From my home in the Upstate, along the escarpment of the Blue Ridge, which you can see from a good day, blue and gray undulating bands holding up the sky, it was a round trip of 524 miles down to Erhardt in Bamburg County. This is counting wrong turns in Aiken in a down pour and my accidental trip to the back entrance to the Savannah River Site (known in gallows humor by the locals as the "bomb plant") where I was met by a highly armed man in body armor. He was not glad to see me, but showed me on my map where I made my mistake in Barnwell by turning right instead of left on Hwy 64, the low country highway.
I had begun my trip early; everywhere the yellow school buses breaking my heart, scrubbed, blank faced children standing by the road with their backpacks under a buttermilk sky.
I passed through Kirksey after Greenwood with a pasture of white goats and an old store with a big fat black and white cat curled asleep on a red porch swing.
I drove down through historic Edgefield, "home to 10 governors--
Edgefield has had more dashing brilliant romantic firgues, statesmen, orators, soldiers,, adventurers and daredevils than any other county of South Carolina, if not of any rural county of American" W.W. Bull,
"The State that Forgot" this on the side of a building, near the square. It is also the home to the National Wild Turkey Federation (see the giant turkeys painted by artists all over town). One turkey has has an expanse of pottery painted on its wing, attesting to the famous Edgefield Pottery Works where the enslaved potter "Dave" created his artful jugs.
Passing under I-20 before Aiken, Hwy 19 becomes Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd. Within the lovely still lively downtown, Hwy 19 becomes Whiskey Road, down to New Ellerton. 278 to Barnwell and 64 to Rivers Bridge. Just before the park, I pass a large ornate gate at a field proclaiming: "Stuck Kin Our Swamp"
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Here it is the swamp of the two branched Salkehatchie river (a tributary of the Combahee). And here at the end of the Civil War on February 2 and 3, 1865, at the crossing called Rivers Bridge, Confederate troops vainly tried to delay Sherman's march up country to burn Columbia.
At the Ranger Station, I meet John White, Ranger and Archaeologist, who is on light duty recovering from knee surgery and takes the time to give me what he calls the "very short history of the park and battle", which did set the stage for a end of the war, the burning of Columbia and Sherman's march into Virginia to meet Lee.
He draws me a map of the Memorial and the Battlefield so that I can take the road down to the Salkehatchie River and Swamp. At the Memorial, rangers and the State Archaeologist are mapping the ground in anticipation of making either penetrating ground radar or ground resistance testing to search for the remains of the unknown buried dead soldiers. 10 years after the battle, residents of the community had disinterred the remains of many and placed them in a single grave just here where local women later placed a large general headstone with the words"
Soldiers rest, your warfare o'er,
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
Dream of battlefields no more,
Days of danger, nights of wakeing."
My friend from nearby Hampton tells of attending the Spring Memorial every Spring while growing up.
The trail to the battleground is a mile out and another back, an easy walk on white sand and pine needles. You must cross a road and come to the battlefield, pass by to the swamp where Union soldiers froze in the rain in the dead of winter. There is a great blue heron and some turtles, cypress and cypress knees. No copperheads or water moccasins about which John White warned me. Even so, I carried a stick.
I travel under black clouds, occasionally letting down heavy rain. On Whiskey Rd in Aiken, I pass statues of horses painted by artists. This is horse country, in fact. On the far side of town, I pass --
Off Da Chain Seafood and Mo, which is unfortunately closed and boarded up and the the Booyah Bar and Grill which appears to still be in business.
Much thanks to John White, to whom I am indebted for enlightenment in history and for helping me get back to Highway 64 (without going to the bomb plant) and home again before dark.
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