STEEL AND DUCT TAPE

I was having a fantastic time on my hike. I was in a remote area, at an obscure waterfall I’d never seen before. I’d only encountered one other person all day, and that was near the beginning of the hike. After that, I was able to completely lose myself in the wilderness of the South Carolina mountains – at least until the gunfire began. Such are the hazards of being one of the founding members of the Upstate Trespassing Club.

Earlier I had started my hike from the Cleo Chapman Highway on the relatively new trail to Twin Falls. That trail runs for a mile or so to Reedy Cove Creek, reaching it at the brink of Twin Falls. The official trail ends there, which is a bit inconvenient, since there are no clear views of the waterfall along the way. It’s also rather dangerous, as the waterfall is a 100’ sheer drop. I gave the top of the falls a wide berth, despite the temptation to get a closer look. I resisted since I had both of my dogs, and one of them has shown poor judgment around waterfalls in the past.

As I mentioned, the official trail ends there. But an unofficial trail continues, heading upstream along Reedy Cove Creek through a remote hanging valley. The trail is actually an old railroad bed, and it’s even blazed periodically. It’s blazed with steel and duct tape, but I suppose that is better than nothing.

I followed it upstream, intending to hike to an obscure waterfall just below Camp McCall. After studying the property boundaries, I concluded that Camp McCall’s property line was near the brink of the falls. I was pretty sure I could hike to the base entirely on public property.

After a short distance I reached the first of many scenic cascades. It’s a long, lovely waterslide through a narrow gorge. I paused there for photos, before resuming my hike upstream.

That’s where I made my first mistake of the day. The remains of the old railroad bed through this stretch of the gorge were washed away long ago. In fact, I later discovered that there was a bridge or trestle here. But it didn’t cross the creek. Instead, it must’ve clung to the side of the cliff. I figured this out when I spotted holes in the rocks that had once anchored the bridge. Unfortunately I failed to notice this until I returned at the end of the hike.

I didn’t see any sign of a trail along either side of the creek. However, I did see a wet, muddy route up the steep slope above me. It looked like people had gone that way previously. I figured I would have to climb up a bit, traversing along the cliffs, and then work my way back down to the creek.

The ascent was nasty. It was steep and slippery enough to make it treacherous. Eventually I reached dry ground, but there was no obvious route ahead. I continued to climb, while heading up the gorge. I kept thinking that the little bench just above me would be a likely route, but each time I reach it I found it no better than where I’d been.

I bushwhacked up the gorge, sidehilling along the steep slope. At one point I could see the old railroad grade way down by the creek. However, there were cliffs below me, so descending wasn’t an option. And I wasn’t keen on returning the way I’d come. Eventually a deep gully loomed ahead. At first I thought that it would offer a route down. However, it turned out to be a substantial obstacle in itself. I contoured around it, and finally found a reasonable descent route on the far side. By reasonable I mean an extremely cautious butt-slide, grabbing on to every rhododendron I passed to slow my momentum.

At one point a rhododendron branch slapped me in the face. My glasses went flying, and landed in a pile of leaves a few feet away. I was about to grab them when Boone came plowing down the hill behind me. He brought a huge pile of leave with him, and my glasses were instantly buried.

I spent a few minutes looking for them, but I knew it was hopeless. By that point, they could be anywhere. There was a silver lining though. I had just bought brand new glasses with progressive lenses a couple of weeks earlier. Luckily, I had swapped the new glasses for an old pair before starting the hike.

I scrambled the rest of the way down to the creek. My little adventure had taken a half hour or so, but it turned out that I was only a couple of hundred yards upstream from where I’d started. The old railroad grade was now on the far side of the creek, so I forded it for the first time. The water was too high for rock hopping, but the crossing was an easy (but cold) wade. I ended up crossing the creek 16 times on my hike – 9 on the way up, and 7 on the way back. Most of them were simple, but a couple were quite slippery.

I followed the railroad bed upstream. For the most part it made a good trail. There were plenty of fallen trees and some occasional briars, but it was still better than some official trails I’ve hiked. I passed old steel rails frequently, left behind when the railroad was abandoned. Some of them were buried in the ground, while others had washed into the creek. A few of them were bent into improbable shapes – a testament to the power of flowing water.

This stretch of creek was rather placid, but that didn’t last long. Before long, the railroad bed switched to the far side of the creek. I waded again, and hiked upstream past a massive boulder where the creek was squeezed through a narrow chute. Just beyond was a beautiful multi-level cascade. I crossed above the bottom drop to avoid an impressive overhanging cliff. The cascade was lovely, and steep enough to be considered a waterfall of its own. It would’ve made a fantastic photo, except for a fallen tree sprawled across its base. I took some photos anyway, before resuming the hike.

The stream was fairly calm above that point. I passed a couple of old roads coming in from the north. One ended in a flat cove along Reedy Cove Creek at what must’ve been an old settlement. I didn’t see any signs of buildings, but a clump of daffodils in bloom was a dead giveaway. Unfortunately, I didn’t see much else in the way of flowers. The trilliums were just emerging through here, and the trout lilies were finished. I’d heard rumors of Oconee Bells in this valley, but I didn’t see any. Aside from the daffodils, I had to settle for violets.

A couple of additional crossings followed. At one point, I ended up following an old roadbed on the wrong side of the creek. I eventually rejoined the railroad bed farther upstream. This stretch of the trail was periodically marked with duct tape wrapped around the occasional tree. Then the creek became violent once again. A long stretch of cascades heralded the falls, which appeared ahead. At first glance I was impressed, but this turned out to be one of those waterfalls that looks better from a distance than from up close. The waterfall is far from vertical, but is probably big enough to consider it a true waterfall rather than just a large cascade.

I took a few photos, but the light was poor due to the sunny afternoon. As far as I know, the waterfall doesn’t have an official name. I’ve heard it called Camp McCall Falls, since the camp is just upstream. Skeet Shot Falls and Clay Pigeon Falls would also be good names. Apparently there is a skeet shooting range just above the falls, and orange pieces of clay pigeons are scattered in and around the creek.

As if on cue, the gunfire started just as I was leaving. Apparently someone was practicing their skeet shooting – or so I hoped. I hurried back downstream, bypassing two of the creek crossings along the way. This was fortuitous, as the alternate route took me past the remains of an old moonshine still. I eventually turned a bend, and the sound of gunfire faded into the background.

The hike back was uneventful. I didn’t have any trouble finding the missing stretch of trail in the gorge just upstream from Twin Falls. In fact, I was baffled as to how I’d missed it to begin with. I guess it would’ve been a good idea to look around more thoroughly before I’d scampered up that hill!

After I returned to the car, I drove over to the Nine Times Preserve to look for flowers. They weren’t hard to find. Along a short stretch of Little Eastatoe Creek I literally saw thousands of trout lilies. It was easily the most trout lilies I’ve ever seen in one area. There were a handful of bloodroot and hepatica, too. That visit was a nice finale to a great day of wandering in the woods!

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