of course, our eyes were clouded and we didn’t yet know they were angels.  We had not passed a soul on the trail all morning, so we were gladdened to see three figures on horseback coming toward us.  We stopped to chat and then continued on our way.

On we went until I became so flummoxed with the disconnect between my map and the trail that I plopped down on the damp leaves and thought a minute.   Then it hit me.  I pulled out my other Palmetto Trail maps and my suspicions were confirmed:  we were NOT on the Wateree Passage after all.  We were on the High Hills of Santee Passage!  And our car was at the end of the Wateree Passage.

We had three options, two of which involved disgruntled husbands.  The third option was to turn around and go back to Poinsett.  We chose the fourth option: keep going and hope for the best.

It wasn’t long after this that the angels appeared again.  They had looped back and were heading for their vehicles at Center Trail Road, three miles from the end of the passage.  With faces red from exertion but mostly embarrassment, we explained our predicament.  No problem, they said.  Just turn around and go back.  That’s no fun, we said.  Well, we could give you a ride back to Poinsett from Center Trail Road, they said.  Before we had much of a chance to think things through, they cantered off into the distance.  If Charlotte had been around, she would have woven “Some Angels” into her web instead of “Some Pig.”

Yet God wasn’t done with us.   We picked up our pace and before we knew it, the parking area at Center Trail Road came into view.  And in spite of the fact that we were on foot and they on horseback, our angels were still there, unsaddling and putting their horses into their trailers.  Again, they offered to take us back to Poinsett and this time we didn’t waver.  In no time, we were back safely at Poinsett.  Although I offered, they refused any money.  Trail angels are real.  And sometimes they ride horses.

But where had we gone wrong?  After close examination of the faded trail map at the Poinsett kiosk, we finally found both the Wateree and the High Hills of Santee trailheads marked.  And on the other side of the field, we discovered the trail we thought we were on.  It would be waiting for us when next we come to hike.  Lesson learned.

Although we hadn’t finished the High Hills of Santee trail, we still wanted to see the ending trailhead, so off we went to Mill Creek County Park.   Mill Creek Group Camp had been developed around the same time as Poinsett, but was designed as an African American recreation area.  The story goes that rangers at Poinsett would routinely “strongly encourage” Black residents to go to Mill Creek, as Poinsett was reserved for the white population.   A vivid reminder of a difficult time. 

Today, we found Mill Creek to be a pleasantly quiet park with equestrian camping and facilities.  And two unmarked Palmetto trailheads for the Wateree and the Lake Marion Passages.  Again, without our Avenza map we were stumped as to which was which but finally figured it out.  As we were heading home, the skies opened up and poured buckets of rain.  Had we still been hiking, we would have been drenched.   The old Yiddish proverb says “We plan, God laughs.”  All I can say is, God had himself a side-splitting Sunday.

Monday morning my husband gave me an early Christmas present: a new iPhone SE 2020, with lots and lots of memory for downloading Avenza maps.

Locations:

Farmstead Road trailhead: R9V2+PJ Eastover, South Carolina; 4386 McCords Ferry Rd, Eastover, SC 29044

Poinsett State Park trailhead: 6660 Poinsett Park Rd, Wedgefield, SC 29168, the trail starts behind the ranger station!