Saturday, 3.26.22
I was as excited as a kid coming back from an amusement park. “Look what I did…I climbed up a cliff to an overhanging rock cave…I touched some ancient native petroglyphs…I crossed a creek on a cable…I hiked to Moonshine Falls!” For days, I worked it into every conversation. I was insufferable. But that’s what happens when I spend a weekend hiking with two of my best adventure buddies, Cathy and Dianne.
We started our hike from Sassafras Mountain, the highest peak in S.C. at 3,560 feet, and headed to Table Rock State Park almost ten miles away. Gusty, blustery winds made our obligatory trip to the observation deck atop Sassafras Mountain a brief one. This chill wind was to be our constant companion on this trek.
Our hands were soon numb with the cold, but we were in high spirits and glad to be back on the trail. A little more than a mile in, we came upon the John L. Cantrell homesite, now one of the best campsites along the Foothills Trail. It was certainly a hardy breed of people who could make a living on this remote mountainside. A tumbledown chimney was all that was left of the house, but some enterprising trail technicians had used the stones to make impressive chairs, currently in use by backpackers eating a leisurely breakfast.
Our goal was hike the trail in five hours, which should have been very do-able since going west to east meant a mostly downhill hike which we could do at two miles an hour. We should have known better. Every few feet we found something that necessitated a pause: a plant to ID, an early spring flower to admire, an unusual tree to wonder at, or an impressive rock formation that begged to be climbed. Out the window went our goal; our curiosity was in full bloom.
We came to a shallow creek over a flat rock and were thankful for the cable that made this slick crossing safer; I could imagine slipping on this rock and tumbling downstream where an impressive waterfall shot out over the cliff!
Almost five miles in, we came to the Lighthouse campsite at the bottom of Drawbar Cliffs with huge boulders littering the hillside. As we were eating our lunch, we could see a dark cave at the top of the hill, just under the cliffs. I didn’t have to twist Cathy’s arm hard at all before she took off up the hill with me scrambling to keep up. Dianne, the sensible one (who, truth be told, was feeling the effects of a strenuous hike up Table Rock the day before), stayed below. It’s always good to have at least one member of the party with no broken limbs. Cathy fearlessly climbed the boulders to reach the cleft that had a huge rock ceiling. This was Lighthouse Cave, which over the years had sheltered countless hunters and other wayfarers.
With all limbs intact, we continued on.
I had read about some petroglyphs on a side trail near Lighthouse, and I was determined to find them. Years ago I had visited Petroglyph National Monument in New Mexico but I had never seen any of this American Indian rock art “in the wild” in South Carolina. I had almost given up when we reached an intersection of another trail that looked like an old road heading down a ridge. Indeed, this was Long Ridge Road, which I later found out had been used by people for hundreds if not thousands of years to cross the escarpment into the valleys to the north. This road needed no asphalt: it was made of a hard metamorphic rock known as Table Rock gneiss.
I decided to head down this road to see what I could see. I asked a couple of guys coming up the trail but they knew nothing about the petroglyphs. This must not be it. Discouraged, I headed back up. Then I noticed a side trail that led to a huge rock face of about an acre. We walked over to take in the view. And what a view it was! I could see for miles to the southwest over the tail end of the Blue Ridge. Islands of lichen and mosses bravely held onto the barren surface. I took a few photos and got ready to head back, when on a whim I decided to walk down the steeply-sloped rock face.
There they were: hundreds and hundreds of circles carved into some of the hardest rock around!
Was this caused by natural weathering? But no, a closer look at each circle revealed that the inside of each circle was intact. I had read that these petroglyphs were thought to be between 1,500 to 3,500 years old. Wow, wow, wow! I had trouble catching my breath. To think I was walking on, kneeling, touching rock carving done possibly even before Christ was born! Dianne and Cathy waited patiently, but I was held firmly in history’s grip. Ancient peoples had been here, looked out over the hills, and stayed long enough to leave their mark on the rock. How did these people carve into this hard rock with no metal tools? And why?
Back home, I couldn’t find much written about this site, but an Internet search took me to the Southern Biosphere blog, written by Charles Sowell, a journalist and lover of nature. He quotes naturalist Dennis Chastain, who worked with state archeologist Tommy Charles, as saying that these were probably carved by the Hopewell Indian Culture over a period of centuries. These prehistoric peoples, also known as mound-builders, had an extensive trading network over much of America, and indeed, Long Ridge Road would have served them well. Chastain’s theory is that they carved one circle each year as they made their annual trip to gather nuts. Were these circles used as a calendar of sorts? Or did they have religious significance? There’s no way of telling for sure, but I will tell you that this place still casts an enigmatic spell over those who visit.
