Waterfall Chasing: Long Creek Falls

Field Notes II.X: Photographing Long Creek Falls in the Sumter National Forest, South Carolina

Days pass and a restlessness grows inside me. It is late February and the weak winter is losing its grip. I pause at the blooming daffodils aglow under pre-dawn moonlight as I drive to work.

I dream of wilderness. Of spending days in an intimate embrace with mountains and weather. Priorities and complications hinder my plans. So, I work. I study my crafts, of camera and pen. I practice and reflect. I lift weights and ruck, building the capability to meet challenges both unknown and untamed. The restlessness fuels a relentless drive.

A blazing fire makes flames and brightness out of everything thrown into it.

-Marcus Aurelius

The fire burns me, but it is a healthy burn.

Welcome to Field Notes!

I have seized one day for adventure. Another dark morning greets me as I leave the house. The days are noticeably longer now, but I must still leave before dawn to reach my destination before the mid day light.

I do not know what to expect from Long Creek Falls. It is a dot on the map, tucked near the Chattooga River in the Sumter National Forest in upstate South Carolina. I find few descriptions or photos of the trail and waterfall on the internet. Another spot, Homer’s Falls, is marked along the same trail and not far from there, Opossum Creek Falls lies in the same region. I note these for contingencies.

Daylight evolves slowly during the drive on this overcast day. Temperatures in the low 50’s are warm for February. Truck tires crunch along dirt roads in the forest and small sprinkles begin to dot my windshield. I knew of the clouds. I am not prepared for rain.

The drizzle is sporadic and light as I reach the terminus of the road. An acrid odor of charring saturates the air. Thin tendrils of smoke rise like ghosts among the leafless trees. The ground by the roadway is black from recent fires.

A caution sign is posted nearby. Controlled burns are being conducted in the area in February and March. The purpose of the fires is to increase the fitness of the ecosystem. They are healthy burns.

There are no active fires in view, so I consider it safe to continue. The light rain persists, steadier now. By whatever means these fires were set and controlled, the trails have been left unburnt. I walk a clear line cutting through ebony landscapes of coal and ash. Stumps still smolder and emit columns of smoke. Occasional open flames on fallen trees glow dangerously in the morning haze.

Unseen birds softly speak back and forth of the coming spring. The throaty croaking of a raven echoes from treetops across a draw. Huginn watches over my thoughts through the veil of mist in the wilderness today. I walk on in silence.

The path is mostly level and easy until reaching the cusp of the Chattooga River. Here it twists down a steep embankment clad in rhododendron, dropping towards the turbulent waters below. Long Creek Falls emits a low, steady timbre, overlaid by the rhythmic tapping of raindrops on mountain laurel leaves. It is the resonant music of the wild.

I scramble down the trail and land at the rocky edge of the Chattooga, just as Long Creek merges into it. A short distance upstream is Long Creek Falls, where the stream’s flow plummets over the same cliff I have just descended.

Long Creek is wide and the rocks are slick. There is no way to avoid wet feet, so I wade the frigid water. Caution equates to more time submerged in the cold, but good footholds are paramount. My camera is weather sealed, but a full plunge would be catastrophic.

This waterfall is massive. With the current water levels it thunders over the precipice in 2 separate streams. It is a double waterfall, crashing into the rocks below. The turbulent creek then rolls through several smaller cascades along its final sprint to the Chattooga.

Perched on rocks in the stream, I photograph the falls. The sprinkling rain and spritzing current collect on my lens. Finding a dry cloth to wipe it with is a constant struggle. After many deep sighs, cold muscles cramping in a crouched kneel, I am finally able to capture some long exposures that I am satisfied with.

I climb through the rhododendron thicket to a rock stage to the right of the falls. Here I am able to photograph the water’s profile, almost behind the flow. Again, water on the lens hampers my work.

By now the day has waxed towards late morning. Opossum Creek Falls is no longer an option for today’s explorations. Homer’s Falls still tempts me, though. It is a mark on the map nearby with a short side trail leading to it. I know nothing beyond this. So, I head there now.

Back in the burnt forest, this side trail is once more easy to follow as an unburned ribbon through the char. It leads towards a small stream named Pinkney Branch. The trail approaches the Chattooga and seems to dissipate, dropping off another rhododendron covered cliff. I find myself on a near vertical climb down, hanging onto small trees and roots, reminding me of my ordeal at the Canyon of Five Falls. Why do I repeatedly get myself into these predicaments?

Homer’s Falls comes into view to my left. The small creek takes a long drop over the rocky cliff in 2 or 3 stages before disappearing into dense undergrowth. A small platform of earth gives me room near the base to rest.

Farther below is a massive boulder strewn cascade along the Chattooga River. I search for any way to continue the descent, but any semblance of a path has vanished. A huge fallen tree, cliff faces, and dense thickets make reaching the Chattooga impossible here. Instead, I settle at the base of Homer’s Falls. I prepare lunch and coffee and sit in awe of the roaring emptiness of this wild solitude.

The climb back is a challenge. I revel in it. The physical test awakens my soul. The creative challenge of capturing photos, the shaping of the light to come during image processing, and the introspection in preparation of writing this story invigorate my thoughts and mind. These are the elements I toss into Marcus Aurelius’s raging fire in the hope of illuminating the world. The muscles in my thighs burn with the effort of the climb. It is a healthy burn.

A mix of smoke and fog hangs thickly in the air on my walk back. Clouds darken and thunder growls low and soft. I quicken my footsteps. The melody of droplets striking leaves in the surrounding forest intensifies with the approach of steady rain.

Thanks for joining me on this adventure. It was a fun one! Do you have a favorite waterfall that you’ve explored? Let me know! Have tips for photographing falls, or questions for me about my process? Lets keep it going in the comments!

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