The day began with a wonder of wild flowers along the back roads: Mimosa, massive clumps of blooming viburnum, orange day lilies sprouting up from the green ditches, fragrant ligustrum, brilliant orange butterfly weed, Queen Anne's Lace. On Hwy 56, I crossed Little River, Mills' Creek and then the wide green Saluda. I crossed under I-20 and passed through Aiken with it's lovely old houses and gardens, then a fleeting glimpse of the nuclear plant.
Redcliffe Plantation was the retreat of James Henry Hammond, once Governor of South Carolina, slave owner and political proponent of slavery. The home was restored in 1973 by his descendant, John Shaw Billings, Editor of Life Magazine. Billings brought journalists and even the photographer, Alfred Eisenstaedt to the home to photograph it.
Tours of the home are at 11:00, 1:00 and 3:00. I arrived at 2:00 and missed the 3:00 o'clock tour because I was lost in the woods.
Doug, retired military officer and now park ranger told me that in February of this year, there had been a furious ice storm and that the two mile trail had been severely damaged by falling trees, branches and debris.
He and another ranger had just walked the trail and found the first quarter mile rough but passable and then "down near the pond" extremely overgrown and difficult to even find the way. He advised to just walk in a quarter of a mile and then turn around and come back.
I walked in a way, over fallen logs and branches and kept going, looking for the pond. I was thinking of turning back when a startled long-legged white spreckled faun lept just in front of me. In a state of wondrous awe, I followed it into the deep woods. At last I was lost. At one point, I could see the trail going up a far off ridge and I started down in that direction, but soon came to a small body of water surrounded by brush and had to turn back. I kept going through brush, brambles and black berries hearing the stamping hoof beats of hidden deer and wishing I had a machete until I gave up and headed for the sound of cars. I found a road and began walking in the searing heat from the macadam. Hitch hiking appeared not to be an option.
Finally, I got a ride back to the site from a man named Tommy Snell in his black truck. I washed up at the park office restroom and revived myself on the porch, drinking water and collapsing in a rocking chair until I saw the tourists coming down the hill from the plantation house. They greeted me saying that the ranger had them looking out for me when I didn't appear for the tour.
I do not recommend getting lost and then walking on a highway in 95 degree heat, but the house must be interesting and I did make it up the Atomic Highway to the home of my childhood friend in North Augusta who led me to the shower and put me in a bed with clean cool linens for the night.
I dreamed then of the people who slaved in the unbearable heat on the plantation, bending and chopping, seeding and sowing with no cool shower and clean linens to comfort them.
No comments:
Post a Comment