Congaree and Charleston

I'm in South Carolina. I stayed in Columbia last night, then went to Congaree National Park this morning. A recently-declared national park, Congaree is a large swamp. I'm hesitant to say this because many visitors love the park, but for me the experience was underwhelming.

The damp swamp wilderness is ancient, uncomfortable, and a little creepy. I hiked the Boardwalk Loop, a 2.4 mile wood-plank trail. The platform above the bog was wet and slippery from a cool morning rain. The muddy landscape was less than awe-striking.

Towering Loblolly Pines and whimsical cypress knees are the mild highlights of the trail. A 170-foot tall pine, the finest specimen of its kind anywhere in the world, is one of the tallest trees in America after the Sequoias. Folklore has it that the cypress roots reaching out of the water--possibly anchors or snorkels for the trees--are transformed wood elves that come alive at night.

After Congaree, I turned towards Charleston. I went straight to the tip of the peninsula when I arrived and walked East Battery, past colorfully painted row houses, then along Charleston Harbor and up East Bay Street. Ford Sumter was visible far off in the distance.

I stopped at Amen Street on East Bay for a half-dozen oysters and to watch the Ravens beat the Colts in the Wild Card Round of the AFC Playoffs, then continued across the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge to Sullivan's Island, then up to North Charleston where I'm spending the night. Tomorrow I plan to continue my journey south.