I finally dragged myself away from this place and we continued on. Up we went some 300 feet in elevation, to the top of Drawbar Cliffs, where the view just about knocked my hat off. No, wait. That was the wind. Standing on the top of this ridge, the wind bore down on us with all the noise and strength of a freight train. We dared not get too close to the edge, so after quickly admiring the flowers hanging on for dear life and taking note of the striations in the rock, we got back on the trail and headed to a more sheltered side of the mountain.
We soon hit the junction with the Pinnacle Mountain Trail. Huffing and puffing up the trail and heading for the peak of Pinnacle came a group of college students who belonged to an adventure club. What fun! Looking up the steep path, I was glad to be heading downhill.
Views of Table Rock teased us as we made our way to Bald Knob, where again the buffeting wind made us cautious about getting too close to the edge of this steep drop-off. We talked with a young woman who was hiking/running up the mountain, training for an endurance race. A little further down, on another open rock face, we spoke with a man carrying a 40-pound pack who regaled us with stories of his life as a ranger with the Marines. Running up the mountain with a heavy pack was his idea of fun. More power to this guy: that’s just not my cup of tea!
Coming down the mountain, an unusual rock formation called Scoop Rock demanded playtime, which we did willingly. The trail took us by the base of a high slip of a waterfall, where 40-pound-pack guy obligingly took our photo.
With a little less than a mile to go, we came to Carrick Creek, where the water slid down a flat rock face so invitingly that Dianne and Cathy couldn’t resist cooling off their toes. With feet refreshed, we made it to the trailhead at Table Rock State Park, having hiked 10.2 miles in eight hours at the blazing speed of 1.25 mph! We didn’t set any speed records; the only record I took with me was the one emblazoned upon my mind of this awe-inspiring trail.
Sunday, 3.27.22
Dianne had to head home Saturday afternoon, but Cathy and I had time to do a short there-and-back hike Sunday morning. After scouring a waterfall guidebook and map, we settled upon Moonshine Falls, mostly because of the name, but also because it was located at Asbury Hills Camp and Retreat Center, the Methodist camp I had been to as a kid. My book told me the trails were open to the public, so we headed that way, only to be stopped at a closed gate. Fortunately, a car was coming through. The driver let us through, telling us that next time we should call the office to get the gate pass. One obstacle overcome…one lesson learned.
The trail itself was an easy one, about six miles round trip with very little elevation gain. However, about a mile and a half in, another obstacle presented itself: a cable crossing over Matthews Creek.
I must confess: my heart did a little flip-flop when I saw this. Several years ago I had attempted a ropes course but froze after the first section and completely chickened out. But Moonshine Falls beckoned, and there was no fear on Cathy’s face, so I secured my trekking poles and climbed up. One foot at a time, sliding my hands over the cable above me, I made my way across. Mid-way, the cable started doing a little shimmy-shimmy under my feet giving me the willies, but I persevered (what choice did I have?) and made it across safely. Piece of cake!
The directions in my guidebook , Waterfall Hikes of Upstate South Carolina, were spot-on. We turned right onto the Naturaland Trust Trail #14, continued to an old kiosk labeled “Hot Spot,” and turned right at a cairn.
There it was: Moonshine Falls! Curving over a smooth spout of rock, the water shot down some 40 feet from a ledge of undercut rock.
The beauty of the falls belied the nefarious goings-on that had taken place here during Prohibition. Rusty drums remained under the rock ledge, and a rusted-out pail hung inexplicably over the side of the waterfall. Walking behind the falls gave a unique perspective. Cool from the spray and the overhanging rocks, this would be a great place to relax on a steamy summer afternoon. Maybe even with a quart jar of hooch.
A moonshiner’s waterfall. Cable crossings. Ancient petroglyphs. Who knows what other mysteries these mountains hold? And what other wonders did we pass unknowingly by? This is the reason I love to hike these trails: not to set a speed record or test my body’s limits, but to slow down and really see this fascinating world around me. I left these mountains filled with a sense of excitement over all I had seen and experienced. And I wanted to share that feeling with everyone. So, please: don’t ask me about my weekend. Unless you really, really want to know.
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