Preserved Forever

Frost coated suburban Columbia this morning. It whitened the lawns and glistened on the tips of the bluestem grasses and sparkled on the pine seedlings. We looked for Mountain View Road to Congaree National Park.

"They had record trees here," explained Andy, "until a hurricane hit it. It was a remnant forest that had never been touched, so some of the trees were very old." I soon learned more.

Congaree National Park ranks among the most diverse of forest communities in North America with 22 different plant communities in the 24,000 acres. Ranger William recommended several options for hikes through the dynamic ecosystems of old growth bottomland hardwood forest. "You picked a wonderful day," he said. "A little cold though."

"Good," I said. "No mosquitoes and no snakes."

"True," he grinned, "but it could be a little warmer than the 30's and you still wouldn't have snakes."

"Are the mosquitoes really bad here?" asked Andy. "The worst we ever experienced was in the Everglades in March, and those didn't go away when we sprayed with Deep Woods Off."

"Yeah," he answered. "Here they could carry you away. But you'll like it now, and you'll see big trees no matter which trails you decide to follow."

As we headed to the boardwalk, I read the flier. Here "scientific, educational and historical values are protected, and human impacts are largely unnoticeable. In wilderness people can sense being a part of the whole community of life on earth."

We set out along the Low Boardwalk (1.1 miles). Bald cypress trees sent up knees around their huge buttressed bases. "The Congaree River floods this land on an average of ten times a year," said Andy. We crossed over swampy puddles, mud flats, pools of standing murky water.

Flood waters deposit soil to support the complex plant communities and allow for the unusual variety of giant trees. The park boasts 20-30 champion trees that hold the record for size within their species, according to a standard formula. The formula is a point system based on trunk circumference, height and crown spread. To be eligible, trees must be native or naturalized to the United States. Among the champions are loblolly pines, hickory, sweet gum and bald cypress.
Since 11,000 acres of the park is old growth forest, and some experts estimate an average of one "big tree" per acre, there could conceivably be 11,000 "big trees" in Congaree. But experts do agree that no area in eastern North America has a larger contiguous area of champion trees 130-160 feet tall. Congaree is thought to be the tallest broadleaved forest in the world with thousands of potential champions not yet even measured. Trees here are taller than any forest in Japan, the Himalayas or all the temperate forests in Europe; they are also similar to or taller than the old growth forests in southern regions of South America.
From the Low Boardwalk (.5 miles) we followed blazes to Weston Lake (.5) and Wise Lake (.5). In some places large trees had fallen and decayed on the ground. The flier explained that champion trees, typically nearing the end of a normal life span and being so tall, are subject to storm damage. Hurricane Hugo in 1989 was particularly destructive.

A pileated woodpecker scolded from high in a sweet gum tree. Later we heard one pounding in his search for insects. Oakridge Trail from Bridge F to Bridge G (1.1) to Bridge H (1.1) to Bridge I (.4) and back to Bridge C (.2) took us across level terrain of muddy thickets. I watched carefully where I stepped, since fallen leaves on wet trail was a formula for slipping.

"I'm not looking to swim in the cypress-tupelo slough," I told Andy.

"Just falling on the trail would be a mess," he agreed.

We stayed at the edge of the path in the drier leaves. Bridge C on Weston Lake Loop to Bridge D (.4) to the Elevated Boardwalk (.4) had fewer areas of soft mud. In the quiet of the woods we heard a barred owl call softly. Wild grape vines hung across our path and intertwined with holly trees. I avoided brushing against anything overhanging. Poison ivy was not in short supply by the looks of the fuzzy vines on many of the tall trees.

Men in army camouflage fatigues leaned on the railings of the Elevated Boardwalk. Young looking, they were probably on R&R from the base outside of Columbia after Boot Camp. They called back and forth and joked loudly.

"Well, we won't be seeing any animals or birds now," I said to Andy. "That's guaranteed." The noise would have scared anything far away. The Elevated Boardwalk led us back to Sims Trail (.8), which returned to the Visitor Center (.7).

There we checked out the Mosquito Meter, insects "low."

"I'd never want to walk here between May and September," said Andy. "I'd be concerned about snakes more than anything."

We read about biodiversity: 75 species of trees, 700 other plants, 173 species of birds, 53 kinds of reptiles and amphibians, 49 varieties of fish.

The recruits had boarded their school buses when we headed back out for another 2.1 miles in a loop along Bluff Trail. The walk on higher terrain through loblolly pine groves had less mud and more pin needles.

The flier was right. The peace instilled a sense of oneness with the earth. The breeze picked up and sun filtered through pine boughs of the canopy. I breathed in deeply as I walked behind Andy on the narrow path. Life felt good.