Into the Swamp and Out

My husband and I recently went on a side trip to the swamps of Conagree National Park in South Carolina. My jokes and frets about being eaten by alligators were unfounded, I'm pleased to report. We stayed on the boardwalk on a safe two mile hike through the swamp.

It's another world out there! I expected water, and I got water. After all water makes a swamp. I expected creatures, and I saw none. They probably saw us as we wandered, but they kept quiet about it. What I saw mostly was healthy, happily growing trees. Cypress trees to be exact.

Those are knees around the bald cypress tree. According to wikipedia, the function of these knees is not certain. One idea is that the knees provide aeration for the roots. The knees provided a strange kind of beauty for me, one that set my imagination reeling at the idea of tiny swamp gnomes rising out of the mud and swirling a macabre dance around their mother tree.

We came into the swamp at a great time of year, the all clear time. Nary a mosquito in sight. The welcome center's mosquito meter keeps up with biting conditions. Imagine being there on the continum above ruthless. War Zone!

For several years while our son was a cadet at the Citadel in Charleston, we drove on Interstate 26 past the brown sign advertising Conagree National Park, but never had the inclination to stop and smell the swamp roses until this spring. Brown signs are notoriously apart from main roads and the curious must often drive miles out of the way. Attending park rangers award the wanderlust who do show up in their facility with a stamp like this one. We surely earned it, and I added to my collection.

I became a brown sign enthusiast years ago and wrote about my experiences in a collection of stories compiled by Randell Jones. It was later made into an audio version here in his six minute stories. Give it a click and a listen. And while you are at it, check out Randell's series of books in the Personal Story Publishing Project. Mine is published in the 2019 book, Exploring. Wait until you read the other fantastic stories!

If you ever find yourself on Interstate 26 in South Carolina, or even Interstates 77, 20, or 95, take time to make a slight detour. You'll find the swamp between those four major roads, on a forsaken path in the depths of lowland country. You'll not be disappointed. Just check the mosquito meter before you go!

Catch of the day,

Gretchen