The Congaree National Park outside of Columbia, SC, is better known as "Congaree Swamp," although in truth it's a dynamic floodplain. But don't sweat the details: Sister, this is one funky place.
The trees -- among the tallest on the East Coast -- soar 130 feet above your head, and the ancient 
ground under your feet is like something out of a fairy tale. Cypress knees poke out of the churned mud in absurd profusion and roots and trunks gnarl and caress in a sepia monochrome of tan and brown and gray and green. This niche environment is based on the flooding of the river, and with the dry fall weather upon it, the humid forest seems to pant for more moisture. Air is heavy under the canopy, and every breeze is sucked dry in seconds. To walk here is to trudge across the soft floor of an enormous lung.
There is ancient wildness here, a forest identity that 
dates back to the early Pleistocene, and it is easy to see why this can be such a difficult place to love. Stands of trees like this made our ancestors uneasy, and there is something about such places that reminds us of our tiny stature and temporary hold on life. In the depths of the Congaree, one can almost feel the weight and disdain of unmarked centuries pressing down on your chest, and there are things here, half-glimpsed, that will come to you in dreams. Our ancestors worshipped and feared such places, and to cut them down for timber was as much an act of rebellion as an act of commerce. To love such a place, on its own terms, is an adventure for the soul.
There are 11,000 acres left in this forest. If you go, pack your imagination. (Click on the photos to view them full-size -- seen close up, this is what a forest designed by Hieronymus Bosch might look like.)
Comments